#in the beginning I had to do a few night shifts in a different city and there was to other way to get there and in the end it was fine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marthawrites · 7 months

Note

"don't shut me out. please"

I hope it is not too late for me to join the celebration ☺️ Congratulations! 💕👏🏼

Thank you sooososo much! You are such a gem and I appreciate all of your fandom love more than you know! I did my best to include a (one shot appropriate) slow burn, angst, and a happy ending. I hope you enjoy this ride MWAH!

Summer's End, Autumn's Beginning

Modern Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Word Count: 6.3k+

About: A chance encounter with Aemond leads to a whirlwind of emotions. Over the next few months you both fail, in yourselves and in the relationship, and learn from the mistakes.

Includes: Chance encounter, age difference (references to Aemond x Alys) mentions of cheating, allusions to cheating, angst, second chance romance, and smut featuring vaginal fingering, possessive sex, and unprotected protected vaginal sex

Note: Hello lovely reader! This is the longest piece I've wrote in quite awhile - whew! I also feel like it's one of the more ambitious one-shot fics I've worked on/completed. Reader is non-descript. As always, please, enjoy!

There were two things tied for number one on your five-year goal list.

First, be out of your city apartment (preferably as a home owner and not a renter)

Second, have a dog.

They went hand in hand. One couldn’t happen without the other. So, it was a hard tie and you weren’t willing to budge on either. Until then, to take the edge off your self-proclaimed animal loneliness, you volunteered at a local shelter two nights a week. Mondays and Wednesdays.

While your day job wasn’t a doctor, lawyer, or professional athlete – ones that your family pushed you to have while growing up – it still paid decently and had the potential for career advancement. And! You were able to live on your own. Not having a roommate was worth the dry job description. Besides, your boss was fair and most of your co-workers were friendly; a win win, really.

Tonight, Monday, you finished your shift, went home to change, then headed out to the shelter. Even though it was all volunteer hours you valued punctuality and did your best to get there around the same time each night.

“Hey! You made it!” Arryk called out to you when you stepped inside the building. Chaos sparked all around. He did a great job running and maintaining the schedule, and with the help of volunteers alongside regular staff, it was, more often than not, smooth sailing. Tonight, however, it appeared quite the opposite.

“Hey! Yeah, a few minutes later than usual, sorry!” You said as you walked over to him.

He waved a hand brushing off your apology. “No worries. We had a few people call in today. So, since being short staffed we’re definitely running behind. I know you normally help bathe the dogs with Baela tonight, but can I ask you to do something else instead?” He winced slightly with his question, unsure of your answer. He knew how much you loved Baela and cleaning the dogs!

You squinted at him suspiciously. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, crossing your arms. “You know I won’t administer shots. If I could get over my fear of needles I’d be a veterinarian and not an office worker like I am!” You scrunched your brows before one, all on its own accord, arched up dubiously.

“Ha!” He laughed. “No no no, I know. We have six dogs that need walking tonight. And I don’t think Targaryen can handle all of ‘em.”

“Helaena? She’s back?” You asked, eyes bright with surprise.

“She’s still away for that college trip. It’s her younger brother, Aemond. Have you met him before?”

You’d heard Helaena talk about him, of course, but you’d never met him. Shaking your head, you peered around the shelter looking for anyone else with the Targaryen tell-tale silver-blonde hair. No one caught your eye. “I haven’t. But, I don’t mind.”

“You are a lifesaver!” He praised. “He’s down the west hall getting them ready. Depending on how long you're here afterward, there might be another couple who could use a second walk. Terriers. You know how they are.”

“Happy to help, Arryk!” He was a good guy. You’d always liked him.

“Aemond’s tall, towheaded as the rest of his family, and has an eyepatch. You can’t miss him.” And with that Cargyll switched tasks and got right back to work.

Turning and walking down the west hall, you were happy to say, chaos began to fizzle out. This hall had the larger dogs; no wonder Aemond wouldn’t be able to walk all six at once. Even with the slow turn of summer to autumn sunset wouldn’t be for another three hours. Assuming all went well you’d be able to walk the second batch of dogs, too.

