#seven is so intrigued and FASCINATED

[isagrimorie]

Star Trek Voyager 4E09 - Scientific Method

The Janeway Moment for Seven of Nine. (The First of Many).

Part 1, 2

[gummi-ships]

Kingdom Hearts 3

[hezuart]

Hey, you recently reblogged the first page of my ‘Rewind’ comic, which is the continuation/fix-it I asked you months ago if I could make and in your reblog you wondered where I’ll take it.

I actually finished the whole comic months ago and even made an animatic video of it (you can easily find it on YouTube), so you can see how the rest of the comic goes. Plus I’m making a midquel comic for it too.

Plus I’m thinking that if anyone continues to ask you about what happened to Six in your ‘Channel change’ comic, perhaps point them in the direction of my ‘Rewind’ comic. That way the boys can still have their happy ending in your comic, but Six and someone who was left out entirely of Channel change aren’t left in the dark.

Though I do find it your explanations pretty biased with how you mentioned how Six ruined Mono’s life but neglect to mention that he ruined hers too by releasing the Thin Man and cursing her with the hunger that ended up costing Six’s innocence and humanity. And given that he is the one who cursed her with the hunger in the first place, RK’s death is partially on him.

Oh im very excited to see the animatic for it!!! I noticed there were more pages with links, I'll have to go and read and reblog those too.

I don't recall if I said Six ruined Mono's life. But Six purposefully dropped him, while Mono didn't know the Thin Man was behind the door until he opened it, and he also didn't know the Thin Man would capture Six and cause her hunger pains. (which aren't really explained even now) I don't think Mono knew he WAS the Thin Man either.

We don't know why Six dropped Mono, we just know that she came to hate him after he destroyed her music box.

I will say, I adore Raincoat Girl and Six's relationship you portrayed in the comic! But in the actual game, Six and the Raincoat girl sadly don't have much of a relationship. They assist each other, but not more than necessary. Raincoat Girl is being chased by the Butler. She runs straight past Six (who was collapsed on the ground) without helping her up. Someone bangs on the door of the shed, highly likely to be Six. Raincoat girl locks it, refusing her entry. (and potentially leaving her for dead; or as bait)

At the end of the story, Raincoat girl dies, and the game suggests that Six goes down to a boat and snatches her raincoat to wear for herself. (What kind of person wears a dead friend's clothing?)

and also I don't know if the mobile game is canon or not since it seems like Tarsier studios had a different backstory in mind for Six (growing up in the city instead of lost at sea hopping from ship to ship)

But the point is we don't have any explanation for why Six is the way she is. She has a malicious side to her, she is untrusting, she's a lone wolf, but she also knows kindness, she also knows when she needs help, she also finds comfort in soothing music, and she's best known for fleeing from situations and usually only harming people when absolutely necessary.

Her ending being ambiguous in my Channel Change comic is only to let the viewers know she's not part of Mono and Seven's story because intentional or not, bad things have happened to them when Six is involved.

[puffleyia]

Dear Diary || Cedric Diggory

Cedric Diggory x fem!reader || 5.2k words, fluff-ish, banter and awkward confessions !

Reader and Ced are both seventh years and Ced is head boy!

Warnings: slow and sappy smut, unprotected p-in-v, clothed sex , first times !!!

Summary: Cedric finds your diary, what's the worst that could happen?

---------

Cedric was idly perusing the shelves of the library on one fine afternoon, if the wads of homework given and expected to be completed by the end of the Easter holidays were not taken into account. He sought for some books that he could use as reference for his essay in History of Magic, a particularly tricky one, on famous and historical duels.

Though, his initial intentions were long forgotten as he noticed something. His attention was drawn to a small, forgotten notebook left on one of the study tables. He looked around to see if any sign of the owner was around. Once the coast was clear, he took it as a go-signal. Carefully, he picked it up with curiosity as he examined the notebook.

The cover was brown, its material being that of leather. It had a few tears, but it looked okay enough to be passed as a choice of style. It is decorated with intricate golden patterns on it, engraved with small jewels for design. The bottom was labelled with your name handwritten on, and the pages seemed to be slightly tarnished. He assumed you had kept it for a couple years or so. 

But what was most intriguing was that it had been padlocked shut. He figured out that it was no ordinary notebook, probably a diary of sorts, piquing his interest.

As much as he knows not to stick his nose in things he is not supposed to, he couldn’t help but feel interested in what was not supposed to be of his concern. He was not going to tell anyone what’s inside, nor was he going to judge— it is not like you would know either if he did look through it. 

But, he supposed a little peak would not hurt, right? He is going to give it back the next time he sees you, anyway. 

Though, it was locked… It is nothing a simple alohomora charm could not fix. He pulled out his wand and pointed it towards the lock. He gave it a flick, chanting the spell out quietly. The padlock fell on the floor with a dull thud. He picked it up and stuffed it in his pocket, to seal it up afterwards to conceal any trace of him ever snooping around.

He flipped through the pages, becoming increasingly fascinated with what he read, some even dating back to seven years. Family issues, random stuff about life at Hogwarts, such as rants about homework, housemates and whatnot. The first thirty pages was about you mainly figuring out things back then as a first year, and a bunch of things you were astonished to discover. 

It was really what your typical teenage girl would write; little things such as that cat you tried to pet in the first year that turned out to be Professor McGonagall, hallway crushes, that time you snuck in the restricted area of the library, so on— and the mundaneness of everyday life. It was pretty much a bunch of stuff about what goes on during your days. 

When he got to the fourth year, he started seeing his name being brought up occasionally— he of course, stopped on those pages to read them— interested in what your perspective on him was. He started with the first page mentioning him:

DEAR DIARY,

I met this guy named Cedric Diggory. He’s popular, tall and good-looking too.. 

He helped me out with my herbology homework. I was really struggling, good thing he stepped in. Though, maybe I was too busy staring at him to really pay attention to what he was teaching me. (Well, who can blame me???)

I know so many girls who would kill to have that happen to them. Wonder what got me so lucky today, maybe those Lumos Lucksweets I ate last night that I got from Honeydukes during Halloween.

I always thought he was cute, though I always felt too intimidated to approach him. Hopefully we can become friends. 

He felt a bit surprised, a faint blush tainting his cheeks as he smiled softly. He would be oblivious if he didn’t know he was sought after by both women and men, albeit it still doesn’t make him any less flustered.  You were one of his friends, yes, but he had never stopped to think that you thought of him in that way. You didn’t make it obvious either.

He mostly skimmed through its pages, but stopped to read whenever he saw his name brought up– about how you talked about each of your interactions; “Cedric helped me with…” “Cedric and I went out to…” “I think I like him..” Cedric this, Cedric that. 

You like him. Or liked him. It only clicked with him now, though he would have to keep reading if he wanted to know if you still felt the same. (Because he definitely did.) Be that as it may, he still definitely had no idea on how to confess. Plus, it was too late to turn back any time now. He continued to leaf through its contents.

But it was not until he got to last year’s pages that some things really stuck out. At first it was about wanting to kiss him on the cheek as you sat beside him in the library whilst you two studied for your transfiguration exam. Then the next time you talked about it being on the lips. 

You even went into detail how you thought his lips would feel, then it was about how you so badly wanted to make out with him after you watched him after his quidditch practice because in your words, not his–

He looked so hot.

The more he read through, the material written within progressively escalated. Soon, it was about how you felt guilty by using the thought of him as a means to get off. 

Now I feel guilty. Yes, I know– it is wrong of me to finger myself at the thought of my really really really hot friend who I also happen to have a crush on, no I’m not being sarcastic, yes, it was just once. Just this ONCE, I got carried away… Oh Merlin, I’m so sorry, Cedric.

He actually found it quite adorable how you were apologising in a diary. He was also extremely flustered at this point, a little bit horny and at the same time, confused. He nonetheless continued, reading several entries about how you admitted to having several fantasies of you being fucked by Cedric, what you think he would be like in bed, yada yada yada. 

You admit throughout several logs that what was supposed to be a one-time thing, turned into nightly endeavours filled with a big ounce of shame afterwards. 

Once he felt content, he got the padlock and clicked it back in place as if nothing ever happened, and took it with him as he went on his way. He figured it was best that he give it back the next time he ran into you. 

Aside from that, his day passed by quite like any ordinary one, though he hadn’t seen you at all. On his way down to the Great Hall, he caught a glimpse of you walking whilst talking to some of your friends– though you quickly disappeared into the crowd of students flocking towards the hall for dinner.

Afterwards, most students are headed towards the library or their respective common rooms, Cedric ought to do the same. 

Meanwhile you were searching every nook and cranny of everywhere you had been within the entire day, searching for that damned diary since the afternoon. You had traced back your steps to the beginning of the day, starting off with the common rooms, the great hall, then you had snuck into the several classrooms you were in earlier. In the potions dungeon, you were almost caught by Snape, you hid in time (you pride yourself on being an absolute pro at hide and seek) and just by the skin of your teeth.

You would stop at nothing until you actually find it, the thought of someone else getting your diary sends shivers down your spine. You just hope if someone did, they’d have enough of a sense of privacy and decency not to look through it. If this keeps up, You would have to be looking throughout the entire night and without being caught at that. 

You doubt any of the staff would actually care about finding it if you had simply asked. You had tried that once when you lost one of your textbooks, you managed to find it, no thanks to anyone but yourself.  And you would think if you would ask any of your professors, they’d probably say (the textbook) was miles more important than some journal with sentimental value.

Before you knew it, you were definitely up past curfew hours. Currently in the library, you were looking everywhere– on and under each of the chairs and tables, the shelves, you were seriously considering going to check the restricted section if you were not able to find it here. Perhaps the librarian thought it was a book, too. You froze in your place as you heard footsteps other than yours echoing as someone entered the library.

–

Cedric was doing his rounds and surprisingly, tonight was not that half-bad. No pesky students loitering around, so far that is. Currently surveying the corridors, classrooms– he is now heading towards the library, hearing faint shuffling noises coming from the sound of it. So it was not a quiet night after all, he thought. He placed his bets on who he thought it was this time, and the lot of students who regularly snuck out was not much to choose from anyway.

Though, he was completely wrong this time. It was you. He flashes you a grin, nearly forgetting his duties as Head Boy to supposedly escort you back to your dorm since it was late hour. He could also give your diary back while he was at it, he was getting tired of having to cling on to it just at the chance he would run into you. But he had thought to strike up a conversation first, because why not?

“Hey,” Cedric greeted you, approaching you slowly. “Hi,” you gulped and said awkwardly. You interrupt him before he could even say a word, “I-I know what this looks like,” you stammer, figuring out the right words to say as you try reasoning with him. “It sounds like a ridiculous thing to ask of you, I know– but don’t tell anyone,” as you speak, you’re also in plenty of disbelief that the literal head boy of all people would give you leeway for sneaking out like thi. Even if he is your friend, and even if it were just once.

“And why shouldn’t I?” He said so casually, as if you two were having a normal conversation; as if he were not on patrol at all and he hadn’t caught you outside your dormitory past the given curfew. He also knew damn well why, it was just fun eliciting a reaction from you. He was of course going to eventually give it back. “It’s so late, you should at least be in your common room around this time, you know?” He points out as well.

“Well, for one, I’ve been a good student this year, this is the only time I snuck out.. And, I have a reason for sneaking out–! It’s not for anything bad, I promise, it’s just I’ve been looking for my damn diary the entire day.. I must’ve lost it somewhere– look, I swear I’ll go back to the dorms right now if you please, please, don’t tell me out to anybody.” 

You begged him, clasping your hands together for dramatic effect as you gave him those puppy eyes you use whenever you wanted something from him. (Such as when you begged him to buy whatever you wanted when you two went to Zonko’s that one time. P.S. It worked.)

“You mean this thing?” he said slyly. As he pulled out your diary, he gave a look of mischievousness. He watched as your eyebrows raise up, a look of relief plastered on your face as you sigh. You walk towards him, extending out your arms as you make grabby hands. “Oh, yes! Yes, that’s the one, now if you could just give it back–” then, that’s when you get cut off. 

“Ah, ah, now wait just a moment,” he said, raising the arm with your diary in his hand so you couldn’t reach it. “I’ll let you off, and I’ll give it back if,” taking a deep breath before he spoke again, wondering if he should really be doing this. It was now or never. “You give me a kiss.”

He found it really amusing as a blush formed on your face, completely flustered as your eyes widened in a look with a mix of shock and disbelief. You had stopped grabbing for your diary, as you opened your mouth to say something, but you were rendered completely speechless. Was this just a dream? Surely it was, it was too good to be true…

“Ha, ha. Very funny, Cedric,” you fake-laugh, your tone being fully sarcastic. Seeing if he is just playing around with you. “No way in hell I would,” you add, just in case he really was joking. (Maybe you have slight trust issues.) “Just give it back.” Despite that, he looked dead serious. He stared you down, not breaking eye contact, making you gulp nervously. “Please?”

“Oh, come on,” he says as his voice drops, sounding more sultry. “I’m not gonna do anything unless you let me, but I know you want to.” His eyes observe your lips. As much as he wanted to, he didn’t touch you at all since you hadn’t given your consent yet. He kept his hands to himself, letting his body language do the talking. 

“Now what makes you say that?” You squint your eyes as you give a questioning look at him, acting, or trying to at least, unaffected. You still had your guard up, because seriously, what was up with this guy today? 

“Now, why’re you acting like you don’t want it? Hmm?” He smirked, “Could make all those fantasies of yours in that little book come true, you know.”

You looked mortified, as if you had seen a ghost. The last bits of your dignity withered away, long gone at this point. You wanted to shrivel up and sob in a corner out of pure humiliation. He read your diary. “No way, you read it!?” You slap his arm as you cover your face in sheer embarrassment. “Privacy exists, you know–!” Cedric let out a guttural laugh, unable consistently to keep up his flirty demeanour. “Hey, better me than anyone else, right? Besides,” he leaned on one of the bookshelves.

“I like you.”

If you thought you couldn’t get any redder, you were awfully wrong. You didn’t know what to say, as you practically threw yourself at him in an embrace. “I like you too…” you said, your voice muffled as your face was buried in his chest. “This is so embarrassing.”

He wasted no time in hugging you back, his arms wrapped around you. It was like you put on a warm blanket. You two stayed like that for a while, enjoying eachothers company. The moment of silence was interrupted as he said, “I should probably ask properly.” You look up at him, waiting for what he has to say. “Will you be my girlfriend?” He finally says.

“What do you think?” A rhetorical question.

“I need a yes or no, not a ‘what do you think’.”

“If you actually read my diary, you already have your answer.”

“Well then, it’s official,” he smiles. “Can I get that kiss now?” He says impatiently. You waste no time, tipping on your toes as you press your lips against his, placing your hands on his broad shoulders. He wraps his hands around your waist, pushing you softly against a bookcase. It was chaste and passionate, as your lips intertwined as you two kissed in a slow rhythm. 

You pull away, catching your breath. “By the way, this doesn’t mean I forgive you for reading my diary,” you blurt out, Cedric chuckling at that.

Before you knew it, he was grabbing your wrist and leading you to his dorm room. It was clear to the both of you where this situation was going. As you walked together, your heart raced in anticipation, a mix of excitement and nervousness flooded your senses. You both stopped in your tracks as you reached a portrait, that of Helena Ravenclaw’s. He mumbled the password and the portrait swung open, walking in whilst ducking his head over the small entrance and motioning you to come in as well. 

You assumed this was the heads’ common room, it was circular and decorated quite lavishly. If it were not for Cedric, you would have taken more time to admire the interior. It was definitely plenty grand compared to the regular ones. Though, you quickly were grounded back into the situation as he led you to his dorm– Head Boy’s–completely away from prying eyes. Oh, bless Cedric for being head boy and whoever decided that heads should have their own room. 

He slams the door shut behind you two, pinning you to it. Tension flooded the room, it was practically suffocating. He wastes no time, cupping your chin as he tilts your head slightly upward to make you look at him. He leaned in for a second kiss, your lips puzzle together once more. His hand interlocked with yours tightly as he held it up against the door panel, keeping you in place. 

It was not as innocent as it was the first time, in fact quite the opposite– amorous. It was far from perfect, given both of you were not experienced. All your knowledge came from things such as muggle films, you think.

You remembered how they opened their mouths slightly, imitating what you saw in fiction. You slowly gaped open your mouth, Cedric immediately getting the hint as he slid his tongue inside. You both attempted to swirl each other's tongues together, yet it was more clashing your tongues together with no rhythm whatsoever, in hoping something just works. Though it didn't make it any less hot, if anything, it was more.

It was awfully sappier than one would might like, but you two were both (not-so hopeless anymore) romantics. Perhaps it was the entire three years of obliviousness and pining for each other being poured into this moment. Though, given what you two are about to do, it is a bit fast for an official relationship. Well, yeah, as much as you just got together.. You both couldn’t help it nor wait anymore, not wanting to waste any more time, not after so many years with your feelings going unsaid. 

He took heavier breaths, grabbing ahold of your waist as he pressed himself closer against you. You both flushed, a bit embarrassed and nervousness surging through your veins as you gasped when his half-chubbed dick pressed against just above your groin. You couldn’t deny– you felt scared, a bit hesitant but you knew you wanted this more than anything. 

While you still kissed, you both toed off your shoes and made a beeline for the bed (a sad attempt). Because your senses of navigation clearly dwindled, not a care in the world but each other. You two accidentally bumped into one of the small tables, knocking down some of the books that lay on them. “Oops,” Cedric said lightheartedly. Pulling the both of you out of the moment momentarily, you two laughed and just chalked it up to fixing it later.

