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simphornies · 3 months

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Hi i was wondering if you could do a Vox X Angel Reader. If you don't mind of course. I understand if you say no.

A/N: Again. But this might be a two parter again. Or three. I don't know this one was super fun to write though!

Word count: 4.3k (4,232) Contains: SLOW burn, Alastor is your friend, Charlie being Charlie

part 2, part 3, part 4

Summary: Vox approached you with a deal too good to be true. He hid his ill-intent only to find him playing too far into the lie to the point where he began to doubt his true feelings. What was he really doing this for?

Deal breaker [Vox x Angel! Reader] Part 1

Your curious and overly empathetic nature mixed with your passion for justice always had the seraphims and other archangels keep their eyes on you. They tried to prevent you from rebelling by limiting your access to information.

You grew to be a well-known and respected angel in heaven so when word came out that you decided to stand by Charlie's hotel idea during the trial, more than half of heaven stood by it too. You were the furious version of Emily during then. You were enraged and demanded the information to be leaked to which Sera rejected immediately.

You threatened to spread the truth yourself and with that you were ordered to leave Heaven and join Charlie, never to set foot back in Heaven with such threats. You accepted being a fallen on the condition that they give the hotel a chance if you were to win against the extermination. Emily was more than happy to agree to be the joyful messenger to report good news and fix the stereotypes that they held on the souls of hell.

Sera went against this idea but Emily threatened to join you in Hell otherwise. You watched as Sera, a high seraphim, was backed into a corner by a fellow seraphim. The other angels argued amongst each other but were instantly persuaded by your opinion due to your reputation. You swore that you will win against the true fools of the battle, Adam and Lute.

You gave aid on Charlie's side against the early extermination by working to heal those who were gravely injured and protecting the weak. Ultimately winning in the end, a surge of arguments within the heavenly community led to an uprising in defense of the hotel. This very reason ended up with you falling like Lucifer. You weren't a seraphim but you sure as hell had the social status of one. With Heaven unable to condemn every angel that joined the uprising against the extermination so they settled with you. The fight, however wasn't won without casualties.

During the broadcasted fight, your power caught the attention of the overlord Vox. He was in shock that someone in heaven actually gave a shit about the people in hell. Soon after the war you received word that he wanted to have a meeting with you to discuss collaboration with VoxTek and Hazbin Hotel. Against Alastor's obviously biased protests, you agreed to meet with the infamous overlord alone.

"Vox, a pleasure to be meeting with you. I'm sure you've heard but my name is Y/N. Fallen angel, representative and advisor of Hazbin Hotel." You formally greet him, holding out your hand to which he shook.

"Y/N, I've known you since the last extermination, quite a sight. Please, sit." He pulls out a chair for you. How gentlemanly. "I've arranged this meeting to discuss possible collaborations with VoxTek despite our standing with your host, Alastor." His voice distorted when he said his name. It was a mystery to you as to why they despise each other so much, but it wasn't your place nor the time to know of the reason.

"Ah, yes. He protested against my decision to meet with you today, however and I am quite curious as to what you have to offer considering Hazbin Hotel needs not for what your company usually provides." You sit up, placing your interlocked hands on the table. "You are well aware that cameras and technology of that sort don't quite mix with our dear Alastor. So please, what do you have that we need?"

"Influence. I believe I can spread the word and convince sinners to attempt redemption better than Alastor's radio broadcasts." Vox noticed your eyes glisten with interest. "I know the hotel's against forcing so I won't use my hypnotism on the advertisement."

"Alright," You nod, "That's a decent offer. What do you request in return if I were to agree to this?"

A grin spreads across his face, "I want you to protect me and my company against future threats. That and I want you in particular."

You cock an eyebrow at his half ridiculous request, "Me?" You almost scoffed out loud, "What do you want me for?"

"Why, I would love to get to know you. You're more of a mystery than that radio demon and well, as an overlord, I have to know exactly who you are."

"And how do you propose this idea to work? Surely I am not worthy of such...curiosity. I have proven myself to not be a threat to the people of hell."

"Well, let me put this in simpler terms." He leans back in his chair, "I am interested in courting you."

You blinked in disbelief. An overlord? Courting a fallen angel? "Now wouldn't that be a conflict of interest? And if your courting fails, how are we to know that the Vees won't become a bigger threat to the hotel?"

"You're a fallen angel, you hold more power than the overlords and stand side by side with the king of hell. Not to mention that you're best friends with Princess Morningstar." He watched the subtle changes in your facial reaction, slightly amused but also slightly worried that you'd actually say no. "You are by far much stronger than Adam, who by the way shot laser beams from his fingers. We pose no threat to you."

"Ah but you are aware that I can be hurt with angelic weapons. You work with Carmilla Carmine, an angelic weapons dealer. So I ask again, how do I guarantee my safety alongside the hotel?"

"How about we make a deal then?" He proposed.

A deal? An angel, fallen or not, making a deal with a demon is not something you typically see, well, ever. You pondered and thought about the offer, humming softly.

"3 days." You finally spoke, "I'll need 3 days to consider this offer on the condition that you stay in the hotel. If you're truly willing to collaborate with us, you need to stay, see and understand the hotel in its full glory. In return for your approval of this condition, I will give provide you protection from Alastor and, may I be as bold to say it, force his cooperation."

Vox was a little skeptical but considering you are stronger than Alastor, he agreed. "Alright then, 3 days. When will this start?"

"I will let you know as soon as I speak with the staff of the hotel." You get up from your seat. "Is that alright with you?"

Vox gets up and shakes your hand, "Great. I'll be waiting."

You gave him a smile before teleporting yourself back to the hotel. As soon as you left Vox basically starts breathing hard as if he was holding his breath the entire meeting. The presence of an angel freshly fallen from Heaven is a heavy one. He composed himself before calling Velvette and Valentino to the room.

Back at the hotel you call for a staff meeting with Vaggie, Alastor, Charlie, Lucifer and Husk. You tell them about the events of the meeting. They, with the exclusion of Charlie, were all understandably skeptical and untrusting of Vox's word. Especially Alastor considering he hated this demon's guts.

The room distorts slightly due to his anger. "As the host of the hotel, I disagree with this deal. I say no. I do not collaborate with technology in the slightest and I will absolutely not collaborate with Vox." He hissed out. "That is a terribly foolish idea. I cannot comprehend why you would consider such a proposal."

"Yeah that guy literally tried to spy on us with Pentious as soon as he learned that Alastor was here." Vaggie crossed her arms, "As rare as this is, I agree with Alastor. I trust him more than I trust Vox."

"You guys, I think the proposal is a great idea!" Charlie defended, "He can get us more reach and other people aren't as..." She glanced at Alastor who tilted his head to the side in response, "...afraid of him. And! This hotel's all about redemption and giving chances, we can't turn our backs on something as big as this."

"My dear, surely you aren't considering this preposterous idea?" Alastor questioned argumentatively.

"Yes. I am. I stand with Y/N on this one. I think we should give him a chance."

"And what if he tries to fuck shit up here at the hotel? Then what?" Husk asks, "I'm not cleaning up after any more walls that get blown up." He grumbled, taking a swig out of his bottle.

"I hear your troubles and concerns regarding the idea but did you all truly forget," You glanced at Lucifer. He understood your cue and in unison you both reveal your six wings and the eyes that covered you both, "This hotel is under protection of not only the infamous radio demon but two high-ranking fallen angels."

"I agree with Y/N. If that little overlord tries to pull any stunts, I won't hesitate to fuck him." Lucifer proudly, and loudly, states.

Everyone, in response, stared at him.

"It's 'fuck him up' dad." Charlie whispers, "I told you this last time."

"Wait what did I say?"

You laugh at the mistake in phrase, "See? There is nothing to worry about."

"Okay but why does he want to do this? What exactly does he want in return, Y/N? I feel like you left that out." Vaggie asks as you and Lucifer put your wings away, reverting back to your usual forms.

"Well, he said he wanted protection and..." You trail off. All eyes are on you as they waited for what comes next. You take a deep breath in, "And he wants a chance at courting me." You calmly state, a nervous blush covering your poker face.

Husk spits out his drink and everyone, in unison, screams. "WHAT?"

All at once, protests, thoughts and opinions were thrown at you.

"All this nonsense for a chance at courtship? Foolish!" Alastor scoffed.

"The big bad overlord wants to fucking hit on you and you considered it?" Husk screams before reaching for another bottle to chug. "I'm too fucking sober right now."

"Ooooooh~ Y/N caught the attention of an overlord. You know what he wants-" Lucifer elbowed you before humping the air with a teasing look on his face, "Bow-chicka-wow-wow."

"HE WANTS TO DATE YOU?" Vaggie yelled.

"OH MY GOSH. HE WANTS TO DATE YOU? THAT'S SO CUTE." Charlie squealed in excitement, of course.

You sigh and rubbed your temples at the onslaught of statements. You patiently waited for them to all stop talking at the same time before continuing. You took this time to think this one through. You hardly knew the guy and he was willing to agree to spend 3 days in the hotel even with Alastor here. If that wasn't a commitment, then you don't know what is.

The arguing dies down and you get up, "I didn't state that I will enter a relationship with Vox. I simply said I'll consider his conditions of collaboration. Protection against future threats is something I can handle. The second part came out of the blue." You sigh, "Alastor. I am more than well aware of your indifferences and feelings on him but if you truly want this hotel to get more reach, you need to be able to put your feelings to the side and be more open-minded. Besides, if he were to fail here and in courting me, wouldn't you want to be there to see it?"

Alastor hummed, "Mmmm...You make a good point there. Fine. I'll agree to it. I won't harm him for a chance at seeing him fail." He grinned menacingly, his words covered with his radio static effect. "Though if he doesn't fail, what shall I get?"

