#my life has just been so ridiculously busy and i kept trying to get it done on the weekend but things kept happening aughh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lauraneedstochill · 2 years

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I won’t fall for someone who can’t misbehave

summary: Aemond is betrothed to the sweetest girl in the Seven Kingdoms. She is smiley, soft and kind-hearted. Until she isn’t. (or, alternatively: “No one took your side when you were a kid. But I’m doing it now.”) pairing: Aemond Targaryen and F!Reader (her House is not specified) words: 9000 +

warnings: slow (!) burn, attempted harassment, Aemond is in pain 70% of the time (headache and all that) and has no clue how to act around someone he’s in love with. author's note: I’m working on 3 fics at the moment, and it’s taking forever to finish (yay for my poor time management skills!), so I whipped up something short(er). Rhaenyra is the queen here but I barely mention the blacks (not out of spite, I just thought it wouldn’t add anything to the story). also, I don’t think women would be allowed to misbehave like that... I don’t care ;)

Aemond knew of the preplanned betrothal even though everyone around him was ridiculously mysterious about the subject matter. He’s been made aware of the upcoming visit of some noble family, and the preparations were quite extensive. Then he overheard Baela telling Jace that the expected guests will bring their daughter. The middle one. It wasn’t very hard for Aemond to put two and two together. His wedding was long overdue, and Alicent was eager for him to make his choice. But he dreaded the mere thought of it.

Aemond’s never been very good at courting women, but mostly due to the lack of trying. He’s used to them looking at him with fear and suspicion as if he’s some kind of wild animal ready to attack at any minute. Getting sidelong glances did hurt him growing up, but with time Aemond learned to benefit from it, using his fearsome image as a shield. No one ever dared to try and break it to see what was underneath. But now he is faced with the inevitable change that’s approaching his life at the speed of a storm wave. To him, taking off the eyepatch won’t be nearly as excruciating as giving into the vulnerability of letting someone in, opening up to someone. He’s never been afraid of much but that? That was terrifying.

The anticipation made Aemond nervous. He knew he should probably ask around and try to gain any information about his soon-to-be wife, but it felt wrong. Not knowing felt even worse. No matter how good of a fighter he was, fighting the uncertainty seemed like a challenge. Aemond spent his nights tossing and turning, wrapped up in blankets as insomnia was clinging to his body. He tried to busy himself with training, but his usual easy victories brought him no satisfaction. He’s been winning for so long maybe it was time for him to lose. Except not to his training partners but to a stranger, who in time will get a permanent place in his life.

His rides with Vhagar, which usually brought him peace, now had the opposite effect. The old dragon acted annoyed and disgruntled for no reason, huffing and grumbling at every turn as if she could sense his own frustration. You can’t tame your emotions yet I’m supposed to listen to your commands? Silly boy. If Vhagar could speak, she would probably tell him that, Aemond thought. And he blamed himself even more.

Somewhere in the midst of it all, the headache came back. As usual, it started with a feeling of pounding heaviness in the back of his head, which then spread further: into his temples, forehead and down the hateful scar. Within a couple of days, the pain gets so bad, he has to grit his teeth to keep a straight face, and he's barely able to shove a few bits of food down his throat. But it’s a topic he never brings up, it’s a humiliating secret that’s just between him and his mother. When he lost his eye, for the first month the pain was close to unbearable. The maester kept telling him that it was caused by the healing of skin tissues and assured that the intolerable feeling would go away. It never did. His scar was something he learned to cover up, and the bright red stripe faded slightly with time, but the pain lingered. Aemond opted to think that it only contributed to him becoming more resilient, yet that argument didn’t withstand the test of time. The pain receded for some short periods, but then it would always come back, and he could never get used to that, no matter how hard he tried.

He can only hope it will get better by the time the guests arrive. But the gods seem deaf to his prayers, and the night before the event he doesn’t get a wink of sleep. He goes through his day in a daze, skipping the training session to hide in the library instead, although he can’t bring himself to focus and read more than a single page. When the time comes for him to walk into the dining hall, it’s the last thing he wants to do but he forces himself to go. Festive ornaments, tables laden with the finest dishes, bright-colored clothing of everyone around him blend and blur into each other. He takes deep breaths and counts his steps, gathering all his strength to sit down and not wince at the movement.

All it takes is one look at him for Alicent to understand what’s going on.

“Aemond,” she approaches him, whispering. “What’s wrong? Is it the headache again?”

Aemond doesn’t want to admit it, but he lacks the energy to deny it either so he just nods. She gives him a regretful look, gently squeezing his shoulder.

“Should I call for the maester? Maybe he will be able to come up with something to ease the pain.”

“I don’t think we have time to fuss over me,” he declines with a pain-stained voice. “I was under the impression that we’re expecting someone to join us today.”

Alicent sighs. She knows better than to fight his stubbornness, but she hates how helpless it makes her feel. Aemond hates that feeling, too.

“Please don’t tell me you require motivation,” Aegon’s voice is loud as it is but right now it sounds deafening, and Aemond sharply exhales. His brother flops on a nearby chair, bringing his ignorant attitude with him.

“Undoubtedly you’ve interacted with women before,” he chuckles, completely unaware of Aemond’s suffering. “Try not to scare her with your creepy stare, and maybe she won’t run away.”

Alicent briefly closes her eyes in annoyance. She glances around, making sure not to attract any attention, and then grabs Aegon by the chin, forcing him to look at her.

“Enough with pestering, I need you to behave yourself,” her voice is tinged with irritation. “Just for one evening. Can you do that?”

Aegon’s body stiffens up, the smug look disappearing from his face.

“As you wish, mother,” he mutters, and she lets go of him. Alicent shoots another glance at Aemond before leaving. Aegon gives his brother a side-eye but says nothing.

Aemond is exhausted, anxiety bubbling in his chest, and he thinks he has a few more minutes to compose himself yet that time passes in the blink of an eye. Before he knows it, the guards at the door make the announcement, and he sees a group of unfamiliar faces. None of them are of his age, though, and for a moment that realization brings him some comfort. But then he notices a female figure in the distance as she’s approaching the entrance.

When she walks in, the music goes quiet, and Aemond hears people gasping. It seems like every man in the room has his gaze on her. And she certainly is a sight for sore eyes. She moves with a gracious pace, the silky fabric of her dress flowing downward with every step. It’s not too revealing, but it hugs her body in all the right places. Her hair is up, and he can see the waves of her collarbones peaking through. A half-smile is plastered on her face, but she doesn’t seem to be nervous. If he was to take a guess, he would've said she was tired. But she won’t let it show, keeping her head high and being seemingly unaware of the attention she got. Maybe she’s used to it just like he is, Aemond thinks. Although people usually glare at him for a completely different reason.

“Someone is about to get a piece of cake,” Aegon elbows him lightly, his voice low.

“Someone needs to shut up,” Aemond snarls, earning a laugh from his brother. That catches her attention, and her gaze lands on Aemond. When their eyes meet, her face softens, smile growing wider. He tries his best to force a wan smile in return, but his stomach turns in discomfort. He can already imagine how people will react: a stunning woman like her with a man like him, what a tragedy. That thought stings, his anxiety growing stronger. The headache gets worse, and he tightens his grip on a cup of wine that he hasn’t even tasted yet. Aemond can’t help but wonder if she knew she would have to marry him. If it does bother her as much as it bothers him.

The members of her family are greeted as guests, with no mention of a possible betrothal. Her name is the only one he catches — and then silently repeats it a few times. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, the sound of it breaking through his clouded mind. She’s seated next to him, as expected, and he notes that her dress compliments her eye color. Aemond is thinking of a way to start a conversation, but she beats him to it:

“You gave us such a warm welcome, but I must admit, I am surprised by the scale of it. I hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience?”

When her words reach his ears, the buzzing in his head stops, and Aemond turns to her, astonished by his own reaction. It’s not the naivety of her question, nor the friendly tone of it. It’s just her voice. Melodic and mellow, it feels soothing among the loud noises they’re surrounded with.

“I assure you, your family was simply welcomed with the respect you deserve,” he answers pensively. His throat is sore, but he can’t steel himself to take a sip of wine, afraid that it will make him sick. He wants her to speak again.

Aemond asks about her family, letting her lead the conversation. She is easy to talk to and she gives just the right amount of information before jumping to another topic. At any other time, he would’ve really enjoyed the flow of it, yet now he is growing weary. The headache is still there, but her voice does bring him some relief. That is until she abruptly stops.

“Are you feeling alright?” she sounds worried, and the same emotion is written on her face. Aemond tries to blink away his exhaustion.

“I apologize if I’m not exactly the best at keeping you company. It’s been a long day,” he knows he should’ve come up with a better excuse. He feels like he can hardly function at this point.

She keeps her attention on him for a few more seconds. Then she moves her eyes to the other end of the table, where her family is seated. She makes eye contact with her father and gives him a big yawn. It’s obviously and comically fake but it works: her family finds an excuse to leave earlier. Aemond knows that now he also got a chance to escape soon after. He feels a pang of guilt knowing that he’s the reason their conversation was cut short, but she doesn’t make a big deal out of it.

“We shall continue on the morrow when we are both well rested,” she smiles reassuringly at him before leaving.

Aemond seriously doubts that he’ll get any rest as his head feels like it’s gripped in an iron vise again. The next morning he drags himself out of bed later than usual, the pain now dull but present nonetheless. He sits with his face in his hands, breathing in and out, until he’s almost numb. The almost leaves a sour feeling in his mouth — or maybe it’s the nausea, he doesn’t know nor does he care. He’s been handling this for years, he can survive another day.

Aemond decides that since he is to be wed, he should make an effort for it to work. He thinks about his duty, his mother, about Y/N, who traveled all the way to King’s Landing for a man she’s never met before. Aemond thinks of everyone but himself because there’s only so much he can do without draining himself completely.

He missed the breakfast already but hopes to find Y/N within the perimeter of the castle and rushes out of the bedroom. He’s passing by Helaena’s chambers when he hears someone laughing. And it’s not his sister. Aemond debates if he can deal with kids right now, but chooses to give it a chance and quietly walks in. Helaena has embroidery in her hands but seems more focused on a sight in front of her, and he follows her gaze. Y/N is sitting on the floor with her back to the door, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera are on either side of her, their cheeks plump and pink, tiny fingers grabbing her dress. She’s reading to them, and it’s a tale they’ve heard many times before, yet the kids are listening attentively, occasionally making noises of excitement. Aemond doesn’t need to speak gibberish to know that they are fascinated by the melody of her voice and the playful tone she uses to make the story more engaging. He leans on the door frame, his body relaxing at the sound. Jaehaera puts her head on Y/N’s shoulder and eagerly turns the page, making her laugh again.

“You are an impatient little thing,” Y/N giggles.

“That she is,” Helaena agrees, and when Y/N turns to her, she is surprised to see that Aemond joined them.

“Pardon me, I didn’t hear you coming in,” she stands up in a hurry, both kids are instantly glued to her. “Your sister was kind enough to keep me company.”

“I asked her to come by after breakfast, and they haven’t left her side ever since,” Helaena explains, sounding very pleased.

“Would you mind if I steal this new friend of yours?” Aemond asks while keeping his eye on Y/N, waiting for her reaction. Her face flushes but he sees no indication of discontent. Aemond grudgingly admits to himself that it brings him something akin to joy. But it fades, absorbed by his numbness.

“Make sure to be on time for dinner,” his sister nods, calling for the nanny to take the kids.

It takes a little bit of persuasion but eventually Jaehaerys and Jaehaera let Y/N go, and she follows Aemond out of the room. She mentions that Helaena wanted to show her the library, and Aemond agrees to take her there. Along the way, he strikes up a conversation in attempt to compensate for their last one. As she’s telling him about her morning, her voice seeps into his mind like honey, and Aemond tries to concentrate to take the right turns and not trip on the stairs.

When they walk into the library, she pauses, looking around in awe. This woman makes men turn around after her, yet she is so easily impressed by the simplest things, Aemond thinks. The prince wonders if she can ever be impressed by him.

“This is where you study?” she is admiring endless rows of shelves, and Aemond gives her an affirmative “hmm”.

“How many of these have you read?”

“Quiet a few,” he is modest as ever, and she shoots him a curious look.

“I wonder what are your preferred subjects.”

“History and philosophy,” he doesn’t mean to sound so terse, but whatever interactions with women he’s had before, that experience obviously didn't turn him into a lady’s man.

“Would you be so kind to share your favorite books with me?” when she glances at him, there is a sparkle in her eyes. It looks like she’s actually interested to know more, as if she does want to know him. His immediate response, however, is to distance himself, and he takes a step back.

“I am afraid there are not enough hours in the day to name them all,” Aemond opposes, hands clasped behind his back.

“Please, take pity on me, I need something to help me pass the time,” she presses the matter further but does so very gently. “Name just a couple.”

He gives into her pleading tone and reluctantly agrees but they don’t stop at just a couple. They end up spending the day roaming in the library, lost in the labyrinth of shelves and books. She’s never too pushy with her questions, she’s making small jokes, she doesn't take offense at his cold demeanor. Behind his mask of feigned indifference, Aemond feels like someone is hammering at his left temple, and the pain echoes through his whole body. But he doesn’t dare to leave her hanging for the second day in a row.

The prince is too preoccupied with his internal struggle to notice that she's growing worried about him again, and by the time they come back for dinner, her face expresses an alarming concern.

“I must apologize if I tired you out with my relentless chatting,” she says, almost whispering, when they are seated.

“You did not, no need to fret,” Aemond states. I must apologize that you are to marry a man who can’t curb the pain that’s spilling out of him, he thinks.

Food is tasteless in his mouth. She is sitting on his right, and Aemond’s body can’t adjust to the foreign feeling of someone being in his close proximity. He is so accustomed to being on his own, he doesn't know how to unlearn that.

Throughout the whole dinner, Aemond can feel his mother’s gaze on him. Later that evening, when a maid brings him a cup filled with the milk of the poppy, he decides against taking it. He regrets it the very next day.

When Aemond tries to lift his head off the pillow, he feels like his skull is full of rocks. They’re rolling from side to side as the pain rumbles, and for a few minutes he can't hear anything else around him. That’s why, when Aemond opens his eye, he’s startled at the sight of his mother standing in the doorway.

“I did knock but got no response,” she gives him a look that’s a mix of concern and suspicion. She suspects that he’s unwell again and it concerns her. He wishes she never knew of that burden of his.

Aemond moves up in his bed, clenching his jaw. He knows his mother well enough to realize she must’ve had a reason for this early visit. Alicent proves him right when she speaks.

“The queen went into labor a couple of hours ago.”

He absentmindedly hums, not knowing how to react. His mother continues, with a hint of hesitance.

“There will be a feast when the baby is born. We thought... Rhaenyra and I, we thought it would also make for an occasion to do the announcement. About your betrothal.”

Her words come as no surprise to Aemond. It is what’s expected of him, it’s about his duty and his responsibilities, but this time he doesn’t want to think of that. He wants to be left alone, to drown in the layers of blankets, to go back to his short-lived slumber.

“The day Y/N arrived, I asked the queen to postpone the announcement. To give you some time to get to know each other,” Alicent takes a few steps towards his bed. “It seems like you’re getting along quite well?”

“I could think of no better woman than her,” Aemond admits and it is true. What he doesn’t say is that he can also think of a dozen other men who would be more deserving of her, more than he is.

Alicent catches the discreet sadness in his words but doesn’t know what caused it. She eyes her son with undisguised empathy.

“Her father implied that she is content with the betrothal, too. I thought you’d be happy to know,” Alicent gives him a lax smile. “I shall let you go back to sleep,” she adds and leaves.

Aemond knows he’ll get no sleep now. He repeats the well-known routine of deep breaths with the minimum movements, scraping up the remains of his strength before leaving the room. He goes straight to Y/N’s chambers, wondering if his mother visited her, too, and how that visit went.

To his surprise, she is nowhere to be found. A maid informs him that she left the room a few hours ago. He can’t find her in the library and she isn’t in Helaena’s chambers, either. He searches for her in the courtyard and then goes back to roam through the corridors, peering into every room on his way. He’s lost in his thoughts until he hears Y/N calling his name. Aemond turns around — and there she is, at the other end of the hall.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she skips towards the prince, beaming. He could never imagine anyone being this happy at the sight of him. She stops when they are only a couple of meters apart, her smile glowing.

“We must’ve passed each other, because I’ve been looking for you, too,” he confesses. She seems very pleased with herself though he isn’t sure why.

“I think the weather calls for a walk,” she blithely suggests. “Would you like to accompany me?” — as the words leave her mouth, she reaches out a hand to him. For a moment Aemond is looking at her baffled, and then hesitantly takes her hand. Her skin is soft, fingers warm, and she intertwines them with his own. That gesture comes so naturally as if they’ve done it before, yet Aemond clearly hasn’t. The feeling of holding someone’s hand is unusual to him. But it seems enjoyable.

By the time they get to the garden, Aemond finds that her hand fits perfectly in his. He is blushing profusely. He also notices that his headache receded a little and he can’t help but think that she was the reason for that.

“Your mother came to me this morning,” she informs him as they are walking hand in hand. “I assume she talked to you, too?”

“She did,” Aemond confirms. “Am I right to guess we had the same conversation?”

“Well, mine was about uniting two great Houses,” she mimics a man’s voice, and Aemond grasps that Otto was there as well. “Your grandfather gave a very convincing speech.”

“He had a lot of practice while being the Hand of the King. Maybe he misses having an audience,” the prince chuckles and she laughs.

Aemond holds a pause and then adds. “Forgive me if I’m being too blunt but I wonder if the conversation was of unpleasant nature to you.”

“It was not,” she slows her steps. “I know what’s expected of me and I will perform my duty. But if I’m being honest...,” she turns to him, and the tenderness of her gaze tugs at his heart. “I am glad that it’s you,” Aemond feels a flare of an unknown emotion deep in his chest. “We’ll make a pretty good team. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Aemond lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He looks down at their hands and then back at her.

“It seems so,” he tells her, a slight smile in the corner of his lips. There is a moment of comfortable silence as they make a short stop in the shade of the trees.

“But I shall give you a warning,” she says with a mischievous grin. “My siblings take any celebration very seriously. Every single relative of ours will come to the wedding, and most of them won’t shy away from enjoying a cup of wine... Or two.”