Finally reaching the four-poster (which was a lot bigger than the regular ones), even if it were a few feet away from where you two initially were, it was quite the journey. Cedric, who was the one leading out of the two of you, practically tripped you both into bed as he rested atop you. “Ced!” You squealed, “you’re crushing me!” light-heartedly, you say, as you jab at his chest playfully, in an attempt to push him off. 

“Well..not my problem, princess,” he laughed as he buried his face into your neck. Sucking and nipping at the flesh, leaving red marks on you as he placed a kiss on each one to seal them afterwards. “May I…?” He says, his hand trailing up to grab onto the hem of your tie, ready to pull it off. You give him a small, silent nod. He takes his time with you, as if he were unwrapping a huge present. 

He begins by pulling off your tie, discarding the article of clothing to a random corner of the room. The same goes for your robes, sweater, dress shirt…all long gone and forgotten. You were merely left with your undergarments and skirt on, as well as your socks. He stops dead in his tracks, taking a step back as he takes the sight of you in.

“I forgot to tell you how beautiful you are.” He says each word clear as day– you’ve never heard anyone more confident in your life. You blush profusely, hands covering your face to conceal it. “I’ll die from those compliments before you actually start doing anything, you know?” You babble, too florid to think of words to form. 

He trails his hand, leading it down to your underwear, tugging down at the hem of it as to pull them off. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, though not a hint of apology in his voice. You mutter something about him not being forgiven, ouch, so now he has two things he is yet to be forgiven for. He just smiles innocently back at you, lips all pouty as you pretend to sulk about it. (Obviously jokingly) When in fact, you wallow in the praise.

He leans into your ear as his hands now teasing at your folds, you let out a soft moan at his touch. “Guess I’ll have to make it up to you, huh?” He says in a low, gravelly voice. Which had absolutely no right to sound that hot. “Please, Ced,” you say, trying not to sound like you were begging for it. “Wait,” he stops, getting up and begins to rummage through his drawer, looking for something. You look at him quizzically, wondering what he is doing and looking slightly disappointed at the loss of sensation.

After a few more seconds, he pulls out a small vial of a clear flaxen liquid and examines it before walking back to you. “Um, I’m really sorry, d’you think this’ll do?” He shows you the vial, which you had assumed to be a natural oil of sorts. “I, er, don’t have any lube.” He says awkwardly. “I mean, if you’re not comfortable we don’t have to–” You cut him off immediately, quickly divulging that, “No, no, we– we can. I’m fine with it.” Okay, you definitely sounded a bit desperate. He nods, uncorking the vial as he coats his fingers with a fair amount.

“I’ve never done this before,” he says, prodding two fingers at your pussy. “Just– just tell me if it hurts, okay? Tap my shoulder two times if you can’t speak.” You nod, and with that, he eases in slowly his fingers, your breath hitching as you feel his fingers slip inside you. It feels uncomfortable, causing you to shift in your position slightly. Cedric quickly stops inching his fingers inside as he asks if you’re okay. You tell him that you’re fine and to keep going, assuring yourself and him that it is normal. Hopefully you’ll get used to the feeling. 

He continues, eventually now fully inside you. “Let me know when, um, I can move them, okay?” He says caringly, not an inch of attention wavering away from you. After a bit, you give him the go-signal to move and he starts dragging his fingers out of you, albeit slowly, and pushing them back inside. He watches you attentively, carefully studying your expressions, your body language– His erection was straining against his pants at this point, begging to be freed, but of course he wanted to make sure you were thoroughly prepared. 

“Ah, Ced, mhh, maybe if you curl your fingers a–ah bit–” you moan, still feeling a slight discomfort and pain, though pleasure slowly seeps through. “Like this?” He says, as he curls his fingers inside you, moving in and out with languid strokes. You let out a particular wince, though you nodded in approval. “Yes, just like that– ah,”

It was not anything you were not used to, though you always felt guilty whenever you did such things to yourself. Especially if your only barrier to privacy is the curtains on your four-poster. Though it took a bit of adjusting, because Cedric’s fingers were no doubt bigger than yours. You feel your stomach curling, the feeling of release catching on to you. Cedric must have had a sixth sense, or really good observational skills (perhaps all that astronomy paid off.) because he pulled his fingers out of you the moment you were about to. You whine instinctively in response.

Before you knew it, he was getting rid of his sweater, taking off his tie and unbuttoning his dress shirt, tossing the apparel in the same corner where your clothes went, though leaving his unbuttoned shirt on. You watched his every movement intently, feeling yourself getting wet at the sight of him undressing. He is tall, lean, and burly– has a good build from all that quidditch. Amen for that. 

Your eyes begin to linger down to his trousers, and a very obvious bulge that you can’t help but stare at. He continues by unzipping his fly, though not pulling down his pants. He tugged at his grey boxers just enough to release his cock from its confines, coating it with a light layer of the oil he had used earlier. You could not help but stare, your pupils dilated, clouding your eyes darkly with arousal. He crawls in between your legs as he now hovers atop you. He aligned his cock, tip pressing into the folds of your pussy. 

“M’nervous,” you mumble, almost nonsensically, though Cedric understood what you had tried to say. He leans in, placing a kiss on your forehead as he gently caresses your cheek, “If you’re feeling pressured, we don’t have to, y’know. We can just… Stop here, we can continue another time if you’d like, when you’re ready.” He says softly, warmth naturally oozing through his voice like honey, sweet and assuring. 

“No,” you say, quiet but firmly. “I want to.” 

“Then we will, just tell me when you’re ready. I’ll be gentle.” He says, and his words make all your worries slowly ebb away. You feel safe with Cedric. You press your hips down onto his dick ever so slightly, letting the tip slide in. You gasp at the foreign feeling, nervous to fully take it all in. He notices, and as well lets out a soft moan, asking if he has permission to continue. You breathily say a yes, and that’s when he unhurriedly starts to push inside you.

It feels completely new, slightly painful with a twinge of pleasure. You shut your eyes, wincing at the sensation. Cedric examines your expressions as he inches in, checking for any signs of discomfort. He stops for a moment to ask if you’re okay, noticing your brows knitting together with your eyes shut. You assure him you’re fine, and tell him to keep going.

Eventually, he bottoms out inside you, though he doesn’t move immediately. You two just sit there for a good minute or two, kissing softly as your lips move in unison. Pulling away, panting as you say, “m-move, please,”

And who is Cedric to deny you of that? He began moving his hips slowly and shallowly, not wanting you to take too much at once. You also started getting a bit used to the feeling, though it was still mostly new to you. It didn’t feel as painful as it did, moaning in pleasure as he moved his hips. 

He then pulled out his cock, teasing you, and easing back in steadily, causing you to moan wantonly out loud. His thrusts still slow, but begin to get deeper as he holds your legs open. He was vocal too, nothing short of chanting your name and praising you in a gravelly voice, groaning and grunting ruggedly as he fucked his cock far into you. 

“You’re such a good girl f’me,” he pants, both of you moaning as he rocked his dick back into you with a particularly deep thrust. While the discomfort still remained, you grew more accustomed to the feeling of gratification that grew increasingly.“Ha– ah, harder, Ced,” you say, gasping in between your words. He did nothing shy of it, but not anything that he felt like would be too much for you.

“Merlin, y’feel so good,” he says huskily, moving his hips rhythmically slow, hard and deep as you’re reduced into a moaning mess. Your arms flail to the side of your head, grasping on the sheets as you arch your back. You were mumbling nonsensically, and Cedric laughed breathily as he told you how cute you were. He could only barely make out what seemed to be an I love you. “I love you too, princess,” he groans as he leans in and leaves a few more marks on your collarbone and neck.

You splay your hands onto his back. Digging your nails into his skin, leaving marks of your own though unintentionally. You drag your nails down his broad back, grabbing onto him as he knocks the wind out of you with each thrust.

You feel a fire pooling low in your abdomen, as well as the heightening sense of arousal as Cedric kept thrusting inside you. You feel your pussy tighten around him, “Mmh, Ced, I think I’m gonna–!” You squeal, Cedric grabs your hips and quickened his pace by a bit. “Go on, sweetheart.” He says low, letting his breath into your ear, moving down to kiss your neck. Reaching your limit, you feel your orgasm ripple through you.

Cedric kept going, though you could tell he was close, too– his thrusts growing sloppy as the echo of skin to skin and moans  from the both of you filled the room. His hips jerked a few more times as he finally sheathed fully and deep into you, as you two let out a long, drawn out moan as he was spilling his load inside your pussy. 

Clenching around his cock greedily, it’s as if you were going to wring him dry. You feel the way his cock pulses as he cums in you, a white ring pooling around the base of his cock with your mixed juices as it trickles down your folds. 

He collapses atop you, letting his head rest between your breasts as he’s still inside you. You two lay like that for a while, basking in the silence of the afterglow. You suddenly interrupt as you say, “Okay, maybe I forgive you..” 

He smiles and scoffs at that. Eventually, he pulls out and lays beside you, cuddling you from behind as you two exchange ‘I love you’s’ as you two drift off into sleep.

[nothingbutsweetwords]

ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

"ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴇᴀʀ ɪᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ..."

Word count: 6000.

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Velaryon!Niece.

Warnings: Angst.

FALLING — 7. Her.

During the first moons of her stay at the Red Keep, everything seemed new and exciting. There was some sense of freedom in not having her family around, but with each sunrise, it became more complicated, and the longing grew stronger.

The letters she received from her mother initially brought comfort, but soon they became short. No matter how many words her mother wrote about her, her siblings, and her father, it was never enough. She wrote daily, though she only sent them every three days. She would tell her about her day, always omitting her nightly outings, and tried to hide how much she missed them, and her mother, worried, always asked about Aemond's progress.

Over time, even all the letters became inadequate; they couldn't fill the void she felt. She longed to hear their voices, feel the warmth of their hugs. She questioned a few times if it had been a good idea, but she quickly dismissed those thoughts to remain resolute.

Aemond spent most of his time in the yard, both morning and evening, promising to become the best warrior for her. This caused their visits to the library to decrease. Nevertheless, every night without fail, they slept together, face to face, finding solace in each other's presence.

Her lessons with the septa became increasingly tedious, or perhaps she just grew more easily bored. She spent a lot of time in Helaena's room, who seemed happy to have her. Helaena continued to intrigue her with riddles and enigmatic phrases, making her wonder when each prediction would come true. So far, none seemed bad, so she wasn't frightened or worried. Helaena also helped her improve her embroidery technique, although there wasn't much to be done; it wasn't her strong suit. Soon, the lack of activities even led her to become interested in her insects, delighted to see her aunt’s enthusiasm.

One day, while sitting on the floor, Helaena placed a ladybug on her hand. "It tickles" she said, laughing softly as the insect walked across her palm. Helaena smiled at her, happy to share her passion with someone.

"They all have seven dots, the red ones" Helaena said, revealing an interesting curiosity. "She likes you" she added, looking her in the eyes with a slight smile. She thanked her for saying that.

"What about those?" she asked, pointing to a wooden box with a transparent lid, where several insects could be seen inside. There were some spiders and others she couldn't name.

When Helaena turned to look in the direction her finger pointed, her smile faded a bit. She took the box in her hands and allowed her to observe them from above, while the ladybug continued to walk between her fingers and fly from one hand to the other.

"I do not trust them yet" she said quietly. "I am not sure whether their wishes are for good or ill."

“Why?” she asked, genuinely curious.

Helaena pointed to a large black spider from above and said: "They weave intricate webs, and sometimes those webs can hide important secrets. I'm still trying to unravel which ones" she said, frowning. "But what I know is, we have to beware of the guardian of secrets" she warned, as if wanting to protect her from an-as-yet unknown danger. She simply nodded, hoping nothing bad would come of it.

As time passed, life at the castle continued with its ups and downs; Aemond's training, the enigmatic conversations with Helaena, the whispers of the people, and the few letters from her mother. Even through it all, she found moments of peace, and convinced herself that despite the challenges, she was exactly where she needed to be, next to him.

Occasionally, she found distraction by visiting her grandsire's room. She spent hours there, reading to him, listening to his fascinating stories about their ancestors and the old Valyria. Often, she asked for tales about her mother's youth, seeking to feel closer to her.

She had also begun to insist on Lyra's presence during every meal, finding in her company a sense of familiarity, a relief from her growing homesickness. As expected, everything began to feel cramped, and Lyra, as perceptive as ever, had noticed it, and she herself could no longer ignore it.

She missed her family terribly, and there was nothing that could ease that pain, except the obvious. She felt trapped, guilty for wanting to go to Dragonstone and leave Aemond behind, but she couldn't help it.

"Could it be that, perhaps, I've made a mistake coming here?" she asked one night, her voice filled with doubt and shame for exposing her deepest thoughts.

"I do not think things are that simple, princess. You came here with good intentions, and missing your family is only natural, it does not mean you have made a mistake" Lyra replied gently.

She nodded, acknowledging the truth in those words. "I do really miss them" she murmured, longing evident, head bowed. "No matter how hard I try, this is not my home."

"Why do you say that, princess?" After dinner, Lyra had drawn her a warm bath, and now, in her nightdress, Lyra was gently brushing her long hair.

"I've heard the whispers when I walk alone in the halls." Lyra nodded, understanding the situation and listening attentively to her words. Both were sitting on the bed, and she was with her back facing her lady-in-waiting, between her legs. "It's as if they believe me deaf. I know what they say or think, and it's not... good" she confessed, pain reflected in her voice.

Upon hearing her last words, Lyra set the brush aside and drew her close, wrapping her in a comforting embrace. Lyra was the daughter of one of Rhaenyra's ladies-in-waiting and had lived her entire life in that family. Though only a few years older, she felt a deep maternal love for the princess. 

"We must not let such foolish words disturb our ears, and if they do, let us ensure they do not enter our precious minds, yes?" Lyra said, whispering with firmness. "They mean nothing."

She nodded, and unable to contain herself, she began to cry softly in her caretaker's arms. They remained like that for a while until she could calm down. She appreciated Lyra's love and understanding, feeling fortunate to have someone like that by her side, watching over her well-being.

After some time, Lyra left the room, wishing her goodnight. This was her signal to get up, put on her cloak over her shoulders, dampen her face a bit to erase any trace of dry tears, and take the gift she had prepared so much for him with the help of her mother. With a mix of excitement and nervousness, she headed towards her destination, seeking to find another place of peace and connection amidst the storm of emotions that assailed her.

Aemond's nameday wasn't until the next morning, but she never had much patience for such things. That night, like all others, she entered the room with a candle in one hand, only now she hid the gift behind her back with the other.

Aemond was sitting by the window, his gaze fixed on the night sky. She closed the door with her hip, as both her hands were occupied, and walked over to him. Aemond's face showed signs of fatigue, even some sadness. She knew he was trying to stay awake while waiting for her, as always. The notion of time had escaped her during the shared moment with Lyra, and he always ended up terribly exhausted by his training. Seeing her arrive, Aemond settled and offered a tired smile. She circled the bed, placing the candle on the small table, and with her free hand, she took off her cloak, hiding the gift underneath on the nearby chair.

She walked towards him slowly, observing the clear sky. The moon shone over the city, enhancing the delicacy of his face.

"This is how the night was when I claimed Vhagar" he said, with sorrow. Her heart squeezed at his words, she sadly knew he would never have a flight like that again.

"What was it like?" she finally asked, cautiously. She had never dared to ask about that moment, fearing to reopen wounds, but now that he mentioned it, her curiosity stirred again.

He smiled, still looking at the sky. "I never imagined flying would feel like that" he said, his voice filled with gratitude. "Did it ever trouble you when I did?" he asked.

"What? Claim Vhagar?" she inquired, surprised by his question.

"Yes" he said softly, his voice tinged with apprehension.

She smiled at him, placing a hand on his shoulder, her eyes reflecting pride. "Of course not. It was meant for you, a warrior destined for a warrior." Her words carried a sense of admiration and certainty, a testament to her unwavering belief in his capabilities. "And that was just the beginning, Aemond. Together, you will be unstoppable" she said, her voice whispering with conviction and anticipation. "I do feel safer knowing we have you as protectors."

"Thank you" he expressed, hopeful. She knew the journey was just beginning, and the horizon stretched like a promise of all the adventures to come. "I did it on behalf of us both." She smiled gratefully, gently squeezing him.

"I know they will write books that will pass through all the ages, Aemond, about your courage and triumph" she said, walking towards the sofa.

"I'm not sure about that much" he replied, laughing lightly at her words.

"Then I will be the one to write them" she said, pulling the gift from under her cloak. "Close your eye" she instructed, with an excited smile. Aemond obeyed, but not before giving her an odd look.

"Open your hands" she indicated once she was in front of him again. He did so without question, and with a gentle gesture, she placed the gift in his hands, which lowered slightly at the unexpected weight.

"Now you can look" she whispered. Aemond did so quickly, and looked surprised at the delicate blue velvet bag. She was looking at him with excitement and a touch of nervousness. It was the first time she had given such a planned gift to someone, and she hoped not to disappoint. But even if she did, she would never find out, as he would never show it.

"It's your nameday present" she explained with a radiant smile. "I couldn't wait to give it to you on the morrow, and I wanted to be the first one to do it" she said, letting out a small laugh from her lips.

"I love it" he replied, placing the gift on his lap and looking directly at her, the faint moonlight adorning his gaze with a softness that made him appear even more beautiful.

"You haven't even seen it!" she exclaimed, softly laughing. "Come on, open it."

"I would love anything you gave me" he said laughing too, while untying the laces of the velvet bag to reveal the gift. She had a premonition that his words were sincere.