You deadpanned and sighed, once again, "I'll bring you foolish prey that talk shit about you so you can let your anger out on them instead of him." You offered to which he decided to reluctantly settle for.

After you all came to the agreement, you send a paper notice to Vox telling him that tomorrow will be the start of his 3 long days at the hotel. Vox received the note you sent him while he was with Velvette and Valentino making him grin.

Velvette rolled her eyes, "All that to hit on the angel bitch? That's a weird-"

"-And pathetic-" Valentino added.

"-fucking move for power, Vox. Did you hit your fuckin' head or something? Do you need an update?"

"Pathetic? We get angelic protection equal to the protection of Lucifer. That would give us such an easy path to conquer this whole fucking ring!" He exclaims, laughing menacingly, "If an angel fell for that dumbass reason, there's no fucking way she's smart enough to see through the fact that she's the one that's going to be getting played."

The next day rolled around and the hotel lobby was decorated with basically every decoration everyone could find. There was even a sign that says "It's a boy!" on the wall? The same one they used for Lucifer's arrival. You shook your head, laughing a bit.

"Alright, Alastor. Remember, be nice." You remind him as he rolled his eyes.

"Yes yes, your highness." He rolled his eyes, sassing you. Though this idea was a crazy one, you and Alastor were friends. You had helped him gain a bit more of his power that was constricted from his mysterious chains. When you saw him bleeding in his old radio tower, you shared your powers through the means of a deal. A deal that he would trust your decisions and become your friend.

"Don't you sass me, Alastor." You joked, "Very unbecoming of you."

After a couple minutes of waiting, a knock sounds at the door. You open it to reveal Vox standing with pride. Confetti blasts behind you as you welcome him into the hotel.

"Welcome, Vox. To the famous Hazbin Hotel. I truly hope you enjoy your stay with us and we thank you for taking this opportunity."

"I don't thank him for shit." Alastor mumbled.

You side-eyed the radio demon before holding out your hand for Vox to take so you can show him around. He takes it and gives the back of your hand a kiss, earning an eye-roll and a couple of gasps.

"First things first, I shall introduce you to the staff." You walk him over to your friends.

"Hi! I'm Charlie. You probably already know me but welcome to the hotel!" She squealed, shaking his free hand, "You're going to love it here! You get to play our trust games today! Oh! And this is my dad, the king of hell, Lucifer!" Charlie grabbed her father to which he waved and just said, "Pleasure."

Everyone made their rounds introducing themselves to Vox and it was time for you to properly introduce the two rivals to each other. Vox came face to face with Alastor. Alastor squinted, his aura darkening and in response Vox starts to angrily glitch.

"Now now. A reminder that you two are to get along for the next 3 days. Or, at the least, not kill each other." You calmly state, "Or, I will do it myself." You threatened, your angelic eyes sprouting on your hair as you smiled at them sweetly, your hands gripping their shoulders a little tight. They pettily turn their heads away from each other.

"Now that introductions are done, I shall escort you to your room. Right this way."

You lead him into a room that you requested be ready for him. All rooms around it are covered with jammers strong enough to prevent him from doing anything sketchy or interfering with technology from his room, as per Alastor's request, but weak enough to allow him to properly function. You briefed him on this expecting him to protest but he just agreed without a fight.

His room was designed entirely on what you saw in his office, color scheme and all. Neon lights that he can control and change lined the walls and the corners. You decide to temporarily move into the space next to his so if anything were to go wrong, you'd be the first one there.

After settling in, Vox was subjected to Charlie's games and events that she had planned for the day. She purposefully pushed the two of you into pairs when given the chance, anything to get you two to become close. Alastor surprisingly behaved himself, too focused on his more important rivalry with Lucifer to truly care about Vox's presence. Vox, of course, took great offense to this and tried to pick fights with him which led him to getting punished.

By Charlie.

In her own Charlie way.

Apologies.

Anyways you end your day at the bar, speaking with Husk about his day. You listen to him grumble away at his irritations, giving advice when needed or asked but mostly staring at your cup of wine. Growing up in Heaven, you were only allowed to drink wine with levels of alcoholic concentration so low it's practically still juice. This made you a lightweight in the beginning but with enough time spent around Angel Dust and Cherri, your tolerance went up.

You were working on finishing an entire bottle of wine when Husk stopped his stories, grumpily walking away to pretend to do something. Vox had sat next to you.

"Hello, are you here for a drink?" You asked, offering some of your drink to him.

"Sorry, I'm more of a whiskey and rum type of demon." He declined, lifting his glass full of what looked to be rum. "Today I chose rum."

"How's your first day? Tiring, is it not?" You ask before pouring yourself another glass, "I'll be heading to bed as soon as I finish my bottle."

He laughed a bit, "You're finishing that whole thing by yourself? Never expected the angel to be an alcoholic. You getting used to Hell or something?"

You roll your eyes, "I like to indulge every now and then, Heaven is such an uptight place for angels like me. Indulging in alcohol was never a chance. The 'wine' there is quite literally juice. Ask Husk, he was disgusted." You pointed at the winged cat demon who nodded in response.

"Nastiest shit I ever tasted."

While you, Husk and Vox conversed you failed to notice Charlie sneaking up on you the moment you finished the last drops in your glass. She jumped as soon as you finished the bottle and smiled.

"Y/N! Vox! Since you two are more acquainted and you live next to each other, why don't you two walk together for the night?" She winked at you, egging on the idea of you and Vox dating.

"That's not necessa—" You begin before getting interrupted by an overly excited Vox.

"Gladly!" He grinned as he put his glass down. He extended his arm out to you for you to hold onto. You walk past him, declining his offer without a word. Your rejection at his attempt of affection sparked a flame within him. It definitely hit his ego.

"Catch up now, or I'll end up walking alone." You say, almost in a teasing manner.

Charlie gently pushed Vox after you to which he ran to catch up. While you two walked down the lobby and up the stairs, it was awkwardly silent. Vox's damaged ego made him break the silence first.

"So...What does an angel do...at night?" Vox internally slapped himself at the horrid attempt at conversation. You raised an eyebrow at him, befuddled at the odd question.

"We...sleep? Go into slumber?" You giggle slightly, "That was an amazing attempt at conversation."

Your giggle echoed in his head, replaying for a while until you spoke again. Vox was confused at his own reaction and decided to ignore it. He held his hands behind his back as he walked next to you down the hallway towards your rooms.

"Well I don't typically talk to angels. You're one of the three only angels here. Unless you count the dead one." His humor wasn't something he expected you to laugh at but you did. He was surprised. "Anyways. I'm allowed to try and court you while I'm here right?"

"Hmm. I suppose." You nodded, "Though, I have my doubts in your abilities to successfully do so. But you have my best wishes for your endeavors."

Your best wishes? That phrase almost made him scoff in response, holding back only for the sake of his facade. Though he did feel challenged.

"Is that a challenge, Y/N?" He asked, a mischievous grin on his face as he looked at you.

You finally reach your door which was right before Vox's, "Take it as you will. I will not condemn you from attempting." You smile at him, "Have a good night, Vox. Don't fall asleep too late."

"Whatever you say." He definitely took it as a challenge. "Good night, angel." He said as he opened your door for you. You thanked him before entering your room, shutting, but not locking, your door behind you. It didn't take long for you to get ready and fall asleep after.

Meanwhile in Vox's room, he took a look around. Double checking every nook and cranny for a sign of distrust like listening devices and cameras but to his surprise there were none. He was about to let his guard down until Alastor slid under his locked door using his shadow.

"Hello, old pal." The sound of his radio voice made the fellow overlord jump. He turned and made eye contact with the radio demon himself, menacingly smiling at him.

"What do you want, fuck face?" He hissed, his own voice covered with his stereo effect almost as if trying to one-up Alastor.

"I don't know what your intentions are here but I am almost completely sure you are up to no good. So we shall heed you a warning."

"Why did you say 'we' instead off 'I' or 'me' or something."

Alastor's grin widens as he unlocked the door for Lucifer to get through. Vox looked down at the surprisingly short king of hell.

"My daughter's formed a close bond with Y/N and if anything happens to her, you'll have to deal with me. And I don't think you'd want that." Lucifer threatened, eyes briefly turning red, "That's all I have to say!"He smiled as if nothing just happened and left to go to his room.

"And our dear, Y/N is a part of this hotel now." Alastor examined his staff before staring down the TV demon, "Under no circumstance for these next days am I to harm you but I will tell you this. Watch your intentions."

Alastor disappeared as quickly as he came, leaving Vox alone. He rolled his eyes at the warnings Alastor gave him, only really caring about Lucifer's. Right as he was about to settle into bed, a knock came at his door. He groaned in frustration.

"What now?" He complained, opening the door a bit too furiously, "What do you want—Oh. Hello, Y/N..." You stood in front of him in your pajamas. Which was a nightgown you got from Angel Dust as a present, it teased the dirty mind of whoever saw it but you honestly thought it was just a regular nightgown. Your cleavage threatened to spill out from the top at any wrong move and the shape of the dress partnered with the extremely light fabric meant that a breeze could easily blow it up.

It was a sight he wasn't expecting to see and if he was being honest, it flustered him to see you, a renowned angel, in such revealing clothes in front of his room at night. He awkwardly cleared his throat to snap himself out of his brief trance before hiding his nervousness behind a wide smile.

"Yes, Y/N? I was just about to go to bed. Do you need anything?" He leaned against the door frame, arms loosely crossed, "Or did you come here to tease me~"

You shook your head before handing him a box. "I forgot to give you this, I had left it on my nightstand and saw it before I laid to rest." You smile, "It's a welcome gift. I shall be heading off now. Good night!"

"Wai—" He spoke but you were already heading towards your room. He watched you walk away, eyes scanning the shape of your body as the nightgown landed on your curves. And he stared at your ass.

He goes back into his room to open what you'd given him. It was a bow tie that had the iconic Hazbin Hotel eye on it. Under it was a note.