“Can any of them outdrink Aegon?” he jokes, and she bursts into laughter.

Aemond gets carried away by their conversation once again, losing track of time. While she’s listing her relatives, adding innocuous remarks about each of them, the prince is enthralled by the warmth that radiates off her. Her presence alone calms the storm of his insecurities, lulling his fears to sleep. She does that so effortlessly, it’s almost intimidating. But there’s a certain thrill to it, too — the thrill of being close to her, sharing laughs and stories, and Aemond clings to that feeling.

He enjoys the moment while it lasts; until his headache predictably creeps up on him a few hours later. He can’t tell if she senses that something is wrong but she’s the one to suggest returning to the castle. Aemond gladly accepts it.

On the way back they are greeted by one of the guards who notifies them that the queen gave birth to a girl. She lightly squeezes Aemond’s hand.

“Tomorrow is a big day then,” — and the prince knows exactly what she means. The fragile bond that they only started to get the hang of will soon become public knowledge. It won’t be their secret anymore but rather an over-discussed gossip.

“There is still time for you to plan an escape,” Aemond jests half-heartedly.

She looks puzzled for a second, but then shakes her head.

“Only if you’re planning one. We are in this together, remember?” her thumb brushes over his. “It’s all about teamwork.”

Aemond savors the last fleeting minutes of their day. He barely touches the food at dinner, the pain in his head intensifying but he pushes through. When the time comes for them to part, he doesn’t want to. That feeling is alien to him and the prince is clueless about its nature. But he knows that with her any misery will be bearable.

When Aemond walks into his chambers, he notices a little jar on the bed table. It’s the one that the maester used to bring him the ointments in, and the prince sighs. The maester doesn’t grasp the extent of the problem but occasionally would suggest a thing or two to help with the pain. They’ve tried using cold packs, then the warm ones, tried massaging his temples, then drinking cinnamon tea, then adding some ginger that’s known as a remedy for reducing inflammation... Nothing has worked so far.

But he should make an effort.

Aemond barely glances inside the jar and tosses away a piece of paper with the instructions scribbled on it. The prince already knows it all too well: he applies a thick layer of whatever that concoction is on his scar, involuntarily wincing at the cooling sensation. It smells of herbs and feels oily but absorbs into the skin pretty fast.

For some reason, his mind goes back to his mother’s words — “I thought you'd be happy to know.” Aemond is unsure what happiness means. The happiest day of his life is forever chained with the worst one, smeared with blood and pain that he's been carrying through the years.

But now that he met Y/N, he questions if there’s more to life than what he's been through so far.

While he is laying in bed, Aemond wonders if can consider her his friend. If she will ever be more than just a friend to him.

And then, before he knows it, the prince is fast asleep. He wakes up feeling like a new man. At first, he mistakes that feeling for the remnants of his dreams that he was enveloped with at night. He shakes off his drowsiness and looks at the ceiling, catching a glint of sunlight that seeped through the curtains. That's when Aemond realizes that the pain is gone.

He sits up, bewildered, waiting for any sign of discomfort yet nothing happens. He waits for a couple of minutes — and then for up to thirty, but his head is clear and doesn’t ache at all. His eye shifts to the jar on the bed table, and Aemond makes a note to extend his gratitude to the maester later. Suddenly the upcoming festivities don't seem so torturous anymore.

He doesn’t get a chance to see her throughout the day as everyone is preparing for the feast. When Aemond walks into the hall of the Iron Throne, he takes in the decorated surroundings. Unlike the last time he was here, now he wants to remember every detail, knowing that this evening would be of great importance.

The room fills with people, but Aemond patiently waits for her alone. He spots her the second she steps in. Her dress is violet, the material bright and luminous, and it puts her into the spotlight yet again since she's the only one wearing that color. As soon as she takes her place at the table next to Aemond, her hand finds his. He's getting used to that way too fast. It’s hard not to.

The first round of toasts goes to honor Visenya, the newborn daughter of the Queen. Rhaenyra willingly tolerates the sweet talk, generous with her smiles and appreciation. At some point, when the timing seems right or maybe when her cheeks are already aching, she gives a nod to Alicent, and Aemond knows what it means. As she starts her speech, he ruefully releases Y/N’s hand.

But right when they are standing up, with everyone around cheering and staring, she lightly presses her body against his, and Aemond feels how tense her back is. That’s when it dawns on him that she’s well aware of the attention but she doesn’t really like it. Instinctively, he puts his fingers on her waist, his touch respectful and delicate. She breathes out and briefly rests the back of her head against his shoulder. For a moment it feels like it’s just the two of them.

That feeling doesn't go away.

Usually, he’s not the one to take part in dancing, but he does so for her. Aemond feels out of practice and he can’t tell if that's what makes his head spin or if he’s getting tipsy from the intimacy of their dance. Her moves are elegant, well-rehearsed, her body follows the rhythm of the music with ease. He doesn’t remember when was the last time that silly activity brought him so much elation. Did it ever?

Time flows by in a blur, and they eventually take a pause after going into a fit of giggles at the sight of Lord Velaryon trying to improvise a move and failing, only to amuse his loving wife. Y/N suggests going out for a while and Aemond is keen on following her but then his mother catches up to them, her hand and her gaze are on him in an instant, pulling him away.

“Aemond, you’ve been dancing,” she can’t hide her bewilderment, a timid smile on her face.

“Should I not? Seems like a suitable occasion,” Aemond chaffs with a tilt of his head.

“It is, indeed,” she doesn’t let him go just yet, and he discerns the hidden meaning of her words, the apprehension she fails to conceal. Aemond wants to grant her some respite, at least for the rest of the day, so he tells her with plain-spoken sincerity:

“I can assure you, this isn’t a cause for your distress.”

But then he quickly finds a cause for his when he doesn’t see Y/N around. He goes searching for her in the crowd, then leaves the room altogether, coming out into the hallway.

Aemond hears her before he sees her — and she isn’t alone. It takes no effort to recognize the second voice, which belongs to no other than Jason Lannister. As the prince rounds the corner, they come into sight, and Aemond has a very bad feeling.

He missed the start of their dialogue, and the look on her face is unreadable. She’s oblivious to Aemond’s presence and he decides to watch them. He tells himself that he’ll never allow her to get into trouble. There is something very tempting in having a chance to save her from anything; as if he feels the need to prove himself to her. He tries not to entertain that thought.

“... It’s not too late to change that, don’t you think,” Ser Lannister purrs, his tone sickly sweet but arrogant.

“It is. Which I have no regrets about, ser,” when she talks to him there's not a hint of friendliness in her voice.

“Your approach may be short-sighted. The proposition of mine wasn’t of a frivolous kind,” he’s circling her, the manner of his movement is borderline predatory.

“I believe you will soon find a lady to welcome your advances but I would very much prefer to drop this conversation,” she recapitulates.

Aemond tenses up, feeling like this is the moment for him to step in. Then he looks at her and realizes that something is off. Her face expression changes — but it’s not a look of fear. By the rising of her chest, he detects that her breathing sped up, eyes are shooting daggers at the man in front of her. She’s looking, for the lack of a better word, positively furious.

But Ser Lannister, apparently, is not very good at reading signs as he comes improperly close to her.

“I can be very persuasive,” his fingers fall on her back — and then go lower. “I think you should appreciate the attention while I’m this generous and...”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. In about two seconds his face is suddenly slammed into the nearby wall, the hand he put on her is now twisted behind his back. Y/N uses her free hand to push right between his shoulder blades, pressing him into the stony surface.

To say that Aemond is shocked would be an understatement.

Right at this moment, she looks like a different person. This side of her he’s not acquainted with but it only adds to her appeal. The change is barely perceptible: she’s still maintaining her posture, keeping up the face of a woman who knows her worth. But Aemond catches a flaming spark of defiance that threatens to shutter her restraint. He can sense her anger from far away despite her doing her best to contain it.

“I do not know what kind of attention you are used to, but you’re forgetting your manners. Next time you dare lay your hand on me, I will not hesitate to break it,” her voice doesn’t lose its usual softness, but now has an added layer to it. It sounds sharper, bolder. It sounds like she’s not afraid of anything.

She lets Ser Lannister go, taking a few steps back and smoothing her dress. He is frozen at first, but then slowly turns to her.

“You didn’t... You did not just do that,” there’s a visible red mark on his cheek that will undoubtedly turn into a bruise.

“Did what, ser?” her tone is laced with coldness.

The man looks at her in disbelief, his face is a parade of emotions — from shock to annoyance to anger.

“You will not get away with this,” he scowls, nettled.

“You are telling me that you’re considering letting everyone know you were overpowered by a woman? Sounds hard to believe,” she seems unfazed.

His mouth opens and closes a few times before he roars:

“You, insidious wre—!”

This time Aemond is the one to interrupt the man. “I suggest you watch your tone when speaking to my betrothed.”

She flinches at his voice, turning to face him, and Aemond slackens his pace a little.

“Shouldn’t she watch hers? She’s talking to a lord,” Ser Lannister exclaims lamely, his arrogance instantly toned down a notch.

“And I see no wrongdoing on her part. Care to explain what got you into this situation?”

“It was a... a simple misunderstanding,” his excuse is so pathetic that it makes the prince sneer.

“And what was the matter in question?” Aemond comes closer to the man which makes ser Lannister evidently uncomfortable. He carefully contemplates his next move.

“I only wanted to extend my congratulations on her betrothal,” the man fakes a smile. “Mayhaps I expressed myself poorly.”

“You should opt to choose your words more wisely next time,” Aemond looks down on him. “Perhaps you are needed somewhere else?”

“I shall rejoin the celebration then,” ser Lannister eagerly agrees and bows out way too quickly.

Aemond can barely wait for the man to get out of sight before turning to her. Even though the prince witnessed the whole thing, he can’t stop himself from asking:

“Did he harm you?”

“He didn’t get a chance,” she mumbles, avoiding his gaze. She looks so embarrassed, he wants to offer her some comfort but isn’t sure how.

"Dare I say we’ve got enough interactions for one evening?" Aemond tries to lighten the mood yet she only offers him a half-hearted smile.

“I will escort you to your chambers,” the prince suggests, and before she can argue he adds, “I know you can stand up for yourself if needed. But I insist.”

She doesn’t move an inch.

“...You are not mad at me?” she’s looking at him with doe-eyed sincerity, clearly upset. Aemond is mad at himself.

“I am thinking about cutting his arm off,” he says under his breath, but she catches it.

“Aemond, there’s no need!” she gasps and he sees a glimpse of a smile on her lips.

“I will have to disagree,” he starts but then she grasps his elbow and Aemond’s hand — finally — clings to her again.

“I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me,” she confesses.

“And I don’t want you to get hurt,” his fingers caress her arm through the lace material. Her cheeks heat up and Aemond finds it adorable.

“I think I... I was the one who did some damage,” she complains.

“You must imagine my surprise,” Aemond drawls, teasing.

“Oh, Gods,” a quiet groan leaves her mouth. “That was not very ladylike of me.”

She covers her face with the other hand, her grip on his arm loosening. Aemond dithers before gently brushing her palm away from her face.

“You did the right thing and you have nothing to be ashamed of,” he enunciates each word. “He only sets an example of unseemly behavior.”

“I’m afraid I wasn’t too far off,” she remarks, her voice relenting.

“Hmm, you are certainly not to be truffled with,” he retorts, earning a faint laugh from her as they start walking, arm in arm.

“May I inquire how did you... master that very handy skill?” Aemond ventures to ask. That image of her — brave and unapologetic in her anger — will be forever engraved in his memory. Aemond is apprehensive about voicing his curiosity, uncertain of her reaction but when she answers:

“My father taught me that,” her tone is surprisingly impish.

“And how did you manage to talk him into it?”

“Talking didn’t help much, actually,” she grins. “And then I broke my brother’s nose and my father decided he should find a way to guide my enthusiasm.”

“How old were you?”

“Nine,” she looks so satisfied with herself, Aemond can’t hold back a small laugh.

She joins him and they fall into the comfort of each other’s company. But then her smile wilts.

“There was a time when I was the youngest child and my siblings... They weren’t very nice back then,” she blurts out. Aemond feels his heart sinking.

“What did they do?”

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad, honestly, they were only teasing. It’s just um,” she’s looking for the right words or maybe for an acceptable explanation, but there isn’t any. “It was very tiresome mostly. I could never understand the reason for them being mean.”

Aemond is yet to tell her the story of him losing his eye, and the memory pops back into his head in a flash. He knows exactly what she feels, his own sense of helplessness fresh in his memory. And it still stings the same, and Aemond loathes that.

While he revisits the past, unwillingly slowing his pace, she spots the change in his demeanor within seconds. She sees his facial features congealing, his fingers clenching, and she comes to the only conclusion she can make.

“Is it the headache?” her voice is suddenly quiet, and Aemond comes to an abrupt stop. The question catches him off guard, words stuck in his throat and his mouth agape. He doesn’t know how to react nor does he understand how could she possibly know that.

She is quick to clear up his confusion. “I noticed not long after we met and then your mother confirmed my suspicions. I am sorry that I didn’t ask you directly, I thought... I didn't want to sound intrusive,” she explains coyly.

“By asking about my health?” he finds his voice again. “I am to become your husband, you are free to ask such questions.”

“We’ve only known each other for about a day back then. Surely, you’re allowed to take more time than that to open up to someone,” she kindly points out.

A day. Up until now the only person who’s known about his pain was his mother, and for years no one else ever questioned his well-being. And it took her a day to notice that something was wrong.

“Did the ointment help?” she asks hopefully. For a second he thinks he heard her wrong but the shadow of concern on her face tells him otherwise.

“That was your doing?” he can’t hide his amazement, and it elicits a laugh from her, sonorous and dulcet. Aemond likes the sound of it, he really does.

“I’ve been fortunate to obtain the knowledge required,” she informs him.

“And what kind of witchcraft is it?”

“It is not,” she playfully elbows him. “It was something my grandsire taught me. He used to have an ache of a similar nature. No one could understand the cause of it, and it only got worse with age. But my grandmother refused to sit idly by and one day she found a way to ease his pain,” she has a dreamy expression on her face but it melts into a wistful one. He guesses that both of her grandparents passed away.

“After her death, he wouldn’t let anyone help him. It took me months to persuade him and eventually he let me on her secret,” her smile is bittersweet. “Then he died, and I never thought the recipe would come in handy ever again.”

Aemond hates seeing her wallow in sadness. He puts his palm on top of her hand in an attempt to offer some consolation. If there was a way to free her of that grief, to take at least some of it upon himself, he would’ve done it in a heartbeat. But his touch is enough to bring back the cheerfulness in her voice.

“I should mention that your maester did help, too, although he was reluctant at first,” she reveals.

"And I presume that it also took some convincing?" Aemond thinks of the maester’s face that always looks like he is surrounded by imbeciles.

“I shamelessly boosted his ego,” she wrinkles her nose. “Told him there was no way anyone would ever be as skilled as he is, and that my attempt was merely a gesture of goodwill.”

“But it wasn’t just that,” Aemond cordially protests.

They already reached her chambers but he doesn’t want to let go of her hand. He wants to tell her that meeting her was like taking a breath of fresh air after being held underwater, like finding a source of light in the pitch darkness of the night or feeling the warmth in the dead of winter. Aemond wants her to know that she’s been a saving grace for him, but he’s somehow at a loss for words, his thoughts jumbling together.

“It was way more than that and I...,” never in his life had he gotten this tongue-tied and flustered. Yet she treats him with the same kindness and with no sign of prejudice, listening closely and keeping her eyes on him. Her gaze is disarming enough to make him say the first thing that comes to mind.

“I must admit, you exceeded my expectations,” Aemond breathes out.

It immediately feels like the worst, the dullest choice of words possible, and he wants to sink into the ground right this second. But then he sees her natural smile, genuine and bright, blossoming on her face again.

“I am glad to be of service, my prince,” she murmurs the last part, and his heart skips a bit.

He didn’t register the moment she came a bit closer, but she isn’t shying away from shortening the distance. There’s something enamoring about her trusting nature but that’s not what draws him in. For the first time, he experiences an unfamiliar feeling that tightens his chest, makes his breathing rapid. His gaze slips over her face, down from her radiant eyes to her smile, framed by the lips that look as soft as freshly bloomed flowers. The feeling melts into an urge — he only needs to take a step, to lean his head forward just a bit and...

Aemond inhales deeply. He thinks they are in no rush, he thinks it would’ve been disrespectful and naive. He’s mostly afraid to misread the situation, to scare her away.

But he wants to make his intentions clear. Aemond runs his thumb over her knuckles, brushing them one by one. And then he takes her hand to his lips, planting a kiss on it. He allows himself just this flicker of bravery before straightening up and releasing her hand. When he looks at her, her gaze is directed at him already. It feels like a particular question is hanging in the air; they let it dissolve for now.

“I shall bid you goodnight,” her eyes linger on him for a second before she turns away.

As Aemond watches her go, he is certain he wants them to be more than just friends. Lucerys’s name day comes in a about month, and by that time Aemond’s routine has changed drastically. It might look the same: he wakes up with the sun, flies with Vhagar, he trains regularly, he spends his free time reading — except now Y/N is a part of his every activity.

She’s never nosy or clingy; he is the one seeking her company at all times. She’s an early riser, too, and they are always the first ones at the breakfast table: he asks her about her dreams, they make plans, they poke fun at Aegon, who is perpetually sleepy, and she can effortlessly hold any other conversation with his family which only makes him ever so pleased.

She watches him train with genuine curiosity, she never looks away nor flinches, even when he gets too competitive and rough. Her attention is flattering — and it’s all on him, and it feels unusual at first, but becomes empowering and he bathes in it.

When he takes her to meet Vhagar, she is terribly nervous. Aemond jokes that meeting his old dragon will pose no challenge after she handled Ser Lannister. It gives her enough confidence to pat Vhagar’s snout as the beast observes her calmly. Aemond assures her that the dragon will never go against his wishes. What he wants to say is that Vhagar senses how he feels about her.

They spend evenings in the library, both absorbed in reading but always sitting close by, their arms and shoulders coming into contact more often than not. He sometimes can’t help but get distracted which leads to him forgetting about his book, instead secretly watching her, his glance full of adoration.