Down the aisle were five opened doors with each respective dog ready for their walk. Their leashes were hooked onto the door so they couldn’t run amuck. You patted and scratched them, earning yourself more wagging tails, a few happy barks, and some excited licks. Looking to the end of the hall you saw someone who you assumed was your evening walking partner. He was kneeling, talking soothingly to a great big senior hound, while clasping the final buckle of their harness. “Hello, uh-, Aemond?” You called out feeling slightly self-conscious.

Still kneeling, he turned his head to look up at you. Any softness in his single eye quickly hardened to match the rest of his sharp features. “Hey,” he said, caught off guard by your presence; someone he’d never seen calling him out by name. “Is there something I can help you with?” Slowly, in a single fluid motion, he stood up and the aged dog kept his eyes on him the whole time, panting happily.

Whoa. He was tall. And, at first sight, incredibly good looking: dressed in casual black clothes, long silver hair tied into a braid, with a scar along the left side of his face that you had to tell yourself not to stare at. His mouth was a unique shape, too, and you weren’t sure if he was merely waiting for a response or if he was smirking the tiniest pout at you. “Hi,” you said again with a nervous laugh. You told him your name. “Arryk sent me. Said you could use some help with the walk tonight?” ‘Play it cool, dummy. He’s really handsome, so what? He could be a huge asshole. Play. It. Cool,’ your inner voice said.

Did he have a mechanical eye beneath his patch? The way he looked at you, then, made you feel like he read your thoughts. “Ah. I could certainly use the help,” he said smoothly with a small curve of lip, turning his attention to the three dogs at the front of the hallway. “Wanna take those three?” He asked, looping the big dog’s leash around his wrist. “I mean, you can have any of them as long as I get this guy. He’s my favorite.”

Your pulse raced a little too fast. Clearing your throat, you smiled in an attempt to ease the butterflies in your belly. “I don’t mind. Why is he your favorite?” You turned and began to unclasp leashes from their doors; happy tips and taps of claws growing louder at the pups’ excitement.

“Reminds me of my girl at home,” Aemond replied, adoration clear in his voice. “Big and old, a little stinky, a little slobbery. The best kind, really.”

“Aw, that’s very sweet. I don’t have any pets. I get my fix here,” you laughed. Holding all three dogs in one hand, you pulled the door open with the other. Except, it didn’t open. On instinct, you tried again hoping Aemond didn’t notice.

He strode up next to you with the rest of the dogs in tow, smirking at you for real this time, as he said, “it’s a push door.”

You knew it was a push door. Fuck. He gave you a knowing glance over his shoulder as he walked out, waiting for you to follow along.

II.

You didn’t see Aemond on Wednesday and you couldn’t deny your disappointment when you left for the night. Come to find out you two had been volunteering at the same place for months – only on different days. He tended to be there Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Monday had been a chance encounter. One you couldn’t shake out of your head.

Before leaving tonight, however, you took a selfie with Aemond’s favorite old hound. You’d exchanged numbers but hadn’t an excuse to strike up a conversation. Yet. Now, with the selfie as an excuse, you opened a fresh text thread and sent him the photo along with:

Someone missed you tonight!

While buckling up in your car and getting ready to reverse out of your parking spot, your phone dinged with an incoming message:

Very cute. Will you be there on Monday? Maybe Cargyll will assign up walking duties again.

Your belly flipped. Truthfully, you weren’t expecting him to message back – especially so quickly. Before you could stop yourself you sent back:

Yup! See you then?

And he sent:

I’ll find another excuse to be there.

Feeling a little bold, you replied:

Excited to see you again! You have these adorable dimples when you smile. Maybe I’ll see those, too?

When nothing came through for a few minutes, you feared you might have gone too far. It was just a little innocent flirting, right? Nothing bad? And then:

Maybe so. See you Monday.

Smiling, you didn’t send anything back. It’d be your luck to say something dumb and rub him the wrong way.