'I made this myself. Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! I hope you enjoy your stay! -Y/N'

He felt himself warm up at the gesture which felt weird to him. He was there to try to win you over with manipulation, trick you into forming a deal with him and taking you for himself away from the hotel. And now he's blushing?

"What the fuck..." He whispered to himself, having mixed emotions on his original plan. He shook it off and headed to bed. He only had 2 more days after all.

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel vees #hazbin hotel alastor #slow burn #this isn't even near half of it #how long is this going to be #stayed tuned #does the title mean something?#yes?#no?#maybe #i can't stop writing #vox is my hyperfixation

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cupoteahatter · 3 months

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The Gentlemen is 8 hours of near perfection

Personally I need more shenanigans…. Far more shenanigans, Netflix please don’t take too long to renew it.

#the gentlemen #the gentlemen (2024)#the gentlemen Netflix #Am I brainstorming ship names for Susie and Eddie? Yes because the slow burn vibes are insane

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stormlex · 26 days

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Ive seen most people on twitter saying they do not want to wait until season 9 or 10 for Buddie to get together. So that made me curious

Let the people know your thought processes if you would like. I would like to know the thought processes :)

#i dont want buddie together at the end of the season #maybe season 8 but like near the end?#i like slow burn #yes buddie is already slowburn but if it means we get a good storyline/progression #i dont mind waiting #that might just be me tho #911 buddie #buddie #evan buck buckley #eddie diaz #911 abc #evan buckley x eddie diaz #911 poll #evan buckley

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ultimateinferno · 3 months

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Congrats to the newest Game Changer episode for setting the record on pissing Brennan off the fastest at 3 minutes and 30 seconds.

#Yes and No was a slow burn #Name That Bird was midway through #by the end of the first challenge he was already gone #dropout #brennan lee mulligan #game changer #college humor #dimension 20 #not actually but people in that tag like bleem

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teplejtrouba · 6 months

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a detective who has a partner🔍 and a partner💕 who are friends so the three of them end up doing a lof things together and the detective refers to them as "my partners" and doesn't realise this makes everyone think they're polyamorous (they do end up polyamorous by the end of the story)

#once people start making remarks and they do realise they're apprehensive to the idea at first #(the detective that is. the partners just find it funny i think)#in a shocked and confused way #like “why would you think that! a is my best friend and b is... also my best friend. but one of them is my colleague and the other my spous #“i do not have an unprofessional relationship with my colleague! ...well i do #but a completely platonic one!“#(they do get up to a lot of hijinks together and it wouldn't be true to call them completely professional)#the detective doesn't stop calling them 'my partners' they just have a monologue about the nature of their relationship locked and loaded #it's a friends to lovers very slow burn to get to the throuple part but we do get there eventually #character concept #yes i initially imagined the detective as a man because i love men and most famous detectives unfortunately are men #however this would work very well in any gender scenario. all three of them are non-binary in different ways. all of them are women.#i think the main detective would be really fun if she was a Philomena Cunk type of character. very smart but So dumb and self-assured #really the main thing the detective needs to be is autistic

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fategoflatass · 4 months

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I used to be so against the slow burn trope. Not because I thought it was shit; it's just, I usually don't have the patience to wait whatever-amount-superior-to-three damn chapters for my dear ship to finally be able to look at each other without blushing and/or hold hands. Thus why you often times see me reading oneshots or fics with the "Established Relationship" tag on them.

So you can imagine just how surprised—or maybe not, maybe I just didn't think enough about it—I was when I realized my newest fixation's main pairing is—canonically—the embodiment of slow burn. Because holy shit they're taking their time.

Nothing against how Kusuriya develops its love story—quite the opposite, actually. The relationship between Jinshi and Maomao, two characters that are written as beautifully as their romance, is a rather realistic approach as to how the same or a similar dynamic would developed in real life. In such a complicated situation, with such complex feelings about emotions—both external and their own—and attachment, makes sense that it takes so long for the relationship to finally sail.

The problem is, I didn't know I was signing with the Devil the moment I decided to pick up the light novel. Ten volumes and nothing has happened. Nothing.

And you can say that technically things have happened, because they have. I mean, Jinshi is just so desperate for Maomao to give him the time of day, you know what I mean? And even that isn't enough anymore and thus he has committed some of the craziest shit I've seen in any romance. Which okay, I don't usually read these type of romances but still.

What I mean by "nothing" is just, their relationship hasn't changed status. I could also say that it seems to go nowhere, but that'd be lying. Since, you know, it has changed quite a lot—just not in the way my impatient ass wanted it to. Because he can be as honest with his feelings as he pleases, and those around them might be heavely conscious of the tension and thus constantly tease those lovebirds (as they should), but babygirl's not helping, you know?

And I get it, Maomao's not the best at expressing and understanding herself, and she's also way too busy worrying about going as unnoticed as possible (she should give up on that one already, tbh) while keeping her head where it should be. But like, I can't help feeling frustrated over it like ‼‼

GIRL, FUCK THE RULES. TAKE THAT PATHETIC EXCUSE OF A MAN AND RUNAWAY SOMEWHERE NO ONE WILL BE ABLE TO IDENTIFY YOU. YOU THEN CARRY THAT BITCH BRIDESTYLE TO THE CLOSEST CHURCH AND MAKE HIM YOUR WIFE. PROCEED TO FROG AROUND, EXPERIMENT WITH YOUR UTERUS AS MUCH AS YOU'D LIKE, AND THEN TEACH THE PRODUCTS OF YOUR PRACTICES AS YOUR OWN GUINEA PIG THE WAYS OF HERBAL MEDICINE. AS EASY AS THAT.

But she won't. She'll take her sweet ass time being in denial about both Jinshi's and her own feelings, then maybe she'll proceed to analize herself and find out that maybe, just maybe, that affection that she'd been feeling for that loser became something else. Did said affection also become something more complicated? Absolutely. Does she know how to deal with it? Hell no, but fuck it. If I learned something from school is that you always leave the hardest parts for later.

Now you see why I was so against reading slow burn?

And you wanna know the worst part? I loved it—I loved every second of it, every word, every page. Every scene that seemed to help the relationship advance, only for Maomao to say nope and leave like she owns the place, which at this point she fucking might.

It feels like I, as the reader, am in the middle of a heatwave and some sadistic bastard won't stop teasing me with ice cream—they put it in front of my face, close enough that I can smell the cold. Then take a spoon and eat little by little while staring directly to my eyes. At times they seem to show mercy and feed me a spoon, only for it to be a rather small quantity of serving—serving that tastes so damn good at first, only for it to have such a bitter aftertaste. But if I gotta have something in common with Jinshi is that I'll never be able to beat the masochist allegations, so I'll wait patiently for the next spoon and its corresponding and seemingly enless teasing from that faceless being.

So yeah, I'm still against it, only that now I understand the appeal—even if I have yet to find out about the whereabouts of my sanity while still mananing with the little I've left.

#kusuriya no hitorigoto #the apothecary diaries #jinmao #mai.txt #long post #rant #?#did i just write a rant about a realisticly slow burning romance? yes #please understand i've no one to complain to about them #so i better let go these feelings before i explode and throw my pc out of the window or something #i tried being as spoiler free as possible but please tell me if i should change anything about... whatever this is

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strangersteddierthings · 1 year

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Porcelain Steve - Part 6

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

Even though he's expecting company, Eddie still jumps and yelps when his front door flies open without so much as a knock, revealing Dustin and Will.

"I know I said to let yourselves in, but a warning knock would have been nice," Eddie shoots them a glare, not bothering to stand from the couch where he'd been pretending to watch whatever terrible daytime movie was playing.

"Sorry," Will apologizes sheepishly while Dustin just laughs.

"Which of your moms dropped you off? If it's Claudia, I'm filing a complaint about how you were raised."

"Har har," Dustin says, swinging his backpack off and knelling down to unzip and dig into it. "We biked here."

"Lucky you, then. The complaint will wait."

Dustin wrestles a blanket from his backpack. Unwrapping it reveals Steve, hair rumpled but otherwise unharmed. "Alright. Delivered safely. We gotta go meet El and Mike now but we'll see you on Saturday, right?"

Eddie sets Steve on the couch, angled towards the TV. "Yeah. I get the feeling if I don't show for the barbeque that Joyce will show up here and drag me there by my ear."

"She would," Will confirms with an easy shrug. The boys turn to leave before Will exclaims, "Oh! Almost forgot!" before digging into his pocket for something, turning around to give it to Eddie.

"What?"

"El and Steve spoke again. He had a lot of things to say. I spent a good portion of the last three days writing down everything as El repeated it to me. This is your letter," he says, having successfully pulled out what looked to be a folded piece of paper out of his pocket.

"Oh," Eddie takes it, and realizes it's not just one folded piece of paper, but three. "Wow."

"Seems you are Steve's second favorite," Dustin grins at him from the doorway.

"You are first, I assume?"

"No. Robin is. She got five pages."

That tracks, actually. Eddie's not surprised Robin got the most pages.

Soon enough, the boys are off and Eddie returns to the couch, pulling his legs up to sit crisscross. "Alright, Stevie, let's see what you have to say."

He unfolds the pages completely and is met with Will's now familiar penmanship scrawled across the sheets of wide rule paper that has clearly been ripped from a composition notebook. He's seen Will's handwriting plenty over this last year, quickly scribbling notes during DnD sessions and on the little item cards Will makes himself to hand out when he DMs.

Will's handwriting isn't always the neatest, but this looks like Will took time, wanted his writing to be legible. Flipping through the papers he sees it is two pages, front and back, of a letter, and the third page is a list of questions in a different, neater handwriting. He gets the feeling that Will probably didn't paraphrase anything. How many people got letters? How much of Will and El's time was devoted to doing just this?