For a while, he’s oblivious to how inseparable they’ve become until Helaena tells him one day, while Y/N is playing with Jaehaerys and Jaehaera in his sister’s chambers. When Helaena mentions it ever so nonchalantly — “You two seem joined at the hip!”, it startles him. But that moment doesn’t turn into an awkward one — instead, Aemond realizes that he's not scared anymore.

“I will steal her away from time to time,” Helaena says, as cheery as ever.

“Bold of you to assume I will let you,” he chuckles, his gaze not leaving his betrothed.

“I think she’ll have the last word,” his sister retorts with a cunning smile.

Aemond doesn’t think twice before admitting. “She will never say no.”

“My point exactly.” The Queen plans a great hunt to celebrate her secondborn son, and a feast is being held in no time. Aemond detests those pompous events yet Y/N seems too enthusiastic about the idea, and he begrudgingly agrees to participate. He has no wish to burden her with his weighted resentment toward Luke but, as usual, she sees right through him. She asks him if he has any reservations about the upcoming celebration, and that’s when he decides to tell her. Aemond doesn’t want her to pity him nor does he want to upset her so he keeps the story brief: he claimed the dragon, his siblings didn’t like it, things escalated way too quickly and they haven’t been on good terms ever since.

She heeds his every word, then bluntly asks. “Must you really go?”

He ponders before answering with a sigh. “It would be rude not to. I should pay my respect.”

“I wish he had the courtesy to do the same for you,” she frowns.

“It would be a little too late for an apology,” Aemond shrugs even though her caring tone moves him deeply.

“I still think you deserve one,” she says like it’s the most obvious, logical thing in the world. He wonders how obvious the reddening of his cheeks is.

“I do not wish to dwell in the past when so many great things lay ahead of me,” and he only means her. Having a future with her is his greatest blessing.

She bestows him with her softest smile. “I guess we should make the best out of the situation we are in. Maybe you will have some fun hunting.” Aemond doesn’t know what was her definition of fun, but his definitely doesn’t involve babysitting Aegon. Yet that’s what he ends up doing as they get separated from the group of hunters and his brother gets so drunk, he can barely stay in the saddle. He babbles and whines and Aemond is on the verge of praying for a miracle when the two of them finally stumble upon a boar. The younger prince catches the animal without a struggle.

“Oh, must be good to be a boar. Wild and free!” Aegon grumbles on their way back to the camp.

“I just slit his throat. I doubt you would want to switch places with him.”

“I didn’t say I want to switch places,” he shakes his head so vigorously, he almost falls down. Aemond moves his horse closer, grabbing Aegon by the shoulder to steady him.

“Although switching places with you sounds tempting,” he sneers.

“And why would you ever want that?” Aemond raised his brow questioningly.

“You got yourself a pretty wife-to-be,” Aegon chants and whistles.

“Are you asking for me to tie you to that boar? That can be arranged,” Aemond deadpans.

“ 'tis won’t be necessary,” Aegon's quick to object. “Whatever she sees in you, those qualities are not in my possession,” his frown turns into a grin and he winks at his brother.

Aemond lightly chuckles. “You’ll get no argument from me.” Leaving her is not an easy task for Aemond but coming back to her might be the second-best thing in the entire world. And the first one, obviously, is being with her.

When they return to the camp, he helps Aegon down, impatiently looking around, and as his eye lands on her, his breathing hitches.

She’s standing next to the hunting tent, surrounded by a group of ladies, Helaena by her side and they’re both laughing as his sister unsuccessfully tries to finish her sentence. Y/N has a violet in her hair, strands of it falling down her shoulders, her smile bright against the fading evening sun. She helps Helaena to articulate whatever she's talking about, the ladies around them cackling.

Aemond admires his betrothed from afar, savoring the moment.

It amuses him that her softness is a choice, that she chooses to be open-minded and kind, even though the world around her is armed to the teeth, and she does know how to fight back. And yet, that’s not what motivates her. Instead, she’s an image of benevolence and generosity, always understanding and forgiving, hence why people are so naturally drawn to her. And he is no exception.

Aemond gets distracted when a couple of servants approach him and he instructs them to take the boar’s carcass away.

“You had a successful hunt, dear prince,” when Aemond hears the question, he rolls his eye. Turning around, he sees Tyland Lannister with a smile so forged his face might crack in half.

“As usual,” Aemond answers indifferently. “Never took you for a hunter.”

“I cannot appreciate cruelty,” Lannister forces out. “And I am afraid I will not be able to negotiate my way out of a bear’s grip. So I am here merely to control my brother’s primal impulses.”

The mentioning of Jason makes Aemond cautious.

“Developing some self-control may be beneficial for him,” the prince mutters.

Tyland goes blanch white, taking the hint. “I was wondering if I should address the delicate issue of my brother’s sympathy toward your—”

“You should not,” Aemond cuts him off. “Would be better to address his manners but it’s the thing you must sort out amongst yourselves,” with that, he turns away to find Y/N again.

Except she isn’t there.

The ladies moved closer to the tent but she and Helaena are the only ones missing. It takes him a second to realize that the women look alarmed, glancing at the tent. Or rather inside of it.

Aemond all but runs there, going over the worst scenarios in his head. When he gets in and sees Y/N in the company of Ser Lannister, he thinks he’s never been angrier in his life. If Aemond was a dragon, the lord would’ve been burned to a pulp as of right now.

Jason keeps his distance and his face expresses nothing but regret yet it looks like it’s already too late as she is glaring at him with a sharp glint in her eyes. And in the next moment, she loses her temper.

“...What am I missing exactly?” she asks Jason, her voice unexpectedly loud, and it draws the attention of some nearby men. She doesn’t care.

“You’ve been eager to win me over, but I am yet to find a single reason why would any woman find your company endearing,” she takes a step toward the lord and he shrivels under the weight of her words.

“Is it the winery that your servants built for you? Is it your herd of fine horses? You talk so much about your stable, one may think your betrothed is to marry a stallion,” her smile is mirthless. Aemond hears a faint groan behind his back and recognizes Tyland’s scared tone.

“But what are your accomplishments?” the tent gets deadly quiet as she continues. “Do you consider your persevering courtship to be one of them? Or your harassing of my parents, my relatives and even my maids with your never-ending propositions, no matter how many times were they all rejected? Or mayhaps ambushing me in the hallway counts as an achievement for you?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Aemond sees Helaena and Aegon, both looking stunned. Pretty much everyone around him has the same expression at the sight of Y/N. The prince, on the other hand, has never been more proud of anyone.

She looks at Jason as if she wants to bore a hole in him, her voice getting lower but harsher.

“You want to know what prince Aemond did? None of the above.”

Aemond feels his heart freeze at the mention of his name. She is yet to see him but when she speaks, it feels like she’s seen enough.

“The man I am about to marry has been nothing but kind, respectful and loving, fulfilling my every wish, granting me the comfort of his company and his loyalty. The man with the sharpest mind and the kindest heart — both of which you’re clearly lacking,” she casts Jason a disdainful glance. “So from where I am standing, it looks like I’m the luckiest woman in the Seven Kingdoms.”

When she feels a hand on her waist, she isn’t surprised and welcomes the touch with no hesitation, knowing full well who is standing beside her. She swiftly turns to Aemond, their eyes locking.

“I would like it if we left earlier, my prince.”

“As you wish,” Aemond wishes he could marry her right now.

Disregarding everyone’s attention, he leads her out and asks the coachman to fetch their carriage. When they are away from prying eyes, her confidence wavers a little. It only fuels Aemond’s ire.

“Give me just a second,” he can’t help himself.

Aemond goes back to the tent — and right to the Lannisters, one of them is already scolding the other. Tyland stops his lecturing when he notices Aemond, but the prince doesn’t let him make a sound.

“That was the second time your brother couldn’t hold his tongue,” Aemond ignores Jason and walks up close to the other man. “If you care about his well-being in the slightest, make sure there will be no third time.”

“Aemond, let us not make another scene. You must think how that will look like...”

Aemond stares Tyland dead in the eyes and promises:

“I will gut him like a boar. Imagine how that will look like.”

Without saying another word, the prince storms off.

Y/N already got into the carriage, fidgeting with the hem of the dress as she falls deep into her thoughts.

“Ser Lannister will not bother you anymore,” Aemond says, sitting next to her.

“I sure hope so,” she mumbles, looking down at the wrinkled fabric.

“Whatever he said, you should not let it get to you. I do appreciate the gesture,” way more than he cares to admit, “but there’s no need to go through the trouble of standing up for me,” Aemond barely finishes the sentence when she retorts:

“I will.”

She looks at him, her eyes burning with blazing certainty.

“No one took your side when you were a kid. But I’m doing it now,” she states as her palm covers his, the touch is as warming as her glance.

Aemond thinks he is the luckiest man in the Seven Kingdoms. He runs out of luck so fast, he must’ve jinxed it. They are nearing the castle when the pain on the back of his head stings so unexpectedly, he winces, his eyebrows furrowing. She notices it immediately and insists he should take a rest when they arrive.

“Mayhaps you have some of the ointment left?” she wonders, leading him to his chambers. Aemond rarely allows people to coddle him but he accepts her care freely. He is also aware that the near-miraculous balm that she makes is long gone because he hasn't had a headache in a while.

When she finds out, she looks devastated.

“It must steep for a few hours, I can’t make it right away,” her enthusiasm brittles. She glances at him in a dither, mulling over something, while he lights the fireplace.

“There is another way that I know of,” she slowly suggests. “But you will need to lie down."

“Quite a vulnerable position you want to put me in,” Aemond lightheartedly jests but brings himself at her disposal with no second thoughts.

She sits on his bed right next to him, the bend of her hips an inch away from his arm.

“Close your eye,” she asks calmly and he obliges.

Aemond senses that she leans over him and he struggles not to hold his breath at the realization of how close she is. Then he feels the tips of her fingers on his face, the touch is so light and gentle, it makes him shiver. The pattern of her movements first contours his face, then goes up to his forehead, then slowly glides onto his temples. She massages them delicately in a circular motion.

“It was probably all the noise that caused this,” she presumes.

“Or maybe the fact that the man makes my blood boil,” Aemond says, although his anger is completely gone by now.

“He is pissed I didn't choose him,” she laughs quietly.

“Choose him?” her words peak his interest. “You had a choice in the matter?”

“My father said he would hate it if I marry someone I didn’t like,” her thumbs are following the lines of his cheekbones, then run under his chin, then all the way up to his hairline, right next to his ears.

“May I ask what was your decision process?” Aemond selects his words very carefully. What he really wants to ask is why would anyone pick him, out of all people.

“I’ve heard you claimed the biggest dragon in the world at the age of ten,” he can’t see her smile but he can hear it. “That was impressive enough.”

Aemond takes a peek at her through his lashes. “That can’t be the only thing you’ve heard.”

“I can distinguish valuable information from pointless rumors,” she notes imperturbably.

“I bet those rumors included the stories of me being the scariest man in the realm...”

Her fingers cover his mouth and he stumbles.

“I decided I would be the judge of that,” she says firmly.

“And what is your verdict?” he can't stop himself from asking, his pulse speeding up.

She doesn’t think for a second.

“All the people who were spreading those vile tales clearly have never met you. There isn’t a single bad thing I can think of when it comes to you.”

Aemond shouldn’t take it to heart but that’s precisely where it hits, her voice cracking his shield, her eyes telling him she will never regret knowing him, caring for him. He thinks this is what true happiness is — being with someone who will choose you every time.

Her fingers graze over the strip of his eyepatch and she pauses her movement. She isn’t breaking eye contact, waiting for his reaction, for his permission or refusal. Aemond gulps, helpless under her gaze, and doesn't stop her.

She picks up the leather strip slowly, as if she wants to give him a chance to change his mind. Aemond watches her, his body still, heart rate booming in his ears. She removes the eyepatch and looks straight at the sapphire that gleams brightly in the warm lighting. And then she smiles.

“What do you see?” he exhales.

“Nothing scary, that’s for sure,” her gaze doesn’t leave his face, her index finger tracing the scar, barely touching his skin.

“Nothing I don’t admire,” her voice is a little above a whisper.

“Nothing I wouldn’t love.”

His heart is beating so fast, it feels caged and ready to jump out at any second. Aemond forgets about the headache as if it never existed. In this state of bliss, he contemplates making a very emotional decision. But she makes one instead.

She lowers her face closer to his and all of a sudden he feels a touch so light, it’s almost like a petal brushes over his skin. It’s her lips. She kisses his face — his scar — moving tenderly from the high point of his cheek to the area under the sapphire and then right above what’s left of his eyelid.

When their eyes meet again, Aemond can only think of one thing.

He surges upward, his lips colliding with hers — she responds in an instant. His chest feels like it’s on fire as kissing her is the most overwhelming feeling in the world, but he doesn’t want to stop, ever. Her fingers gently slide down to his neck and Aemond uses his arm for support as he sits up without breaking the kiss. He then pulls her closer, one of his hands on her lower back and the other nestled under her jaw.

She softly sighs into his mouth — and it might be his new favorite sound. She tastes like berries, her lips getting more eager, fiery, addictive, and he is dizzy with joy and longing, trying to memorize each second. The pacing of the kiss grows heated and intoxicating as they melt into each other perfectly. They only part when both are out of air, their lips tingling, swollen and craving to continue.

“I must admit,” she tries to catch her breath, she can’t stop smiling, her hands caressing his face, “you exceeded my expectations.”

Aemond laughs, cheerful and carefree, his nose bumping into hers.

“It’s all about teamwork, as I’ve heard,” he plants a quick peck on the corner of her mouth — and on the other one. And then they are kissing again, desperately drawn to each other. He’s lost in the sound of her voice, in the feeling of her lips on his.

His love for her is all-consuming. Her love for him is healing.

Turns out, letting her in doesn’t make him lose. With her by his side, he always feels like a winner.

✧ the title is a quote from Hozier’s song ✧ I originally took inspiration from this post that lists the possible consequences of losing an eye. I also can’t help but mention the extensive research that @adderess did, which only adds to that heartbreaking yet very realistic concept. ✧ I have a playlist for Aemond 🎵 I didn’t add any music in this fic BUT I’ve listened to “Mr Sandman” a lot, especially the instrumental version. 💕 my masterlist

English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

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grace-mint · 3 months

Text

A Fate Worse Than Death- Part 3

Finale time!! I'm still working on improving my writing, so thank you to everyone who read! TW: Angst, negative self-talk, mentions of SA and torture. Let me know if I forgot anything.

My life had lost all of its meaning. I didn’t want to care anymore. I couldn’t find it in me to care anymore. Rhys was concerned, I knew. I also knew that I was slowly killing him, the fact that I hardly ate, hardly spoke, and hardly slept.

My back had healed in time, it had been about a month and a half since that day, and yet the feeling of hands on my body, the male taking advantage of me, and the gaping hole in my chest from the loss of my wings all felt so prominent and recent.

Now, in place of my once glorious wings, giant, ugly scars lived on my back. They didn’t allow me to fly, they didn’t offer intimate moments with my mate, and they didn’t offer me any comfort. These jagged, hideous things, they were a reflection of my soul. Who I was now. I didn’t try anymore. And just like I didn’t want to care, I didn’t want to try.

My childhood, which was ripped from my young grasp, wasn’t enough? The Gods had to punish me even more? I felt so completely numb, and I was ashamed of this. I was so ashamed when Mor had to help me bathe when I had gotten back, too weak to even wash myself. Or when Azriel had to help me learn how to walk again, his scarred hand sitting softly on my back was a parallel to what lingered under my shirts. I’m sure I looked ridiculous, like a fawn learning how to use her legs for the first time.

And then there was Rhysand, my mate. The person who I let down. I knew he assumed that I was stripped of my dignity. I couldn’t face him. I never let him see me anymore, panic raging through my body when I saw him, my father’s words echoing in my head. ‘They’ll all see you let yourself get taken by another man.’ He was right; I didn’t fight hard enough. In the end, I was still just as weak as I was as a child, letting my brothers and father treat me like nothing more than dirt.

But, by the cauldron I was bored. I lay in bed, mulling over all of these thoughts that constantly kept me company. I searched my mind and soul to find even a modicum of emotion, a single ray of hope, but I came back empty. So, I just lay there, wallowing.

3 days later, Cassian burst into my room. His face was one of empathy, yet he was determined. This was the General of the Night Court, still a much softer one, but he was in that mind set. He meant business.

“Get up,” he said, “get up out of that bed. You have hardly eaten, I know you don’t sleep well, and we are all worried.”

I rolled over onto my side, my back to him. “You want me to get up, and I want you to get out.” I spit back.

“No.” He plopped himself on the bed, next to my legs. “We don’t have to talk, but I’m not leaving. Cauldron y/n, we don't know what to do anymore.”

I hummed, not deigning to answer. I knew he would stay there, and again, that feeling, that thing in my chest struggled to get out. I smothered it.

I don’t know how long he sat there, or how long I lay there. I wish he would say something, anything to silence the racing thoughts in my mind. In conversation, I wanted silence, yet in silence, I wanted conversation. I was so pathetic.

“He has run himself rampant with worry, you know.” I didn’t want to hear about Rhysand right now, but I wouldn’t stop him. “He spent time in the camps, strictly and personally enforcing the wing laws, seeing to it the males treat the females like actual people, not objects.” Anger entered his voice while talking about the barbaric males in those camps.

“Y/n, he’s so broken without you. My brother has been the strongest male I’ve ever known. He went through hell with Amarantha, his father, and even now, the prejudice he faces from the other courts, it weighs on him. But, when you two were together, no matter what, I have never seen him more joyful. I had never seen him so stress-free, not caring what others had to say.” He brought his hand up to my head, gently stroking my hair. My heart ached, Cassian, the brother I never had, calmed me. Not as much as Rhys could, obviously, but he calmed me just the same. My thoughts slowed down, becoming less and less rapid. “Just see him, once. He needs to see you, and you need to see him. You two have been through so much together, he would never abandon you. You know that right?”

I didn’t answer, staying silent. At one point of my life, I would have answered this question without a single doubt in my mind, but now I couldn’t. That feeling in my chest tugged again, telling me I was being an idiot. My mate would never leave me, but everyone leaves eventually.

Cassian sighed, finally standing up and placing a kiss to my head. “Just think about what I said, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

“I will.” The first words I had spoken since I’d tried to kick him out. I still couldn’t see him, but I heard him pause. I understood why, I had been so adamant about Rhysand not seeing me. I just gave him the worst possible thing. I gave him hope.