He carefully pulled the wooden case out of the bag. It was made of ebony, so its color was dark like the night, almost black, and was decorated with delicate carvings. He ran his hand over the surface, appreciating the abstract shapes as if they were a work of art. He had a slightly open mouth as he admired the case with admiration. Then, carefully, he opened it, revealing the true gift.

Inside rested a valyrian steel dagger, shining and forged with impeccable craftsmanship. Its sharp, polished blade reflected the light with a silver shine. Each side of it was adorned with intricate engravings that wound from the hilt to the edge.

His eyes lit up upon seeing it, and a sincere smile spread across his face. "It's valyrian steel" she explained enthusiastically, "so you'll always carry a piece of our roots."

The handle was equally impressive. It was wrapped in black leather, a material that, according to the smith, provided a more comfortable and secure grip. However, the highlight was the sapphires embedded in the handle. The sapphires, of a deep and radiant blue, were skillfully set into the metal, creating a vibrant contrast with the silver. Each sapphire was carefully polished, capturing flashes of light that gave the impression of small stars embedded in the hilt.

The guard of the dagger, also made of steel, was decorated with intertwining motifs that complemented the sapphires in the handle. Aemond took it in his hands carefully, observing every detail meticulously.

She had often heard him speak about Viserys's dagger, seeing the longing in his eyes when he did so, as well as the sadness knowing he could never possess it. That's why she had tried to make something unique for him, something exclusively his, perhaps even something that could be passed down to future Targaryens, always remembered as his.

He set the dagger aside and looked at the box. Inside was a sapphire too. She knew some people carried those precious gemstones as talismans, believing they protected the eyes and helped see beyond the physical. Besides, she had always thought the color matched his eyes. It seemed like a thoughtful detail, but she didn't dare mention its significance.

"My father gave me two he brought back from one of his expeditions to the Stepstones a few years ago" she explained, smiling as he held the sapphire between his fingers, admiring it in the light streaming through the window. "I have the other one" she added shyly. "So you always have a piece of sky, or sea, and I hope it always reminds you that you are destined for something big." He set the sapphire aside and continued to observe. She wondered if he would be attentive enough to explore further, and of course, he was.

The box was lined with more velvet and there was a small cushion where the dagger rested. During her lessons and visits to Helaena, she had embroidered the fabric, and the tailor had turned it into this. She had tried to depict waves and the moon in different shades of blue and teal, with some white stars. They might not have been perfect, but she had poured her heart into them.

He traced the fabric with his fingers, still not saying a word.

"I embroidered it" she added proudly. Then he put the dagger back in the case, but kept the sapphire in his hand. She waited anxiously for his words. "I’m sure it does not compare to Viserys', but..."

"It's perfect" he interrupted, his voice sincere. She let out a sigh she didn't know she'd been holding, a wave of relief and happiness at his reaction. "I..." he began, hesitating. He shook his head slightly, searching for words. Then he put the case back in the velvet bag and stepped away from the window ledge. Once face to face, he hugged her unexpectedly. With one hand he held the gift and with the other he held her tightly. She returned the embrace with a smile, now more relaxed. 

"Thank you" he whispered, holding her even tighter, their hearts almost merging in that hug. When they separated, his eye sparkled, holding back some tears, just like hers. "Let us go to bed" he said, noticing his body was cold from being pressed against the window glass. He approached a shelf where he kept some of his most precious books and now his most precious object, then headed for the bed, placing the sapphire on the bedside table after admiring it again.

Smiling, they both got under the covers, facing each other, feeling their bodies warming up again. They both reached out their hands at the same time, their hands meeting in the middle. They laughed softly and intertwined their fingers in the middle of the bed. It was their routine, talking like this, face to face, until they ran out of things to say, with their hands joined. Then they slept together, sometimes with her head on his chest, sometimes with him nestled in her arms.

"I loved it" he said sincerely. "Absolutely everything," he assured her, "no one has ever given me a better present."

She smiled proudly, happy with his words. "I'm glad you liked it."

They looked at each other in silence. It was a comfortable silence, warm even. It was at that moment, suddenly, while they looked at each other, that hundreds of thoughts flooded her mind like a torrent. Did everyone experience something as wonderful as this? Did everyone have someone to whom giving the whole world, along with their heart on a silver platter, seemed not enough? Did everyone's heart beat so wildly when looking someone in the eyes? Or was it something that only happened when it was the most beautiful face in the kingdom gazing back at them?

She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped when she saw that he seemed to want to say something too. They both remained silent, waiting for the other to speak first.

"You can go first" she said softly.

"No, you're a lady, you go" he insisted courteously.

"No, please, you tell me" she said, almost pleading with her eyes, though she wasn't exactly sure what she hoped to hear, still trying to understand the strange sensation in her chest.

"Tell me, please" he echoed at the same time, and they laughed again at the coincidence.

"You're my best friend" he exclaimed finally.

"You're my best friend" she replied, in perfect sync.

They laughed again, and as they truly heard each other's words, they smiled. She felt warmth rise in her cheeks. At that moment, everything made sense to her. That special, innocent feeling, that pure joy, so complex yet so simple, was love. She didn't need to fully understand it to know it was real, and that it was reciprocated.

They lingered for a moment, lost in each other's gaze. Aemond's eyes glowed with a tenderness that mirrored her own. Without needing more words, they leaned in slowly and shared a hug filled with affection and silent promises. The moonlight bathed the room, enveloping them in its silver glow. Every moment seemed magical, as if time had stopped just for them.

In that instant, in the tranquility of the night, they both knew that despite the challenges, they would always have that special bond that united them.

Finally, they settled comfortably under the covers, still close, their hearts beating in unison, and they embraced the serenity.

Once back in her room, she spent the day with Lyra again. If it were up to her, she would have spent the entire day with Aemond, but she knew he would break fast with his mother as usual. Later, he would be busy with his training, something that excited him especially now, with the anticipation of wielding a real sword, finally, as he had come of age for it.

At dusk, after writing to her mother and enjoying a hot bath, the woman helped her dress in the carefully chosen attire for the occasion. She opted for a flowing blue dress and some delicate jewelry. As Lyra began to brush her hair, preparing to style it up as she always did, she decided to change her mind.

Aemond had always praised her curls, often running his fingers through them in the night until he drifted off to sleep, and she thought it would be a pleasant surprise for him to wear her hair loose, something she only did in the privacy of their rooms.

When she was almost ready, Lyra was about to accompany her to the hall where the feast would take place, but they heard soft knocks on the door. Few were the times someone sought out her room, so both were intrigued. Lyra walked towards the door and opened it, while she adjusted the sandals that complemented her dress. When she looked up, she found Aemond standing in front of her, looking at her in awe, with Lyra behind him, barely able to hide her huge smile biting her lower lip.

She felt the blush rise to her cheeks, they were not accustomed to being so close in front of other people, so she didn't know how to react, a little flustered with her lady-in-waiting standing there.

Aemond's hair was neatly tied back in a half ponytail. His left side was partly covered by the patch he wore during his training, and he was dressed in a handsome green suit.

"I’ve come to escort you, princess" he murmured shyly, mindful of the third presence. She smiled and nodded, walking towards him and taking his right arm.

"Happy nameday, my prince. May you both enjoy a good supper" Lyra chimed in, opening the door for them to leave.

"Thank you, my lady" Aemond replied courteously before walking out of the room.

Once out of the enthusiastic gaze, she squeezed his arm and looked at him. "Happy nameday, my prince."

He looked at her with a smile that radiated happiness as he guided her through the dimly lit corridors by torchlight, the sun already hidden. "Thank you, my princess." The next words seemed to come with a touch of adoration and nervousness. "You look beautiful tonight... well, you always do, but tonight especially so."

She responded with a grateful smile. "You look lovely too, as always, my prince." He smiled faintly, an expression that denoted a hint of skepticism, as if he couldn't quite believe all the compliments she gave him. As they walked together, their footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor, she broke the silence with a curious question. "What gifts have you received so far?"

With a gleam of joy in his eyes, he replied, "my grandsire had a new saddle made for Vhagar. It's magnificent." His voice filled with enthusiasm. "My mother gave me some ancient books from Oldtown, and she also surprised me with Daeron's visit. I barely remembered his face." She widened her eyes in surprise, vaguely recalling Daeron, who was her age and whom she had seen only once. "Helaena gave me a suit embroidered by herself, with two intertwined dragons" he said with palpable excitement, hoping it meant something. "And Viserys gave me a Valyrian steel sword, with a belt that also has space for a dagger. Aegon mentioned he would give me his present later" he concluded happily. 

She smiled, glad that each gift sounded well thought out, just right for him, although still puzzled why he referred to his father by his name. As they finished their conversation, they found themselves standing in front of the imposing doors of the grand hall. Instinctively, both separated their arms as the guards opened the large doors, announcing their arrival. 

The guests stood in the center of the hall, conversing animatedly, except for the king and the Hand, who were already seated. The queen approached them with a maternal smile and planted a kiss on her son's forehead. "We were waiting for you, my dearest" she said affectionately. Then, taking his hand to guide him to his seat, she turned to her. "Princess, we did not expect you. What a lovely surprise" she added with a smile.

She felt a small knot of uncertainty in her stomach, wondering if she was intruding, but Aemond wouldn't have sought her out if that were the case. She returned the queen's smile and noticed how she gestured to the servants, who quickly added a chair and tableware next to Helaena. Helaena smiled at her and, before she could greet her, moved towards that newly added chair, giving up her place directly in front of Aemond, which she appreciated. Perhaps Helaena wanted her to sit opposite her brother, or simply preferred not to be near Aegon, an understandable preference.

She sat down with a grateful smile, though still somewhat uncomfortable. The feast began, and musicians played cheerful ballads that filled the air with a festive atmosphere. Laughter and conversation flowed along the table, and she almost forgot how much she missed her family, caught up in the distraction of the moment. She noticed that the wine jug beside her needed refilling more often than others, and wondered how long it would be before Aegon spoiled the mood. He was fun and pleasant when sober, but she couldn't say the same when he was drunk.

"Princess, I heard you've been learning High Valyrian" said the king, smiling at her with somewhat weary eyes. She smiled happily at the question, and Aemond paid attention, interested in the conversation.

"Yes, your grace. Aemond has been an excellent instructor" she replied proudly.

"She is making incredible progress" Aemond added, shyly.

"I bet it comes easy to you, just like your mother" the king said, smiling before taking a sip of wine. Perhaps to an untrained eye, Aemond's slight disappointment might have gone unnoticed, but she saw it, and understood why. She couldn't blame the king for loving his daughter so much, as her mother was a splendid person, but she felt sorry that he didn't see the fortune in having Helaena and Aemond, who were just as intelligent and kind.

"With Aemond as my guide, it's only natural for me to learn quickly, your grace" she said, smiling at Aemond. He seemed to appreciate the gesture, and the king looked pleased with the response, nodding before moving on to another conversation. Aegon's raised eyebrows and mischievous smile did not go unnoticed.

Helaena was showing her a figure she always carried, a wooden butterfly that Viserys had given her when she was a baby. She wondered if maybe that was the origin of her fascination with insects. As they continued talking, she felt an unfamiliar finger tangle in one of her curls, pulling it lightly. It was Aegon, who was looking at her hair with mocking attention.

"The Arryn blood is strong, is it not, niece?" he said sarcastically, and in a low voice, ensuring the king did not hear.

She tensed at the comment, and Helaena looked at Aegon disapprovingly. Her body stiffened, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment. In that moment, she inwardly cursed herself for not wearing black and for wearing her hair loose, proudly displaying her curls. Aegon simply removed his finger and engaged in another conversation, losing interest in teasing her, but she couldn't return to her previous state.

Helaena gently squeezed her hand, offering a small supportive smile, but it did little to calm her. Aemond didn't seem to hear the remark, for which she was thankful.

She felt more alone than ever, like an uninvited guest in a place she once called home. And she came to understand her siblings' anger at such insults, not to the same extent, of course, but she did.

The rest of the dinner passed without further incidents. Some guests joined in a lively dance once the meal was over, and laughter was heard in the hall as the wine continued to flow.

Aemond glanced at her several times, concerned about her obvious discomfort. She didn't want to spoil his celebration, so she tried to offer a reassuring smile whenever their eyes met.

She found herself caught up in various pleasant conversations with the other nobles present, mostly with Daeron, who was her same age, and Heleana. She tried to keep away from Aegon as much as possible. Aemond, on his part, approached her on several occasions, rescuing her from the dull talks of the elders. He tried to distract her with amusing anecdotes from his training or asked her about stories of dragons, which she knew by heart. Though her mind was elsewhere, she appreciated his efforts to make her feel comfortable and protected.

Finally, as the feast began to wind down into the night, Aemond approached her with determination in his eyes.

"Princess, would you like to take a walk through the gardens? The night is beautiful" he suggested.

She smiled, grateful for the chance to get away from the bustle. "I would love to, my prince."

Together, they left the main hall and made their way to the quiet gardens of the castle. The moon shone above them, illuminating their flowers lined path as they walked silently along. Aemond seemed less tense now, more relaxed under the starry sky, offering her his arm courteously.

"I'm sorry if anything made you uncomfortable tonight" Aemond finally said, breaking the silence. "I hope nothing else happened" he murmured, a slight concern in his eyes.

She shook her head gently, feeling comforted by his worry. "It's not your fault, Aemond. I'm fine. Just... I'm not used to being without my family."

He nodded, looking at her with understanding. "I know. And I know sometimes people can be... thoughtless" he said, almost apologizing again.

They walked a bit further in silence before she found the courage to speak about what she was really thinking. "Do you ever feel that way, Aemond?" she hesitated for a moment. "Like you don't quite fit in?"

He stopped and looked at her directly, uncertain. His eyes, under the full moon and clear sky, seemed deeper, more reflective, sadder at her question. "Sometimes," he admitted softly, "but when I'm with you, princess, everything seems to fall into place. I do hope you feel the same."

Her heart skipped at his sincere words, feeling a twinge of guilt for longing to return to her family. "Thank you, Aemond. Should we head back? It's getting chilly."

He smiled, softening his features. "Yes."

They continued walking together, enjoying the peace and serenity of the night. As they progressed, leaving the gardens behind and climbing the keep stairs, she said, "I hope you've enjoyed your day, my prince." He nodded. Once they reached the hallway they shared, she whispered: "Should I visit you tonight?"

"Of course" he replied naturally, offering a comforting smile.

"You said Aegon would bring your gift, I wouldn't want to arrive at an inopportune moment" she said, reminding him.

He nodded, realizing he had forgotten his earlier conversation with his brother. "You're right. Maybe I should come instead. I can come right after he leaves" he suggested, and she eagerly agreed to the plan.

When they finally stood in front of the door, with no one in sight, her hands began to sweat nervously. It was just a temporary farewell, like countless others before, so she didn't understand why her body felt so restless, or why her heart was pounding so hard. And why were her thoughts centered on whether kissing him would ease her mind?

Before pushing the door, she turned to him, catching Aemond’s smile, oblivious to her internal doubts. "May I, perhaps, try something?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly, hoping she hadn't misinterpreted any signals.

He arched an eyebrow, curious at her question, but nodded in consent. Without further ado, she took a step forward and, with determination, closed the distance between them. She pressed her lips gently against his, all her questions melting away in that fleeting moment. She closed her eyes, unable to see Aemond's initial surprise.

When they parted, Aemond's face was flushed, his eye wide with astonishment, causing a flutter of concern in her chest. Before she could apologize, he mirrored her action, leaning in and returning the innocent kiss. This time, both closed their eyes, letting themselves be carried away by the moment as their hands instinctively intertwined.

As they pulled away, shy but content smiles graced their faces. The special discovery left them breathless.

"Goodnight" she whispered, a thrilling buzz inside her.

"Goodnight" he replied with equal softness and carrying the same exhilaration.

Once inside, the room was again in perfect order, something she was thankful for. Aemond always seemed to value the organization and she wanted him to feel like in his own space. Peaceful, comfortable, happy. Her chambers were perfectly illuminated by the moon and the glow of the fire burning in the fireplace, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere.

She walked to the door she used every night, leaving it slightly ajar, then shed her dress, donning her nightgown and slipping immediately into bed. She tried to immerse herself in the book on her nightstand, but her mind kept returning to the shared kiss. Touching her lips with the tips of her fingers, she wondered if it had also been Aemond's first time. She hoped it was.

Soon she realized it was futile to try to distract herself with the book. Her heart still raced, and her mind was full of questions and anticipations. She tossed and turned in bed, unable to stay still as she waited for Aemond to arrive. She was worried, fearing she had ruined everything with her impulsiveness. Or worse, that Aemond had changed his mind after that.

Exhaustion finally overcame her, her head swirling with thoughts, and she fell asleep hoping everything would be okay between them.

The sun stung her face as she began to wake, the warmth of the morning enveloping her. There were faint noises in the room, but still too sleepy to make them out, she tried to ignore them. Suddenly, her eyes flew wide open and she sat up abruptly. The bed was empty, but the secondary door remained open, an invitation to scolding from her lady-in-waiting.

Lyra soon noticed she was awake. With a sorrowful expression, she approached the bed slowly and sat beside her. The princess's gaze searched for answers, but none of her assumptions came close to the reality.

"A raven has arrived today from Dragonstone, my princess..." Lyra began softly, choosing her words carefully. She nodded, attentive and anxious to know more, urging her to continue. "Your father, Prince Leanor, has passed away" she announced.

With those words, the princess's entire world shattered once more in an instant. Tears began to cascade uncontrollably, unleashed without any permission, but she knew it was only a matter of time, a storm that had been brewing finally erupted. Her overwhelming feelings of longing for her family and the unsettling sense of being like a stranger in the castle where she had grown up intensified her anguish even more. Guilt and regret gnawed at her, constricting her chest and stealing the air in her lungs. Lyra tried to soothe her, urging her to breathe, but it was in vain. 