Eddie feels emotional over this, misty-eyed and a lump in his throat, and he hasn't even read the damn letter yet.

"Shit, Stevie, do you even realize how loved you are?" Eddie asks out loud, turning to look at Porcelain Steve like he might answer him this time. Blank hazel eyes stare forward. Eddie shakes his head, to clear away his thoughts, and gets to reading. Not out loud, because he doesn't want Steve to hear how wet his voice will sound.

Eddie,

I guess the first thing I want to say is thank you. I was kind of freaking out when I first woke up like this. It was calming, that day on the lawn, after Robin and Nancy found me. You were so chill and just chatted my ear off like you would have if I were, like, there. I mean, there there and not like, doll-there, if you get what I mean.

Shit, man, being stuck like this would have been a hell of a lot worse without you, I'm certain. Everyone's been great, of course, and, like, no offense meant, Will and El, but you act most normal. Helps me feel, well, I don't know how, exactly. Describing emotions is not something I'm like, good at. Robin's great, too, but she catastrophizes, you know? And since I can't speak back, she can get herself pretty worked up about this and I hate that. Hate that I can't do anything to help her.

Shit. This isn't your issue. Don't include that. No, wait, do. Sorry, El. (It is here, off in the margin, that Will has added 'I wrote everything word for word. Enjoy the asides to El and me.) Hanging out with you helps her, I think. She seems less anxious on days we spend with you. So, I guess, I also want to thank you for that. For being there for Robin when I can't.

Eddie has to pause there because he had no idea. Robin has been a grounding force for him this whole time. He had no idea he was doing the same for her. She never said, or let on... well, that was probably her goal and now Steve's spilled the beans.

This is getting easier to say, even if I still don't know how to feel about the other two people who are going to be privy to everything said, or I guess from your end, written here. (Here, Will has transcribed a conversation they seemed to have had in the middle of writing this up.) Oh. He means us. - El Yes. Don't worry Steve, we'll do our best to forget everything you've said once it's written down. - Will Steve laughed and says thanks. - El I appreciate that but- well, being honest there's some things I want to say but I don't want anyone else to hear. Those conversations are better left face to face, anyway. So, uhh, what else did I want to say?

Oh! Yeah, I told Robin she could drive around the Bimmer, so she can have a car while I'm- so she doesn't have to bike everywhere but knowing her she probably won't take me up on that offer. Maybe you can talk her into it? Or, maybe she'll be willing to drive your van around and you can take the bimmer.

"Jesus, Stevie, can't you just be okay with existing?" Eddie says it under his breath and tenses instantly. For a moment, he forgot that Steve was right there on the couch with him, could hear him. Now he has to explain himself because Steve's already heard, and without the context of how Eddie really means those words, they can sound judgmental. "Shit. Sorry. I just read the part about your car and, dude, you just don't know how to not try and be helpful, huh? I bet it's destroying you on the inside that you can't do anything. But Steve, you gotta know, we don't care about you because you're useful."

Steve, of course, can't reply, so Eddie goes back to the letter.

Uh, what else was there? Oh! Yeah! I don't get migraines here. Or, in this body? Or, whatever it is. I haven't had one since this happened. Also, no hearing issues. Though I find myself wishing to be completely deaf sometimes. I get that Max can listen to Kate Bush for a week straight, but I'd like a little variety. God, what I wouldn't give to listen to the Top 40 again. Don't say anything, Munson. I can already see your judgmental face at my music taste. Unlike you, I have the ability to like multiple types of music. The Top 40 AND that one song from, uhh, shit. Might not have migraines or hearing issues at the moment, but the memory is still as it was. Which means it is shit. That one song by that metal band where their name sounds like it's metal? You know who I mean. (In the margin, Will has just written five little question marks in a row ?????)

"The band you were thinking of, it's Metallica," Eddie says.

Not important. But, uh, the reason for telling you this. I was hoping you might smuggle me to a show the next time your band plays at the Hideout? Last time I tried to go it was too loud and gave me a migraine, you remember, but I think that I could listen to your whole show like this. We might as well take advantage of the perks of this shit situation, right? So, uh, I wouldn't mind if you did that. Or, like, had Robin or someone else bring me. Whichever.

Actually, wait, I lied, I do care which way. I've already had them pen down Robin's letter, so you'll have to pass this on, but I want Robin to take me. So, I can also watch the show, not just listen. That was the part I liked most, when I went last time, before I had to leave. Wait. Scratch that. Ask Argyle. Other than you, he seems like the only person willing to be caught holding me in public, mostly because I don't think he even knows how to be embarrassed. Jesus that was such a weird sentence to say. Holding me in public. Such a weird thing to experience, too.

Uh, anyway, I think that's it for now. Thanks for everything, Eddie.

"I think you're handling this loss of bodily autonomy rather well, Steve. This letter is a lot more positive than the one I would have written if our roles were reversed," Eddie says with a sigh. He can't help but wonder what Steve would have said in this letter if it hadn't had to be filtered through two teenagers first.

He looks to the last page, the list of questions, and is surprised to see that, mixed in with questions about which sports team is winning (he is not going to watch Sportsball for Steve. There has to be a line drawn somewhere and this is it. He will ask Wayne about it later and hate the glee he sees in his uncle's eyes because now he's going to have to pretend to like sports for the unforeseeable future) and for honest updates about their friends are questions about Eddie's campaign that he's rambled on about since Steve can't escape. Steve wants spoilers, wants to know what Eddie has planned.

Steve has actually been listening. He'd been operating on the assumption Steve just tunes him out when he gets going, unable to stop his brain to mouth filter when it comes to talking about Dungeons and Dragons and his current campaign.

"I'm at your list of questions now. I can't answer anything about sports, and don't think I'm unaware of how you asked me and not Lucas. I see what you are doing and I'm not going to fall for it. So, your first non-sportsball question here; How is Dustin doing, really? Well, that's a whole thing but overall, okay."

#steddie #my fic #porcelain steve #having steve write letters to everyone was sparked by jonathans even tho the wonder twins dont admit that #it was a passing comment when he walked in on Will explaining the difference between sorcerer and warlock to El and Porcelain Steve #just a quick 'i wonder what steve would have to say about this if he could talk'#and will and el were like! yes! what WOULD he say? El talk to him #and it evolved from there #also its not said because how would Eddie know? but the list of questions in different handwriting is Joyce's #to avoid campaign spoilers for Will‚ el asked joyce to write that part #they go through all the questions but im not writing those #this was mostly to get a little bit of Steve in here #feels weird to write a steddie fic where steve hasnt even spoken until 9k+ words into the fic #especially since i am NOT a slow burn person‚ not that i count this as slow burn #how do you define slow burn? does this count? help a girl out and let me know

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sunshine-girl-shines · 19 days

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If I had a nickel for every time a mortal was in love with an Eldritch god named Jo(h)n in podcast, I’d have two nickels; which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice.

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kopykunoichi · 5 months

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No thoughts in my head, just them.

Left column: chapters 47, 62, 98

Center column: chapters 137, 175, 175

Right column: chapters 201, 225, 225

#akatsuki no yona #yona of the dawn #son hak #princess yona #yonak #don't mind me - just resurfacing after re-reading my favorite manga to leave this here #evolution of a kiss #slowest slow burn in history #but it's so worth it #the kiss where she was passing water into his mouth because of the smoke is still my favorite #hak was THIRSTY and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the building was on fire #is it a cliché trope? yes it is. do i care? no i do not.#it works on me every damn time #also...it's been 27 chapters since these two made out...which far too long #literally it's been a year and a half...#also it will never not amuse me that she was the first one to kiss him on the lips #he was working his way down from her forehead to the bridge of her nose to her cheek...#and the next time they kiss she just grabs him and assaults his mouth #technically she also initiated the second “kiss” on the lips when she chose that method to give him water #get it girl

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beanghostprincess · 8 months

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what if i were a zolu shipper and you were a zosan shipper and we both kissed hahaha [blushing, giggling, kicking their feet]

#stop fighting let's smooch #projecting because my fiance is a zosan #ah yes zosan shippers are so pretty haha i ship zolu let's get married #the biggest slow burn rivals to best friends to lovers in history #zosan #zolu #monkey d luffy #roronoa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #opla #one piece

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atsadi-shenanigans · 3 months

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Valentine's Day Special

I did it! I got it finished! As a thank you to everyone who has given kudos and comments, and because Valentine's Day is coming up, here's a smuterific one-shot featuring: pegging, butt stuff, Astarion having feelings, Eleanor has dom tendencies she didn't know about, and Astarion getting nice things!

Rated a very, very E for smut.

Roses are red, violets are blue, blah blah I’d like to fuck you.

Or: Astarion bought a toy. Eleanor wants to give him a night he won’t forget.

“Legs up,” he says. “Pull your knees up. Better leverage.” You do. He leans back, bracing his hands on your knees. Moving himself so you hit his sweet spot ruthlessly. Another peek at you, pleasure painted over every line of his body. “Fuck me, Eleanor.”

The inn is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Two stories, shutters closed against the torrent, lantern light turning puddles and muddy streets golden.

You’re going to cry. Not that anyone will be able to tell in this storm. Poor Karlach has been hidden in a cloud of steam since the downpour began.

“Gods, I’m not taking another step unless it’s towards the front door of that inn,” Astarion says, voice pitched firmly into bitchy. “I am not slogging through one more minute of this filth.”

Filth being the inches-deep trough of mud the road has turned into. Y’all are coated up to the knees.

“A warm bed and a warmer bath would be nice,” Wyll says. And if Mr. Of-the-Frontiers “I’m used to sleeping on rocks” is saying that, you know everyone is thinking it.

“Fuck,” you say. Eloquent as ever. “We got gold, right?”

“Plenty,” Gale says. His hair keeps sliding over his face in rivulets of water. He looks like a sad, wet cat.

“Hope they got rooms.”