---------------

Rhysand had spent this past month in misery. He hadn’t seen her since a few days after she woke up. He always kept his side of the bond open, hoping she would feel he was there, no matter what.

“She said she’d think about seeing you.” A voice broke through his thoughts. He was sitting in his office, nursing a glass of bourbon.

Hope, the damned thing, sparked in his chest. “You think she will actually go through with it?” Rhysand asked Cassian, not wanting to show his disbelief that y/n would actually go through with it.

“She might.” Rhysand’s face fell at his words. He was going to die without his mate another day more. The numbness from the bond made his chest ache constantly. His heart felt as though it was being stabbed over and over.

“What do I do?” Sorrow dripped from Rhysand’s words.

“Go to her. You two can’t keep avoiding each other, brother. It is killing you both.”

He knew Cassian was right, as much as he hated to admit it, instead he just nodded my head in dismissal, mulling over his words.

Rhysand was going to get his mate back.

---------------

I slept fitfully. Nightmares plagued the darkness, hands, whips, screaming. It was all the same, every night. I woke up, not even phased anymore, yet still shaken. It was normal now, this is what I had been degraded down to. On nights like these, which had been every one, I missed Rhys the most.

A knock on my door woke me from my pity party and in walked Madja, the sweetest woman to grace this court.

She was so grandmotherly and gentle. She truly cared about her patients, treating them more like her own children than simply clients.

“How’s the back?” As kind as she was, she was also a straight to the point, no-nonsense type of grandmotherly.

“Fine.” My usual answer. I wouldn’t burden her with how sometimes it felt like I could feel the steel of the blade ripping into my skin, the crack of the whip against my wings.

She simply nodded, understanding in her eyes. “Lay on your stomach, I want to get a look at it, make sure it is healing well enough.”

I do as she says. I had been wearing Rhys’ clothes, the sole comfort of him I offered myself. They were large enough to not put too much pressure on my healed, but tender back. It also allowed easy access for Madja’s appointments. She unbuttoned the back of the shirt, pulling it away.

“Child, you are stronger than you give yourself credit for. You punish yourself, thinking you failed yourself. You are plain wrong.” Her voice was stern but not unkind. “You have healed physically, you are almost out of remission, but the mental has still yet to be touched upon. Why has your mate not been here? Does he not care?” Madja loved her High Lord like he was her own son, but that would not excuse these actions if they were true.

“No. I don’t want to see him.” My words were flat and left room for no argument.

She sighed, “Dear child, I know what happened, all of it. While others may not, you know that you are still here, despite everything. You cannot let those who hurt you win that war that rages in your head. You are our High Lady, or did you forget. You have fought for so much, do not let these demons be the ones who take you down.”

“Thank you, Madja. Your words mean more than you know.” And I meant it.

She begins to button up the shirt for me, hardly getting more than a few buttons as the door slammed open.

And there stood my mate, eyes wild and raging.

Panic flared in my chest, he would hate me. He would see my back and hate me and he wouldn’t want me anymore.

But as he just stood there, his gaze on my ruined back, I saw his gaze darken with an emotion that wasn’t disgust. He looked murderous.

“I’m so sorry, I should have knocked.” The words come out of Rhysand’s mouth, dripping with anger and melancholy.

“Actually, High Lord, if you wouldn’t mind helping her finish up, I fear I am running late for my next appointment.” Madja said, packing her stuff up. She rushed out of the room before either of us could say anything.

Rhys and just stayed there, staring at each other. He finally moved, “Can I help you button these? Is that okay?”

I nodded, relinquishing eye contact and staring out the window instead. He carefully began to button the shirt up, with the gentlest touch I could imagine. He made sure to not touch a single part of my skin, but I could feel his unwavering gaze on my back.

“Beautiful,” he murmured under his breath, and I felt myself stiffen at his words, not the finger running gently down the scars lingering where my wings should be.

“You’re delusional,” I hear myself say, my breath quickening at his presence. It wasn’t fear or panic I felt anymore, but longing. Cauldron, I’ve missed him.

Rhys stood sharply, helping me up and turning me to face him. He put his fingers under my chin firmly pulling it up to meet his gaze.

“Why would you say that about something that’s a part of you. You are the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever had the blessing to set my eyes upon, and these scars do not take away from that. I will make it my life’s mission to let you never forget that.”

I felt a shudder go through my body at his words. Emotions I had kept under lock and key flooded through me.

“You don’t know what you are talking about, I am ugly. I am disgusting. I am a failure. I don’t deserve someone like you, who still wants me after what I allowed them to do.” And with those words, the dam broke. The emotions escaped the carefully crafted safe, and I cried for the first time since I saw myself in that mirror, facing who I was now.

“Oh y/n darling,” Rhys placed his forehead to mine, “you are not a failure. You are the most stunning thing I have ever laid eyes on. Nothing can possibly compare to your beauty, not the brightest star on Starfall, nor the most awing beaches of the Summer Court. And you are not a failure. What could ever possess you to believe that.”

“Rhys, I failed you. I let them touch me, use me. And I didn’t stop it. I ruined what we had.”

Rhys stilled, his suspicions confirmed. “Your father is going to die an even more painful death than planned.” “He’s still alive?” Fear enters my words. I can hear the shake in my voice.

My mate’s eyes filled with even more anger. “Not for long. He hasn’t been sitting uninjured though, believe me. I would gladly take care of it today, unless you’d like the honor.” He was still in front of me, staring at me.

I shake my head, “I never want to see him or my brothers again.” He nodded in understanding.

“It is done then.” He sighed, and took a few steps back, dropping to his knees in front of me. “My mate, my beautiful, strong mate. You are not a failure, you did not fail me. It could never be possible.”

He gently held my hands, placing a kiss to the back of them. “Those scars you have gained are proof of your strength. Proof that you survived. And I will never, ever allow another male to touch you without your permission.” His words had a dangerous edge to them, one that I knew was speaking nothing but the truth.

“And my love, I am the one who failed you. I wasn’t there to stop them; I let you go on that mission. I am not worthy of your forgiveness.”

My heart leapt at his words, he thought he was the one who let me down. I tugged my hands from his grasp and placed them on either side of his face, sliding off the bed until I was knee to knee with him. Tears began pouring from my eyes. “Rhysand, you are good. You have been nothing less than perfect to me all these years.” His eyes filled with emotions of his own, and I felt his sorrow on the other end of the bond. The Bond. My mate, I could feel him again. I tugged on it, and felt Rhysand inhale.

“Y/N, I can feel you again.” His voice cracked, and I felt myself lunging into his arms. Rhysand’s arms, my mate’s arms tugging me impossibly closer.

“I’m so so sorry, Rhys. I missed you so much; I thought you’d hate me.”

“How could I ever hate you, darling.” His hand ran down the back of my head in comforting strokes. “I love you so much, I am still healing, and it will take time. But the thing I had felt like I was missing for so long was you.”

“You could throw me out and take another 6 years, and I would stand at that door waiting for you.” I knew he was telling the truth, a bit exaggerated, but I knew he would be there. I leaned back, pulling my head from his chest. We just gazed at each other for a while, before I slowly leaned up, placing a gentle kiss to his mouth. His arms tightened around me, as if afraid I might be pulled away.

“I was afraid I would never be able to taste your lips again, feel your embrace, or hear the soft lull of your voice.” My heart broke at his voice, the vulnerability in it.

“Never again, we will never be separated again.” I placed my head on his shoulder leaning into him.

“Never again,” He echoed.

____________________

For the next week, Rhysand was attached to me at the hip, not to say I didn't enjoy it. I missed his presence more than anything. I still couldn’t deal with him sleeping in the bed with me, waking up feeling like I was back in that basement, so he slept in the chair. I felt bad, knowing it couldn’t be comfortable, but he wouldn’t complain. He’d just say he was happy to sleep in the same room as me.

The day after everything happened between him and I, he walked into the room, hands behind his back. When I’d asked what was wrong, he had simply said he took care of an errand. I knew that meant my father and brothers were no longer living, so I simply just took him into the washroom, helping him wash the blood from his hands.

Tonight was the first family dinner I would be attending in nearly two months. Rhysand had helped me with my hair, bought me a new beautiful dress to wear, and now stood by my side, holding my hand as we stood on the roof of the townhouse.

“We don’t have to go, say the word and we can go back down stairs.” His words were soft and gentle. The last time we flew together, I was flying on my own. He would have to carry me now.

I offer a small smile, “I miss my family, Rhys. I have to do this sometime, so why not now.”

With strong arms, he picks me up, hooking one arm under my knees and the other under my shoulders. I wrapped my arms around his neck, with a quick kiss to his cheek. “I’ll be ok.”

He merely nods, stretching out his powerful wings, and I felt a pang go through my chest at the sight. His eyes snap to mine, feeling what I was feeling through the bond. “Darling?”

“Let’s go.” I say, my chin up and determined. I was ready to do this. He shot off the roof with a powerful flap of his wings. I felt the familiar, comforting feeling of my stomach dropping at the movement. My arms tightened around his neck, and I forced myself to look out over our city. It would take time, but I would force myself to be okay with this.

I brought my head up to see my mate staring at me. “You’re the most gorgeous being I’ve ever sat my eyes upon.” I felt my cheeks flush at his words.

“You and your flattery.” I grin at him, looking out over Velaris again. “Our city is gorgeous, Rhys.”

“That it is,” His words were soft, but his gaze never left my face. “The most gorgeous.”

#acotar #rhysand x reader #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand angst #acotar fandom #angst #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n

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becasworldsstuff · 10 months

Text

She’s my person

Pairings: Rebekah Mikaelson x bestfriend!reader (witch reader)

Summary: reader has been with the scooby squad forever, when Rebekah comes to school, she makes her see her true potential and Rebekah is willing to do anything to not let anyone hurt reader.

Y/n was friend with Caroline, Bonnie and Elena since forever but they never let her bloom out her true nature, her powers always diminished but used and used whenever someone needed them, it had been that way since they found out the supernatural world, now, the originals were in town, which meant keeping Elena safe from them, little did they knew about what their friend could manage to control outside of her powers.

It was another school day which meant getting up, ready and be awaken enough to bare being with Caroline at 7.30 am, while y\n was nearly sleeping she bumped into a cascade of blonde hair sending herself into the ground and earning a laugh from above

‘Oh my god, i cannot say sorry enough its that I’m really just so clumsy, oh Rebekah its you, you look so pretty today, see you in class’

Those were the first words heard of kindness by Rebekah, her eyes never leaving the figure of the sweet, little witch that she knew was friend with the scooby gang, klaus often talked about her, saying that she was just so sweet that she even worried about him.

Rebekah couldn’t not find herself quite entrained by the girl that in history class seemed to be sleeping calmly, then in math, and then she felt some kind of warm feeling when their pe teacher paired them together.

Into 2 weeks of their friendship bekah had felt the most appreciated in her life ever, following y/n around and sending side glances to anyone who looked strangely in their direction, not that she cared what other though, but her new friend probably would.

Their phone calls lasted hours on end and y/n was more at the mikaelson’s house than at her own, not that anyone seemed to mind as she had everything one could possibly search for.

With the passing time, the squad started to realize y/n's absence to their meetings and such, but no one outside of Elena got worried for her. So the next morning, while she was looking for a book in her locker, Caroline, Bonnie and Elena got near her asking about what was happening, receiving a giggle and a mumble that said "oh, nothing, I just made a new friend, I'm just happy about it and I'm trying to spend more time with her as I'm her only friend, see you at cheer practice" and with that the ball of sunshine disappeared in thin air.

Before cheer practice, in the evening, y/n and Rebekah were stretching and chatting, when Damon Salvatore got near them and decided that he needed to talk to the witch to defeat Klaus, so he was shocked when she saw the original girl, with fake confidence and a smug smirk he took the girl's arm and turned around saying he needed her.

In the Salvatore house y/n had been doing spells for over six hours, stopping only to drink water, her strength now starting to fade as her skin surely couldn't look like one of a healthy person. But she kept on, feeling ridiculous in her little cheerleading outfit, and while her eyes were heavy and her body started to tild to the side for the exhaustion one vampire straightened her up " come on, if you're such a strong witch then you should be able to do this" she kept chanting words in Latin not hearing anyone. The door and the windows flew open, and while everyone seemed to be fighting with the wind she looked as if it was in front of her only to make her look more angelic, the candles started to grow and a light spread around the room strongly, while this was happening, the originals came through the open door and saw as the girl cried blood and screamed while doing the spell, not that anyone seemed to care since they where too busy celebrating the outcome.

When the girl hit violently the floor due to exhaustion Rebekah ran to pick her up, her best friend, being used by ghost who she considered being her dear friend, not having seen in hours Rebekah called her brothers who got a witch to locate her.

They carried the young girl in her cheer outfit and placed her in a guest's bedroom. Waiting for her to wake up the originals forgot all about Elena and the doppelganger and the Salvatore Brothers instead Rebekah sat on the bed with the girl's head on her lap while gently stroking her hair.

"You're my best friend"

#rebekah mikaelson #rebekah x reader #tvdu x reader #the originals #klaus mikaelson #klaus x reader #mikaelsons x reader #platonic!reader #besties

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armpirate · 4 months

Text

Anti-romantic || JJk | Ch. 19

Pairings: Boxer!Jungkook x fem!reader || Enemies to lovers, neighbors

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, curse, illegal boxing, violence

Warnings: fuckboy!Jungkook x reader, smut, dirty talk, curse, mention of tarot and fate

Summary: Jungkook had always been carefree when it came to love. He always believed he was worth sharing himself with everyone, and thought it was selfish of him to ever think of keeping himself exclusive to just one person.

And maybe that was exactly what got him into the big problem he was in.

A curse that kept him away from love didn't seem an issue for him. The fact that his ex-girlfriend thought he'd be affected by the idea of the girls he slept with running away from him after sex was ridiculous. She actually did him a favor, and took a burden away from him.

At least that was what he thought at first.

He had never found himself thinking of the possibility of repeating with neither of his hook ups, because they disappeared before he was able to even think about it. But when he makes the mistake of sleeping with the sexy neighbor that lives in front of him, he finds himself hoping to get the chance for a second round every time their paths cross.

Y/n hated him the second he set foot inside the building by the way he started making her life a miserable mess for no reason. Sleeping with him was a big mistake she wasn't thinking of repeating. At least not until he came up with the excuse that she rejected him for a curse. Not only she thought he was annoying, but she was also convinced he was crazy.

There was no way she could take him seriously.

Aprox. time of reading: 13 minutes

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Those four days were like hell.

It didn't matter how many times they came across each other on the common landing, or how he tried to smile at her every time their eyes met. Her answer was always the same: silence. Putting all of her strength to simply ignore him and just be as friendly as she could, while trying to fight that side of her that was urging her to make a comment that'd unchain the bickering between them like it had been happening since he moved into the building.

She was convinced she needed to get out more. It could be that sudden need only came from the fact that she could be feeling lonely, which was a relief for her. At least that was better than even thinking of her liking Jungkook somehow.

Her steps were stopped as she approached Donna, Alma and Jackie, regretting her decision on getting closer to them as soon as she was getting herself to do it. She had already tried many times before, and it was always the same thing. It wasn't that she didn't like them, she just wasn't able to click with them, there wasn't anything they could have in common. But being fair with herself, there was nothing she had in common with the group of friends she hung out with when they were able to.

—Oh, Y/n —Donna called her from afar, lifting her hand to motion her to walk to them—. Come sit with us. We're taking a sip of coffee.

As usual...

One thing about Donna, Y/n would never find her at her desk, she was always in the cafeteria or somewhere in the resting areas of the office -which made her wonder how she managed to write her articles, and do her research when she never worked in her workplace.

Not like it mattered, but it just made her curious.

—Look who's joining our dark side —Jackie giggled, smiling so wide that she could see her light pink gums.

—Well, I'm quite busy usually —Y/n answered, carefully sitting on the free chair in front of Donna—. I'm currently working on some coverages, I'm also still working on my article...

—Oh right, the one you couldn't tell anyone about? —Donna interrupted her, smiling.

—Yeah, that one —Y/n nodded.

—How long has it been since you started working on it? I guess they should be hurrying you up to publish it —of course she was going to drop that type of comment.

—Well, I'm taking my time. I've had some problems getting inside the biggest issue...

—Maybe you should change it and write about something else —Y/n's tongue was trapped between her lips when she was interrupted by Donna's advice filled with poison—. It's just an advice from a more experienced colleague —she tried to justify when the other two glanced at her.

—Don't drop it —Alma encouraged her—. Were you given a due date?

—No, no —her head shook—. I was even told to take my time to make it as perfect as possible.

—Then that's it! —Jackie clapped— Take it easy. And if you need help, just tell us. I'm good with photographs, so if you ever need a good shot, just let me know.

As much as Y/n was grateful for Jackie's kindness, she couldn't imagine her and her colorful clothes among the type of crowd that was formed by those boxing parties.

—Yeah, we're here to help —Alma seconded—. I know we didn't get close, but we love to help and enlighten you whenever you need it —she assured, placing her hand over Y/n's—. And Donna can also help you, right?

—Right —she forced a smile—. Of course.

There was no lie in admitting Donna was forced to say she was going to help, when at first she just wanted to mock Y/n -for some reason she didn't care about-, but there also was no point in focusing on that when two people she never gave a chance to were being so nice and good to her after barely spending any time together, despite sitting two desks away.

After that, she was able to look at the rest of the day in a different way, she felt happy, her mood went through a high boost after talking with Jackie and Alma, and not only because they encouraged her to go on with the article -which she had no idea how she'd continue writing after she dumped Jungkook. She also felt like a whole new possibility was opened after speaking to them, like she had a new place to go to whenever she felt like work was getting to the best side of her. It made her feel like she drew a safe line between them and her because she felt attacked, when they both were accepting and friendly.

It was amazing the effect one small detail could have on the other things. She didn't care about how crowded the subway was, or how tired she felt to walk back home, she just didn't mind it.

Just like she didn't mind finding Jungkook waiting for her in front of her door, while he stared at her doormat.

He was going insane.

Jungkook couldn't understand what was happening, but he was sure he couldn't go on that way. If anyone else had told him before that he'd be looking for someone else's attention, waiting for the exact time to meet up with her, he'd have cackled in the loudest way possible.