During your first walk, as soon as the ice broke, you both clicked really well. Hopefully – just maybe – things would flow like that again. The connection you felt, something akin to a liveware, couldn’t have been one-sided. He had to feel a spark of it, too; even if just a little.

You drove home, made dinner while facetiming one of your friends from uni, and when she asked about the spark in your eye you told her about your friend Helaena’s younger brother.

III.

“I seriously cannot believe you’ve never seen The Lord of the Rings. The Hobbit trilogy was a little silly, but watchable. But you haven’t even seen that?” Aemond asked clearly aghast at your lack of understanding his reference.

Tonight, you both got walking duty again and neither of you complained. And, this time, he regarded you with a softer look in his eye than his original sharp glance. He was dressed in dark casuals again and you hated (loved?) how good he made them look. His hair was in a bun and his eyepatch stayed firmly in place. You wanted to ask him about it but weren’t sure if you should try it yet. Instead, you rolled your eyes and laughed. “You’re making it sound better and better the more you talk about it.”

“That’s because it’s the best.” The dogs pulled both of you along and you had to walk brisker than normal to keep up with them and Aemond’s longer legs. He seemed unaffected by it.

“So, you recommend I watch it?” You asked playfully.

“No,” he started, very serious. “I recommend you read it first and then watch the movies.”

If you had more breath in your lungs you’d have giggled – not laughed, but giggled. Something about the way he said it, and the totally serious look on his face, tickled you. “Will you watch them with me?”

The question appeared to catch Aemond off guard. He looked at you, lingering over your pinkened cheeks and smirking lips, before finally making it back to your eyes. Just when he opened his mouth to say something in reply, a completely unrelated thing stole his attention. Sometime during your bantering you’d made it back to the shelter, and a tall dark-haired woman called out, “there’s my sweet Aemond. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you and you haven’t been answering your phone.”

If you thought Aemond attractive, this woman made him look like any regular ol' Joe. She was elegant, warmed by a late summer tan, and had raven dark hair cascading down her back; truly a vision of enchantment. When she sauntered to him and pressed her body to his, you felt like a voyeur watching the embrace.

“Alys,” Aemond breathed quietly. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want,” she answered as she trailed manicured fingers across the front of his chest.

She had a timeless look to her, the kind that concealed her age. She could have been anywhere from twenty-five to fifty, you thought. You really hadn’t a clue. All you knew, now, is that you should finish your task alone.

Aemond’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. Posture tense. “I told you I was busy tonight–”

Before you could stop yourself you cut him off with an awkward wave. “See you later, Aemond.” And, with that, you walked inside before you overheard anything else they might be saying to each other. Turning to glance over your shoulder one last time, you were met with a look of deliberate triumph from Alys; she had the greenest eye you’d ever seen.

It was haunting.

Driving home, you felt stupid. Aemond was just a guy you just met. It was silly to think someone like him would be single and even sillier to think your innocent flirtations would be working on him. You had half a mind to delete his number. Or, at the very least to delete the short message thread of your texts.

Instead of making dinner like you normally did, you called in delivery and facetimed with your friend as you waited. She immediately knew something was off and you were quick to tell her everything that happened.

Twenty minutes passed and you were starting to feel better. It’s not like you two hooked up or even kissed. It was just a chance meeting with playful banter. Nothing to get shook up about. “Food’s here. Thanks for listening to me. I’ll talk to you later. Love you!” You said as you got up to answer the door.

When all else failed, your favorite food could always make you feel better.

Turning the tv on and sitting down amongst your couch pillows and blankets, you were getting ready to dig in when your phone rang.

Aemond.

Your insides did a weird flip and hunger disappeared entirely from your mind and belly. Should you answer? Let it go to voicemail? Turn the stupid thing off and completely ignore him? Right before the final ring, you decided. “Hello?”

“Hey,” he said, immediately sounding relieved. “I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t yet ready to call it a night with you.”

“It’s no biggie,” you replied. Lying. “I didn’t want to interrupt anything–,” you paused, searching for something else to say to soften the edge of your voice, “–the dogs were getting tired anyway.” God. It sounded stupid even to your own ears.