They have, in fact, got a packed-ass seating area, a handful of alcove bunks in a common area upstairs, and a single, small room with a modest bed (other travelers had the same idea when the storm hit).

Y’all’ve had a helluva day. Chasing down leads to some sort of bullshit or another. Half of y’all ain’t even here (Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Halsin, and y’all’s new friends had split off to go hunt down something else).

Which meant when y’all triggered a bunch of undead critters in the shitpile of some tomb, y’all had to do a lot more work to clean up. Astarion took the brunt of it after the two of you (again) got separated from the others.

He stands there, hair plastered to his skull, not an ounce of pink in his complexion (and looking grayer than usual). That’s when the idea comes to you.

“Y’all mind if me and Astarion take the room?” you say.

Ain’t no way to be subtle about it. They all know what you two are about. Especially since that goddamn newspaper came out (it wasn’t neither of y’all’s fault the fucking graveyard grounds keeper was a nosy sunuvabitch who both took his job way too seriously, and took off sprinting to the Faerun equivalent of a tabloid newspaper after catching a glimpse of you.) (You’d finished by then, which was probably the only reason Astarion hadn’t run him down and shut him up.)

They’ve known you two were a couple for a long while. They’d assumed you two had been physical for longer than you actually had been.

“Really?” Karlach says, still steaming. “After all this?”

Astarion says nothing, though his eyebrows quirk in mild interest. The bags under his eyes are more prominent, the color almost bruise purple. His eyes are duller. He looks more corpserific than he has in a while.

You started it, he seems to say. So you finish it.

“I just wanna take a bath and lay in bed, and all my clothes gotta dry,” you say. “We both’ve seen each other naked.”

Clever mischief glints in Wyll’s eye. He’s the most solid out of all of you’uns. The one with the most rigorous sense of morality. Usually plays the straight-laced folk hero.

But the man’s damned charming, and his genial good will hides a wicked sense of humor.

“All the bunks have privacy screens,” he says. “We’ll all be drying out our belongings.”

Gale says nothing. Just stares into the middle distance as he hikes up a section of robe to wring about a liter of water out.

Wyll makes a show out of checking out the common room and y’all’s fellow travelers. “In fact, I see other couples doing just that.”

“I’m not saying we’re gonna fuck, but if we do, you really wanna sleep right next to that?”

Wyll snorts and waves a hand, smiling. “On second thought, I think I’ll pass.”

Karlach pulls a face. “In public?”

“Y’all said they got privacy screens. And you didn’t have no problem walking around tits out during that heatwave.”

“Which beds did we get?” Gale cuts in. He used up even his much-improved magic capacity trying to get you and Astarion out of that fucking trap sinkhole. He can’t even do his presto-tation cleaning spell to dry himself off.

So you end up taking the key and heading upstairs, Astarion trailing after you.

Bath water is something you gotta pay for, in Faerun. The tub’s in the room, and you’re free to haul up however many buckets from the well outside yourself. But that’s a lot of buckets to drag up a flight of stairs, and the inn keep don’t let customers heat it up over the fire themselves.

So a good hour after you and Astarion settle in, you finally got a bath drawn and steaming.

“You go first,” you say.

Astarion sits on the bed in nothing but his drawers, wrapped in a blanket. He don’t get hypothermia—undead and all—but he does get real achy in the cold.

He gives you a small, tired smile, and lets the blanket (and his drawers) slide down.

You still ain’t super used to seeing a cock all bare. Not more than what your occasional forays into porn showed—so mostly just the part not currently buried in somebody. It hangs more forward than you thought it would. Also smaller than you thought it’d be (again, porn and both unrealistic standards, and flaccid ones are smaller).

You make yourself look away. But not before Astarion—ever alert and enough of a bastard to make that your problem—notices.

“See something you like, sweetheart?” Where once that line would have been pure, silken debauchery, his voice is calmer when he’s alone with you, now. Still carries a flirty lilt (he always does with everyone), but with less performance woven through it.

“Just curious,” you say. “And I like watching you—not creepily, I mean. Anyway, if you want a bath and then the bed—for sleeping only—I’m down for that.”

“Mmm,” he says. Steps into the water and hisses. He eases himself down slow. Finally sits and all but melts against the wedge of the wooden tub, eyes closed and head tilted back. “Yet you requested this little love nest for us. And that cunning mind of yours always has at least three ideas fluttering around.

Said with a wiggle of his fingers around his temple.

He’s got a long neck. Stretched out like that, his adam’s apple stands out. As do his bite scars.

“We really can just sleep,” you say.

Now he cracks one, red eye open. Tilts his head to better peer over at you. Swirls his hand in the water as he waits for an answer.

He’s being patient with you. Says you’re patient with him, but you can count on three fingers all the people you ever actually wanted to bed, and none of them ever got that far. It’s not an ordeal for you to wait. You don’t have any expectations for him in that department (which you suspect had been a huge relief for him, and one of the reasons y’all’ve worked out).

He does so much for you. He’s helped you work through hangups you didn’t even know you had. He’s saved your ass more times than you can count, directly and not.

“If you wanted,” you start slow. “And you can say no at any point. But, if you wanted, I thought we could take a night and I could learn, um. We could learn what you like better. Just you. Or, well, me focusing on you.”

His idle finger twirling stops. He stills, both eyes open now and fixed on you. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Doesn’t even breathe.

Then his lips part. His words stutter and he frowns. Then, “You want to give me pleasure.”

Every word slow and enunciated. Not…trepidation, exactly. And not quite disbelieving. He trusts you, he’d said. He’s just verifying for the sake of both’ve you.

“I’m curious,” you repeat, so deliberate and nonchalant it’s borderline teasing.

“Pleasure me how?” Astarion says. Once again, flicking at the bathwater.

Aaand the rest on AO3 so tumblr doesn't slap me.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #fanfic #astarion #astarion x tav #feeding alligators fic #tavstarion #bg3 fic #bg3 smut #astarion smut #plus size tav #demisexual tav #slow burn #yes even the smut is slow burn #happy valentine's day #these two shitheads #two dumbasses #they're in love your honor

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layzeal · 1 year

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i absolutely eat it UP that one of the reasons wwx is so hesitant to believe lwj has feelings for him is that he can't tell if lwj treats him with so much goodness and kindness because he's simply that good of a person or if there's ~something more to it~

and!! here's what gets me: he's 100% right to question that. because from all we know, lan wangji would still have protected and done everything he did even if he wasn't in love with wwx. it all comes down to his beliefs, and standing up to them by protecting him. wwx is afraid to jump to conclusions because his fears are genuinely very well based!

#seriously take a shot everytime wwx muses about how good of a person lwj is #even at their worst moments wwx still held a tremendous amount of respect for him #he's under the belief that lwj is doing this not bc he's in love but because he believes in him #and he's not wrong! lwj's love isnt shown through the grand gestures! but through the small quiet ones #would lwj still protect wwx if he didn't have feelings for him? yes #would lwj have drank alcohol and eaten spicy food and kept the rabbits he gave him? nope #and wwx slowly comes to realize this!! it just takes him time and getting to know lwj better!!!#AND IT'S SO GOOD AUGHHHH i just love their love story #i love the grandiose acts among the many quiet ''i love you's''#anyways y'all know it already but this is a ''wwx is oblivious to lwj's feelings'' hatehouse #he's not oblivious fandom just hates a well written slow-burn love story #modao #lace speaks

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clockwork-ashes · 2 months

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All You Have Is Your Fire - Part V

Find Part I here :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge, huge thank you to the lovely @bettdraws who literally deserves all the credit and whose post inspired me to start writing this. I could not stop thinking about this head canon, and it was so kind of you to let me try and make a story from it :) And a huge thank you to everyone reading!

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe

Part VI >>

Jesminda had been killed on a night like this, Lucien thought.

The sky had been clear of any clouds, a blue so deep it was nearly violet. Stars had sparkled to life in the distance, and Lucien had been able to see them, jewel-bright, when he had looked out of the arched windows of the throne room.

His father had been wearing a crown of golden oak leaves, his brothers had held him down with rough hands, and Lucien had begged for his lover’s life to be spared.

Lucien had turned his head in the end, a betrayal in itself, but watching Jesminda’s execution would have been unbearable. Her screams, sharp and grating like knives on marble, still haunted his worst nightmares. Lucien knew he had failed Jesminda then, the female he had claimed with such certainty as his mate.

When the High Lord’s guards had taken him from the dungeons, Lucien had been quick to think that Eris had been unable to convince their father of sending him back to the Night Court. The Mother’s scales of justice balancing once more for what happened to Jesminda, a sense of fairness to it all.

Not for a moment had Lucien even considered that Elain, lovely and quiet and sheltered Elain, had prompted his release from the suffocating cell in the deepest parts of the Forest House.

Alarm choked him at the feeling of Elain pulling at the thread connecting them, horror gripping him as the memories of Jesminda flashed clear as river water in his mind.

Lucien’s eyes met Elain’s from across the room and her unease washed over him.

She looked out of place in Autumn, the light blue dress she wore more fitting in Spring or Day, Lucien thought. Loose curls framed her beautiful face, lips parting in surprise and relief. Her slippered feet made no sound as she took a few careful steps towards him, eyes flicking desperately from his injuries to his bound wrists.

Elain was an excellent actress, Lucien noticed. If not for the emotions of dread and apprehension flooding their bond, even Lucien would have been convinced at how well she played the part of a concerned mate.

“Lucien,” Elain called, her voice cracking in distress.

The way his name rolled off her tongue clashed loudly in Lucien’s ears, metal against metal. He wanted to be near her, he wanted her to be as far away from Autumn as possible. Both reactions warred within his mind.

Why was Elain in the Autumn Court?

Lucien could not find it in him to believe that Feyre and Nesta would have let their sister throw herself into unquestionable danger for a male she barely talked to. Rhysand must have considered him a very important emissary if he was willing to risk Elain’s life.