It was so bad that even Jimin noticed the change in him.

Normally, his attitude was chill and careless. Their dynamic worked because his friend was too emotional, and Jungkook was the one that lacked that sense. His nickname as they both grew closer together was Iron Man, but those few days he walked around like he was missing something.

He kept checking his phone, for no logical reason -because the only times Y/n had texted him was to tell him to lower the volume or shut up. But he still looked every once in a while, thinking her message would find its way into his device.

He was missing her, and he just couldn't accept it. Jungkook needed to solve it all out before it went worse, and the only way to sort it out was to have her going back to her petty responses and bad looks. He was convinced the only real problem was the fact that he wasn't the one rejecting her. That was it.

—What are you doing there? —she sounded tired, dropping the smile that adorned her face the second she set foot outside of the lift.

—I need to talk with you.

—Again? —she sighed— What is it now? They'll come to check your router? Will the plumber show up?

—Seriously? I come to speak with you and you only think that I want something from you? What image do you have of me?

—The image that you earned with passion —she answered immediately after.

Jungkook looked away, tilting his head as he tried to find the words to speak. Sentences were mixing together, the sounds were rolling around his tongue, and he was sure that he wasn't going to be able to form a proper phrase while she looked at him that way.

—Okay, then —she finished, turning to her door to open it.

Jungkook stopped her from closing the door behind her by speaking again, placing his palm on the exterior door knob, earning another exhausted sigh from her.

—You can't ignore me.

—Excuse me? —she chuckled, raising both of her eyebrows at the order.

—We're neighbors, you just can't act like I'm not living next to you.

—Unfortunately, it's a reality. That's why I have no other choice but to pretend you aren't there.

—I know I've done things wrong, but... let's make it up?

—No —she firmly said, crossing her arms on her chest.

—Is this because of the article? I told you I was going to do it.

—It's not because of the article, it's because of the way you dealt with the whole thing —she confessed—. You just can't ignore people when you don't want to do something, you speak with them. That's what adults do.

—So would you have accepted my decision if I had told you that I didn't want to help you? —he fought back— You mean you wouldn't have acted annoying and petty about it.

—No —she answered again—. I probably would've get mad. But I would have been on the wrong because I can't force people into doing things I want —she explained—. That's not the problem now, because you always find a way to make me mad and make it valid.

—Y/n...

—Didn't you want me to leave you alone? —she cut him off— I'm leaving you alone. Live your life, do your things... But don't bother me or I'll make you regret it —she threatened, pointing her index finger at him—. Get lost now.

—How can you tell me to get lost?

—Well, like I've just done it now —she shrugged—. It's a two-word sentence, pretty simple to say and understand.

—Okay, I'll tell you why I didn't want to do the article.

—That's literally not what I said —she mumbled.

—... but you can't judge me.

—Too late —she rested her arm on the door frame.

—This goes back to some time ago —he exaggerated the move of his hand—. An ex, that wasn't really an ex, cursed me. She promised I wouldn't have a stable relationship, and it had been working until now. I went to a tarot reader, and she confirmed everything that was happening, until she told me that a woman would come to break the curse. She said that I'd fall for her after she appeared, and told me that it'd be made through some work. You showed up in the middle of nowhere, you're the only woman who's still in my life when the rest of the flings disappear the morning after, and you're the only one I was going to do some work with.

Y/n completely lost the plot of the story at the mention of a curse. She couldn't believe he really believed she was going to fall for such a lame story. But it was even crazier that he spotted her as his savior, or the person that would break the curse. What fairytale did he escape from?

—So I wanted to avoid you, because I didn't want that change to happen —he continued—. I'm really happy with the way my life is going right now, okay? I don't need anyone to put everything upside down.

—Wow, you're really creative with excuses —she tilted her head—. Ever thought of leaving boxing and becoming a writer?

—I'm telling the truth.

When she was going to speak, he sighed loudly, throwing his head back while causing her eyes to open wide in surprise to the sudden sound coming from him.

—Okay... —she smiled nervously— So how does that curse break? With a real love kiss? Maybe a magic spell? Oh, I know, the power of love!

—It doesn't seem like you're taking it seriously.

—Look, I don't know what excuses you've made up to get girls to forgive you, and I have no idea how they could've worked, but all of this is a bit too much.

—I'm being honest.

—Sure you are —she shrugged.

—And it's also an explanation why you reject me every single time.

—Because your attitude can't be a valid explanation to you —her eyes squinted at his comment.

—It now makes sense!

Y/n just couldn't go past the fact that Jungkook did in fact believe the story he was telling her, and even was able to find some sense in something that seemed to be taken out of the wildest fantasies he could've read about -if he had read any book at all. At first she just thought he was recurring to his long list of excuses to justify his actions, and that only made her angry, with the only wish to crash the door against his face while he spoke. But the longest he went, the more she was convinced that the man in front of her needed psychological help. Urgently.

—You're scaring me a bit —Y/n admitted, looking around for the nearest exit to ask for help in case she'd need it.

—It's weird you slept with me a second time, but I guess the curse works differently since we see each other every day? Now it's one of those moments where I wished Carly didn't block me so I could ask her —he kept thinking out loud, moving his eyes away from her and losing the focus of the conversation.

—That many blows on your head have officially fucked up with your sanity —she mumbled, seeing her neighbor having a full on conversation with himself—. Instead of wasting money on a tarot reader, why don't you pay for a good therapist?

—Y/n, it's serious. My ex-girlfriend went crazy after I cheated on her —Y/n scoffed at that detail—, which isn't relevant now, and she cursed me before leaving my house. What was what she said? —his eyes moved to the top of his head as he tried to bring back the exact words Carly used— Something that I treated people badly, and that I was going to suffer the same thing or something like that.

—Are you hearing yourself? How do you pretend me to believe you, for fuck's sake? —Y/n insisted, controlling her big wish to roll her eyes in front of him.

—How many times have I lied to you?

—Do you really want me to answer that question? —her ironic tone was challenging, making Jungkook regret that question almost immediately.

—I promise I'm telling the truth.

—Okay, let's say I believe you. What do you want me to do with that information? —her lips puckered, before she continued speaking— Everything's okay, and everything you do is valid, only because you were cursed for not being able to keep your dick in your pants?

—But...

—You were cursed because you are a fifteen year old trapped in the body of a twenty six year old, and you aren't able to keep a woman exactly for that reason.

—Well, look who's talking, are you going to call me immature? You?

—Are you going to attack me?

—No, I'm saying that someone that drills a hole in a wall, because of a little noise, can't speak of others.

—A little noise?

—You're just as immature as me, but you disguise it with that serious facade thinking you're fooling anyone. Spoiler alert: you don't.

—Spoiler alert? See how you're a horny teenager? The only reason you don't want to commit to a relationship is because you have the Peter Pan syndrome.

—Here comes the smart ass with her bit of information taken from the short research she does for her articles... And what if I have the Peter Pan syndrome?

—You're nearing thirty, as much as it hurts you.

—I know, and do you know how attractive that is to women? I'll be a bomb when I turn forty.

Y/n rolled her eyes again, almost giving up the argument because there was no way any bit of common sense would kick inside his brain.

—I can't believe I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you right now.

—Because you like me, as much as it hurts you —he mocked her—. And the only reason you're willing to believe the curse thing is because you want to give me a free pass.

—No, the only reason I'm pretending I believe you is because I don't know if you're going to have a psychosis and do something crazy.

—Look who's coming up with an excuse now —he chuckled.

At that point her hand was tickling, reviving how it'd feel if she crashed her palm against his face. She could lie and justify herself by saying she did it in her defense because her neighbor's brain wasn't working right, which at that point wasn't really a lie.

—You could only wish. At the end of the day, I'm not the one scared of falling —she defended herself.

For the first time, Jungkook was the one nervous and speechless, opening his eyes a bit wider and parting his lips to speak, but not letting a word come out from them.

—You're sure because you haven't spent enough time with me.

—That means I'm so attractive that you fell for me barely spending any time together?

—No, that's not what I meant.

—But that's what you said —she rushed to say, keeping him from going on speaking.

—I'm sure that if I spent more time with you, I'd probably end up sick of you.

—Yet you had the chance, and you didn't take it. That's a bit contradicting —she fought back.

She left him stuck, between two options that he couldn't escape. One was a lie, and the other one was the brutal truth, and he was still fighting to confirm what belonged to each one of them.

—Don't worry though. There's no way I'd ever spend any more time with you than what we already did.

Y/n shouldn't have tempted the universe that way, and dragged it to a challenge that she wasn't going to like.

Not even a second after that sentence left her filthy lips, a huge noise interrupted their casual bickering, making them wonder what was happening.

Taglist: @jk97bam @ttanniett

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maimingaffairs · 1 year

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Can I request something where fem reader maybe has a very unusual ability and everyone fears her except for Aleksander who finds her fascinating, and he trains her annd saves her from ridicule amongst other Grisha? Ambiguous ending, maybe two parts??

hi im so sorry I have been so awol... I've been so busy and such. but i love this request and I love u anon and I love literally everyone who comes across my work. MWAH big kisses for you all.

word count: 5.2k

warnings: mentions of blood I think.. nothing really

Fascination (Aleksander Morozova x fem!reader)

Life had altogether not been very kind to you.

Every wayward turn and harsh awakening in your life had brought you to this very moment.

Your arms were held tightly at your sides by two very tall and very strong Corporalki in red. You’d given up on fighting them off; it was clear they-and you- weren’t going anywhere. You let them drag you roughly towards a large tent, settled amongst other smaller tents and small stands and groups of soldiers. You sniffled quietly and turned your head down to your shoulder to try and rub tears off of your face against your cloak.

A particularly hard shove was given to you just as you reached the opening of the large tent, and you stumbled forward, almost falling to your knees. You would have fallen, if the two men at your side weren’t still holding you, leaving you to partially dangle from their grip before you had to stand back up weakly. You had only just gotten back to your feet before you were pushed down to the ground and released. You caught yourself on your hands and you let out a quiet whimper as the gravel ground dug into your palms. You kept your head down for a moment, staring at the dirt, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

Eventually, you had the nerve to lift your head, and you wished you’d kept it down. A handful of Grisha in colorful keftas stood around a table and stared down at you with something between disgust and disappointment.

And then there was him.

Clothed in all black save for the little peek of red around his collar, stood The Darkling. The Grisha’s very own general.

He looked down at you quizzically, as if you were a puzzle he was yet to finish putting together. No one spoke for a long time. Or perhaps it wasn’t a long time. You weren’t sure, time seemed to be passing so slowly that you could count your heartbeats comfortably without rush.

“What is this?”

His voice was dark and it made you look away from him, though you could tell he hadn’t looked away from you.

“The deserter, Sir. The Siphoner.” Someone answered, and you assumed it was one of the hulking men behind you.

“I can see that. Where?” He asked. His voice was eerily emotionless, commanding silence and respect from everyone in the room. It practically made you shiver.

“Attempting to get across the Shu Han border. An informant found her and subdued her until we arrived.”

The memory made you wince. Being held in a cellar for days with your hands bound apart from one another in the freezing cold.

It wasn’t like your hands would’ve been of use anyway. You needed your own powers to do that.

That of which, you lacked.

You could only siphon through contact and emulate for a short period of time. If you were to touch an Inferni, you could be called an Inferni for a little while. Same with Heartrender, Squaller, Healer, all of it.

When you were tested as a child, you had clearly tested positive. Your parents had been elated, thrilled that you’d been gifted. Not many parents thought that way, you’d come to realize. From there, you’d been whisked away to train, to advance your abilities. The odd thing was, it didn’t seem like you had any.

It slowly became evident, though, that you were simply using other’s powers around you. You would hold your friend’s hand and shortly after be able to do what they could.

It was rare, they said, but not impossible.

They also claimed it to be dangerous.

You were labeled to be dangerous.

Really you weren’t, at least, you didn’t think so.

After this had become known, no one hardly ever wanted to be around you, and it was like that for years and years until you were enlisted to join The Second Army as a healer. Sometimes. When other healers were willing to let you use their powers. It wasn’t as often as you might think, though. Apparently the process was tiring and painful, though you’d never felt a thing.

Eventually it had become all too much. The loneliness, the constant ridicule, their constant disdainful stares.

So you ran. And you had made it nearly. You’d been away for months, hiding away from and avoiding anyone who might turn you in.

Gravel crunched under a pair of black boots and you lifted your eyes just slightly, pulling yourself back to the present moment.

“Look at me, girl.”

The Darkling’s voice chilled you to the bone and you didn’t dare disobey him. You slowly lifted your head to look up at him and he was already staring down at you. He eyed you as if you were a marvel, a creature walking around with two heads. Curiously, fascinated.

Slowly, like a predator engaging its prey, The Darkling crouched down in front of you and grabbed your chin. He searched your face as if he had to be sure you looked the part.

Maybe you did.

Your face was dirty and tear streaked, and your hair was askew. Your clothes were a sight to see, as well, covered in dirt and tears. All in all, you looked exactly like you’d been running for months.

“Clear the tent. I will question her alone.” He said suddenly and let go of your chin. He stood up and you felt as if you could breathe properly again now that he was no longer touching you. Everyone slowly filed out of his tent and you stayed on the ground, either too weak or too afraid to rise up to your feet.

When it was only the two of you left in the tent, you slowly willed yourself to look up at him as he still stood over you. You were hardly surprised to see him staring down at you still, his gaze unwavering and hard.

“Can you stand on your own?” He asked, nodding down at you.

You couldn’t find your voice, but you laid your hands flat on the ground and shakily pushed yourself up. You stumbled forward a bit and prepared to crash back down to the ground, but The Darkling had reached out and grabbed your upper arms, steadying you enough to regain your balance and stand.

Now he was fully able to take you in. He looked you up and down and studied your tattered clothes and your frail stature and he folded his arms over his chest.

“Are you mute?” He asked sharply and you simply shook your head in reply.

You didn’t dare look into his eyes again. You were terrified already, and looking into his eyes gave you the feeling that you were staring right into a vision of your own death.

“Y/n L/n. You are being accused of deserting, not to mention you are known to hold an odd little ability that could be fatal to your fellow Grisha. You can stay silent, that is fine by me, but if I were you, I’d start explaining yourself quickly.” He stated grimly.

You clutched your hands together nervously and you opened your mouth, a very quiet whine escaping your lips.

“Am I to be killed?” You had meant for it to sound more casual; stronger. Instead your voice wavered and your bottom lip trembled.

“You are not.”

You weren’t sure if you were relieved to hear him say that or not.

You gave him a little nod and he reached out and grabbed your shoulders, none too gently, at that. You winced a little and shied away from him as much as you could in his grip.

“Answer my questions truthfully and you will not be punished as a deserter. You will not evade punishment entirely, but I will make sure you receive nothing too harsh.”

You gave him a shaky nod and wondered what he meant by ‘nothing too harsh’.

“You ran. Why?” He asked and then he released your shoulders, leaving you to sway just a bit.

“I just…” burning tears of shame gathered in your eyes and you looked down to the ground and you bit the inside of your cheek, “…I was so tired of being alone here. Everyone avoids me, as if I’m a disease, and when they don’t, they’re often times cruel. I don’t have anything or anyone keeping me here, why is it a crime that I ran? It is not like anyone wants me here, much less you.” You stated and finally looked up at him.

With your head upright, the tears spilled out of your eyes and down your cheeks, and you turned your head away from him, looking off to the side of the tent. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even move. You wanted to look at him, to see if there was an indication of what he might say or do next, but you kept your eyes away from him.

You sniffled a few times and brought your filthy sleeve up to your face to wipe it, but a hand on your wrist stopped you.

“Don’t. Your clothes are filthy.” He said, almost as if he were correcting a child. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it into your palm and gave you a nod.

You stared down at it as if it might grow a mouth and some teeth, but after moment you slowly lifted it up to your face and dabbed your eyes with it. You reached out shakily and offered the handkerchief back to him, but he shook his head.

“No. Keep it. You’ll likely need it more than I.” He replied and you nodded once, biting down on the inside of your cheek.

There was more silence and you shifted your eyes downwards to your shoes. You didn’t need to look up to know that his eyes were on you.

“Siphon from me.” He suddenly commanded, and this had you widening your eyes and turning to look at him.

“No, Sir, I have been given strict orders to never siphon, it’s not natural, it’s an abomination of the Small Science.” You protested but he simply shook his head.

“I am in charge, and I order you to. Clearly it’s natural enough. You were born with it. You weren’t the first and you won’t be the last. You’re just very, very rare. Now, do as I say, and siphon from me.” He commanded once more, his tone authoritative.

You eyed him very cautiously and then you raised your hand up away from your side. Your hand visibly shook as you moved it towards his, and he seemed to get the idea, because he lifted his own hand and moved it towards you. You gave him a little nod and then wrapped your hand delicately around his wrist. His skin was smooth and cold under your touch and you fought back a chill. He just felt like one of the shadows he could summon.

Slowly, you began to draw his power into your own grasp, and you closed your eyes, focusing on the connection between the two of you now, the ebb and the flow of energy from his wrist to your hand. He stood as still as a statue, and after just a moment, you let go of his wrist and pulled your hand back to your side.

You looked up at him as he rolled his wrist a bit and flexed his hand, staring at his skin. You almost expected something to be on it, but it was as flawless as it had been prior.

“That’s all?” He asked and then raised his eyebrow, “You could have taken enough to overpower me and leave the camp and escape. Why didn’t you?” He demanded.

You blinked in confusion, taking a half step back. He was right, you could have. But you didn’t want to. Why didn’t you want to?

“I don’t know, Sir.” You answered timidly and wrung your hands together nervously.

“I do.” He replied.

You looked at him curiously and then he gave you a smile.

It wasn’t a nice smile. It was a cold, ostentatious smile.

“Despite being lonely, you don’t want to be truly alone.”

The ride back to the Little Palace was a very uncomfortable one.

You’d been cleaned up after your meeting with The Darkling. He’d demanded that someone clean you up properly and get you in some clothes that weren’t in ruins. Once you’d been put back together, you sat quietly in his tent before he came back and told you that he was taking you back to the Little Palace. He did not give you a reason as to why, but he did assure you that you were not going to be punished.