Aemond sighed through the phone. You wondered if he slid his hand down his face or through his hair. It sounded like he did. “No. Alys is… it’s complicated. She’s my ex and–”

“ –you don’t have to explain anything to me,” you said, cutting him off. “Really. It’s fine.” Despite it being a phone call, you tried to smile as if it would blunt the dismissal of your tone.

“I mean it,” he said. “I really wasn’t ready to say bye yet. What do you say you skip your regular Wednesday night plans and grab a milkshake or something with me?”

Your insides flipped again but for an entirely different reason this time. You knew it: the sparks definitely weren’t one sided. The firm set of Aemond’s jaw and the rigidness of his shoulders flashed once more in your mind’s eye. Since your break up with your long-term boyfriend you’d been on a few dates, but none of them lead to anything worthwhile. With how you and Aemond clicked, however? This date might lead to something more than a hook-up (or, attempt at a hook-up. Some men truly had no game). “Are you sure…?” You asked after a moment. “You and Alys looked pretty comfortable–,”

“ –I’m sure,” it was his turn to cut you off.

“Alright then. Let’s do it.”

IV.

It'd been two months since your first milkshake date with Aemond – the first of many dates. It was a guilty pleasure of yours and apparently one of his, too!

Your first kiss, first time meeting his elder dog, Vhagar, and first time meeting his family were all memories you cherished.

The more you learned about Aemond’s relationship with Alys, the more you understood it "complicated". Including Targaryen drama, Targaryen business, and a list of other things you had a hard time following. It didn’t matter anymore, though, Aemond reassured you. Things were done between them and he only wanted you; proving it to you with fingers and mouth until you begged for a break.

A lesson you learned from your last relationship – one Aemond learned from his, too – was to be careful with love. As much as you genuinely enjoyed him and his company, a barrier stood between you that neither dared yet to cross.

Love.

Each day you fell for him a little more; you were scared to admit it. The scar of heartbreak healed slowly. Could you truly trust Aemond with that part of yourself? With the very essence of your heart? It’d been two months and you still weren’t entirely sure.

If he felt the same he’d say something, right?

Autumn blanketed the lands with brisk air, rainy days, and rolling fog. As days grew short and nights long, you and Aemond spent more time at your apartment or his quarter at the Targaryen estate. Your apartment was the clear favorite. Living alone had its perks: never having to worry about nosy family or friends who showed up unannounced.

And thank God you didn’t live with anyone else.

"Mmh… fuck, baby, I've been thinking about this all day. I can't get enough of you. Let me make my girl feel good," he said against your mouth as one of his hands moved up the inside of your thigh. "Are you wet already? I bet you are," he chuckled, fingertips tracing your slit. "Mmm… I knew it. Your clit is sooo needy, isn't it?"

Shit. Those hushed words, the glint in his eye, his rasped tone… you happily indulged him in whatever way he wanted. And him, you. Fingers, mouth, cock, he quickly learned what tricks made you melt.

As much as he loved having you ride him, or bending you over, his absolute favorite was fucking you into the mattress. You sprawled out beneath him, hair messy and fanned out around your head, legs wrapped tight around his waist, fingernails on his body… he could never get enough of your blushed face beneath him, trembling and arching as he pushed you to peak after peak.

Your sheets had never been cleaned so often in your entire life.

It was particularly rainy today and you were both finished with everything on your to-do list. Aemond sat on the floor in front of you as you lounged in your overstuffed chair. You told him you'd read the Lord of the Rings as long as he read it to you. He didn't even pretend to be annoyed by your bargain. He read to you from his own collection, claiming he liked the worn feeling of the pages better than a new book's pages.

Like any proper reader Aemond started with The Hobbit. You enjoyed it more than you thought you would. More so than the story, however, you enjoyed him reading aloud to you – he had the loveliest voice. You were about half way through The Fellowship of the Ring and the story continued to get better.

But, all afternoon, Aemond's phone never stopped going off. It seemed like every few minutes it would ping with some kind of notification. "Who's blowing you up?" You asked, annoyance creeping into your tone.