Elain looked like she would rush to him, and Lucien wondered if she could feel the bond’s pull just as he did. Lucien only noticed that Eris was standing beside Elain when his eldest brother put out his arm to prevent her from moving.

He was unable to stop the low snarl from escaping his lips, the guards tightening their hold on him. Who else would be to blame for Elain’s arrival in the Forest House but Eris, Lucien asked himself. He silently prayed that if anything happened to his mate, Rhysand would do him the favour of ending Eris’s miserable existence.

“Look, Lucien,” his father’s voice rang out in the near-empty space. “Your mate has come for you.” Lucien turned his attention to Beron with great effort. He did not want to take his eyes off Elain for a moment, barely trusting his own senses.

His father’s grin was cruel, almost knowing, as he waited for Lucien to respond. When Lucien kept quiet, Beron shrugged, not deterred by the silence. Lucien saw as his mother tightened her grip on the armrest of her throne, knuckles white.

“Your mate wrote to Eris, her words bleeding with concern for you, my son.” Lucien had to hold his back straight so as not to rear back at the words. Beron had not addressed him as such in decades.

Lucien was trying to piece everything together, knowing that he was missing valuable information that would prove navigating the conversation with his father difficult. He cursed Eris for not having warned him at least.

“Being apart pains us,” Lucien offered, hoping it would satisfy Beron. He glanced at Elain and tried to relax, to calm his nerves. She clung to Eris, surprising Lucien with how trusting she seemed. He had to remind himself that she was merely acting, doing her best to do as the Night Court had obviously pushed her to.

“She thinks she has a claim to you,” Beron shook his head, false sympathy carved into the frown on his face. “But you know Autumn’s laws, an unaccepted mating bond means nothing, a seed not yet planted.”

Lucien responded on instinct, everything about it familiar, as if no time had passed between his exile and his current presence in the throne room. “Yes, High Lord.”

“It was a great betrayal to see you siding with Spring at our border, Lucien,” Beron continued, “but the young lady’s concern for you has been touching.”

“Let her return to Night,” Lucien interrupted, agony clawing at him. To lose a mate would be torture, and he knew his father well enough to guess he would be taking Elain’s life first. “Rhysand would thank you for it.”

Beron replied, bitter but not angry. “You never could hold that tongue.”

“Owing the High Lord of Night and his Lady would be of great use to us,” Eris intervened, his words always holding more weight in their family. Briefly, Lucien was thankful, was reminded of how often Eris had put himself in the way of Beron’s wrath when they were both so much younger.

Beron cast a long look at Eris, clicking his tongue, before he faced his youngest son. “I ask only that you answer one of my questions, Lucien, and I will grant your mate her wish.” Lucien heard Elain’s sharp inhale, but he kept his eyes on Beron. The metal one whirred in anticipation, pausing into place when his father spoke once more. “When is your mating ceremony?”

Lucien felt as though someone had pulled the rug from beneath his feet. He was unsteady, his answer needed to be quick, natural. “We wanted a spring wedding,” he blurted, the response dragged out of him. He did not know what possessed him to refer to it as a marriage, but he would have bet his life on the fact that Elain would not have talked about a mating ceremony.

Beron raised a dark eyebrow, but by the way his frown deepened, Lucien guessed the response was correct. “We’ve set the date for the equinox,” Lucien added as he felt relief from the bond, Elain’s emotions influencing his own. “On a night with a full moon.”

Lucien watched as the Lady of Autumn reached for her husband’s arm, her fingers clawing at the sleeve. “Beron,” she murmured, a quiet plea for mercy.

Lucien was unsure if his father had even heard his mother, but he turned away from Lucien, a clear dismissal, as he addressed Elain. “In Autumn, marrying on the night of a full moon brings blessings.” Beron cocked his head to the side like a wolf, “Did you know?”

Elain shook her head in response, choosing honesty. Lucien could barely see her the way Eris was standing, as if he too was ready for the worst case scenario.

Time itself seemed to still as they all waited for Beron to declare his wishes. Lucien attempted to ease Elain’s nerves, tried to comfort her through the bond, but he was not sure if he was successful. Moments or hours could have passed, and Lucien would not have noticed.

“My son,” the voice of the High Lord, never that of a father. His words the toll of a bell as he spoke to Lucien once more, breaking his silence. Beron stood from his throne, “We should let bygones be bygones, what happened all those years ago was unfortunate, but your mate is here now.”

Lucien wondered if Beron understood just how much those words made his blood boil. Lucien had begged for Jesminda’s life to be spared, had claimed she was his mate at the time. He had been so sure, and it was like a blow to have his father mention it. Lucien could feel his face heating with anger, but he kept his mouth shut.

“Let this be my gift to you,” Beron gestured with his hand to the windows, stars winking. “Have your wedding in Autumn, Lady Elain Archeron of the Night Court, and I will lift your mate’s exile. He would be free to come and go as he pleased.” The High Lord smiled, wicked, “and it would be a great honour to see one of my son’s married.”

Beron did not even look at Lucien, embers in his eyes flaring as he focused solely on Elain. Lucien wanted to scream.

Elain flashed his father a smile, it seemed so genuine that Lucien was taken aback. “How kind,” she stepped past Eris, curtsying elegantly. “You have my thanks.”

Elain sounded so very fae, Lucien remarked. With a wave of his father’s hand, the guards removed the binds from Lucien’s wrists. As soon as Lucien was freed from his restraints, Eris moved out of Elain’s way so she could run to him.

She threw her arms around Lucien’s neck as though she had done it countless times. He could do nothing but put his hands to Elain’s waist.

“I was so worried,” she spoke just loud enough for everyone to hear, but it was still soft, as though she had only meant for the words to be heard by Lucien’s ears.

Like she was his lover, Lucien breathed in deeply, held Elain close. “Everything’s alright,” he murmured, lips pressed to her hair.

We both lie so well.

The thought was like a knife to the chest, but Lucien hoped that the two of them had been able to dispel Beron of any doubts. Lucien knew his mother was convinced, he could see it in her russet eyes. For a moment, Lucien felt guilty, but he pushed the thought aside.

Elain was the first to pull away, a scarlet blush staining her pale cheeks. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear with one hand, but the other held tightly to Lucien’s. It was smart of her to look embarrassed, Beron would have found their affection distasteful otherwise.

Lucien wondered if Elain knew how perfectly she had played her part, that she could have convinced kings to kneel if she set her mind to it.

Elain certainly seemed to have the High Lord of the Autumn Court wrapped around her finger.

“Take some time with your mate, Lucien,” his father declared. “Two nights from this one, we can celebrate your return home.”

Lucien wanted to be back in the human lands, he wanted to be in the home he had made with Jurian and Vassa, the unlikeliest of friends. Instead, Lucien bowed his head. “Thank you, High Lord.”

Beron angled his chin, “The guards can show you to your rooms.” Flames flashed in his father’s eyes, familiar enough to make Lucien flinch. “I must speak with Eris.”

The guards pushed Lucien forward, the gesture rude but not painful. They kept a respectful distance from Elain, and Lucien wondered if they had simply been too charmed by her to even consider treating her poorly.

Together, they were escorted from the throne room, Elain still holding tightly to Lucien’s hand.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron x lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #eris vanserra #beron vanserra #the lady of autumn #autumn court #i wanted to include more in this part but it was too long #elain and lucien talk more in the next one #is this a slow burn? yes i think it is #ashes writes sometimes #all you have is your fire

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lauraneedstochill · 11 months

Text

I was searching but not for you

pairing: modern!Aemond Targaryen and F!Reader summary: Aemond is eager to catch the thief who keeps stealing his gemstones but the person in question seems to always be one step ahead of him. words: ~ 4000 author’s note: about two months ago, I got the idea to write short stories inspired by the songs I like. this idea may totally flop, but I already wrote a few one-shots so I might as well post them somewhere. you can skip the song but I think it helps with ✨ the vibes ✨ P.S. don’t read the translation from French right away song inspo: Leagues — Walking Backwards (Spotify / YouTube)

>>> The first time it happens, it’s blindsiding — he gets a call in the middle of the night, and the words are rushed and the voice on the other end of the phone is panicking. Aemond sits up against the head of his bed, silky linen softy sliding down his chest, and the sleep is still clinging to his skin, and he can’t quite understand what’s going on. Surely, it sounds like a bad joke — someone broke into his office, someone found his safe. He’s the only one who knows the contents of the locked metal box, and he cherishes it very deeply. He doesn’t easily let go of the things he loves.

In about five minutes, his car roars through the empty streets, his heart is racing, his body fueled by the adrenaline that eats up the remnants of his sleepiness. Aemond all but runs — in the building, in the elevator, on the right floor. The security team looks so baffled, he almost wants to laugh. And then he sees it — his safe, accurately opened and seemingly not emptied. Because the uncut diamond in it didn’t take much space, and now it is, indeed, missing. There’s a note left, written in cursive so perfect, it looks as mocking as the words on it:

“A safe hidden behind a painting? Honestly, that’s just bad taste.”

His shock turns into anger in the blink of an eye.

>>> The fact that someone dared to steal from him is offensive enough, but the stolen gemstone also holds a special meaning — it’s the first one he’s ever bought with his own money, by himself, for himself. It’s not the biggest one he owns, not the rarest color or the most high-priced, but the auction it was sold at dragged for almost two hours, and the very last bidder was too persistent for his liking. Finally winning felt so good, it was addicting. Losing that very thing felt like a punch, and he hadn’t missed a single one before.

>>> He changes the locks and tightens security, but there are no leads — nothing on his cameras, and no one saw a thing. He begrudgingly tells Helaena about it when she finds a moment to check up on him in between hosting countless exhibitions in her gallery. That very gallery also stores one of his gems, so he wants to take precautions, just in case.