You sat in a carriage with one other Grisha now. He wore a purple kefta and his short brown hair sat on his head messily, falling into his face and around his eyes. He hadn’t spoken more than two words to you, but you didn’t feel any sort of contempt in the way he acted. He quietly read from a book across from you, and you pulled your legs up with you on the seat.

You didn’t have a kefta, so instead you’d been given a long grey coat and a tan fur cloak to keep yourself warm in. You absentmindedly picked at your already torn up cuticles and you heard a little sigh from the man in front of you.

“Stop. You’ll make yourself bleed and you’re going to hurt yourself.” He stated and you looked up at him. His book laid in his lap and he was now looking at you, or specifically, your hands.

“It’s a bad habit.” You answered and looked down at your lap.

“It is a bad habit, indeed. So I think you should stop. Before you pick your fingers raw.” His tone had a hint of concern in it that you hadn’t heard directed at you for quite a long time, and it was enough to bring your eyes up to his.

“Well, that’s kind of the point of it being a habit. I can’t really stop.”

“You can. You just have to commit to it mentally.” He argued and then closed his book, setting it aside next to his leg on the seat.

“I don’t think I have any of my wits about me mentally, so I guess I’ll just have to attempt breaking this habit at a different time.” You said with a very dry chuckle.

The man flashed a sad little smile at you and then he shook his head.

“Does anyone have their wits about them, really?” He asked and then looked around the carriage briefly before settling his gaze back on you.

You shrugged at the man and then he leaned forward and offered you his hand.

“I am David.” He introduced himself to you, and you blinked a few times.

If he noticed your hesitancy, he didn’t move back or make it known. Instead, he kept his hand patiently in front of you until you reached out to grab onto it gently, giving it a light shake.

“I’m y/n.” You finally said in return.

David seemed to be pleased with your interaction, because when you two pulled your hands away, he gave you a kind smile and then picked up his book again.

“You aren’t in trouble, you know,” David began and then opened up the book once more, “The Darkling wants you at the Little Palace so that he can keep an eye on you. Your safety was no priority at the camp. He didn’t like that very much.” He finished and then buried his nose back in the book.

David’s words took you by surprise and you blinked a few times, “What do you mean by that?” You asked and eyed the man in front of you.

“I mean exactly what I said.”

“Yeah, but I don’t get it. Why does my safety matter enough to bring me to the Little Palace?” You asked, confusedly. The Darkling shouldn’t care about your safety. You’d met him for the first time only eight hours or more ago, and it wasn’t an overall pleasant meeting, and he received you with little to no kindness.

“Well, you are a Siphoner? Are you not? You can be utilized quite effectively with proper training.” He responded in a monotone, not bothering to look up from his book.

You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest like an indignant child.

“You’re mistaken. Trust me. I’ve been told otherwise my entire life.” You stated.

This pulled his attention away from his book and he glanced up at you briefly.

“Then you have simply been surrounded by people who don’t understand the use of power.” He replied and then gave you an awkward little smile.

You didn’t reply to him after he said this, you simply sat back and leaned your head against the wall. You hadn’t realized just how exhausted you were until you were in the carriage, and your eyes now felt heavy and you could feel your surroundings start to feel only half there. You pulled your arms underneath the thick cloak and you let your eyes fall closed, unable to escape the grasp of sleep that pulled you deep beneath its depths.

Days had passed, days mostly spent sleeping and having short and quiet conversations with David. You didn’t realize just how tired you were until you had gotten a taste of sleep. Real sleep. Not just little naps while you were on the run. Days of waiting were not in vain, though, because the second the carriage rolled up in front of the Little Palace, you felt a bit of relief. Now you could sleep in a bed, at the very least.

The doors opened to the carriage and a tall man, clothed in a bright red kefta motioned for you to get out of the carriage. You carefully clambered out with David following silently behind you and you stood awkwardly at the foot of the steps that led up into the palace.

A hand pressed itself into your lower back and you spun around to see the Darkling standing at your side. His shoulders were squared properly and his face was as cold and emotionless as stone, eyes reflecting the same expression. He glanced down at you and began to gently lead you up the steps, bringing you into the palace.

“You have been asleep each time I have come to check on you.” He remarked as the two of you moved down a grandiose hallway. His tone was not accusatory, nor was it annoyed. If anything, he was slightly amused.

“Well, I don’t think I’ve had a secure situation to sleep in for the last three months so this has been nice.” You replied quietly and looked down at your feet as the two of you walked.

He hummed and let out a small chuckle, “Secure situation? Meaning…?”

“Meaning your soldiers have been hunting me down for three months and I haven’t had a moment where I haven’t needed to watch my back.” You replied, your tone clipped. You instantly regretted it, too.

He didn’t say anything for a moment and then he tapped your back just once, and you could barely feel it through your cloak, “Well, you are the one that decided to run. Though you have my apologies for the rough treatment leading up to when you came to me for the first time. Is that a fair trade?” He asked, a thin, forced smile playing upon his lips.

You studied his face for a moment and felt your mouth go dry. Of course you’d looked at him before but it’s as if this was the first time you were really seeing him. His dark eyes stole the breath right out of your lungs. His face was chiseled by the hands of saints and his skin was flawless. You blinked a few times while you stared at him and then you let out a quiet scoff.

“An apology, while unexpected, isn’t that fair all things considering.” You replied and then pressed your lips together tightly.

The two of you came to a door that was across from a set of double doors and he pushed it open, nudging you inside with the hand that was against your lower back. You looked around the room that he’d led you into and you gave an approving nod. There was a large, four poster bed with a canopy and cream colored sheets and beautiful furniture made of deep, rich woods. A bouquet of wildflowers sat in a vase atop a the vanity and you turned to look up at The Darkling.

“I hope your quarters are suitable.” He murmured as you took a step away from him.

“They’ll do just fine.” You replied and then rubbed your eyes a few times, still exhausted from your journey.

You felt a hand on your back again and you slowly turned your head around to see him peering down at you.

“You can rest here. Without fear of being hunted.”

“It’s persecution I fear now.”

He was silent for a moment and then he let out a small sigh, shaking his head just once.

“I will not allow anyone to speak down to you. You are Grisha, whether your talent is rare or not.” He finally said.

“Me being Grisha changed nothing before.”

“Well it changes everything now.” He said sternly.

“Why? Why are you being… so benevolent?” You asked and then raised your eyebrows, “I’ve spent my entire life being ostracized, persecuted, belittled… all because of this ability I have. And you’re telling me that you never once even heard about me until I ran ? I know that’s a lie. Why am I important now?” You demanded and then made the mistake of locking eyes with him.

He didn’t say anything for a long time. Instead he kept his eyes on yours unyieldingly. He didn’t let up on his gaze for a while, and when he finally did, you felt a weight lifted off of your shoulders.

“You’ve always been important. I just never knew to what extent until now. You are of great help to me and I’d like to train you according to your gifts. My sincerest apologies for not being more diligent when it came to your treatment.”

His voice was low and it demanded your attention. Demanded your reverence.

“I’d like to sleep.” You whispered, shying away from his burning stare, boring into your face like hot coals.

“Of course.”

His voice was as smooth as silk now as he moved away from you and in a few fluid, almost melodic steps, moved towards your bed. He pulled the covers back and motioned towards it, turning his head back towards you. You eyed him cautiously before you kicked off your boots and shrugged off your cloak, leaving them to be the only mess on the pristine hardwood floors. You made your way to the bed and climbed onto it, laying on your side so that you didn’t have to look up into his eyes again.

He tucked the blankets around your shoulders and then he let out a quiet chuckle; nervousness overcame you like a disease.

“You are afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you.” You protested before you could even think.

“I make you nervous.”

“Don’t you think you make everyone nervous?”

“Not everyone.”

“You’re wrong.”

He thought for a moment after you spoke and then he moved away from your bedside and walked towards the door.

“Get some sleep, y/n. Come find me when you wake.” He commanded, though his tone was light; nearly on the cusp of gentle.

As he left the room, you were left with the parting gift of sudden silence. You stared at the wall from your position on the bed and your mind ran wild. What if no one liked you here? What if things were the same? You didn’t want to go back to being alone, and you didn’t want to keep feeling alone. Then of course, there was the Darkling, who was mysterious and ambiguous in all endeavors, who all but promised you that you’d not be lonely. You doubted that highly.

Though his presence wasn’t overall unpleasant, the air around him was thick and filled you with an odd nervousness. Perhaps it was the fact that he was so regal and matter-of-fact; stone cold. Or maybe, it was how beautiful he was. You didn’t expect him to be so breathtaking, though you’d heard before that the Shadow Summoner was a sight to see.

Whatever it was, it didn’t allow you much sleep.

“You’re not very good at focusing.” The Darkling remarked as you drummed your fingers against your upper arm.

“I can focus when I’m intrigued.” You stated quietly and twirled a bit of your hair around your finger.

“Then we will go again. And again. And again until you’re ‘intrigued’.”

He was referring to using his power. Power that you’d siphoned from him. He’d been training you- or trying to- for days now. Trying to get you to use what you’d siphoned. It had been easy with other powers. Normal powers. For some reason though, it was much harder to utilize what you’d taken from The Darkling. Nothing seemed to be working, and you were growing bored and frustrated.

You looked up at him as he stood above you while you sat at his desk and you folded your arms over your chest in an insolent fashion.

“I’m tired and this is getting old. I can’t do it obviously.” You huffed and he let out a quiet groan.

“You wondered why you had no friends before and I can answer that for you right now.” He snapped, and you looked up at him, shocked.

“Excuse me?”

You could tell that he regretted it by the way his face twitched and softened and he let out a sigh, “It’s this damned attitude of yours.” He mumbled, “You’re so negative.”

“Right.” You snapped back at him and then turned your head so that he was no longer in your view, “And by the way, I have nothing to be positive about. Deal with the negativity.” You said, irritatedly.

His hand laid itself on your shoulder and you heard him sigh, “I know this is arduous work. But you can do it, you know.” He murmured, gently rubbing your shoulder back and forth.

You slowly turned your head to gaze up at him and you shook your head once, “I would’ve done it by now.” You muttered and then leaned your elbows down against his desk.

He pulled his hand away from your shoulder and he reached out and extended it towards you, palm up.

You stared at his hand confusedly and he wagged his fingers just slightly.

He wanted you to take his hand.

You eyed him cautiously and looked him up and down for just a moment before you shifted a bit and laid your hand gingerly in his own. His slender fingers clasped your hand gently and he looked down into your eyes with an almost eager stare.

“Try now.” He ordered, tone soft.

You looked him up and down before you eyed your joined hands and then you shook your head, “How is this supposed to help?” You asked quietly, but he didn’t answer.

His answer came as a feeling, as if his touch was tugging at something within you, that started in your fingers. Only as a tingle. Then, slowly, it spread up your arms and through your entire body. It was electric, it was empowering, and before you knew it, wisps of shadow were rolling off of your fingertips. Slowly at first, but soon it became more rapid, and the shadows grew larger, and larger, and you gasped. You went to push even more shadows out through your fingers, when the Darkling pulled his hand away from yours and looked down at you as if you’d stolen his very breath away from his lips.

A strange look settled behind his dark eyes and he reached up to take your face in his hand, holding it by your jaw. Gently, he turned your head side to side as if he were examining a rare stone and then he shook his head. Curiously, he brushed his thumb against your jawline and then he let you go.

“You’re a marvel.” He spoke reverently, his eyes staring down into yours.

“I hardly think-“

“No. Don’t argue with me. You could be anything. Everything. You’re dangerous.”

You blinked a couple of times and then you shook your head, your hand traveling up to your face, fingers brushing against the spot that he’d just held, “What was that?” You asked and then held your hand up, wiggling your fingers.

He took your hand in his and examined it closely, as if it was the most unusual thing he’d ever seen in his entire life.

Finally, he let your hand go after a few moments and he looked down at your face, a little smile playing on his lips, “Have you heard of amplifiers?”

“Of course I have.” You retorted, lowering your hand down into your lap.

He gave you a little nod, but said nothing further before he just shrugged and sat down on the corner of his desk, looking down at you. You sighed, exasperated. Oftentimes, the Darkling left you with more questions than answers. You came to the realization that this was simply one of those times. You slowly rose from the chair you sat in and you smoothed down your grey kefta and cleared your throat.

“It’s getting late, sir.” You remarked, doing all that you could to evade his gaze, even if you still felt it on you like a thousand suns.

“Indeed.” Was all he said as he continued to sear you with his stare.

“Your staring is creepy, you know.” You drawled, drumming your fingers on the sides of your kefta.

A little laugh fell from his lips and you had to make sure you heard him correctly. You looked up at him, surprised, to see him smiling down at you as if you were the most amusing thing in the world to him.

“You fascinate me, that’s all, miss y/n.” He said, a playfully lilt in his normally stern tone.

“Never been told that before.”

“Perhaps you should get used to hearing it.”

Perhaps you would.

#grishaverse #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #aleksander morozova imagine #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling x you #the darkling x reader #the darkling imagine #the darkling imagine #the darkling #general kirigan imagine #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes imagine

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thornaelle · 5 months

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A portrait of my Pathfinder character Sabella's current mental state. She's having A Time.

▸ Everything she thought she knew about her life was a lie. ▸ Her great-grandfather is not just dealing with a fiends, he is one. He's a Rakshasa, has probably been several of her ancestors through reincarnation or impersonation, and he wants her to come home and be a good little pawn, sorry, grand-daughter. He particularly wants her back now he knows she can change her form and hide that she's a tiefling. ▸ But she wasn't actually born visibly a tiefling! Her older brother Cesare was though, and that was deemed unacceptable because they needed a respectable face for the family heir and not one that openly advertised that they had been dealing with fiends. Their second born, however, could be safely kept out of sight until they could find a way to permanently hide her fiendish blood too. So their heritages were swapped via horrible transmutation magic involving a painting stretched over a frame of magically re-shaped ribs, which has been hanging in her bedroom most of her life :) ▸ Totally unrelatedly hahaha; She's missing a rib! Cesare is probably missing one too :) It's fine, it probably contributes to her ridiculous acrobatics modifier she's real bendy :) :) It's fine :) Or could that be the ancestry involving a creature know for having wierd joints? Certainly no-one's looking at the way she moves with new eyes at all hahahahaaa :) ▸ Her parents may have been trying to protect her all her life which meant pushing her away and making her want to leave. Real shitty way to discover your parents might not actually hate you, might in fact love and want you very much. ▸ AND her dad has "business dealings" with the Azarketi ambassador, of the kind that mean they light up when they're in the same room and her mother is really pissed off. Is your family life not complicated enough already, dad??? ▸ Everything is Fine. ▸ :) :) :|

She's quite looking forward to getting to go and hit things that are completely unrelated to her fucked up family. (I am having a great time. Sabella may be in the middle of a nervous breakdown.)

#art #pathfinder 2e #tiefling #pathfinder extinction curse #ttrpg #sabella & her scintillating sabres #but we are massively off script for extinction curse right now #i gave my GM a tragic backstory™ and he was like 'nice but have you considered that it could be even more harrowing?'#it was just 'oops we've got a tiefling daughter that's gonna be bad for our business relationships better pretend we don't' when i wrote it #we should be back on the actual adventure path next session #at least for a bit #until grandtiger comes to collect his prodigal grandaughter #i have some ideas about how i want to deal with that :3 i'm sure he's a reasonable fiend #it'll be Fine #sorry i just really needed to froth about my campaign i'm having so much fun #thorn OCs

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just-dreaming-marvel · 2 months

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Caught In A Web ~ 24

CAUGHT IN A WEB MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,195ish

Summary: Trouble is brewing now that the press has been alerted...

Notes: I decided to double-post today! I'm just loving this series right now and feeling a lot of inspiration.

Your heart was pounding. What had just happened? Tony’s hands gripped the wheel with vivid anger while his speed matched it. Before you could register what was going on, Happy was on the line, and Tony was yelling.

“I want the owner contacted! I want whoever told the press about us to be sued!” Tony’s voice was full of rage.

“I’m on it, boss,” Happy said. “We saw the news—“

“The news?” You rasped. Your breathing was growing more rapid. Your palms were growing sticky, and it was getting harder for you to focus.

“—and began working. Romanoff, Wilson, Barnes, and Rogers are helping manage the situation.”

“Good,” Tony said. “I’m taking Y/N to the compound. The security is tighter there.”

“How far out are you?”

“About 30 minutes.”

“We’ll handle the press. You two take care of yourselves.”

Tony hung up and looked over at you. “Honey?” His hand reached over to hold yours, but you ripped yours away. You missed the hurt expression that took over Tony’s face.

“Stop the car,” you whispered.

“Honey—“

“Stop the car!”

Tony pulled the car over, and you quickly jumped out. You stumbled over to the tree line. Tony got out and followed you.

“Honey… Y/N,” Tony called after you. “I am so sorry that that happened.”

“I—We—“ Your breathing was too fast like your lungs were trying to match your racing thoughts. “I wasn’t—Not—This—“

“Sweetheart, I’m here,” Tony came up and placed a hand on your back. “You need to breathe.”

“I—I can’t—“

“Yes, you can, honey.” His hands went to your waist, and he gently turned you around to face him. Tony kept his hands on your waist, knowing that the state you were in would make your skin sticky. “Follow along with me. In… Out… In… come on, honey. In… out…”

You gave in and followed his breathing patterns. It took a minute for your heart rate to come down and your breathing to begin to even out. Tony kissed the top of your head as you continued the exercises.

“Tony…” you rasped.

“Yes, my dear?”

“What is going to happen?”

Tony sighed. He knew that you wanted the truth, so he was going to give it to you. “The press is going to dig into our relationship. They’re going to research you and put articles out there. They’ll say truths and lies and a mixture of them.”

“That’s what I thought… Tony… I…” You looked into his eyes earnestly. “I wanted this to be on our terms… I’m not ready for this…”

“I know, honey, I know. I will do my best to make this right.”

“You can’t take back what everyone will know.”

Tony knew your statement was true, but he would do his best to ensure you were comfortable with this. He would protect you from the ridicule that he and whoever he was dating often faced. You were more than worth it to him. Great lengths be damned. Tony would buy out every news outlet that painted you in a bad light.

“We can make sure everyone knows the truth,” Tony added.

“But will they believe it?”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we know the truth. Okay?”

You took a moment before you nodded. “Okay.”