So many moons spent in the Red Keep, precious time lost with her father that could never be reclaimed. Now, with the loss irreversible, she couldn't even seek answers about how it happened, the trauma of Harwin Strong's death still raw. Her chest tightened, heaving, as her mind spun relentlessly, refusing to accept what her ears had heard.

Lyra enveloped her in protective arms, a bulwark against the whirlwind of emotions crashing over her as the harsh news unfolded before her. "We must leave immediately, there is a ship waiting for us" she murmured softly, aware of the princess's magnitude of pain, but to the urgency of the situation too.

Tears continued to flow unabated as she nodded, succumbing to the overwhelming sensation of loss and guilt that engulfed her. She allowed herself to be consumed by it while Lyra hurriedly guided and helped her dress. Once ready, servants entered to assist with the luggage, moving efficiently as those who understood the gravity of the moment, and Lyra asked her to wait while she gathered her own belongings.

When the lady disappeared from her sight, she, with a pounding heart, hurried to Aemond's room. Upon arrival, Queen Alicent was just stepping out, her face a mask of concern and sorrow.

"I'm deeply sorry for your loss, princess" she said with palpable sincerity in her voice, closing the door behind her, but condolences were a luxury she could not afford now. She needed to see if everything was okay with Aemond before leaving, the thought of departing without clarity on their relationship or at least a farewell filled her with unease.

"Is Aemond awake? I wish to see him" she implored softly, tears silently streaming down her face. People passed around her—members of the council, servants—all casting sympathetic glances that went unnoticed.

"He does not wish to receive visitors at the moment" the queen replied firmly.

"But it is urgent" she insisted, desperation seeping into her voice. She tried to move past her and grasp the door handle, her hands trembling but determined, but the queen stopped her.

"I'm very sorry, princess, but you must understand" Alicent said, her tone unyielding.

On the brink of collapse, with each passing second more overwhelming than the last, she pleaded, "please" but received only refusals.

Moments later, Lyra appeared carrying a suitcase, hurrying towards her. "My princess, we must depart now" she said, after offering a courtesy to Alicent.

"But I need to see Aemond" she insisted, her voice a desperate whisper. Lyra looked to Alicent silently pleading for a concession, searching for a shred of sympathy, but the queen remained unmoved, her gaze fixed on the princess.

"We can exchange letters by ravens, yes? But the ship will depart soon, princess" Lyra said, her words weighted by both empathy and urgency.

She felt frustration and helplessness engulf her, on the verge of shouting in rage. With no other choice, she took Lyra's hand and let herself be led away, each step a battle against the hopelessness that surrounded her.

@helaenaluvr @purplegardenwhispers @callsignwidow @scarletbedlam @fics-i-love-and-recommend @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me

Last part from her POV as kids!

[alastor-simp]

Azul Ashengrotto🐙 with a reader who is like Uma from Descendants

- You had intrigued Azul the minute he saw you arrive to NRC. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but your magical aura and beauty kept drawing him in

- Azul was a man of business, however, so he wasn’t going to let his fascination get in the way of that. As always he tried to introduce himself and offer you his services in the form of a contract, hoping you would accept it with ease, but you just gave him an sarcastic laugh and said “Dream on, Octo boy” and walked away , leaving him stunned

- Shocked, was the expression on Azul’s face as he realized you had a bit of a feisty attitude compared to the delicate flower he pictured you as. He ordered the twins to try and persuade you to reconsider, but you refused again and roughed up the twins a bit when they got too pushy. Let’s just say the Leech brothers know now, not to mess with you.

- After multiple refusals, Azul decided to call it quits, but you had other plans as you had your sights set on him and when you wanted something, you got it.

- He wasn’t expecting to have grown so close to you, but the more time he spent with you, the more he started to develop feelings. You can imagine his surprise when you told him that you ran a crew of pirates and are their captain.

- Besides being a captain, he asked what other talents/secrets you had, and instead of telling him you showed him. Jumping into the fish tank in Mostro lounge, you transformed into your cecaelia form in front of Azul. Let’s just say, you had this Octo cutie blushing up to his ears. Your tentacles were a charming aqua color, that matched perfectly with your turquoise hair.

- After that, you told Azul more about your world, your rival with the daughter of Maleficent and how Ursula was your mother.

- !?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? COME AGAIN. YOUR MOTHER IS URSULA!?!?!?!! ONE OF THE GREAT SEVENS?!?!?!?!?!? ……… Marry Me.

- The two of you got together eventually, honestly you weren’t expecting it either, but you grown to love and care for Azul, but don’t tell anyone else that as you had a reputation to uphold and the last thing you needed is your crew/friends seeing you go all soft.

- “Good afternoon, sweetie,” Azul said as he greeted you upon your arrival to Mostro Lounge. Grabbing Azuls bow tie, you yanked him closer to your face as you don’t like being called adorable pet names “What’s my name, Azul? Azul, flustered, answered you back immediately: “Y-Y/N.”

- Smiling, you kissed Azul, on the lips before letting him go. “That’s right cutie. That’s my name.” You grabbed his hand and walked towards his office, with him following behind you with hearts in his eyes and two eel twins giggling from afar, as Floyd recorded the whole interaction and Jade asking his brother to send him the video.

( sorry about how bad this is, still having trouble writing x reader stories, but hope you guys enjoy it :) )

[eternalmoonlight18]

Please Please Please (Don't Prove 'Em Right) Chapter 6

Trafaglar Law x afab Female!Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter warnings: slight mentions of doing the nasty. MDNI!

Summary:

You are the Heart Pirates' beloved cook and sniper. However, you were also an insufferable troublemaker who always seemed to get on Law's nerves. He swears he's going to get rid of you one day, but as much as he hates it, why does he find you fascinating? Was it because you reminded him of someone he was greatly fond of?

As your relationship with Law grows, he only hopes you don't fucking embarrass him. After all, he has an image to uphold as one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.

This story starts off as short stories between (Y/N), Law and the Heart Pirates, then picks up into the One Piece canon timeline, starting from Punk Hazard. This is a slow-burn Law x Female Reader story!

Updates every Monday!

Cross-posted in Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57651295/chapters/146705491

Chapter 6: Chicken Feet

Chapter summary: You and Law leave the crew behind to journey to Punk Hazard. You meet Monet, but seeing Law and Monet together makes you uneasy. Chaos ensues when your jealousy reaches to new heights each time you catch them together.

A/N: HELLO! Thank you so much for your patience friends! Writer's block is gone and it's time to get rolling! This story is canon-compliant, but it's not going to follow the actual story 100%. This isn't proofread so yeah sorry lol

Also CW/TW: slight mentions of the nasty if you squint, use your imagination folks.

I also created a taglist. Let me know if you want to be a part of it!

wc: 4k

You were instantly hit with regret when you and Law stepped foot at Punk Hazard. It was a month since you and the captain dropped off the crew at Zou to assist him in his mission to stop Doflamingo, but you desperately wanted to turn around and return for them. But it was too late, and Law seemed amused with the sight of you shivering in the vast cold land of the half of Punk Hazard. 

"Wow, it's not that cold here," Law said sarcastically as he walked towards a large door by a mountainside. While keeping his head forward, you saw him look at you with a smirk on his lips. Annoyed by your captain's sarcastic remark, you stooped to the ground to grab a handful of snow and chucked it at the back of Law's black coat. The man chuckled, clearly unbothered by your tantrum.

"Shut up! If you told me that we would travel to the fucking Arctic, I would've dressed better!" you comically spat at him. 

"I told you (Y/n)-ya, you should've worn that boiler suit." the man tutted back at you.

There was no arguing that. You fought tooth and nail against your captain on wearing anything else but those damned boiler suits, and now you're paying the price for it. So you opted for a cute black fur coat that went down to your knees and black leggings, but it was not enough to keep you warm in the insane cold environment of Punk Hazard 

"I'd rather die than wear those ugly boiler suits! We're not with the crew anyway!" you argued back.

You and Law now stood in front of a giant steel door. With his slender finger, Law knocked on the door. A few seconds passed before the door scrapped open, revealing a pale white man with spiked black hair. He stood very tall, but he didn't have any legs as it was replaced with gas. His yellow eyes bore into you and Law before his lips turned into a sinister smile.

"Well well well! What do we have here? Shuorororo!" the man creepily giggled. "A warlord at my doorstep? I'm honoured!" Then he took a look at you who was behind Law, and his eery smile widened even more. "And you brought along a sweet treat!"

"Caesar Clown. I came here for some business with you." Law said with a calm demeanour. Although he spoke professionally, there was a slight tone of aggressiveness. "I've heard about your production in SMILE fruits and SAD and I'm greatly intrigued. So, I'm offering that we can be business partners, to help you with production and distribution."

"And why should I engage in a partnership with you?" Caesar questioned.

The tattooed doctor hummed before he gave his answer. "You can use my Warlord status as protection."

The pale man smirked, "I already work for a Warlord. I won't disclose his name, but the JOKER already compensates me well."

"What about extra protection from another Warlord?" you piped up behind your captain.

The two men looked at you. Law stared at you with amusement while Caesar held a bewildered expression.

"That doesn't seem to be a bad idea. Good thinking (Y/n)-ya." your captain said with praise. He then turned his head back at the gaslike man. "The JOKER may be a good employer, but he will backstab you Caesar-ya. But with me, I can be that backup plan just in case things go wrong with your little business, hm?"

"Little?! For your information, my work is greatly sought after! I am the second-best scientist in the world and my work and weaponry directly supply an Emperor of the Seas!" Caesar scoffed.

You stepped up and took your place beside Law. "More of a reason to partner with my captain! If all goes to shit with the production of SAD, who do you think is first to blame?" you piqued up.

That seemed to get the mad scientist thinking. "Well well. You're not just a pretty face after all. Shurorororo!" 

Even though you cringed at the compliment, you couldn't help but swell with pride, seeing that Law gave you a tiny smile of appreciation your way. 

"The two of you come inside! I'm warming up to this idea of being business partners with another Warlord..."Caesar started to ramble as he ushered the two of you inside the facility.

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

You really wanted to go back to the Polar Tang now.

The facility wasn't bad at all. Everything was provided: space, a place to rest, and food. But you felt that something suspicious was going on and you couldn't figure out what it was. Law refused to tell you why he wanted to stay on Punk Hazard, but you understood it was all to avoid compromising the mission. He even exchanged his heart with Monet, another person staying in Punk Hazard, so that no one could betray one another.

Speaking of Monet, you hated the woman. Something about here didn't sit right with you, but you couldn't figure out why.

As you walked the laboratory corridors, you spotted that a research room had its door slightly cracked open. Curiosity got to you, prompting you to peek inside. Standing at the door, you touched your chest and muttered 'Calm'. With the newfound Devil Fruit powers you gained a month ago, you could take away sound from yourself and your environment. And it proved very useful now that you were peeking in this room.

There, Monet was sitting on a chair, writing notes on a desk. To her left, was Law, sitting on a couch to her right and Caesar was standing in front of him. They were engaged in a conversation, and you couldn't help but listen in.

"So, you're Trafalgar Law. Also known as the Surgeon of Death. You hail from the North Blue. You ate the Op-Op Fruit." she spoke as she was writing away.

Law glanced at her as she continued to speak. "You also brought your subordinate, (Y/n). A formidable sniper and a cook at the Heart Pirates. She hails from the East Blue. You said she ate a Devil Fruit recently but no information about its type."

Monet turned from her chair to face the two men to her right. "There are former prisoners that are on this island who were affected by a poison gas. Can you heal them?" she asked. 

Your captain continued to stare at her. Meanwhile, Caesar continued the conversion. "I'll let you and your subordinate stay here, so long as you assist me and don't tell anyone else about this lab. Are we clear Trafalgar?" 

"So be it. Also, you are not to tell anyone that (Y/n)-ya and I are here. That includes Joker alright?" Law said firmly.

A light giggle passed Monet's lips. "Caesar, I say that it's fine that he stays here. Besides, he's cute," she said as she threw a wink in Law's direction, much to his dismay. 

An unpleasant shiver went down your spine as your chest started to tighten. 

Now you really didn't like her. That was strike one. 

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

 A week slowly went by as you and Law stayed at the Laboratory. You found out that there were children and giant children, who were staying at the lab because Caesar said he was finding a cure for them. Of course, you didn't believe him, and you took it upon yourself to find out that the kids were actually guinea pigs for Caesar and his messed up experiments. But with your given circumstance, you knew that Law had a plan to take down Caesar and the SAD factory, so it was a matter of being patient with him. So the most you could do right now was feed the kids and keep them safe. 

Tonight, you made the kids spaghetti and meatballs, and when you presented it to them in the Biscuit Room, which was where they were staying, they all cheered joyfully.

A small smile graced your lips as you watched the kids eat the dinner they made you.

"This is amazing (Y/n)!" a giant girl named Mocha exclaimed. She wolfed down her portions and reached out her bowl to you. "Seconds please!"

"Good thing I made two buckets full of spaghetti, you kids got big appetites!" you giggled as you gave the girl another portion. 

"I'm so glad you came here! The food you make is awesome!" A blond boy named Sind cheered.

The rest of the kids shouted with joy as they continued to eat. As you were serving the kids their second portions, you didn't realize that Law walked into the room and made his way beside you.

"Oh, hello Mr. Snow Leopard!" A giant kid named Konbu called out.

You turned your head to see your captain with a sour face. He was not fond of the nickname the kids had given him.

"Hey, Captain Snow Leopard. Fancy you seeing here." you teased.

"Don't be copying these brats too (Y/n)-ya, address me properly." he scowled. 

A cackle left your lips while you prepared a plate for him. "Oh, don't be mean. You know these kids are going through a hard time by being here, and we're the only ones decent enough to take care of them."

"You're forgetting that Monet takes care of them as well," he answered back as he reached out to take the plate of spaghetti from your hands.

The smile on your face fell as Monet's name was mentioned. Your grip on the plate tightened as Law tried to take it.

"I see that you're getting comfortable with Monet, are you captain?" you said in a high-pitched voice, laced with discontent. A smile appeared on your face again, but it was clear that you were irritated.

"I would like a plate of spaghetti please." your captain said as he tried to pull the plate away from your iron grip. 

"Hm, I don't feel like giving it to you now." you singsonged. You pulled the plate away from his tattooed hand and gave it to Mocha instead.

"Are you mad at me?" Law gritted, clearly irritated by your actions.

"I don't know Cap, did you do something to piss me off?" you shot back at him.

The doctor grabbed the collar of your black jacket and brought your face close to his. "Don't start this again (Y/n)-ya. If you have an issue then spit it out." he lowly said. 

You raised your right hand which was holding a pair of tongs, and smacked Law's head with it. The tattooed captain let go of his grip on you and proceeded to clutch his head as he stumbled back in surprise.

"You're a smart man, figure it out yourself!" you shouted at him. 

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Law shouted back.

The two of you grabbed each other's collars and started to hurl more insults at each other.

The children watched the quarrel between you and Law with amusement. They started to whisper amongst themselves.

"They're funny!"

"They remind me of my mom and dad. Now I miss them..."

"Wow, I've never seen (Y/n) this mad before, it's funny!"

You and the tattooed captain were butting heads until Monet made her way into the Biscuit Room.

"Time for your candy!" she called out. The kids dropped their plates and proceeded to run toward the green haired woman. 

Pulling away from your captain's collar, you started to clean up the plates and utensils littered on the floor. "There's your woman," you muttered while cleaning up.

"Hm?" Law said, "What did you say?"

"Hi, Monet! Did you want some spaghetti? I made some for dinner!" you called out while ignoring Law.

Monet made her way to you. "Oh, I would love some!" Then she looked at Law and smiled. "If you haven't eaten yet, would you like to join me for dinner Trafalgar?" 

Law 'tched' in response. In the corner of Monet's eye, she saw your face deepen into a scowl. The sight of you being mad made her smile

That fucking woman was pushing you buttons and she was enjoying it. The handle of the pot started to crack as your hand gripped as tight as ever in anger. However, you managed to shove down your emotions and flashed a fake smile towards her and Law. The doctor raised his eye in skepticism as he saw you set down the pot and prepare two plates of spaghetti.

"Oh, how nice would that be? Here you go! You two enjoy dinner!" you said with fake cheerfulness. Shoving the plates into their hands, you quickly scrambled to set the plates and pots into the rolling cart and sped out of the Biscuit Room. 

"Thank you (Y/n)! Your cooking is always delicious!" Monet thanked you.

The tattooed captain just stared at your back as you were leaving the room. He knew something was up with you. Sighing in exhaustion, he brushed your behaviour aside as he started to think about the mission he was currently in. 

Unbeknownst to Monet and Law, you were unbelievably angry and veins started to pop on your forehead as you made your way back into the kitchen. Heavy stomps echoed throughout the hallway as you angrily pushed the food trolley. With your hands tightly gripping onto the trolley bar, you took a deep breath and sighed. 

That was strike two. One more strike and you were going to beat both of their asses to the snowy grounds of Punk Hazard. 

------------- 

You heard that Law agreed to give Caesar's henchmen limbs. It was one of the conditions that Caesar implemented for you and the captain to stay at Punk Hazard, aside from exchanging the literal hearts of Law and Monet to prevent backstabbing.

So when you were walking across the halls of the laboratory and heard the deathly screams of grown men echo throughout, you weren't surprised. 