His sister brings him croissants and sips on matcha while listening to him, worry sawn onto her face. She reassures him she’ll be alert, she’s empathetic as ever. She then enthusiastically goes to tell him all about the new layout for the Van Gogh collection she’ll put on display next month. Her cheerful babbling gives him an hour-long reprieve from his inner torment.

On her way out, Helaena stops, her brows furrowing:

“Do you know who owned the diamond before you?”

“There were no details on the owner,” Aemond shrugs. “I only know his collection had to be auctioned for debts which definitely drove down the price.”

She gives him a heartfelt smile:

“I’ll ask around, then.”

>>> Someone steals the sapphire from her gallery precisely a week after their conversation. The gem of 150 carats is protected with armored glass and kept in a separate hall, but no alarms are triggered the night it disappears. Helaena only finds out in the morning and sends him a photo of an empty stand. When Aemond arrives at the gallery, police are already at the scene. They all wear the same confused expression.

“There’s no footage on the cameras,” his sister explains, perplexed. Then squints at him: “But they left a note.”

Aemond swallows down an annoyed grunt and spends ten minutes answering a pointless sequence of questions. Only then he gets to see the thing he’s most curious about. The piece of paper says:

“Your taste is better when it comes to gems. The exhibition looks great, by the way!”

He passes it on his way back — it’s a collection of some Swedish artist he’s never heard of. The painting closest to him is called “The Lady with the Veil”, and the woman on the canvas looks at him with a sly smile.

>>> The third time can take the prize for being the most ridiculous one. He made the purchase only two days ago — a pink diamond of exceptional purity, and the transfer is arranged in the strictest secrecy. He gives instructions, he hires two guards for the ride; he’s counting minutes. Aemond has a lurking suspicion that something is off when the delivery is 15 minutes late. But then the courier finally walks in, hands him the box locked with a digital code, and Aemond tenses up in anticipation. The second he opens it, his mouth falls slack.

“Are you kidding me?!” he roars — the box is empty, with only a pink ribbon left inside.

The courier shrivels at the sound and apologizes profusely. And then admits that they made a stop on their way. He says they went down the wrong route — because of some glitch in his GPS — and ended up at the wrong house. It took the man a couple of minutes to realize his mistake and come back to the truck. He has no explanation for why he thought that taking both guards with him was in any way a good idea, but he swears that the driver never left the vehicle.

To add to Aemond’s anguish, the two policemen sent to his place seem to be positively stupid. Not only do they not understand the concept of digital locks, but they also don’t grasp the gravity of the situation. One of them scribbles something in his notebook, then scratches his head with a pen, then asks:

“Are you sure it’s not just a case of miscommunication?”

Aemond is sure that he’s never been this close to strangling a law enforcement officer. He gives the cops a tight-lipped smile and sends them away, and he is still left with no information to get things off the ground. He’s also a little bitter that there was no note this time.

He’s staring at the empty box with a brooding frown when he feels his phone vibrating. It’s a text from his sister:

“There are rumors that the man you’ve got your diamond from was some tech developer. His identity was sealed by court order :( But maybe this will be of use? xx”

Aemond rereads the message, then ponders for a minute. That may explain all the technical malfunctions that he suspects were not accidental. It also gives him an idea.

>>> He orders his security team to look through all the street cameras along the route. Buff guys crash at his office, dragging in every monitor they can find, and strain their eyes to catch anything. Aegon volunteers to help although he mostly spends his time roaming around the room with a bottle of beer, leaving his fingerprints on every glassy surface.

Just as Aemond has hoped, they find the person of interest at the first stop the courier made. Except the video gives them no clue who they are looking at. The men watch as someone — wearing all black, their face covered — quietly sneaks to the truck, opens it and gets in, squirreling through the gap between the back doors. They do that with such ease, Aemond won’t be surprised to see them using a magic wand. The driver spends that time singing along to some rap song blasting in the car.

Aegon notices the strained silence and gets closer, then focuses on the footage. And then he starts cracking with laughter.

“Hey, it’s a woman!” he exclaims. “I know one when I see one!”

All the security guys lean toward the cameras and watch the recording again, following her movements and tilting their heads to the left in unison like some hypnotized owls.

“Well, that does look... like a female body,” one of them mumbles, others humming in agreement, eyes still glued to the screens.

Aemond feels the secondhand embarrassment creeping in and quietly growls, facepalming. He catches Aegon’s gaze, and his brother chuckles, his eyes crinkled.

“Man, you must’ve really fucked up for her to go after you like that,” Aegon whispers with a grin. “Is it bad that I’m kinda rooting for her now?”

Aemond can’t think of a single person who would want to cross him, let alone a woman. He’s not one to fool around or break hearts, and his own stays closed, and no one ever made it flutter. Incomprehension stirs up his thoughts the way a storm does the sea.

“So what’s your plan?” Aegon’s voice brings him back to reality.

“I’ll tell you when I have one,” Aemond sighs. “What I definitely don’t plan on doing is buy another diamond,” he swirls the phone in his hand like he always does when he’s agitated.

Aegon finishes his beer, then looks at the screens again.

“But you still have enough gemstones,” he drawls.

“Enough for what?” Aemond raises a brow at him.

“To get her interest,” his brother smirks. “Don’t you think?”

Aemond lets Aegon’s words sink in until he grasps the meaning behind them, and the suggestion leaves a hint of a smile on his lips. He instantly dials his sister:

“Hel, can you do me a favor? I want to hold an exhibition. It’s gonna be the most expensive one you’ve ever had.”

“Show-off,” Aegon mutters, rolling his eyes.

>>> The gallery is located at the end of the central street, overlooking a small canal with charming tour boats, with blossoming cherry trees planted along the way. Aemond plans everything down to the last detail — every camera’s placement, every guard’s position, he learns all the ins and outs of the building. The day before the event, his nerves are on edge, his mind restless, and he makes an irrational decision to stop by the gallery to take a quick look around. He warps between halls and examines the stands — all while answering countless calls he’s been bombarded with since someone leaked the story of his misfortunes to the press.

He’s looking at the layout of the upper floor, flipping through the pages, his smartphone pressed up against his ear when he rounds the corner — and suddenly crashes into someone. The phone slips out, papers scatter around, and he instinctively puts out a hand, and it rests upon another body, their skin warm against his fingers. He hears a surprised voice:

“Oh, excusez-moi!” and then it gets softer. “Je ne m’attendais pas à ce que tu sois là *.”

When Aemond glances down, he is left speechless.

A woman is looking at him, her parted lips curled up in a light smile, her features gentle, face expression amused. There’s a hint of mischief in her eyes, an alluring gleam of mystery he is instantly drawn to solve. She’s only wearing a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt, and yet he thinks he’s never seen a sight so pretty. His hand stays on her waist, his thumb sneaked under the white material. He wants to keep it there.

She shamelessly studies his face until her gaze grazes his lips — curiously, intrigued — then she looks up.

“I am horribly clumsy, my apologies,” she finally says, her voice low and dulcet, and hands Aemond his phone and a couple of papers. He completely missed the moment when she somehow managed to catch all that.

“Makes two of us,” he utters, reluctantly removing his palm from the bend of her waistline. The touch of her hand compensates for it — their fingers brush, but it’s fleeting and it leaves him wanting more.

She helps him pick the rest of his papers off the floor, not giving him a chance to protest. She’s nimble and smiley, he is tacit and stunned.

“The preparations for the exhibit seem quite extensive,” she remarks, looking around, standing carelessly close to him but not close enough. “You put in a lot of work,” she casts a glance at him, and Aemond’s cheeks heat up.

“I had a lot of help,” he modestly brushes off the compliment, but his eye never leaves her face, and he doesn’t want to leave, either. There is no explanation for this feeling, for this need, for how flustered and tongue-tied he is.

“I should let you get back to it, then,” she takes a step back, moving out of his reach, and he can’t find a reason to make her stay for a bit longer.

“Do you plan on coming?” Aemond asks, and in any other case, he would’ve found the desperation in his voice to be embarrassing. Right now, he couldn’t care less.

She turns to look at him and holds his gaze for a good few seconds. She isn’t smiling but there’s laughter in her eyes when she says:

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” and then walks out.

His phone buzzes again, a string of unread notifications popping up on the screen. But it’s the girl with a velvety voice that hooks his attention like nothing else. He didn’t think to question what she was doing in the gallery.

>>> The exhibition is a bit too crowded, and Aemond scurries between the halls and watches the gemstones like a hawk, looking out for anyone suspicious. He tries to persuade himself it’s the only reason he peers into the crowd; it’s not. He also can’t help but wait for a certain person, for a very specific face to show up.

But minutes pass by and soon turn into an hour and then into two, and he almost gives up.

He stares blankly at one of the gems — Colombian emerald, a hundred carats of the purest green, — he was ecstatic to get his hands on it, and yet right now it looks dull, and it brings him no joy. He sees a gleam of the same color out of the corner of his eye and disregards it at first, but then he casts his gaze to the side, and his breathing hitches.

She did come, and when he sees her, his heart not only skips a bit but does a full-on salto.

Her dress is brighter than any emerald — the material flows, following every curve of her body, with a coyly slit up to the middle of her thigh. The waves of her hairdo fall to one side, and his eye trails her collarbones, the line of her neck, and moves up to her lips that are blooming red, radiant like rubies. She is so beautiful, all the gemstones pale in comparison, and he can’t tear his gaze away.

She goes straight to Aemond as if there are no other people in the gallery — she maneuvers between them but only looks at him, a familiar smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“It’s safe to say your efforts paid off,” she gestures at the crowd when she’s at arm’s reach. “I think congratulations are in order,” the words flow from her lips like honey.

He blinks a few times, then comes to his senses and finds his voice.

“Thank you,” he musters in response. “I suspect the gems are to blame,” he remarks and tries to put on his usual cold self-restraint. She isn’t having any of it.