Tony pulled you in closer. “I will protect you, Y/N, whatever the cost. I love you.”

Tony’s words ‘whatever the cost’ rang out through your thoughts. Those three words terrified you. You knew that his money and his life were worthless to him when it came to protecting those he loved. You didn’t want to lose Tony in the process of protecting you. But you most definitely, didn’t want Tony to lose himself.

~~~

The news was having a field day, and you had barely seen any of it. Tony, only trying to protect you, had FRIDAY block access to the news outlets. But you had seen the security videos; the press was outside of the compound, trying to get in. Your imagination grew wild since you didn’t know exactly what the press was saying. You tried to stay busy with projects and training, but nothing was working.

Tony was all over the place. He was trying to keep you distracted while constantly on the phone with various people to get various news reports down. He could tell that this was all taking a toll on you, which concerned him.

“Hey, honey,” Tony said as he headed into the lab. You were sitting on a stool, staring at something outside the window. “What are you looking at?”

“They’re in the trees,” you stated a slight holo tone to your voice that scared Tony.

“What? Where?” Tony’s head snapped towards the window.

“Across the river.” You pointed. The glimmer of the camera lens flickered through the treetops.

“FRIDAY, darken on the outside windows.” The windows quickly darkened from the outside, but you were still able to see out of them. Tony came around to the front of you and rested his hands on your upper arms, rubbing his thumbs against you. “I’ll have security take care of them.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” You looked up at him, curious. “It’s in your room. Come on.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you from the stool. You let him pull you out of the lab and to your room.

“Tony, I’m not sure I’m up for any surprises right now.”

“I’m sure you’ll be okay with this one.”

He opened the door to your room and revealed Natasha and Wanda. The room was set up for a girls night. The women smiled at you as you took in the place.

“I thought you could use a girls night,” Tony explained. “Have a sleepover, use my card, do whatever. The rest of the Team will join us tomorrow.”

You turned and kissed Tony. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Let me know if you need anything.”

“We will be taking you up on using your card!” Wanda said as Tony left.

~~~

Bucky and Bruce showed up not long after Tony dropped you off at girls night. They decided to head to the compound before the rest of the team so that they could try to gauge how you were doing. They found Tony outside and went to the edge of the river to wait. Tony was in the suit, threatening the reporters hiding in the trees.

“So clearly, he’s handling this well,” Bucky commented.

“Hopefully, Y/N’s doing better,” Bruce said.

Bucky scoffed, “If she’s seen what the outlets are saying, then doubt it.”

“Just trying to be positive here… Do you think she’ll run?”

“Tasha told me that Tony said that he'll walk if this life gets too much for her. He said he would do anything to protect and love her but would walk away from her if it were too much for her… He’s doing his part to show her love and protect her. If he notices that it’s too much for Y/N—“

“He’ll let her go… Tony told me she practically jumped from the car on the way here. She was panicking.”

“We’ve got to step in before either of them does something they’ll regret.”

“Well,” Tony flew over to the other men and landed, “look who showed up early. Jealous of girls night?” His helmet disappeared into his suit.

“Came to help you,” Bucky replied. “Clearly, the press won’t leave this place alone.”

“They’re waiting at the Tower, too,” added Bruce. “There’s helicopters circling.”

“Thankfully, only the Avengers have the right to fly over and around the Compound,” Tony stated.

“How’s Y/N doing?” Bucky asked.

“Fine.” Bucky and Bruce eyed each other, knowing that Tony’s answer was a blatant lie. “She’s with Red and Little Red right now.”

“Have the two of you talked about what happened?” Bruce asked.

“I’m not going to push her.”

“It’s been two days, Tony.”

“She needs time. She’s been through a lot lately.” Tony’s eyes briefly landed on the window of the Compound that he knew was your room. He knew you weren’t okay, but he felt he knew how to help you better than the others. Tony shook his head, and the helmet covered him again. “I’ve got to finish getting these idiots away from my property.” Then he flew off.

Bruce sighed while Bucky watched Tony fly away.

“Steve is definitely not going to like how they are handling this,” Bucky commented.

~~~

“Okay!” Wanda said as she clapped her hands together. “We’ve watched two movies so far, but I’m getting hungry—Oh! Should we order a little bit of everything? We have Tony’s card!”

“Sure,” you responded with a shrug.

Wanda and Natasha shared a look. You hadn’t been very talkative, so they first decided to watch the movies. Now, the two women were growing concerned.

“Okay, time to talk,” Natasha said.

“About what?” You asked.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N.”

You sighed. “I’m fine.”

“I don’t have to enter your mind to figure out that was a lie,” Wanda said. She moved over and rested her hand on yours. “Talk to us.”

You pursed your lips as tears whelmed up in your eyes. “I don’t feel safe… I hate that I don’t feel safe. Especially because it’s Tony, and he’s never not made me feel safe. But this—“ You paused, trying to keep your emotions at bay. “I haven’t even seen what has been said, but I know that my whole life is out there besides my powers. I know they know that I’m in my mid-twenties, Tony is in his early forties, and they are talking the hell out of it… My relationship will constantly be placed under the microscope now.” You let some tears fall. “They’re in the trees… they’re at the gates. They’re at the Tower… They will never leave me alone again… and I’m scared, and I don’t feel safe.”

“Have you talked to Tony about any of this?”

You quickly shook your head. “I can’t. I can’t talk to him because he’ll blame himself. He’ll think he’s the reason I don’t feel safe, and he’s doing everything in his power to make sure I do. He’s constantly flying around, calling someone, checking on me. He hasn’t been sleeping or eating. Tony is killing himself to make me feel safe. But—“

“But it’s not working,” Natasha finished for you. You nodded. “None of this happened the way it should have, Y/N. I am so sorry for that. Your relationship deserved to be made public on your terms.”

“How am I supposed to tell Tony how I feel? It will break his heart. He’ll blame himself… And I can’t—I can’t do that… I love him too much.”

You broke out into sobs. Wanda quickly brought you into her to hold you. She looked at Natasha with great concern for you.

Natasha thought back to the conversation she shared with Tony in Wakanda about how he would walk away to keep you safe. She knew that your honesty would drive him to that point. She also knew that you and Tony were meant to be. Natasha and the others had witnessed it. She could not let this break up your relationship.

~~~

Natasha snuck out of the room as soon as you fell asleep in Wanda’s arms. She headed for the lab to check on Tony. When she turned the corner to the lab, she halted. The interior glass walls of the lab had been shattered, various sizes of glass scattering the hall. Not caring for the jagged pieces, Natasha rushed into the lab. Tony was hunched over one of his work tables. There was an Iron Man gauntlet on his hand.

“Tony?” Natasha called with great concern in her tone.

She carefully walked around the glass and various lab equipment tossed about. She walked to Tony’s side, ignoring the few bottles of alcohol that lay on his worktable. His hair hung across his forehead, and his eyes were red and puffy.

“Tony?” She tried again.

“I heard everything,” his voice was raw. “I was just checking in…”

“Tony. She’s just struggling—“

“She doesn’t feel safe. I’m doing what I can, but it’s not working… It’s not enough… I’m not enough…” Natasha noticed the tears that fell from his eyes. “I’m going to have to let her go, Red.”

“Stop it. You’re Tony Stark! You never give up.”

“I will if it helps her feel safe… I would give her the world if I could, just for her to feel safe.”

“I will not let you do this. At least not yet. It’s been two days. We need to give it longer. The press will die down.”

“It’s me, Natasha. The press never dies down.”

“They will because we will force them. We are Avengers, Stark. We can win this war.”

“Nat—“

“No! I’m putting you to bed and cleaning up this mess, and we will meet as a Team in the morning.” Natasha took Tony’s face and forced him to look at her. “I will not let you ruin this for yourself, Tony. You deserve happiness too.”

next chapter >

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mari-lair · 1 year

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It’s wild when I see people say Aoi is written only to be Akane’s love interest, cause Akane never hid that he is her boy.

He goes the extra mile just for a hint of her attention and had given the classic childhood friend heroine speech of "I’ll love my crush even if they never look my way."

It's framed as a joke but he is genuinely happy as long as Aoi exist, he can enjoy his life and look forward to all his days no matter how shitty they are (Teru bullies him, the clock keepers work him dry, he gets rejected constantly, and so on,) as long as Aoi is alive and happy.

He is ridiculously easy to please when it comes to Aoi.

And while Aoi does loves Akane, visibly being affected by him: As seen by her possessive attitude, her wish to be closer to him, and the way his hard work influenced her, she doesn’t try or want her world to revolve around him.

Yes, she will cry and crumble if he doesn’t like her because she cares deeply, their relationship is a solid part of her character, but she has plenty of hobbies and plans without him, most of her problems are caused by herself or society's views and expectations of her, she wouldn’t do what Akane asks of her or change for him, not unless he is asking for something she also wants for herself.

Let’s compare how they talk about each other for a bit.

The only time Aoi talks about her feelings for Akane is in chapter 84, which is very far into the manga.

And this exposition shows her envious and insecure side, how she admires kindness and wishes she was as lovable: It shows a conflict that says as much about Aoi’s character as it does about Akane’s character.

Meanwhile, Akane consistently talks about her, and most of his expositions don’t offer any substance to his character, other than “he is in love”.

The only exposition that says as much about himself as it does about Aoi is the one in chapter 24, which shows he stalks her, and Aoi encourages it, since she trusts him, and unfortunately, she have been in need of constant protection from a young age:

Even when Akane explicitly says he’ll talk about himself.

He doesn’t.

He proceeds to spend the whole chapter talking about Aoi.

The only thing he says about himself in that entire rant is “I hate that part of you”, which he later admits was a lie, something that he used to have her stay and listen.

He isn’t just her boy, he has a life outside her, a very busy life.

As Aoi put it, “He works hard and is dutiful.” which mostly translates to ‘helpful and trust worthy’, so he is constantly seen giving other characters advise that works or making them snap out of their bullshit: He is the reliable one.

His classmates respect him , Teru trusts his judgement, and hell even Kou, who barely interacted with Akane had called him and not a close friend like Nene, when he felt powerless and needed help.

But no matter how seriously he may take his duties or want to help people, Akane has decided he was born to love and protect Aoi.

That’s his priority, always.

His only long term goals involve Aoi, he devoted all his heart and soul to her.

If she wanted Akane to change his style to clothes he would never wear on his own, or make him get into new hobbies, or tell him to score lower than her, he would do it right away: He is comfortable being her boy, he’ll throw his pride away with no hesitation for her and do anything to make her happy to an extreme even most ‘heroines’ I see wouldn’t cross.

The one thing Aoi made VERY clear despite never saying out loud is “Keep your eyes on me. Don’t flirt with anyone else.” and that’s a wish that Akane took to heart, to the point that he is the only character that stays ‘loyal’ to his love interest even on silly extra events, like the ‘kiss day’ arts.

Everyone else send a kiss, no matter if they have a love interest or not, since is just a fun little bonus.

Akane only starts to touch her when he is confident Aoi likes him too: When he assumes she wants him, before that he always kept a certain distance, understanding he ain’t entitled to shit just because they are childhood friends.

Akane is far from perfect, he can be selfish and self centered, his approach to help usually tactless, but at his core, he always seek to do what Aoi wants, no questions asked.

His devotion is extreme to the point of being unhealthy, but he isn’t lying or trying to please Aoi here: As long as she is alive, and enjoying life, he will be delighted doing any of the things she wants. Her best hairstyle in his eyes is always the one she chose to style, the best clothes are always the ones she wants to wear.

There is nothing he likes more than her. Or to make her happy.

Even what Akane loves to do the most, which is to gush about Aoi nonstop until he looks batshit insane, is something that she had encouraged and never complained, no matter how much it escalated, so he was convinced she loved the attention.

Once she is honest and admits she doesn’t like it, he immediately tries to drop it.

He still has an ‘I was born to love you’ mentally, he just stop putting on a show, or trying to make her heart flutter. Most of his displays of worry, affection, or ‘ill protect you’ became either quiet or casual.

...Still.

He can’t help but show his love loudly from time to time, he is cringe at heart, truly hopeless, but he is trying his best.

In short: Aoi is in desperate need for more character focus, but the one determined to make their life revolve around their love interest is clearly Akane.

#while everyone wait for the chapter to be translated here is a post to pass the time #akane aoi #aoi akane #aoikane #tbhk #toilet bound hanako kun #and yes i wrote this because of bad takes i saw on twitter #but also cause i'll take any excuse to talk about them #jibaku shounen hanako kun #jshk #tumblr i love you pls show it in the tags #character analysis

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yo1gi · 1 year

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summary: you caught isagi doodling in the middle of class

heads up: a very light hearted piece, reader is smitten for isagi (as you should)

notes: my first time writing something like this, hope you enjoy!

doodles

it was the last class of the day and you couldn’t wait to finally go home and just plummet straight onto the love of your life - your bed.

you stare right into the clock, hoping that time would go on just a tad bit faster but today just wasn’t your day.

the only thing that kept you awake and not drooling on your table was the boy beside you. although he seemed busy, it was obvious that he wasn’t listening to your maths teacher blabbering about trigonometry formulas.

his eyes were focused on the book in front of him while his hands were scribbling non-stop and the small pout on his face made him even cuter than he already was. it made you curious.

“psst, isagi!" you tried your best to stay unnoticed by your teacher as isagi whipped his head towards you, staring at you with those ridiculously adorable blue eyes.

“hm?” his head tilted slightly as he waited for you to reply; he reminded you of a puppy.

“what ya doing?” you whispered while you tried to get closer to him as an attempt to see what he was doing. his hands got tangled with each other, trying to cover up what he did on his notebook.

“nothing.”

you cheekily grinned at him when you noticed how red his ears were. you believed in what people say easily but isagi was making it hard for you to. he was a bad liar - a terrible one, you could say.

“you’re lying, i can literally see how red your ears are!”

you chuckled at his actions and it only seemed to make the poor boy even more nervous. you could see in his eyes that he was really really embarrassed which fired up your stubborn spirit to tease your desk mate even more.

“it’s just getting hot in class, the weather has been going crazy lately,” his eyes landed everywhere, except you. you were rather surprised he managed to mutter out an excuse, a rather lame one, however.

“i’ve been sweating a lot more during practices as well but it’s a good workout!” the navy haired boy chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

you weren’t that oblivious to the innocent lie isagi had just spurred out; you have been sitting with him for quite a while now, after all. plus, you were obviously extra observant when it comes to the boy you had a slight crush (big fat crush) on. he would tend to go off topic and would just spit whatever that pops up in his mind whenever he gets extremely shy - that’s basically isagi right now.

you were a stubborn person by nature, so naturally, you’re already set on finding out what he’s hiding by the end of class.

with the gears in your mind cranking up a masterplan, it was already the end of class. commence masterplan

“isagi, could you help me with some questions?” you clapped your hands together to somehow convince the boy.

“oh sure, i’ll try my best!” he cheerfully replied with that small cute grin he always has, plastered on his face. you almost got distracted by his handsome face (snap out of it!)

as he was about to shift his chair closer to your side, you immediately took your chance and snatched his book away from him. a flabbergasted expression appeared on his face while you vigorously flipped through pages. endless pages of maths formulas until something caught your eye.

it was a doodle of a chibi that looked like you?

you glanced towards the boy that got caught red-handed. he was covering his face while he melted against his table. (how cute!)

“you weren’t suppose to see that..” he muttered, still covering his blushing face.

you burst out into small fits of giggles as you stared at the sheepish boy.

“i like it, it’s a cute drawing!” you exclaimed joyfully as an attempt to make him feel better.

finally, he peeked through the crevices of his hands and his doe eyes met yours - somehow, you could see determination in them.

“thanks, i was really trying my best to draw it nicely.” he replied, almost too seriously.

“i can see that.” which reminded him clearly of the interaction you had earlier.

“could you draw another one for me?” you asked excitedly.

he looked at you with sorry eyes, “i can’t right now, practice starts soon.”

even though you were slightly disappointed, you were giddy that he was at least thinking about you during classes. so, it’s still a win!

both of you packed your bags and bid your goodbyes before going separate ways.

never in your life would you expect a whole stack of sticky notes filled with cute doodles on your table the next morning.

#blue lock #bllk #isagi yoichi #isagi fluff #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x you #isagi yoichi x reader #bllk imagines #bllk scenarios #isagi headcanons #blue lock fluff #blue lock fic

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georgie-weasley · 8 months

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Deep Wounds: Chapter 1.5

Warnings: A wee bit of self loathing from Remus, mentions of scars

Word Count: 1.1k

Pairing: eventual Remus x fem!healer!reader

A/N: So it has been a while since I posted anything about this series so to refresh, there will be smaller chapters like this one in-between each of the longer chapters. The smaller chapters generally won't focus on the reader and mostly Remus instead. As of now I'm still tagging everyone that's on my Remus taglist but if people want I'll make a separate one just for the series

Series Masterlist Taglist

Remus laid on the couch, his arm covering his eyes. He could hear his friends whispering about him only a few feet away. They often talked about him and his condition in hushed tones like it was some sort of secret but there was no point. Remus knew what kind of monster he was; they didn’t need to pretend he didn’t. “Can you stop pretending I’m not here and speak at a higher volume so I can decipher what you’re saying?”

The whispering stopped at once. Remus peaked out from behind his arm to see the group of four moving from the doorway to surround him in the living room. Sirius lifted Remus’s legs and sat down, resting the werewolf’s feet on his lap. James and Peter sat on the floor while Lily stood behind the couch and busied herself looking at the new scars forming on Remus.

“Want to fill me in on your secrets?” Remus whispered, moving his arm so Lily could look at his face. Since she found out about his monthly issue, she had taken on a sort of motherly role. She was always checking on him and trying to feed him and do her best to help heal him but that was never her strongest magic. But it was nice to have her care so much for him even if he didn’t want to bother her.

“James was just filling us in on your trip to St. Mungos.” Sirius let the silence hang after he answered. Remus kept his eyes closed but he could feel everyone looking at him. When no one else spoke, Sirius continued. “Are you really going to let some random girl help you find a cure?”

Remus sighed and sat up with a groan, causing Lily to rush into the kitchen to grab some ice. “No, I’m not. I had no choice though since James wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“That’s going to be awkward.” Lily handed Remus the ice before she took a seat next to him on the couch. “James said she’s coming over here after her shift.”