"Looks like the captain is performing surgery today." you giggled as you skipped along the hallway. Deciding that you wanted to see the disembodiment in action, you quickly followed the sounds of agony. But as you were nearing the door, the screaming suddenly halted. As you slowed down your pace, you quietly made your way to the door and heard light shuffling and Monet's voice, You leaned up against the door with your right ear to listen.

"Alright, I'm ready Trafalgar," Monet said. "Are you sure this won't hurt?"

More shuffling was heard until Law spoke up. "First time? Don't worry, I'll stick it in slowly."

Your entire body froze as your mouth dropped in horror. "What the hell are they doing in there?!" you hissed to yourself. 

You heard a light grunt and a sharp inhale. More shuffling.

"Oh my, that's kind of big now that I look at it," Monet commented. "It feels weird too."

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it," You heard Law reply. "Now, hold still, I'm going to shove it in."

Oh that was it. That was strike three. And you know what they say. Three strikes and you’re out. And by out you meant that you were going to kill your captain and that green-haired witch.

Your mind short-circuited as you assumed that your captain and that damned woman were up to no good. With your mind and heartbeat going 100 miles per hour, you grabbed the handle and swung the door wide open, screaming; "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN THERE?!"

And as soon as you laid your eyes upon Law and Monet, your heart stopped and your feet were stuck in place.

There they were, with Law's back facing you and the green-haired woman lying on her back on the couch. The doctor's left tattooed hand was holding onto her right leg which was up in the air. Your captain's face was turned to you with his face widening in horror, and Monet tilted her head to the left to look at you. 

What set you off was when Monet glanced at you, her long green hair was dishevelled.

Steam started to blow through your ears as you glared hole into Law and Monet. Your entire body started to shake uncontrollably as your chest heaved up and down aggressively.

Realizing that he was caught in a position that already caused a great misunderstanding, Law quickly let go of the leg he was holding onto and scrambled to make your way towards you. What you failed to see was that Monet's left leg was now replaced with a giant talon.

"(Y/n)-ya, you can't just barge into here while-" he started but you cut him off.

"CAPTAIN TRAFALGAR LAW! WHAT IN NEPTUNES GREAT BEARD ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT BITCH?!" you bellowed. 

Unable to think straight, you stomped past your captain headed towards the large bird talon on the desk in front of the couch. As you picked it up with your right hand, you whipped your head to glare at the insufferable woman lying on the couch.

"You've got some nerve seducing my captain like that!" you shrieked as you swung the limb towards Monet. She promptly dodged your attack and screamed, running away from the couch and onto the other side of the room.

"(Y/n)! It's not what you think! He just-" she started to explain before you swung at her again.

"I don't want to fucking hear it!" you screeched as you chased the poor limping woman around the room.

"Shambles!" Law grunted. And as soon as he said it, you swung the talon once more towards Monet, only to knock down a bookshelf onto the floor.

You whipped your head to face the captain once more. Law shuddered as he saw your eyes glimmer with hate. It was screaming bloody murder, and he was on the receiving end of it.

"YOU! Oh, you've got some nerve! You men disgust me!" you screeched as you stomped towards the doctor. With your left foot planted in front, your right arm swung up, reading to assault the man with the bird limb.

"(Y/n)-ya wait! Whatever you're thinking, we didn't do it!" he yelped as he jumped to the side to avoid your attack. However, he didn't know that you were quick enough to see through his actions and the back of the talon hit him on the side of his head, which successfully smacked him to the ground.

Your left hand reached out to the pistol that was hoisted on your hip. You drew it out and pointed it to the man on the floor, "Falling for a woman like that? How despicable! I-!" you started to lecture, but your voice drowned out as you realized that your outburst of anger took all the energy out of you.

"I-" you started to speak but your voice failed you. As your hand fell back to your side, you started to wonder why you acted like that. Even if they had something between them, it wasn't your place to care, unless you were...

"...Jealous? Are you jealous (Y/n)-ya?" Law called out as you returned to your senses. The discomfort that once reflected in his eyes was replaced with amusement as his mouth raised in a smirk.

Your eyes widened at the revelation as your heart started to pound. A bright red flush appeared on your cheeks.

"There's no way," you muttered. The limb that once was on your hand dropped to the ground as you stumbled back in shock. Glancing at Law, who now stood up with his arms crossed, you shot a nasty glare as the smirk on his face widened even more. 

"Why would I be jealous?! I was just protecting your dignity!" you sputtered. The captain made a stride towards you as he chuckled.

"What a stupid reason. You expect me to believe that?" he teased. 

He was now looming in front of you as you backed up to a wall. Your head was bowed down in embarrassment as you refused to look into his steel grey eyes. 

"I wasn't jealous..." you lowly muttered.

"Somehow that's not believable," Law answered back. He dipped his head to your eye level so that he could make eye contact with you, but you whipped your head to the side, still refusing to meet his eyes.

Amused by your sudden 180-degree change in mood, your captain stood straight up, placed his hand on the back of your head, and kissed your forehead.

The once freezing temperature of the laboratory now skyrocketed into a burning hot sensation as Law made an out-of-character advance toward you. Whipping your head up to face Law, your face was now burning hot with more embarrassment.

"Captain! What was that for?" you yelped in surprise.

Law simply chuckled. "Sometimes, I wonder what goes on on that interesting head of yours. One minute you're beating me with a bird limb and then the next I find out it's because you're jealous."

You shoved away the man in front of you and pouted. "I am NOT jealous! I just had to straighten you up and remind you that we're on a mission here!"

"Oh please, if anything, you were the one who forgot that we had a mission (Y/n)-ya." he retorted. 

"Whatever, now help me clean up this mess," you sneered as you proceeded to pick up the fallen books that you knocked down from your rampage. The tattooed captain chuckled and proceeded to assist you in a comfortable silence for a while before he spoke up again.

"(Y/n)-ya?" he said as he hoisted up the fallen bookshelf.

"Yeah what is it cap," you said with disinterest as you continued to collect the fallen items. 

"You know you'll always have me right?" he announced.

Your heart picked up slightly at the confession. Then A smile graced your lips as you turned your head to face Law. "Shut up and put that bookshelf up, Cap," you finally said as you tried to dismiss your feelings. 

The captain sighed as he shook his head. A rumble of laughter started to escape his chest, and you followed suit. Amidst the chaos that happened in one of the laboratory rooms, you and Law couldn't help but share one of the many moments you had with one another, even though the two of you were far away from home.

----------

Bonus Scene:

In the Polar Tang, the Heart Pirates were nowhere to be seen. That was because all of them were inside the captain's quarters, staring at a small book at the captain's desk. The cover of the book read 'Journal'.

"So, should we open it?" Penguin asked, with his hand hovering over the notebook. 

"Yeah man, let's do it!" Shachi affirmed.

"Guys, what if the captain finds out?" Bepo chittered.

"You idiot, there's no way he'd find out if he's not here!" Ikkaku chided the Mink.

"Sorry..." Bepo muttered.

 Penguin picked up the book and slowly opened it. "Alright you guys, here we go..."

Everyone leaned in and peered over Penguin's shoulders as the notebook opened. As soon as the first page was opened, a bunch of folded envelopes fell out and scattered on the ground. The entire crew crouched down and picked them up.

"It's addressed to (Y/n)," Hakugan announced.

"This one too." Jean Bart said.

"This one as well!" Uni called out.

"Wait a minute, are these all love letters for (Y/n)? And he never gave them to her?" Shachi said bewilderedly.

"Guys, captain's journal is just filled with yearning for (Y/n)!" Penguin cackled as he skimmed through Law's journal.

The whole crew burst into laughter as they crowded around Penguin once more to read what the captain had to say about you.

----------

TAGLIST:

@hopelesslover06 @shakysif @eyes-ofhell @letmereadchristonabike @bi-narystars @valval08 @urbisexualfriend @emmaiscool22 @deathsmajestysworld @sp1ng @kitsunechan707 @orange-milky

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

Can we get AoT guys x bimbo reader headcannons both SFW and NSFW?

a/n: i think i’m going to make the nsfw section a different post just so i don’t subject anyone to see something they don’t wanna see. plus this would be a long ass post. these ones are all SFW.

eren jaeger loves his bimbo girlfriend. he thinks you compliment him so perfectly with you being so so sweet and eren willing to kill anybody who says something degrading to you. he adores you even if you are a little clumsy.

armin arlert loves you because you make him feel smarter than he already is. he loves that you’ll just listen to him over and over. you won’t complain or interrupt when he starts on his tangents but are rather fascinated. armin lives to teach you.

jean kirstein finds you refreshing, at least you’re honest about how smart you are. he liked that you didn’t try to be intelligent or try to be different. you were his peace, you were his calm. perfect for jean’s hotheadedness. one sweet, empty-look from you and he’s melted.

connie springer brags about you 24/7. he’s got the prettiest girlfriend in all of the land. he doesn’t even mind that you’re not that bright. you’re loving, you’re funny without trying, and you’re fuckin gorgeous. connie couldn’t be happier with you.

reiner braun thinks you’re his dream girl. you’re beautiful, you’re kind, and not that coordinated. he gets to have eye candy and protect you. he feels like you need him and that’s what he wants most in a relationship.

bertholdt hoover doesn’t prefer to have that much of a committed relationship with you. he likes an intellectual debate but he still appreciates your company. there are times though where he can’t stop wondering if he should date you.

levi ackerman gets frustrated with you but fuck, does he find you adorable. you aren’t stubborn or so strong headed like other people he knows. you’re so go with flow that it drives him crazy but he learns to appreciate it. he learns to appreciate the idea of being in control of little things, not major decisions.

erwin smith likes the power balance between you. he likes to guide you, to inform you. it boosts his ego. you don’t mind, you just love him. he’s perfect for you.

zeke jaeger is so intrigued by you. he needs you by his side twenty four seven. he wants and cherishes your opinions, no matter how far out they may seek. you’re something so special, so unique to him.

porco galliard loves his bimbo girlfriend. this is the perfect himbo-bimbo relationship. people wonder about you guys all the time but honestly, your relationship is pure bliss. there’s no bullshit, no drama, nothing but pure, unrelenting love. but tbh, it’s a miracle y’all have made it this far.

my jean fanfiction

my ko-fi (help me replace my phone battery pls ily)

[ausfortheheart]

lust life - SIRIUS BLACK

(sirius black x female!reader)

summary : you've been hooking up with james potter over the summer, but when you return to hogwarts you find yourself drawn to his best friend. you've adamantly hated sirius black throughout your school years, and you're sure the feeling's mutual... or you were

warnings: sexual references, strong & suggestive language, 14+

other parts:

PART 1

PART 2 (current)

PART 3

PART TWO

THE MALFOY MANSION, annual Christmas ball, 1966

Settling down, you sighed contently as you opened your book.

Pride and prejudice

Eyes flitting across the first page, you absentmindedly caressed the silky pages of the book between your fingers as you concentrated on the first few words:

'It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of --'

You jumped as the door to the broom cupboard creaked open, interrupting your reading.

"Hello?" A small boy peeped inside and entered, looking curiously at what you were holding. "I'm Sirius."

He had very messy black hair, and was dressed in an expensive looking black and white suit. Although, you noticed, his tie was hung loosely around his neck.

"You're a Black." You stated without hesitation, your voice lacking any of the warmth that was present in his.

"Would you like to play?" He asked, though his easy smile was now uncertain, and you got the impression that he had left out his surname in his introduction intentionally, "It's really boring out there." He gestured with his head down the marble corridor towards the main hall, where the Malfoy's ball was being held.

"I'm not interested." You spoke, making a point of staring fixatedly at the small text resting in your lap.

The boy ignored the hostility in your voice, "Woah!" His eyes lit up, noticing the embellished cover, "I've heard of that book! Isn't it by a muggle author--"

He flinched as you snapped the book shut, rounding on him, "And so what? Contrary to your family's vile beliefs, muggles are fascinating and deserve to be treated and respected equally as wizards are."

He looked too taken aback at your harshness to speak, and you continued, "So if you don't mind, Black, I'd like to read my book." You paused, "And if you snitch to my mother, I will hex you."

Not that you knew any hexes - you were only seven after all - but you weren't willing to risk your strict pureblood mother finding out.

It had been your father who had gotten the book for you, giving it to you privately as a Christmas present only once you agreed not to show or tell anyone else. Muggles had always intrigued him, and he saw nothing wrong with his curious daughter immersing herself in their literature.

Black stood there, crestfallen, hurt painted across his features, and left.

The next time you saw him, any sign of sadness had been replaced by a firm glare; one you gladly returned.

⚜

"Second base?"

James stayed silent. He focused stubbornly on walking to the 6th year's first class.

"Third?"

James winced and Sirius laughed, slapping him on the back, "I knew it!"

"What??" James responded, exasperated, "I never said- well- it doesn't matter." He shook his head helplessly, pushing his glasses up as they began to slip.

Remus was already tired of Sirius' antics, "Glad you got that sorted. Can we talk about something else now?"

Just as Sirius opened his mouth to respond, he noticed someone, "Look who it is." He murmured, before going to confront you.

Remus noticed James' face pale slightly.

Pushing through the gaggle of students in the crowded corridor, you made your way to transfiguration. You were walking alone, as Serafina and your other friends needed to make a quick stop at the bathroom.

You heard a familiar laugh and froze.

"Going somewhere?" Taunted a deep voice. The same one from the train.

Turning around, you became face to face with Sirius Black. The rest of his group were stood behind him, and your eyes briefly flitted to James, who was looking determinedly at the cracks in the floor.

It looked like you'd be alone on this one.

Responding with exaggerated enthusiasm, you began to talk, "To the same class as you? Where else?" You cocked a brow, crossing your arms. You had decided the previous night: Sirius Black wasn't going to ruin your second-to-last year at Hogwarts.

Attempting to look intimidating, he stepped closer. His glare didn't waver, and you swallowed. The confidence was practically oozing out of him.

Black's eyes seemed to dance over your face as he took you in, making you feel more self-conscious by the second. Your eyes stung as you fought the increasing urge to blink.

Despite not wanting to give in, to admit defeat, you were painfully aware that class was about to start.

You cleared your throat, stepping away. Automatically losing whatever standoff the two of you had been engaged in.

"I'm done with this." You said, firmly, and began to walk in the opposite direction, deciding to quickly throw one more snide remark over your shoulder, "Oh-- and it's nice to finally know how to shut you up Black."

He tilted his head, you'd undoubtedly gotten his attention. You decided it was too late not to keep going, "If I'd have known that all it took for you to shut up was to stare into my eyes, I'd have never stopped looking at you." You taunted, smirking.

Black looked intrigued, and Remus looked as though he was fighting not to laugh. James and Peter had disappeared.

"Only because it's so ugly I couldn't form any words." He yelled as you turned away, but it sounded half-hearted. And it definitely wasn't up to the usual Sirius Black comeback standard you'd come to expect.

"What are you, five?" You said, grinning slightly, even though he couldn't see.

"One of us is!" He called out spitefully.

Rolling your eyes, you were now power walking through the corridor- determined not to be late to class. Your eyes were strained at the end corner, eager to get away from the sensation of Black's eyes burning into your back. It felt as though hot water was trickling down your spine, making you shiver.

A slight tingling sensation overcame your body for a split second, but it was gone so quickly that you thought nothing of it. You sighed in relief once you were a safe distance away, shaking your head in disbelief at what had just happened.

Once you made it to class you hurried inside, walking down the aisle in the middle as you headed to your designated seat at the front. But something wasn't right, and you realised the class had gone silent.

You stopped in confusion. Everyone was staring at you: even the cat on McGonagall's desk widened it's yellow-rimmed eyes.

"What now?" You groaned, turning an accusatory eye at everyone who was staring. Serafina had gone quiet, and quickly stood up to make her way to you.

Suddenly the cat on the desk leaped off, and you jumped as it morphed into your transfiguration teacher. You tried to hide your shock-- you had never witnessed McGonagall as an animagus first hand. Except you didn't have long to dwell on this thought, as she too had a similar expression as everyone else.

"Miss (L/n), have you..." she paused.

It wasn't like McGonagall to be at a loss for words.

"Have you looked in the mirror lately, dear?" She asked firmly, with a hint of sympathy just as the Marauders entered.

There were scattered snickers followed by laughter across the classroom as you turned red, suddenly extremely self-conscious.

Then a sleazy voice spoke up, "Who's bed did you climb out of this morning, (L/n)?"

You spun around to glare at a blonde Gryffindor, "Who do you think you--"

The marauders were still positioned at the entry to the classroom, and the tallest one finally decided to intervene, "Nice change of clothes, (L/n)." Sirius Black smirked.

And you looked down, horrified.

Your usual green and silver uniform was now a bold red and gold.

"Y'know, red's your colour." He added, smirking.

For a moment, you stood there. Deadly still, taking in what was happening, taking in the wide eyes of everyone in the class, taking in Black's disgustingly smug expression.

And then pure, overwhelming anger engulfed every single feeling and any rational thoughts. You stormed out of the classroom.

Pausing for a millisecond as you struggled to open the door, Black took it as an opportunity to lean towards you, "Just a joke," He said, in the least sympathetic voice you had ever heard, his eyes carving the image of your humiliation into his brain, "just a little bit of fun--"

Sirius Black was flung backwards, slamming into the stone wall behind.

You had always found the knockback jinx to be effective. You lowered your wand as the other marauders rushed to Black's side.

He quickly stood up, humiliated.

"That's detention. Both of you!" McGonagall shouted sternly, as you left the room without looking back once, creasing the note James had slipped you as you left.

You spent the rest of that period figuring out how to undo the charm that had changed the colour of your robes. You couldn't be bothered to head back to the common room, and so you opted for the abandoned girls' bathrooms. Except you had immediately identified that decision as a mistake due to Moaning Myrtle deciding to take it as an opportunity to make fun of you for half an hour.