Stopping mid sentence, he looked. "Alys," he sighed as he scrolled through the various messages.

You tried to not look over his shoulder to the texts. You really did. But there was something about Aemond's shift in posture, and the air around him, that made you suspicious. "What's going on?" You asked in your best nonchalant manner.

"She's asking if I have some of her clothes at my place still," he answered and you swore you saw pink spread atop his cheeks.

That caught you off guard. "Why would she have clothes–"

And whatever else you were going to say was abruptly cut off.

There, in a new string of messages, was the single text line, "I miss you, baby boy," followed by at least three photographs of Alys in lingerie and various stages of undress.

"What the fuck Aemond!?" You asked, anger and hurt instantly warming your blood. "What the hell were those? Are you fucking joking?"

"I have no idea why she sent–"

" –is that why she left clothes at your place? Couldn't let her go for real? Jesus Christ I can't believe you." Anger flushed your face and bittered your words.

"Listen, please. Hear me out, bab–"

" –oh fuck off, Aemond, you don't get to 'babe' me around anymore. In fact, just leave."

He looked as hurt as you. And shocked. A hundred emotions played across his chiseled features. "No, really. Let me explain," he pleaded with eye and tone.

You weren't having it. You were cheated on before and he knew it. It made your own hurt cleave even deeper. You really fucking liked him. Maybe even loved him. And this whole time he had you and Alys? "I'm seriously about to get really fucking angry. Leave. Now."

He stood and left. Silent fury screamed around him like a whirlwind. He didn't even give you one final look over his shoulder.

He shut your door with a deliberate click.

You curled up in your blanket alone as fat ugly tears streamed down your face. You couldn't be bothered to grab a tissue for your snotty nose.

Aemond's leather jacket was still draped over the back of your couch and his book still lay on the floor. Your crying somehow turned uglier at the realization.

Eventually you dozed off. With Aemond, you always had your phone on silent so you didn't hear all his missed calls and texts.

The following month went by in a blur; you drowned yourself in work. You also stopped volunteering because you didn't want to give Aemond the opportunity to meet you there. By some feat of strength you ignored all his attempts at talking – and by proxy, apologizing.

The only thing you said to him was a single text:

I need time. Please understand

Part of you wondered how it affected him. His calls and texts became sparse until they eventually stopped.

Helaena asked where you'd been and you felt horrible lying to her. So, you didn't. After telling her the story she sighed and asked if you'd want to grab tea. You agreed. Meeting her at a local cafe allowed you to air out your feelings; laughs and tears alike. She was kind, and sweet, and supportive without being passive. She loved her brother but knew he had many of his own issues. You'd been friends for over a year and this was the first true heart to heart you shared.

Upon returning home you picked up the Fellowship and tried to read from where Aemond left off. But, it wasn’t the same without him and it only made you cry. Again.

VI.

The following morning, despite your car's newer model, it barely wanted to start for your drive to work. By a stroke of luck you made it there fine. And, made it back home that evening, too. But that was the end of your luck. It needed to be picked up and taken to a shop until a mechanic could see it.

Carless, you had to rely on Uber or public transportation. Yuck.

A few days of stress passed and now you were done for the week. Thank God for weekends. Unfortunately your groceries were extremely low and you would need to make a trip in the morning. You sighed and used it as an excuse to order pizza.

After waking up and a breakfast of (the last, and past its sell-by date) packet oatmeal you got around to make the walk to the nearest grocery store. Knowing you'd be walking home, too, the list was small. Carrying bags up two flights of stairs was hard enough, much less carrying them home a mile!

On the way back it started sprinkling. Great. Just great. You started walking faster with hopes of making quicker time than your leisurely stroll to the store. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, you heard your name called. Was that…? Stopping in your tracks you looked across your shoulder to the side of the road and saw none other than Aemond. You knew his car and voice anywhere. You didn't have to see yourself to know a dozen emotions played across your face.

"Hey," he said gently, his own features a mirror of yours.

"Hi," you said.