Remus put the ice on his right shoulder, sinking into the couch. “When she gets here I’ll tell her that I changed my mind and she can leave. I don’t need her help. I have you guys and that’s all I need. There’s no reason for some random girl to give me pity and spend her time and my time making a cure that won’t work.”

“Why not?” Peter spoke up from the floor. “She wants to help so why not let her.”

“I don’t know her Wormtail. I don’t know a single thing about her besides the fact that she seems to think she can help me. She could be doing this because she has pity or because she thinks this will get her points in the medical field.” Remus felt like he was making fair points but the look on James’s face told him it wasn’t enough.

“Moons, I think we all know why you don’t want to accept help.” Remus watched James and shook his head. “I think you’re scared to be let down.”

Remus quickly stood, ignoring the way his body screamed in protest from the quick movements. He didn’t want to sit around and hear James’s ridiculous ideas. James may be one of his best friends but he didn’t know a single thing about this life that he was forced to have. He needed a walk, he needed air, he needed to get away from everyone for just a minute. It’s only been a few hours since he was out of control of his body and attacked by a hippogriff and forced to go to the hospital where a healer refused to take care of him because of what he is. Not to mention a random healer decided to wedge her way into his life to try and help him for whatever reason. He needed a nap.

Remus headed out to the small backyard and collapsed onto a plastic chair. He closed his eyes and felt like maybe he could relax for a few minutes before the door slid open and Lily walked out. Remus grew close to Lily during their last few years at Hogwarts and he was beyond thrilled that she joined the little group of misfits they had. She had a bond with Remus that none of the boys could ever come close to replicating. He loved his friends and he was closer to them than anyone else in the world but his bond with Lily was special. He thought that their relationship would be one like he could have had with a sister.

She pulled another chair over and sat next to Remus, handing him the ice pack that had fallen when he stormed off. “I suppose you’re here to convince me to go through with this.”

Lily sighed and shrugged. “Not really. I think you should give it a shot but you’re right. You don’t know her and while it seems nice that she wants to help, you don’t know why she would. James was just excited to know there was someone else that wanted to help.”

She carefully rested a hand on his arm. “We all just want you to be happy and to have a good life that you deserve. Everyone is just excited at the idea that maybe this healer could be the one to help that.” Lily glanced at a new scar on his arm. “And if she’s as good at potion making as she is at healing, then I think she really could help.”

Remus looked at his arm. He had plenty of scars all over his body but the one on his arm that you had fixed earlier that morning was harder to see than the others. In fact some of them you did such a good job that there was hardly any evidence he had been hurt there in the first place. You had done a better job than anyone else ever had so maybe that did bode well for a cure.

“Give her one month, just one chance to figure this out and if it seems to go well or you think she isn’t weird, then it can’t hurt to keep trying. It really can’t hurt to give her a shot.”

“Fine but just one month.” Lily smiled and left Remus alone with his thoughts as she went back inside. He would agree to one month of help but Lily was wrong. This could end up hurting so many people. Remus had been hurt by strangers and friends but nothing hurt more than getting his hopes up only to have reality come crashing down on him and continuing to be a monster. This could hurt a lot.

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noisynaia · 2 years

Text

Dreaming of You

Chapter four: Damn Your Eyes

summary: An otherwise depressing night takes a turn when a pair of warm brown eyes belonging to a charming stranger lock with yours. Years later, at a different time of your life, a certain pair of brown eyes find their way back into your life.

word count: 3.3k

pairing: Javier Peña x afab!reader

note: (18+ mdni) No use of (y/n). The reader uses she/her pronouns and is shorter than Javier, but no other physical descriptions are used. This has not been beta-read and English is not my native language.

Can also be read on ao3

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…I guess I just see what I wanna see,

Or is my heart just deceiving me?

I remember

Just how you made me wanna surrender…

Those damn eyes are haunting you for the rest of the day. They couldn’t have been Javier’s, of course not. Bumping into him after so many years, and in Laredo of all places… No, that would be too weird of a coincidence. But being reminded of him by bumping into that mystery man on Main Street had made you think back to that night so many years ago.

Javier had been such a brief acquaintance, but there was something about him that had left an impact. Maybe it was the fact that it had been some of the best sex of your life, or that he, despite sneaking out on you, had sent you flowers to thank you for the night you had spent together.

You feel terrible for thinking about it, but you just can’t help yourself. It had only been a one-night stand, but now your brain is full of the memories of him. It had been a good night, fun and carefree, but it really should just stay in the past. You are a married woman now, and there is no need to dwell on something you really shouldn’t. Javier is nothing more than a distant memory, a blip in your past that has no relevance to your present life.

But still, those eyes keep haunting you. You try to shake them from your mind, focusing on the tasks at hand and trying to push those memories deep down as you go about your day, finishing your shift at the bookstore and getting groceries before heading back home again. There is no good reason for you to be thinking about another man, especially one that wasn’t even a significant part of your life.

Soon you’re back on your front porch, balancing bags of groceries in your arms as you try to fish your keys out of the pocket of your shorts. The weight of the bags makes it difficult, but you finally manage to fish them out and insert the key into the lock, giving it a twist to the right. With a click, the lock opens, and you push the door open with your hip.

Balancing the groceries carefully, you step inside, feeling a rush of relief as you can finally unload the heavy bags onto the kitchen counter. Bruce is in Austin for a business trip, so you have the house to yourself for the next few days. You hum softly as you start putting away the groceries, the mundane task helping to distract you from your swirling thoughts.

But as you reach for a bag of sunflower seeds to put away in the pantry, bright yellow flowers printed across the plastic, you suddenly remember that you still have the card that came with the bouquet Javier sent you, safely tucked away in a drawer, between the pages of your well-loved childhood copy of ‘One Thousand and One Nights’. You probably shouldn’t have kept it, but for some reason, you just had not been able to throw it away.

You shake your head, trying to dispel the thought. It’s silly, ridiculous even, but despite trying to talk yourself out of it, you can’t help but go look for it. You find it, at the entry of ‘The Tale of the Lover Who Feigned Himself A Thief’. The name of the flower shop is printed at the top of the card with the handwritten message underneath written in a, surprisingly, neat handwriting with a blue pen.

Thank you for the other night.

— Javi.

You’re staring at the card in your hand for a few seconds before putting it back, slamming the book shut, and tucking it away in the drawer again. There is no reason to entertain the thought of him. The rest of your day goes by as usual. You go on your walk with Bailey. You cook dinner while listening to one of your favorite vinyls. You have to admit to the convenience of CDs, but you always listen to vinyl when you’re home. Nothing beats the sound, and you have invested too much time and too much money in your records over the years to stop now.

You have almost forgotten Javier completely by the time you get ready for bed, and you quickly fall into a deep dream-filled sleep after taking an Ambien.

“Preciosa,” he whispers against the skin of your collarbone before leaving wet kisses up the side of your neck. Warm calloused hands exploring your body.

“So gorgeous,” he groans, sliding his hand further up your thigh, his fingers slowly running over the delicate lace as he reaches your garter.

His features are blurry, like a memory, but the touch feels so real.

“Want me to devour you, huh, hermosa?” his raspy voice whispers into your ear.

“Yes, Javi! Please…” you whine.

Your heart is pounding hard in your chest as you bolt awake. Bailey had jumped up on the bed, waking you from the dream.

“Shit…” you hiss, throwing your arm over your head with a groan, hiding your face in the crook off your elbow.

You take a few heavy breaths before throwing the light duvet off your body, making sure not to disturb Bailey, who now lays at the foot of the bed. The luminous digits on the clock radio only show 05:08, but you are feeling very awake and there’s no way you’re going to be able to fall back asleep again after that dream. Why the fuck did you have to dream about that?! You stand up and peel your soaked panties down your legs to toss them into the hamper before heading straight to the bathroom. You will need a long shower after this.

A week goes by, Bruce has returned from Austin, and you have almost forgotten about how you were reminded of Javier and the effect that reminder had on you… You have just finished sorting some books in the backroom of the bookstore, and now you’re reading in an old, yellow paged paperback copy of ‘Wuthering Heights’, which looks like it had been a highschool distribution a student had forgotten to turn in and eventually had donated. You know the story, you had also read it in highschool just like half of the population, but there are no customers and nothing for you to do so why not read a little.

Heathcliff is in the middle of begging for Cathy’s ghost to haunt and torment him for the rest of his life when the little bell over the door chimes. In walks Chucho Peña, politely removing his hat from his head as he enters and gives you a friendly nod with his greeting.

Chucho is one of your most frequent customers, and by far your favorite. He is the picture-perfect example of a real Texan vaquero, sporting an impressive and well-groomed mustache, and you don’t remember ever seeing him without his faithful stetson, either on his head or in hand.

“Welcome!” You greet him with a big smile as you close the book, letting Heathcliff wallow in his sorrow without you. “Haven’t seen you in a while, started to be afraid I had lost my favorite customer,” you say with a smile. You really have missed your talks with Chucho, he is one of the few people in Laredo you don’t feel like is secretly judging you behind their back. He had even invited you out to the ranch once after you had mentioned that there aren’t any good places in town for Bailey to run free. You have never actually got around to visit, but you do really appreciate the sentiment.

“My son came home from Colombia a few weeks ago, so I’ve had to make sure he got settled in nicely.”

“Oh,” you reply. A son that came home from Colombia a few weeks ago…

Realization hits you like a truck. You had convinced yourself that the man you had bumped into last week simply just had looked like Javier, but now Chucho’s is telling you about a son coming back from Colombia, just as you randomly had been reminded of Javier again after so many years, what are the damn odds...

You already knew that Chucho has a son, and you have heard some of the town’s tale-tellers mention ‘Chuco’s boy’, or ‘the Peña kid’ a few times in passing. But you have always tried your hardest to not involve yourself with the small-town gossip, so you have always made an effort to never listen to what was said.

“He worked for the DEA down there,” Chucho continues. “It has been hard for him, and maybe even harder to come back here. I just hope he finds some peace, lord knows he deserves some. He should find himself a nice girl and maybe settle down…” The elderly man shakes his head with a small smile. “Too bad Bruce got to you first, but I guess you wouldn’t even be here in Laredo if he hadn’t.”

“No, I probably wouldn’t,” you agree, smiling back but suddenly feeling weirdly nauseous. Chucho’s vague implication catches you off guard, and you find yourself imagining having sweet, humorous Chucho Peña as your father-in-law instead of the emotionally repressed William Price.

A little silence settles over the store before you gather the courage to continue. “I think I might already have met him…”

Chucho looks surprised. “You’ve met Javi?”

Javi… Oh, how small the world is. You try to keep your composure, but your heart is racing in your chest. Now you have your confirmation, it was Javier you had bumped into.

You nod affirmatively at Chuchos question, not mentioning that it was years ago in San Antonio.

Chucho smiles. “Just don’t hold anything you hear about him against him. I might be biased as his father, but he is a good man.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. If people around here knew a little more about me I think I would be the topic of a lot more gossip than I already am,” you let out a humorless laugh at your confession.

Chucho just gives you a sympathetic look before going to check the crime-noir section, changing the topic as he peruses the shelves.

—

Javier is sitting on the front porch of the house, lighting a cigarette with a sigh. It is only lunchtime, but he is already more tired than an old shoe. He has been up since the fucking crack of dawn. He had had a nightmare. It was a memory from Colombia that had run on a loop until he had finally woken up, covered in cold sweat, and not able to fall back asleep. Felipe, the red barn cat, is laying in a sunbeam at the other end of the porch, sleeping without a care in the world and Javier is not above envying a cat at this point.

He takes a drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke fill his lungs and momentarily calm his racing thoughts. He looks out at the view of the grazing cattle, trying to appreciate the beauty of it all. But it’s a bit lost on him.

Just then, he hears the sound of an approaching car. Javier squints in the sunlight and sees his father’s truck approach, he greets him with a raised hand as Chucho’s blue truck rolls up the driveway, the wheels swirling up dust from the gravel road. Chucho parks the truck next to the porch and steps out of the truck, a tired smile on his weathered face.

“Hey hijo, how’s your day been so far?” Chucho asks, making his way over to Javier.

“Just another day in paradise, I guess,” Javier replies with a shrug, taking another drag from his cigarette. “Got everything you needed?” he then asks, letting a ribbon of smoke escape through his lips as Chucho makes it up the steps to the front porch.

“Most of it. Stopped by the post office, but they said my package won’t be there till tomorrow. Can you maybe swing by and get it for me?”

“Sure, I’ll swing by town tomorrow,” Javier says, still not particularly fond of going into town, but he knows that he’ll have to get over it.

Chucho lights a cigarette of his own. “I understand you have met my friend from the bookstore.”

Javier sends his father a confused look.

“The young woman who married the Price boy, she told me she had met you,” Chuho elaborates.

Javier has no idea what his father is talking about. Alvaro, an old highschool buddy, one of the few people he has reconnected with after returning, had mentioned that Bruce had got married when he gave him the mandatory ‘what’s new in town’ talk, but Javier has no idea who the woman is.

Javier shakes his head as he flicks the ash from his cigarette. “I can’t say that I have, pops.”

“Well, she told me she has met you…” Chucho says with a simple shrug of his shoulders, stepping into the house with the groceries, but not before letting a book land in Javier’s lap as he passes him on the porch.

“Thought you might need some night reading.” The older man says gently.

Javier mumbles a ‘thanks’, but Chucho is already inside the house when it comes over his lips. He stays out on the porch for another while, chain smoking as he begins to read the first chapter of the book. He doesn’t want to go back inside yet, he didn’t know that his father had noticed his sleep problems. But of course he had figured it out, a person can only wake up screaming from night terrors so many times before the other people living under the same roof begin to notice.

Javier doesn’t ask more about the woman at the bookstore, but he does wonder who his dad could have been talking about. He has made an effort to not meet with any women since he came back to Loredo, which his shower drain can confirm, he doesn’t think he has jerked off this much since he was a teenager. He reads a few more chapters, getting more hooked on the book than he had thought he would, it has been years since he had time to read for pleasure, before heading inside.

The rest of the day passes by uneventfully, and he miraculously actually manages to get a whole night of sleep. Soon the next day dawns and after a shower and some breakfast Javier gets ready to head into town. The rabbit tobacco at the side of the road swaying gently in the light breeze as he drives towards town.

He stops by the convenience store first to get himself a few packs of cigarettes, some nicotine gum, and a bottle of Tylenol. His back has been acting up lately. He goes by the post office next, getting his father’s package.

With the parcel safely in hand, he gets back to his truck, glad that he hadn’t run into anyone he didn’t want to see. He opens the door of the passenger seat, placing his dad’s package on the seat before closing the door again. He takes out a cigarette from his new pack, leaning his back against the closed passenger door, crossing one leg over the other as he picks out his lighter from the pocket of his jeans, sucking life into the cigarette before blowing smoke out through his nose with a sight as he looks down the street. His eyes land on the sign for the bookstore, the chipped paint making the words barely legible. His father’s comment from yesterday comes back to him , making him curious.

“What the hell,” he mumbles to himself, stomping out his cigarette and popping a piece of gum into his mouth. Javier’s curiosity gets the best of him.

—

You are organizing some boxes with donated books in the backroom when you hear the bell over the front door ringing; indicating a customer has stepped into the store. “I’ll be there in just a sec,” you chime, putting the last box down before stepping back into the store.

A man is standing by the door with his back turned to you, but he turns around as he hears you enter the room, his eyes locking with yours and you feel your stomach drop. The way his strong jaw flexes as he chews down on the piece of gum in his mouth does things to you that it shouldn’t.

It’s him… Javier.

His eyes widen with recognition. And to your surprise your name falls from his lips in a questioning tone.

“Yeah… Hi,” you reply nervously, trying to keep your cool, but failing, finding yourself absolutely dumbfounded by his sudden presence. The dream you had last week comes back to you and you feel your face heat up. Since when did you become so skittish? He is just a man, an incredibly handsome man that you just happened to have slept with once…

“Hi,” he replies, and an awkward silence falls over the little store.

“So, uh… You’re from Laredo, huh,” you finally state, trying to pull yourself together, feeling like you need to say something.

“Yeah, I am,” he says with a nod.

“Fun… I-I mean what are the odds?” You stumble over your words.

“Yeah, here of all places,” he laughs a little and a bit of the tension disappears.

“And you’re back for good?” you can’t help but ask.

He gives you a little shrug of his shoulder. “Yeah, looks like it.”

Another beat of silence stretches between you, but this time he is the one to break it.

“Congrats by the way,” he says, nodding his head towards your hand where you, without even having been aware of it, have been fidgeting with the ring on your finger. “I should maybe call you Mrs. Price now?”

“Please don’t,” you say with a low chuckle and a shake of your head. “Makes me sound so old.”

You don’t tell him that you didn’t take Bruce’s last name when you married him, it is yet another thing that makes you stand out in town, but you have never been the traditional type after all.

“Well, I just came to have a look. But uhm… I’ll better get going,” he says. You don’t mention that he hasn’t looked at a single book. “Say hello to Bruce from me,” he says with a tight-lipped smile. You didn’t know that Javier and your husband knew each other, but in a place where pretty much everybody knows everybody, it shouldn’t be too surprising.

“I will… And say hi to your dad from me, I hope he likes his new book,” you say, watching as he walks to the door.

He doesn’t tell you that the book actually lies on his own nightstand. “Sure, I will… Guess I might see you around then.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” you nod, wiping your hands on your thighs, your palms suddenly feeling clammy.

“It was nice seeing you again.” He offers you a more genuine smile, this time it reaches his eyes, making that gorgeous dimple show…

You just nod in response, suddenly unable to form a proper response, but you gather some courage before he leaves out the door.

“Javi,” you call out after him, his hand already on the door handle.

He stops in his tracks, already halfway through the door he turns around to look back at you with those deep umber eyes of his.

You offer him a small smile. “Thank you for the flowers, back then… They were really lovely.”

“Thought they fit you… And I really did have a good night”

And with that, he leaves the store, the bell above the door jingling softly behind him. The scent of his musky cologne lingers in the air, mixing with the smell of old books, or maybe you simply imagine that it does. You are fucked.

…Damn your eyes

For getting my hopes up high

For making me fall in love again

Damn your eyes!

For taking my breath away

I fall completely under your spell

Damn your eyes...

Damn Your Eyes, Etta James

@emilianamason

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