Once you had finally figured out the reversal spell and the deep green paired with silver was back, you met with Serafina at the end of Transfiguration.

"He's an asshole, (Y/n)." She immediately began, noticing the slight guilt in your expression, "You saw how quickly he got up, I'm sure you didn't seriously injure him or anything."

"I know." You stated, fixated on adjusting your bag strap.

Besides," She added, "he deserved it for that little stunt he pulled."

You hummed in agreement, cheeks burning in humiliation as you realised how utterly ridiculous you must have looked earlier. In an attempt to distract yourself, you pulled out the piece of folded paper James had given you earlier. It emerged from the pocket of your robes slightly ripped and crumpled.

Your eyes quickly skimmed over the messy, slanted handwriting.

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃

ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ

ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ ᵒᶠ ˡᵘⁿᶜʰ~ ᵖʳᵉᶠᵉᶜᵗˢ ᵇᵃᵗʰʳᵒᵒᵐ.

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃

Sera read nosily over your shoulder.

"You gonna go?" She knew about what you and James had been up to over the summer, and supported you both.

"I don't know." You sighed, desperately hoping you'd imagined the sickening crack earlier when Black had hit the wall, "I'll see."

"I think you need a stress reliever girl." She continued, voice hushed, "Besides, what better way to get back at Sirius Black than hooking up with one of his best friends?"

And so you did. But not before quickly checking the hospital wing to make sure no Gryffindor boys had recently been admitted.

⚜

The library was empty, just as you liked it. You hummed to yourself quietly as you casually flipped through the school's edition of 'Advanced Potion Making'. Slughorn had recommended rereading the book as a form of revision for an upcoming quiz, and you were eager to do well.

After half an hour of intense reading you began to read the same sentence over and over again. Eyes beginning to feel heavy, you set the book down. It was beginning to get late anyway, you supposed this was a sign to head back to the common room before curfew.

You got up, stretching your arms as you did so, and headed back to place the book you had borrowed. Just as you reached the bookshelf, a small gasp from in front startled you. You wildly looked around in an attempt to find the source of the sound, not entirely sure that you wanted to.

That was when you saw through a tiny gap in the bookshelf something that made your insides churn.

A pretty Ravenclaw girl was pressed against a bookshelf, her eyes shut in bliss, as a tall gryffindor boy with wavy black hair kissed her neck. You quickly diverted your eyes.

It didn't take a lot to figure out who the boy was. And that he definitely hadn't sustained any injuries from earlier.

So this was Black's latest conquest.

Still fuming at the events that had taken place in Transfiguration and suddenly feeling a lot better about the fact that Black had escaped unscathed, you decided to take the matter into your own hands.

You checked the time. You still had a few minutes before curfew-- and what was the harm in having a little fun?

His low groans were beginning to make you feel sick. Sliding your borrowed book back into place, you peeked around the corner and raised your wand, muttering, 'wingardium leviosa'.

A simple spell, but a classic.

A lock of hair on the back of Black's head swung up in the air then dropped down again. Thinking nothing of it, he absentmindedly reached for the back of his head and scratched it. Not once stopping the makeout session he was thoroughly engaged in.

Holding in a laugh, you repeated the same action. This time, causing two thick strands on either side of his head to painfully tug in opposite directions.

He yelped, causing the girl to jump in alarm. A grin tugged at your lips.

"Is everything okay?" She asked, wide-eyed as Black winced in pain, "Am I.. am I doing something wrong?"

He assured her that she wasn't, and they continued.

Like a moth to a flame, you thought spitefully, does he ever give up?

Deciding to wrap it up, you lifted all of his hair and yanked it back with such a force that he stumbled backwards into the bookshelf behind him- the same one you were currently hiding on the other side of.

Stifling a giggle, you quickly fled the scene just as the Ravenclaw girl screamed in surprise. The last thing you heard was Madam Pince rushing to investigate and, in a voice that could only be described as one of immense disgust,

"10 points from Gryffindor, Black, for using the library as a place for such.. odious activity."

thank you for reading! lmk your thoughts on this part :') sorry that it took so long to update, and thank you for being patient with me <3

feedback appreciated as long as it's given kindly :')

taglist ;

@cumslutforaemond @blackst0nes7077 @s0vval

[leggerefiore]

cw: very short drabble, pla ingo,

pairing: Ingo/Reader

The more you stared at the Warden, the more intense your internal debate became. Ingo was a man of many mysteries around Hisui. His strange accent and knowledge of a language that no one else around but the foreign professor seemed to speak, or his talented battle technique despite having no recollection of anything related to his past. Maybe most of all was the strange language he would use that would even baffle the professor.

Sure, all of that was mysterious and fascinating. It was little wonder how he had gathered so much acclaim and attention among both his clan and the Galaxy Team.

However, it was another feature of him that intrigued you.

His damn age.

You had watched how slowly he moved at times with his hunch that clearly showed something was going on. Not to mention when he took off his hat and showed a certain feature that you would rather not speak about in detail. This all pointed to Ingo being an old man. Or, at least, firmly into middle age.

You did not buy that, though. Not with how strangely young his face seemed despite the eye bags. You felt confused the more you considered him. Perhaps, to a point where even he had become concerned since his silver eyes had started meeting yours more frequently. Eventually, he broke the silence that had permeated between you both on the sidelines of the battle court.

“Is something wrong, dearest?” Ingo asked you softly, wondering if he had done something to upset you. You narrowed your eyes. His voice also did not sound in the stereotypical manner of “older” ones. He cocked a brow up at your more intense look. You reached a hand to touch the skin on his face. It felt much like your own.

“... How old do you think you are?” you asked him, finally needing to know.

“I presume that I'm in my fifties, maybe,” his hand came up to unconsciously stroke his goatee, “That was the guess made by Gaeric and Irida, anyway.”

“I think you're early forties at the latest,” you told him. His eyes went wide before a slight blush spread across his cheeks.

“That is… quite a compliment,” he shook his head, “I do appreciate your kind words, but I must admit that I feel their guess was likely the most accurate.” You pouted, which made him chuckle a bit. Leaning against him, you debated it more. Fifties just seemed incorrect. You could not accept it.

“... Maybe I could get Adaman to ask Dialga or something,” you mumbled to yourself. This made Ingo actually start laughing.

He then requested that you not do that and attempted to distract you with a kiss.

You later tried.

Dialga does not know the answers to such things, nor does it really care.

~

Somewhere, sometime later, you finally got your answer when you and Ingo crashed onto his twin brother after being returned to your own era from the period of Hisui.

Thirty-seven.

You won.

Ingo just needed a chiropractor and had some cursed genetics.

[usmsgutterson]

Cal, my love, how are you???

If heard your call for Kaz x Reader requests. If LOVE to see what you come up with for Kaz x Grisha!Reader (I'm feeling inferno, squaller, or Durant, but obviously it's up to you!) where the reader gets sicker and sicker from not using their small science! It's such a fascinating concept to me and hardly ever explored!

Back To Normal- K.B x gn! Squaller! Reader

Okay, hi! It's been nearly two weeks since you sent this in and I did write it! Editing it just took me longer than I expected and I woke up after a nap last night to discover that I have a bit of a cold developing so I couldn't edit the remainder of it and post it like I'd hoped, but I got it done today so yay, I hope you like this one!

This concept is one I've never seen a fic for but one I've debated writing a fic around in the past because the concept in and of itself is a really intriguing idea to me, and this gives me an excuse to write it and also an excuse to write a squaller! reader, which I've thought about doing but have never actually done, so I was really excited when I saw this in my inbox! Thank you so much for sending this in, and if it's not exactly what you had in mind, feel free to reach out and let me know, I'll totally rewrite if you'd like lol.

Fic type- hurt/comfort with moments of angst

Warnings- mentions of sickness, frailness, feelings of weakness, heart palpitations, loss of appetite, and there's reference to the second chapter of Six of Crows so slight spoiler warning too for people haven't read the books

As a Grisha, once your abilities to summon the small science were discovered, there were consequences for not summoning. You grew sick, your body grew weak, your bones fragile and you felt frail, even the smallest actions leaving you winded.

It was the universes way of punishing you for not using the gift you'd been given, another show of like calls to like. Refraining from summoning calls to sickness, and summoning calls to health.

You'd read Grisha theory, both in your time at the Little Palace before you left in the last few months before the war and in the time since, in the times wherein you needed something to read and happened upon a book containing Grisha theory and figured it would be good to pass the time.

You knew that you wouldn't last if you didn't summon, but you eventually stopped finding reason to. Nobody in the Dregs knew you were a squaller, and what good did wind do, anyway, unless it was summer and grossly humid as Ketterdam always got when the weather warmed up? You saw no point in using your small science, so eventually, you just stopped.

For a while, the differences weren't really noticeable. You didn't notice them, nobody in the Dregs noticed them, none of the crows did. You hadn't relied on your abilities as a Squaller since you'd lived in Ravka, and before you'd decided to stop, you mostly used them in summer or when Kaz needed a distraction in the middle of a negotiation in the rarer times they'd taken place outdoors, something to put the opposition a little on edge.

But then, they became noticeable. You stopped sleeping quite as comfortably as you used to, spending hours trying to get comfortable, trying to will your mind to quiet. You woke up and took to coffee to keep you awake, often running on between two and four hours to boot.

Because of your tiredness, dark circles developed under your eyes. Your appetite lessened and you grew to be tired all the time, even on a rarer night where your body rested for seven or eight hours. You still relied on the coffee even then, and Nina was beginning to take notice of the fact that you hardly ate.

Kaz had long taken notice of the exhaustion you exhibited even after jobs that you'd always considered pretty easy, ones that didn't require as much effort, as much physical strain, as the bigger heists always tended to.

Jesper had long taken notice of how much coffee you drank, the fact that you always seemed to have jurda on you even in the middle of the day, and Inej noticed it when your pace began to slow, afraid to walk at the pace you normally did because you didn't want to risk heart palpitations.

Wylan was beginning to notice when those heart palpitations kicked in, was the one to grab your hand and look at you, brown eyes silently trying to ask if something was wrong only to receive nothing in response.

One by one, each of the crows noticed something, and still, none of them said a word. They could've been wrong, they knew. All of them acknowledged that they could've been dramatizing things, making things out to be worse than they actually were.

The only one who was sure of the things they'd noticed was Kaz. You were someone who mattered to him. Of course he was going to notice if you were out of sorts. Observance was his pedigree.

So, one day, Kaz showed up at your door. "What's wrong?" He'd asked. "What is wrong with you, Y/N?"

You'd laughed, a lame, tired laugh. You'd barely slept three hours, and the long-term exhaustion was starting to finally have an impact. Kaz's tone was humorless, blunt like the edge of a knife gone too long without being run across a sharpening block.

It was normally gravel, normally coffee grounds being poured into a coffee press, but it was not that, not that day. It was the unsharpened edge of a knife, the voice that did not belong to the man you loved but rather to one they called Dirtyhands.

"What's wrong with me?" You asked. "Nothing, Kaz. Nothing is wrong with me."

"Exhaustion," Kaz said. "You drink coffee and chew jurda near constantly. You sleep hours after jobs that aren't even tiring. You are constantly tired because you can't sleep unless you are at the point wherein your body will die without resting. You get two hours most nights, four, six, on luckier ones. Nina has also noticed that you eat less lately. Wylan says you've been having heart palpitations and Matthias has noticed you zoning out. Why?"

"Why do I feel like that's a rhetorical question?"

"It's not. Stop trying to flirt."

"I'm not trying to flirt," you laughed again, a shallow, hollowed out version of the laugh Kaz recognized. "If I were trying to flirt, you'd know. I would know it was working because your cheeks would be tinged pink, which, of course, is something you'd deny."

Kaz laughed humorlessly once more. "What, are you sick?"

You paused. Some part of you had known he'd guess at that. With that realization came the one that he already knew why you were sick. Inej must've known, must've snooped for Kaz when the trust you shared was still developing. He was Kaz Brekker, and he had to know somehow, didn't he?

"You're a Squaller," he said, the words falling from his lips like they were something he'd forgotten, like the fact that you could summon the wind was something he'd merely heard and disregarded after having deemed it unimportant. "You're a Squaller, and you're one who hasn't summoned for at least six months. Why not?"

"I saw no point," you said. "Let me guess, though, you've known since I came in, since I joined up?"

"I've known since the night we confronted Bolliger about double dealing," Kaz said. "Geels, the negotiations. It was the day before--"

"The day before you came to me with the Ice Court proposition," you said with a nod. "I remember. What tipped you off?"

"The breeze," Kaz said. "It was late winter, and breezes like that are commonplace, sure, but after a bout of rain? Wind like that doesn't just happen. Especially not considering the fact that it nearly tipped Geels over, and Geels was nearly seven feet tall. It gave me something to use in the moment, and I just kind of noticed whenever you'd do it while I was falling short from then on. Nobody else knows."

"Well you'll need to grant me some leniency, Brekker. I stopped summoning because I didn't see a point."

"if the point of summoning is to keep you alive and healthy, I have to say, I see no sensible reason that one would stop," Kaz said. "You're deteriorating. I know you think it can't get any worse, but it can, and it will."

"I know," you said. "Relax. Let me find the proper time, when it doesn't feel like it'll be an inconvenience, and I'll give it a go."

Kaz looked at you solemnly for a minute before he nodded.

"Right, then," he said. "Work needs doing." He turned to go, and you watched him leave, not saying a word as he left, only closing your eyes and hoping for even another few moments of rest.

-

The next time you summoned, it was June and you hadn't summoned in a year. You were sitting in Kaz's office, the window open as you discussed heist plans with him, Jesper, Inej, and the rest of the crows.

The heat was growing unbearable, so you willed a strong breeze to flow gently through the room, making the area feel a bit colder, much to everyones delight. Kaz shot you a look because Ketterdam in the summer was not prone to breezes on humid days like that one, and you felt some of the energy that was long gone move back into your system, a spark of joy and pride at your small science lighting up in your chest.

You allowed yourself a small smile as you leaned back in the chair you'd occupied.

You were still sick, still frail and tired and coffee-reliant, but you were getting back to normal. You decided, in the moment, that that was what mattered.

[charles-forza-ferrari-sempre]

𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖐 𝕺𝖇𝖘𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓

𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

✠ ——— ✠ ——— ✠ ——— ✠

Hannibal Lector, the enigmatic forensic psychiatrist and notorious serial killer, harbored a secret obsession that burned with an intensity that chilled to the bone. His unwavering gaze, piercing maroon eyes, and lips curved in a sinister smile, betrayed his fascination with a specific individual: the enigmatic [Y/N].

Their paths had crossed at a psychiatric hospital, where Hannibal cunningly studied [Y/N's] vulnerability and frailties. Intrigued by her resilience and the shadows that lingered in her eyes, he became ensnared, consumed by a desire to possess her.

Hannibal's love was not pure or selfless. It was an obsessive infatuation, a twisted desire to claim [Y/N] for his own, regardless of her feelings. His every thought and action was driven by his fixation on her.

As [Y/N's] life became entwined with Hannibal's, she sensed an unsettling presence lurking in the shadows. Unnoticed glances, mysteriously opened doors, and the eerie silence that enveloped her sent shivers down her spine.

One fateful night, as [Y/N] returned home from work, she found a note on her doorstep scrawled in Hannibal's elegant handwriting. A chilling invitation to dinner, promising an unforgettable evening filled with tantalizing culinary delights and intellectual discussions.

Unable to resist the allure of Hannibal's charismatic nature, [Y/N] accepted. As the clock struck seven, she found herself seated at Hannibal's lavish dining table, unaware of the fate that awaited her.

With each course, Hannibal's obsession became more apparent. His intense gaze never left [Y/N's] face, as if he could devour her with his eyes. The pleasantries he whispered turned into possessive declarations, and the air grew heavy with his desperation.

As the evening reached its climax, Hannibal's mask of civility shattered. He revealed his true intentions, confessing his unyielding love for [Y/N] and his willingness to eliminate any obstacles that stood in his way.

Terror flooded [Y/N's] veins as she realized the true nature of Hannibal's obsession. She fled his mansion, desperate to escape the suffocating grasp of a madman.

Hannibal pursued her relentlessly, his possessiveness fueled by rejection. Anyone who dared to approach [Y/N] faced the wrath of his deadly cunning. Friends, family, and even potential lovers vanished without a trace, leaving [Y/N] utterly isolated and vulnerable.

As Hannibal's obsession grew, so did his methods. He manipulated events to isolate [Y/N] from society, ensuring that she had nowhere to turn. Fear gnawed at her mind, as she became trapped in a twisted game of cat and mouse.

Time seemed to lose all meaning as the hunt intensified. [Y/N] clung to hope, desperately seeking a way to escape Hannibal's clutches. But the more she resisted, the more determined he became to claim her as his own.

In the end, a bloody confrontation ensued, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. Hannibal's obsession had consumed him, driving him to the brink of madness and beyond. And as [Y/N] emerged from the darkness, forever scarred by Hannibal's twisted love, she learned a chilling truth: the human heart is capable of harboring the most sinister of desires.

[infinitegalahad]

AMERICAN PROMETHEUS AND HIS ATHENA - CHAPTER 3

Pairing: J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Identifying! Reader Summary: Your relationship with Robert grows stronger and much more intimate. While he is a man of experience, you are not. However, Robert has no issue in helping you explore. Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: First-time touches prove to be a little overwhelming for the reader in the beginning but are 100% addressed and consensual. This is a minor piece of the story. Notes: This chapter and the next one were planned as one big chunk, but I separated them. Since A, I haven't written the other half, and B, I loveeee cliffhangers! Also, once again, thank you so much for the support! It keeps me going. And don't worry, the next chapter will be here veryyyyyy soon! It should hopefully be worth the wait :D Taglist | Masterlist

Fall in the West is far different from what it is in the Northeast. 