“With so many of them, I can’t decide what to look at first,” she comes closer, boldly and unabashed, and he’s enveloped in her perfume, in the warmth of her gaze. He takes the hint.

“I can give you a tour,” he offers, and her smile grows wider. Then her eyes glide over the emerald, and she taps on the protective glass:

“This one seems rather pricey.”

“It was,” Aemond agrees, clasping hands behind his back, very pleased with himself. “Comes from the Muzo mines, a square octagon-cut 100.2-carat emerald.”

“The shape does help to convey the color depth of the stone,” she hums with satisfaction, but her eyes are on Aemond again. Seeing his questioning look, she adds: “The cut of a gem is what determines its value, isn’t it?”

He only manages to nod because her thigh brushes his, and he doesn’t even pretend to pay attention to the gemstone. Neither does she, taking him by the arm:

“So, what’s next on our tour?”

>>> He guides her from one display to the other, and they move further away from the crowd, into smaller halls, less noisy and dimly lit, the gemstones being the only bright spot in each room. She asks questions, and their conversation flows, but he quickly notes that she knows more than she’s letting on.

“You seem well-versed on the topic yourself,” Aemond assumes as they take a stop in front of yet another stand. The yellow diamond on it catches the light and sparkles like a little sun.

“My father held a great appreciation for gemstones of all sorts,” she reveals, with a tinge of sadness in her voice. “I guess I’ve learned a thing or two from him.”

“Are you a collector too?”

She softly laughs, and her gaze turns playful:

“I value the rare beauty of them but... I think I find the buying process more exciting. It’s all about the chase,” she murmurs, leaning into him just a bit.

She’s mesmerizing, she’s a charade, and he’s captivated beyond understanding. But before he can say anything else, a loud noise shatters the silence between them — the fire alarm goes off. А monotone voice on the speaker orders everyone to leave the building.

“That’s odd,” Aemond mumbles, more to himself. He hears people’s voices in the distance and gently takes her by the hand. “We should go too.”

“Maybe it’s a false alarm?” she doesn’t move. “I am sure the security will turn it off in a minute. With how well this place is guarded, you have nothing to worry about, right?”

It dawns on Aemond that he didn’t think once about the safety of the gemstones in the last hour, and it’s just as concerning as the unexpected evacuation. To add to his worry, the overhead lighting goes off.

“We should wait for the emergency generator to kick in,” she suggests, not bothered in the slightest. He should find it weird, but he can only think of how close she is, how the faint light from the display contours her face.

“Um, it will take — ”

“About three minutes,” she finishes up for him. “We just need to find a way to pass the time.”

“I think I’ve told you all there is to know about the collection,” Aemond lightly chuckles. “Unless you got any other ideas?”

“Well, I don’t usually do that but...,” she says quietly, looking up at him as her hand lies on his shoulder, then slowly moves to his neck.

“Do what?” he is caught off guard, he can’t concentrate on anything other than the movement of her palm. “Do you want to —”

“You talk too much,” she interrupts him with a smile, her finger tugging at the collar of his shirt, and then her lips cover his, and the words die down on his tongue, and all the sounds disappear.

Her lips are rubies but they feel like silk, intoxicating like wine, and before he can think it over, he kisses her back, and he can’t think of anything else, and his hands find her waist so easily he wishes to never keep them away. She allows him to lead this time, to set the pace, his fingers tugging her closer, his mouth fervid — and he’s insatiable, and he wants to leave her as breathless as he is. He succeeds in that.

When they part, the light is already on.

“I didn’t mean to take your attention away from your precious stones,” she breathes out.

“I think I got a hold of another one,” Aemond trails for her lips, but she laughs against his mouth.

“I meant actual gems.”

“I can recognize a real gem from a fake one,” he retorts and brushes away a strand of her hair that fell loose.

“Can you?” she throws him a cunning look and bites her lower lip. “Oh, Aemond,” she then gets quiet, almost hesitant, her gaze hinting at something unsaid, something important. “You should’ve let me make the last bid,” she whispers all of a sudden.

He stares at her in confusion, and there’s a ringing concern in the back of his head, a nascent hunch. Simultaneously, another realization kicks in:

“You never told me your name,” Aemond finally grasps.

“And you never told me yours, you just assumed I knew it,” she’s not offended, she is very much enjoying it. “I did,” she traces the contour of his jaw with her index finger.

He’s about to say something else when they hear hurried footsteps approaching.

“Mr. Targaryen, we were hoping you would — Oh,” the guard falls silent upon seeing them. The man reads the room and gets clearly abashed but Aemond doesn’t.

“I would what?” he asks, unfazed, not removing his hand from her waist.

“I just wanted to inform you it was a false alarm, but we are going through the cameras to look for any suspicious activity,” the guard explains, then holds a pause. “Maybe you would want to join us?”

Aemond looks at her, his face expression apologetic, but she doesn’t make an issue out of it.

“You should go,” she encourages. “Make sure that everything is fine.”

He doesn’t want to but he has to, they both know that. What he doesn’t know is why he feels the need to make promises to the woman he’s only met twice.

“It will only be a couple of minutes,” his hand glides down and captures hers.

“Take your time,” her thumb careless his palm, and then she lets him go. He feels her gaze on him on the way out.

>>> Aemond walks through the empty halls and corridors, catching a glimpse of Helaena and Aegon standing outside with all the guests, his brother’s hand draped over her shoulder, both laughing at something. He’s glad that everyone is safe — he is also glad that Aegon won’t get a chance to tease him. Aemond is pretty sure there’s a red hue left on his lips but he only thinks of it when he walks into the security room, and it’s too late to wipe it off.

“Anything caught your attention?” he nonchalantly asks the guards that are watching the security footage.

“Nothing so far,” one of them informs. “The evacuation went without complications, took us about seven minutes — started with the green hall, all according to the plan,” he proudly states. Aemond absentmindedly nods.

“And what was it with the light?”

“Oh, that,” the man frowns. “Something set off the emergency reboot of the system. All our guys were outside, so we sent one of the security men who stayed back at the site to check the generator.”

That string of words bothers Aemond.

“Stayed at the site — you mean, in one of the halls?” he guesses. “Which one was it?”

“The green one, it’s closest to the basement,” the guard tells him without a second thought.

Aemond thinks of the floor plan, then counts the minutes in his head. Then he realizes:

“So the emerald remained unguarded the longest.”

>>> He’s the first one to run out of the room — and the first one to reach the green hall, his heart racing. But, despite his worst fears, the gem is still there. Untouched, big, green, dull.

... Dull.

Aemond watches it silently, and the gears in his head start turning faster. He comes up to the stand, eye fixed on the emerald.

“Take it out,” he asks, his tone commanding. “Now.”

A member of the staff gets the gem from under the glass cover, and Aemond takes the emerald in his hand, then turns his phone’s flashlight on. Under direct light, the jewel radiates a rainbow of colors, bright and iridescent. Just like plain glass. To prove his theory further, he drags the bezel of his platinum watch over the stone’s surface — and it leaves a very evident scratch.

Someone gasps behind his back, and there’s no need to say it out loud. Still, he does:

“It’s fake,” Aemond concludes.

The invited jewelry expert holds a hand to his heart.

“But it’s not possible! Not possible,” he muses. “The cameras were on for the duration of the day, we’ve got the footage right here!”

They were on today, but not the day before, Aemond notes. He drags out all the pieces of information he can think of — coincidences, memories, words:

“The man you’ve got your diamond from was some tech developer,”

“My father held a great appreciation for the gemstones,”

“The preparations seem extensive,”

“It’s all about the chase,”

“You should’ve let me make the last bid,”

— and the puzzle comes together.

“God damn it,” he says under his breath, closing his eye.

And then, while everyone looks clueless, Aemond lets out a laugh. There is no anger in it — if anything, he feels relieved. For him, the chase has gotten quite tiresome. But oh so worth it, he thinks.

“You can put it back and invite everyone in,” Aemond gives the emerald to the expert who seems doubtful.

“But what of its authenticity?”

“Well, just don’t let anyone take it out and put it under a flashlight,” Aemond sneers. Then he turns to the guards: “Can you show me the yellow hall?”

When he sees the place empty, he rushes out without another word.

>>> The sunset spreads over the sky, flooding it with orange and crimson, and Aemond searches for her in the crowd and in the street but to avail at first. His eye roves over the mass of faces, bodies, vehicles passing by — and then falls on the other side of the canal. He recognizes her in a heartbeat.

She changed back into jeans and a t-shirt, with a leather jacket thrown over, a black motorbike parked next to her. The wind ruffles waves of her hair and the hem of her shirt, and Aemond wishes he could sneak his hands under it again. He doesn’t know if she sees him in the side mirror or if she feels his gaze — he hopes it’s the latter — but she turns to him, and their eyes meet.

She flashes him a smile that lits up her whole face and then turns into laughter. Aemond can’t hear her but he remembers the sound of it, and the corners of his mouth tilt up. It feels like there’s no distance separating them, no people, and no channel of water strewn with fallen cherry blossoms. She taps at the pocket of her jacket and points at him — he looks down at his suit and in a second he catches on to what she means. Aemond puts a hand in his pocket and finds a piece of paper inside. It’s small and gently folded, it’s the same cursive he’ll recognize anywhere:

“Didn’t get a chance to tell you last time — you really should invest in a better security system. Makes me wonder how good is the one you have at home. Maybe I should check it out.

Until next time, Y/N.”

When he looks up, she’s already left, but the smile doesn’t leave his face.

He doesn’t know if it’s a challenge or a date.

But he can’t wait to see her again. * “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t expect you to be here.”

✧ the original dress in all its glory ✧ “The Lady with the Veil” 💕 another fic where the girl makes the first step 🔞 another fic with a green dress

💚 my masterlist

English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes. reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

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