There’s a breeze but not a chill in the air. The sun is still warm, yet not as warm as it is in the summer months, which is enough for sweater weather to commence. You thanked your mother for shipping out some of your fall wear. While you knew you had the money to buy new clothes, you saw no need as most of them were hand-me-downs from your older sister, who was seven years older. The two of you differed in fashion, and you thought some of the sweaters made you look older.

But Robert–sometimes Oppie–said the sweaters made you look kept. In fact, he said he liked them because he could see the curve of your “gorgeous, nymphet” figure. He said that to you as you sat on his knee while a hand slowly ran down the side of your hip and down onto your thigh, inches from the hem of your skirt. 

Maybe they didn’t look old. 

Hatomi had been used to these falls, which were usually for you. One Fall afternoon, your classes had finished, and you two wanted to study in a space outside the library and outdoors. The Hearst Mining Circle was the perfect place to do so. So you both grabbed your books and a blanket to sit on the grass and study, basking in the outdoors. Hatomi read one of her American History textbooks as you copied down equations from your Physics textbooks. The edge of the page had been crumpled previously from one of your sessions with Robert. He had snuck behind you, pressing small pecks from the side of your neck down as you explained the existence of Black Holes. 

The sheer thought made you grab the side of your neck and nurse it. You turned to see Hatomi; her nose stuck in her textbook. Turning over, you watched people walk down the paved walkway, ranging from socializing students, faculty children, and busy teachers. Eyeing for a distraction, you scaled the walkway, and somehow, in looking for what you did not want to think about, you found Robert. 

Robert stood outside the Physics building, smoking a cigarette, chatting and congregating with other science professors. As he chatted with his fellow science professors, his laughter resonated through the air like a melody, inviting those nearby to share in the camaraderie. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened when he laughed, adding a touch of charm to his rugged handsomeness. The wind blew away the bottom of his jacket, showing the white Oxford shirt that clung to his skin. 

A cigarette dangled casually from his fingers, wisps of smoke curling into the air around him, adding an almost cinematic quality to the scene. The way he held the cigarette, an effortless gesture, enhanced his allure as if the act was imbued with intrigue. The tendrils of smoke danced around him, almost like an extension of his presence, creating an enigmatic halo that further piqued your fascination.

You found yourself unable to tear your gaze away, captivated by the sight of him. His hands moved gracefully as he spoke, emphasizing his words with subtle gestures that only added to the magnetism he emanated. The ruggedness of his appearance was balanced by a gentleness in his eyes, a combination that held your attention like a moth drawn to a flame. His handsome features, framed by the sunlight and the curls of smoke, seemed to encompass a world of intellect, charm, and mystery. It was a fleeting moment, an unguarded glimpse into his world, yet it left an indelible impression long after he had moved on.

“Y/n, this is what I’m talking about,” Hatomi explained as she plopped herself next to you, pointing to some page in her textbook. While you listened, you found it hard to tear your eyes off your handsome and regal professor.

“The Theory of Social Change says that everything and everyone, in different times, all fall into the same universe and repeat themselves within four cycles; The High", "The Awakening", "The Unraveling" and "The Crisis."

–

Since Hatomi told you about the Theory of Social Change, you began to ponder if you and Robert, with whatever you had, were prime examples of this. 

Your cycle continued, and minus the newfound acknowledged mutual pining, nothing had changed. You went to his house, skimmed the idea of Physics if needed, ate dinner, and then kissed and cuddled until the late hours of the night. Most of your “meetings'' ended up finishing on Robert’s couch. Other than the multiple cigarette buds on the ashtray and empty martini glasses on the coffee table, you would end up entangled on top of Robert. His hands would rest on your back or hair, gently stroking both. Sometimes, he’d be smoking a cigarette; other times, he’d worship you like a goddess as he decorated your body in soft kisses. 

These small instances of affection did not continue to go away. You enjoyed them just as much as Robert did. It took you time to adjust to seeing him outside of his house and inside of the academic setting. After he had kissed you, which was your first kiss ever, locking eyes with him was difficult—seeing him as just your Physics Professor instead of a poetic, lustful older man who confessed that he used the meetings to help you and get to know you more. 

In a scene infused with an air of both familiarity and affection, Robert's voice carries across the room like a gentle melody, beckoning the reader with a tender summons. 

"Sweetling," he murmurs, the endearment a whispered promise of comfort and connection. His arms unfold, a silent invitation that spans the distance between them, transforming the couch into a sanctuary of shared moments.

Your heart flutters at his call. A sense of intimacy envelops as you waltz over and ease into the space beside Robert, nestling against his side as if drawn by the irresistible force of his presence.

As they settle into the embrace of the couch, a soft sigh escapes the reader's lips, a sigh that resonates with the comfort of being in his proximity. Like a pair of puzzle pieces finding their perfect fit, your bodies mold together seamlessly. The warmth of his frame envelops her, an encompassing cocoon that soothes away the troubles of the world beyond.

A hand is extended, its touch a promise of connection that transcends the physical realm. Your fingers interlace with effortless synchrony, your hand finding its place upon Robert's chest. Beneath your palm, the rhythmic beat of his heart reverberates like a melody of shared emotions. His hand finds yours, enveloping it in a gentle squeeze—a wordless affirmation of your bond.

You can make out the sound of Tchaikovsky from Robert’s record player as his hand moves from your back to your stomach. His hand sneaks under your cardigan, drawing mindless shapes onto your stomach. 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Robert questions. 

You look up to see Robert is looking forward and not as you. Seeing this, you rest your head back on his shoulder. 

“Nothing much besides sleeping. Why ask?”

In the quiet intimacy of the moment, Robert's voice carries a weight of sincerity that resonates through the air. With a touch both firm and tender, his hand rests upon your stomach, the sensation of his touch causing a soft flutter within. The thin cotton of your shirt yields to the gentle pressure of his fingers, creating a sensation that dances between comfort and connection.

"I want to take you out to Sausalito," he declares, his words wrapped in a sincerity that leaves no room for doubt, “Go for lunch and then shop for you.”

The prospect he offers feels like an invitation into a world where his presence is a guiding star, a promise of shared experiences and cherished memories. As his words unfurl, a sense of belonging blossoms in the space between you.

The subtle shift in his touch carries a hint of possessiveness, a claim that evokes both a giggle and a flush of color across your cheeks. Your connection with him deepens, your heart dancing to a melody that only the two of you share. His pride, wrapped around his words like a velvet ribbon, tugs at the strings of your own emotions.

“Oppie,” A playful slap lands upon his arm, a mock protest to his proposition, “People will see you; they’ll see us. They will know.” 

The underlying sentiment is clear - the world's gaze could fall upon the two of you, and the reality of being seen together in public sets your cheeks aflame with a delightful shyness. But in his presence, the hesitations and external considerations seem to hold less weight than the simple joy of being with him.

As you giggle and tease, his grip becomes a deliberate caress, his thumb tracing tender circles against your skin. The fabric of your shirt becomes a barrier that barely impedes the sensation of his touch, and the way he scrunches the fabric only seems to amplify the intimacy of the moment. His voice, a timbre laced with newfound intensity, murmurs, "I want you by my side. I want to show you, y/n."

The unspoken allure between you deepens as his desire becomes palpable. The words he utters hold a double meaning, a claim that encompasses both the invitation to accompany him and the electrifying spark that courses between you. His possessive undertone, magnetic and primal, sends a thrill down your spine, igniting a fire that flares within the confines of your connection.

The blush on your cheeks takes on a new hue, a mixture of shyness and the intoxicating realization that you're affecting him in this very moment. You feel his gaze upon you, an ardent flame that strips away pretenses and bares your vulnerabilities. The sensation of his fingers against your skin becomes an echo of a deeper connection, a touch that ignites a firestorm of desire in both of you.

"Oppie," you cooed, this time with a subtle hint of breathlessness. His name, a whispered plea, seems to fan the flames of his desire. The weight of his possessiveness, interwoven with the age gap and a burgeoning passion, adds a layer of complexity to the bond you share. The unapologetic way he wants you, the unfiltered truth behind his words, sends a jolt of heat through your veins.

Robert bends his head to catch your lips as he begins to suck at them passionately. A noise escapes as his lips engulf yours. His hand travels down your stomach and stops at the end of your shirt. His lean fingers crawl under your skirt and up to your lower waist, where his cool fingers touch the soft stomach of your skin. Much to your dismay, a soft moan escapes your mouth. Robert hums to himself as he tastes you, his hand slowly caressing your hip. His hands are cold, yet warmth feeds onto your skin.   

His hand progressively moves up and now rests under your boob. His thumb draws circles, edging towards the line under your bra. No man had ever gotten this close, let alone touched you like this. Robert was the first and only to do so. His touch was gentle and possessive, and as much as he pleased you, it was all too much at once. Everything began to overwhelm you; Robert, the age difference, the power dynamic, and its imbalance all hit like a train. 

“Robert,” You cried as your legs uncomfortably shifted. 

Immediately, he removed his hand from under your skirt. You crawled away from his side and breathed heavily, running a hand through your hair. Your legs began to shake, and you could somewhat contain the sudden rush of anxiety. 

“Y/n?” Robert called your name, worry evident in his voice. He dared not move over, but he held out his hand, “Sweetling, did I hurt you?”

As he rubbed his temples, he stumbled on his words, “Forgive me, please. I lost myself there. I forgot that you are less experienced than I am.”

Your arms wrap around your body as you look at Robert, who looks like a wounded animal. The thought of hurting you devastated Robert, and it was evident in his body language. 

“Robert, I’m okay,” You assure him as you stand with your arms still wrapped around you. At a loss for words, you shake your head and head to the kitchen to gather your coat and bag. 

“I’m just rather tired. It’s been a long week. I can assure you it’s nothing with you. I’ve just been,” As you put your coat on and grab your bag to exit the kitchen, you see Robert standing in the doorway. He stares at you as his hands smoothen down the material on his pants. His eyebrows are scrunched together, and he looks like he wants to say something, but he holds himself back, not knowing if it’s the right thing to say or do.

“Conflicted. That’s all.” 

You fastly walk by him, brushing against his side. He turns to watch you walk to the doors. Just as your hand grabs the knob, Robert speaks. 

“Sausalito. Not San Francisco or Berkeley, Sausalito. I’ll take you there tomorrow in the morning. We can spend the morning there if you wish to be seen with me.” 

While your hand remains on the knob, you look back at Robert, sinking into your coat collar to hide your blush. 

“I do wish to be seen with you. I will see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Oppie.”

“Goodnight, sweetling.” 

–

That very next morning, Oppie keeps to his promise. You arrive at his house, and he’s in his Cadillac, awaiting your arrival. You smile and climb in, greeted by a peck to the cheek. Oppenheimer’s smoking another cigarette, and while he looks happy to see you, he still seems bothered by last night. You tell him to forget about it, but he shakes his head, saying he should know better. 

He brings this up again as you finish driving over the Richmond Bridge, close to Sausalito.

“A man my age, especially with someone as young as you, should know to control himself,” Robert muttered, keeping his eyes on the road, “But since you’re so, well, beautiful, I just..” 

“Robert, I insist it’s no issue-”

“But it was. You yelped. I never wish to see you afraid of me, y/n.”

“I yelped because I was shocked, that is all.”

“You wanted me to stop, but I didn’t,” He admitted, “I was not thinking with my head, y/n.”

Although he didn’t explicitly state the phrase after, it was enough for you to piece it together. Robert knew how inexperienced you were. Just a month ago, you had your first kiss with a man a little over a decade older than you, who so lovingly happened to be your Physics professor. Your mind replayed the events of last night. You had enjoyed his touch, but it was too much at once. While Robert was gentle, he moved too fast for you, and you didn’t have the courage to say it to him. The last thing you wanted to do was make Robert angry at you, and as much as you wanted to say this, you didn’t know if it was the right time, let alone how to phrase it. 

Last night, you lay in bed, running a hand under your shirt, pretending it was Robert’s hand. The imagination was a powerful force but could only do so much. 

As Robert parked the car, you sighed and looked forward, fidgeting with your hands. 

“I understand, Robert. But let me say that, honestly, I enjoyed your touch. It was a lot, but it brought me pleasure, and–” You quickly find a way to say what you want, “--I do want to explore this later. But for now, I want to put this behind us. You said you wanted to dine and shop for me, which I would love to do now. Can we do that, please?”

Robert looked over with a conflicted look. He looked takeback, trying to hide a smile of pleasure, relief, and joy. There was a hint of lust in his eyes as well. But after all, that was for later. 

“Thank you for that, y/n. And yes, we can,” Robert said with relief. 

Robert opened the car door and helped you out of the Cadillac, his touch lingering longer than it usually did. 

After you two got lunch at a restaurant that Robert said his friend recommended, some French Cafe on the water, he asked if you had certain stores you wanted to go to. You shrugged your shoulders, saying you were more than happy to follow him where he took you. 

The two of you walked close side by side. In the crowd of ongoing bypassers, questions raced within your mind. What if someone knew you were from Berkeley, seeing you waltz along with your professor? Robert looked much older than you, and you barely looked like an adult. Older men had always been a fantasy of yours, but when that was turned into a reality, it was both a curse and a blessing. All of the issues that you had to avoid in your fantasy, you were forced to confront in real life. Hopefully, not soon or ever. 

Robert reached to grab your hand and held it close, bringing you slightly closer to him. 

“Settle down,” Robert squeezed your hand, “No one knows but you and me.” 

You gulped and contained a sigh as you leaned into Robert. Looking for a distraction, you looked at some of the store windows. Some of the stuff was too bright or expensive, but you did catch a beautiful black purse. It was a Chanel Black leather crossbody with a simple, elegant golden chain. You had seen some of the girls at Berkeley with them. For what reason they needed it, you did not know, but you simply admired it. You made a note to ask for your parents for Christmas. 

Robert saw you eye-shopping and stopped in his tracks. He leaned down to whisper in your ear if you wanted that purse. You shook your head, saying your purse was perfectly fine, ignoring that you had complained to him a week ago that your books were breaking the bottom of your bag. 

Robert ignored you and bought the purse, despite your pleas for him not to. 

“Thank you,” You politely grumble, crossing your arms like a petulant child. You can hide how red your cheeks are from him, “Robert, I did not need that. You know what.”

“I do know that you did need a new bag,” Robert pointed out. He smiled to himself, a small boost to his ego, “It made you smile. I should also find you a new outfit to match the bag. Something elegant and dark.”

“Where would I be carrying that expensive bag? To class?”

“To events with me, along with the expensive clothes and perfumes I plan to decorate you in,” Robert cooed to you, “Fine things for a fine girl.” 

You blushed and leaned into his shoulder, sighing and shaking your head. “Well, I suppose I should look down so you don’t buy me anything else.”

“I’m afraid that won’t work, dear. You have a tendency to blush at the slightest of things.”

At that moment, you couldn’t tell if you wanted to smack or kiss Robert in his stupidly, hauntingly handsome face. 

After some more shopping, Robert dropped you off at a bookstore. He said he needed to run a quick errand but told you to pick out whatever you wanted from the store. He said he would be back and pick out some books for you and, if you wish, to pick one for him. With a kiss on your head, he promised not to be gone for long, his hand lingering on the side of your arm. 

You had been trying to get Robert into Greek mythology for the longest time. He introduced you to Hinduism through the Bhagavad Gita. He could talk about it for hours on end as he felt you. Feeling the need to return the favor, all while being held by Robert, you picked out a few of your favorite classics; Prometheus and Athena, Cupid and Psyche, and Hades and Persephone. There were plenty more you could have chosen, a part of you knowing Robert would buy every book you wanted. 

Just as you tried to reach for one, a hand behind you reached for it and grabbed it. You looked behind and saw Oppenheimer examine the cover of the book. 

“The Odyssey,” Robert read out the cover and turned the book, “Have you read it?”

“Twice. Once in school, and once with my father,” You replied, watching Robert open the book. As he skimmed, you leaned on his arm to read along in the book. Robert took notice and subtly leaned into you, “I think you’d like it.”

“If you like it, I’ll love it.”

You hummed and smiled to yourself, looking down at the pink bag Robert held. Quirking an eyebrow, you asked, “What exactly did you buy me?”

“You’ll see once we get home,” Robert promised, his hand finding the way to the small of your back. He pulled you close to his side. You looked up at him and smiled at his sheepish grin, which hid something devilish. 

“Before you get to enjoy your gift, let me buy your books and the Iliad.”

“And then what?”

Robert’s hand rests on your hips as he brings his lips to your ear, slightly lighting you up to whisper into your ear.

“And then we can enjoy.” 

[trillscienceofficer]

Dark Passions Susan Wright Book 1 - January 2001 (232pp) Book 2 - January 2001 (200pp) Before Kira and Bashir stumbled upon the mirror universe, there was plenty of intrigue going on. Agent Annika Hansen of the Obsidian Order has been ordered to to eliminate the new Overseer of the Alliance, Kira. Even assassins don't appear immune to her considerable wiles, however. Familiar characters play evil and manipulative to the hilt. When Kira obtains an Iconian transportal device, no one is safe from her wrath. Susan [Wright] said, “I'm fascinated with parallel universes. ‘Mirror, Mirror’ was my favorite TOS episode, and I enjoyed the DS9 mirror universe episodes. So when my editor at Pocket Books, John Ordover, said he wanted me to write a ‘bad girls’ of Trek, I was up for it. I created the story for one book, and afterwards it was expanded to two books. I made Seven of Nine and Intendent [sic] Kira the two main characters, and put them into a relationship. I thought it was great that Paramount allowed the interaction. I loved writing characters that were familiar yet fundamentally different. For example, Seven was trained as a Cardassian assassin since there is no Borg in the mirror universe.”

From “Voyages of Imagination: The Star Trek Fiction Companion” by Jeff Ayers (2006)

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Thursday (Second, sillier part to follow Friday)

Poll Results: Trespasser Jak

Picking up from HERE, Jak and Daxter have been taken back to Spargus

The drive back to the city was not quiet. Every couple seconds, the kid with the amulet he shouldn't have had was pointing to something else, talking a mile a minute to the fuzzy orange thing. The red rock bluffs fascinated him. The crocadeer on the clifftops fascinated him. The frith-rotted cactus was interesting to this stranger.

Jak started to lean out of the seat again, trying to take in every speck of the horizon.

"Will you stop that?" Damas asked irritably, "You're going to fall out, and I'm not turning this car around to go get you. What are you so entranced by, huh?"

Jak's enthusiasm wasn't dimmed in the slightest. "After they took us to Haven- I thought there was nothing left out there but wasteland!"

"You're in the Wasteland," Damas reminded him.

"Nah."

Jak stood up despite the driver's protests and clung to the turret gun to watch a flock of birds.

"This place isn't wasted. It's alive."

"And you won't be if you don't sit down right now-!"

Damas’s headache only multiplied -- exponentially. once they had actually returned Spargus.

The stranger gawked at everything, sometimes lagging as many as ten behind to look at the most mundane things. Forges. The communication hub/post office. Leapers. A stray chickalope he tried to pick up-!

Getting him into the Gate District garrison building took five minutes longer than it should've, by which time Damas’s patience was almost completely gone. It was all he could do to keep some modicum of professionalism as he herded the boy and the talking spirit thing into a clean, well-lit room for interrogation. He left them with a stern warning to wait there until someone came to figure out who they were.

Then he left to make a very strong pot of coffee. He wasn't going back in there without it.

He quickly decided that needed another kind of drink when he returned ten minutes later only to find Jak, barefoot, sitting on top of the table like a moody teenaged gargoyle. That ratty blue winter tunic was tied around his waist now, and the loose scarf and oversized undershirt didn't quite cover a surprising amount of scars for someone his age -- or maybe not so surprising if he was an Heir, given the proclivity of Haven to put those through the wringer-

No. No jumping to conclusions.

Old burns on the soles of his feet that looked roughly six to seven years old -- a childhood accident or stubborn adventure, most likely -- were the most benign of them. Damas saw old, healed clawmarks, and strange fractal-like patterns not unlike those struck by lightning, crossing his upper arms, shoulders and chest. Here and there he saw raised lines -- the telltale sutures of do-it-yourself shrapnel removal. Regardless of whose blood flowed in his veins, this kid was a soldier. And it looked like he'd been a soldier for a depressingly long time.

Damas pushed the thoughts from his mind and took a seat in the chair the trespasser had ignored.

"Alright. Let's get this over with as quickly as we can, shall we? I have a lot of work to do today."

"Oh...kay...?" Jak gave him a puzzled, wary look and scooted back across the table to rest his back against the wall. "I mean, I can't answer everything, and half of what I do tell you won't sound believable, but that's honestly not my problem."

Patience, Damas. Inhale, slowly. You're just stressed. You can't kill him if he's related to you.

Damas took an exaggerated breath and folded his hands on the top of the table. "I don't much care about your activities in Haven. My agents deliver news regularly enough. No, I want to know how you opened a locked door with a Seal of Mar on it."

The kid looked surprised, and then intrigued.

"Mar? Wait, really? He made it out here too?" Jak looked almost impressed. "Huh! Guy got around!"

"Answer the question."

The orange one answered in the kid's stead.

"Jak here's got the distinct misfortune of being descended from the guy-"

*Allegedly," Jak interrupted. His voice was distinctly harder than before.

"What "allegedly"? Dragging me into the frickin nightmare tomb wasn't enough for ya?"

"Everything we know about that guy we got from Krew, or Samos," his companion argued, "And most of the Oracles didn't bother to warn us that Samos was lying to us our whole lives. So no, I'm not taking that on faith."

Clearly this was a sore spot for the young man.

It just so happened to also be a very sore spot for Damas.

They were just going to act like they so happened to "conveniently" let slip that this boy was supposed to be related to him? Did they think he was a fool?

"What are you playing at?" he snapped, startling them both. "Do you think I am so easily taken in?"

"What-?"

"Tell me, boy," Damas said, much more quietly, "What makes you either brave enough or stupid enough to try to pull that story with me?"

And Jak blinked at him with eyes that were a little too familiar. Wide. Full of shadows and pain and anger but still clinging to the vestiges of innocence. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head.

"Um. Who? Are you?"

If this was a con, the kid was a decent actor, Damas had to give him that.

"You're telling me you're a survivor of the House of Mar."

"No? I said other people told me I was related to that guy. People with a vested interest in controlling me."

Jak scoffed bitterly and spread his arms wide.

"Little "abandoned" orphan boy kept isolated to train as a soldier, so he wouldn't know what they planned for him. Wouldn't run. And then magically suddenly he's heir to the worst city on the planet? Give me a break. The guards in Praxis's lab came up with better lies than that."

Damas wanted to agree with the kid. He wanted so much to agree with him. Whatever else he might be, clearly Jak was not the kind of person who bought into delusions of grandeur. In fact, he sounded like he actively resented the thought. Damas could appreciate that. Rot, he could even sympathize with the kid.

But.

He had opened a sealed door.

And the river-weasel had just said something about a Tomb.

He really really didn't want to be right, but if they could give an accurate description of the Tomb at some point, that information would be pretty hard to fake.

"Why did they think they could pass you off as Haven's heir?" Damas asked bluntly.

"Because I can make old Precursor crap work, I guess? And the Oracles like me." Jak folded his arms and shrugged. "They're useless when it comes to actually protecting anyone, but at least they tried to help after the fact. More than most hu'mens did."

Oh. Alright, okay. Maybe he's a sage prodigy and he's never been trained. That would make sense-

"Pal, the Oracle called you a "chosen one". That's gotta mean something."

"Chosen for what? Time looped torture?" Jak's entire posture had become rigid. He was beyond agitated, but Damas couldn't quite pin down if it was anger or fear or something closer to grief.

"....I...sorry." The orange one looked down, clearly ashamed. "That's- fair point. I won't bring it up anymore."

Damas didn't want to hear another word of this. Not one. Without stopping to think lest he talk himself out of it, he drew a knife from the back of his belt. The boy tensed even further, looking like he might snap as he watched Damas pull a sheet of paper haphazardly from the notepad that came standard in all the interrogation rooms. Damas ignored him and placed the tip of the blade to the pad of his thumb, pushing until two large drops of blood dripped onto the paper. The boy's tension eased slightly, but he still looked vaguely alarmed.

Damas wiped the blade and, steeling himself, held it out hilt-first to Jak.

"Your turn."

Jak glared at him.

"Are you nuts?"

Damas remained stonefaced. "You want to prove those people wrong? Blood comparison. Computer will be able to identify if it matches old records or not."

"Then why'd you cut yourself?" Jak challenged.

"Control sample," Damas answered shortly, staring until the boy gave in and set the blade against the tip of his little finger.

He declined to specify whether he meant for or against.

Jak twisted his pinkie between his fingers and let a single drop of blood fall onto the paper. He narrowed his eyes at Damas.

"And this is supposed to take...how long?"

"Two months if they're not busy."

Jak unfolded his legs and slid off the tabletop. "Months?! What good does that do me? They'll probably have found a way to guilt me into going back to Haven by then!"

Hm.

Damas leaned back in his chair and studied the boy with a new perspective.

"You're a runaway. Aren't you?"

Jak scowled and folded his arms.

"I'm not! I'm just...there's something I have to do out here. And I can't go back yet."

Suspicion trickled in cold at the back of Damas’s mind. He folded the edge down over the bloodied paper and tucked it into his belt.

"And what," he asked warily, "is this "something" you intend to do?"

The boy's ears dropped, broadcasting uncertainty despite his belligerent posture.

"I...don't know yet. There's just...something was calling me. And I can't leave until I know what it is."

This boy was going to be a walking migraine trigger, wasn't he? But unfortunately there was a reasonably high probability that he was Damas’s kinsman, which meant that under no circumstances could he just toss the kid back to Haven and say "not my circus, not my moncaws".

Just get through this until the blood tests come back. Who knows, maybe the guy will find a place here in the meantime. Or he might decide to fight the squid and die horribly. One step at a time.

Damas opened the door and beckoned to one of the district guards down the hall. Commander Shui left her subordinates immediately to respond.

"Sir?"

Damas nodded back towards the trespasser.

"Have someone show him to the showers. Once he's cleaned up, see if you can't determine his age."

Shui glanced at Jak, but never lost her stoic expression. "Understood. Is he a candidate for the trials?"

Damas ignored the harsh whispering between the boy and the...okay that was called an ottsel apparently. Didn't have those out in the desert.

"I doubt even he knows. For the moment, we will proceed as though he is a refugee."

He sighed.

"I have matters to attend to. Inform me if he causes any problems."

Jak wasn't sure how to feel about this turn of events. Six days of maddening dreams of eco comets and a broken string of beads. Five days of something pulling on his eco core, or his soul, the way the Precursor Stone had.

He wasn't sorry for leaving Haven in the middle of the night. The Grand Council had been getting more and more vocal with their more...Praxian...views on his right to life and liberty, and Samos just kept telling him to focus on what was "more important", fighting metalheads and new Krimzon Deathbots.

When the Call took him down that ancient eco mine, it had felt like an escape. He'd told himself he'd go back after he found what was at the end of the tunnel. And he'd meant to, if only because he thought he had nowhere else to go. After all, Daxter had built a life in Haven. He had a mentor. A girlfriend. A whole business!

But regardless of all the pretty lies Samos and Onin and Ashelin filled his ears with, Haven was not Jak's home. He would not take responsibility for their evil. And even if he was descended from their founder, they all let Praxis kill whatever blood relatives he might've had! They decided the line of Mar had no say in government, so who was Jak to contradict them?

It was strange -- almost unfathomable -- how his perspective could have changed with a rebalancing of eco. The Oracle down in that desert temple, it had pushed through old scars, given him access to light eco, when he'd thought the substance didn't exist anymore. The constant aches that ruled his every waking moment when it was even slightly cold out, the irritability, the burning in his core, it was gone.

How had he become so accustomed to at least low levels of pain as a daily companion? Jak hadn't realized how bad his condition had been until it was gone. And his mind felt clearer than it had in months. Maybe even years. Home was far behind them now. Sandover was forever lost to them, along with all remains of Jak's innocence. Because of Onin. And because of Samos.

Without his thoughts dulled by pain and lack of sleep, Jak thought of his heartfelt thanks to the manipulative old sage and wanted to be sick.

And now he was on an island, eighty nautical miles from Haven. A wild, living, sanctuary of Wastelanders and open wilderness. They called it "wasteland", but Jak couldn't understand why when it was so beautiful.

That Call still pulled at his heart, told him he wasn't done here yet. And he was relieved, because the longer he spent under clear, blue, sky, the more he hated the thought of returning to that corrupted city.

Just because he'd told Ashelin it was worth saving didn't mean he belonged to it.

Damas -- the angry man he'd startled when they came up out of the catacombs -- left, and a well-built woman about his height entered the interrogation room.

"Holy crap, a lady Sig!" Daxter hissed in his ear.

The Wastelander did have a prosthetic eye -- her left, not her right -- of the same make, but that was really the only similarity. She carried herself like Ashelin -- someone in command, used to cooperation if not obedience -- and that alone put Jak on-edge. He met her searching gaze with a hard stare, determined not to be the first to flinch.

"Hm." The woman clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

"I see what he means. When's the last time you washed?"

"Do pools of water count?" Jak asked. If there was sarcasm in the tone, so what? "Expendables don't get time to wash."

"Eesh." The woman curled her lip. "Well that's not going to fly in my garrison."

She turned to shout down the hall, "Strom! Get the rookie to the showers before the flies move in!"

"Oh rot you!"

[theenchantresx]

Fire of Vengeance

Characters : Aemond Targaryen & Visenya Velaryon

Word Count: 1,060

Warnings: Dark Themes, Non-Consensual Undertones, Manipulation, Immorality, War and Political Intrigue, prelude and plans of SA, Not proofread

Summary: The Dance of the Dragons has set fire to the realm, but Aemond Targaryen's vengeance burns hotter than dragonfire. With his left eye taken by Lucerys Velaryon, Aemond has harbored a deep-seated desire for revenge. But as the flames of war engulf the Seven Kingdoms, he devises a plan more cunning and cruel than any before. His target? Visenya Velaryon, the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and sister to Jacearys, Lucerys, and Joffrey. In her innocence, Aemond sees a way to not only exact revenge on Lucerys but to strike at Rhaenyra's very claim to the throne. By taking Visenya's virtue, he aims to tarnish her honor, thus shattering her prospects for marriage and the alliances Rhaenyra so desperately needs.

Prologue: The Spark of Vengeance

The bitter cold of Harrenhal's ancient stone walls did little to soothe the burning rage in Aemond's chest. Every time he closed his eye—the one he had left—he saw the smug face of Lucerys Velaryon.

The memory of the boy's taunting smile as he took Aemond's eye would haunt him until his dying day. But Lucerys wasn't the only Velaryon who lingered in Aemond's thoughts.

Visenya Velaryon, the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and sister to Jacearys, Lucerys, and Joffrey, had long been a figure of fascination. Unlike her mother and the false Velaryon father, Visenya bore the darker features of House Strong. Her curly black hair framed a face that held the proud lines of her ancestry, and her eyes—dark as her brother Jace’s—seemed to hold secrets as deep as the sea in torment in the heart of the night.

She was more than just a prize; she was a weapon, one that could either strengthen Rhaenyra’s claim or, if wielded properly, shatter it. Aemond knew that Visenya was key to many of the alliances Rhaenyra hoped to forge. A maiden of "royal" blood with unblemished honor—her future marriage was a linchpin in the delicate balance of power.

But Aemond’s thoughts were not of honor. They were of revenge. If he could ruin her, if he could tarnish her reputation beyond repair, he could deal a blow to Rhaenyra that no sword could match. The prospect of destroying Visenya’s future, of ensuring that she could never be the perfect bride her mother needed her to be, was too tantalizing to resist.

Aemond had never desired anything more than he desired to break Visenya. Not with a blade, as he dreamed of doing to Lucerys, but with something far more intimate, far more personal. It would be his ultimate victory, one that would echo through the history of House Targaryen.

Chapter 1: A Dangerous Game

The first time Aemond saw Visenya after his plan took shape, she was astride her dragon, Vardyx, flying above Dragonstone. Her black curls were wild in the wind, her expression fierce and commanding. She looked every bit the warrior princess, a fitting heir to her mother's legacy. But when their eyes met—dark meeting sapphire—Aemond saw more than just a formidable opponent. He saw an opportunity.

The war had brought her to the front lines, closer than she had ever been before, and Aemond seized upon it. He began arranging encounters, carefully orchestrating moments where they would be alone, but never out of sight of others. Each meeting was a careful dance—Aemond playing the part of the concerned prince, a man who could sympathize with the burdens she bore.

Visenya, however, was no stranger to the game of thrones. She met his attempts with suspicion, her sharp eyes never quite trusting the sincerity of his words. But she was also pragmatic, and she knew that outright rejection could be seen as a sign of weakness in the deadly dance of war and politics. And so, she played along, though her every move was calculated.

One afternoon, as they walked alone in the gardens of Dragonstone - enemy territory but at least enough hers to make her feel safe - Aemond decided to push further. The sun was low, casting long shadows across the stone paths, and the air was heavy with the scent of salt from the nearby sea. Aemond spoke softly, his tone laced with a carefully crafted mixture of concern and admiration.

“You deserve more than this,” he began, his voice low and earnest. “A lady of your stature should be cherished, not reduced to a mere pawn in this war.”

Visenya stopped walking and turned to face him fully, her dark eyes narrowing as they searched his face for the trap she was certain lay beneath his words. “And what do you suppose I should be instead, Uncle? A prize to be won? A tool to be used?”

Aemond smiled, a slow, almost predatory curve of his lips. “I think you are far more than that. I think you are someone who should be free to make her own choices, someone who should command respect, not just for her birthright, but for the woman she is.”

Her gaze did not soften, but Aemond could see the flicker of confusion in her eyes. He was beginning to unsettle her, and that was exactly what he wanted. The seeds of doubt were being sown, and it was only a matter of time before they took root.

“I know you do not trust me,” Aemond continued, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And perhaps you are right not to. But know this—I understand you, Visenya. We are not so different, you and I.”

Visenya held his gaze, her posture rigid, every inch the warrior. But Aemond could see the struggle in her, the war between her instincts and the game they were playing. She was strong, but even the strongest could be broken.

“I will never be what you want me to be, Aemond,” she finally said, her voice steady, though there was a note of something—uncertainty, perhaps—that pleased him.

Aemond reached out, gently taking her hand, his touch soft but firm. “We shall see, niece. The dance is far from over.”

As they walked back toward the keep, the sun dipping below the horizon, Aemond felt the stirrings of triumph. He had taken the first step in his plan, and with each encounter, he would draw her further into his web. Soon, Visenya Velaryon would be his, and with her, he would exact his revenge on those who had wronged him.