"Why are you walking in the rain with groceries?"

Slumping your unintentionally scrunched up shoulders, you sighed. "Stupid car died on me and it's been with the mechanic for almost a week."

He smiled softly. So soft. The outside of his seeing eye crinkled and emotion rushed to your chest. Your gut. "You're way too good to be walking alone. Let me drive you home at least?"

You didn't resist. How could you? "Alright. Sure. Just dropping me off though, okay?" Guilt panged your chest. Did he feel it too? Could he read it on your face he knew so well?

"Alright," he answered, expression falling just slight. You might as well have stomped on his foot with how it affected you.

I miss you. I love you. I'm sorry. Can we try it again? Can I hold your hand? God I love your hair in a ponytail. You smell good. Did you see the trailer for that new horror movie? I miss you. I love you. I'm sorry. It all turned around your head like a fucking rotisserie chicken. It shouldn't be so hard to say any of those things to him. But it was.

You didn't say anything on the short ride home. Neither did he. His right hand flexed a few times and you wondered if he was having a hard time, too.

"Can you get it all upstairs?" He asked as he pulled into an empty spot and parked, looking across to you with horribly concealed emotion.

"Yes, but…," you trailed off momentarily, trying to read his face. "I still have your book and jacket. Wanna come up and grab them?" You asked hopefully.

He killed the engine faster than you could blink. "Yes! So that's where they've been. You could have mentioned it sooner," he said slightly accusingly, grinning at you with a spark of playfulness.

Leading the way upstairs to your apartment, you unlocked the door and disappeared inside. After placing your items down and grabbing Aemond's, you turned to look at him standing in the doorway. He leaned against it. Waiting. Quiet. He glanced around with a wistfulness that made your throat tight. You watched him watching you and your home until the air became awkward – was it half a second, a few seconds, longer? You weren't sure.

Slowly you walked over to him. Your gaze flickered up at him as you handed his things back. "Were you ever going to tell me the truth?" You asked. "Did you think I really wouldn't find out? Why did you stick around if I wasn't good enough?"

He blinked. Taken back. "You never even gave me the chance to explain." His jaw feathered before it tightened. His eye hardened.

You grabbed the door, fixing to close it on him. Now that you started talking – unloading pent up questions which kept you tossing and turning at night – you couldn't decide if you wanted to slam it on his face or yell. "I told you how I was cheated on! And you did it anyway! I trusted you, Aemond." Your voice thinned, sounding shrill even to your own ears.

One of his hands braced on the door so you couldn't close it on him. "So this is your revenge then, huh? Punishing both of us? Why don't you trust me?" Hurt and fury simmered in the lovely hue of his eye. A storm. No, a hurricane. "Alys and I have been done for months. Months. Even before you and I met. I'm sorry for what she did but I can’t control what she does. She was playing her wicked games trying to sabotage us– you and me. Don't shut me out. Please."

He pleaded, every pore and line of his face begging for forgiveness. As each word came off his tongue they clicked into place in your head. He meant it. He was telling the truth. Before you could stop yourself your fists balled into the front of his shirt, pulling him down so your mouth crashed up to his. "You mean it?" You asked through the kiss.

Instantly he leaned down into you, and instantly he held onto your waist pulling you deeper against him. His other hand cradled the side of your face daring to curve along the shape of your skull. "I mean it. Yes I fucking mean it," he answered against the kiss; breath stealing yours away until it left you in a little moan.

You pulled him inside and shut the door, locking it. You moaned as he nipped and bit at your neck. Your heart thumped wildly. He sucked at the sensitive skin, again and again, pulling away just before leaving a mark. "God, Aem,” you whimpered. Goosebumps covered your body. The only thing on your mind was him.

"Fuck, I missed you. I missed you so much." His hands were somehow all over you all at once. His mouth trailed, and dragged, and kissed over any exposed portion of your skin. He happily pulled off layers of your clothing to expose more and more of your soft, warm, saccharine flesh; intoxicating him. After weeks of your separation the last thing he wanted to do was to push too far too fast. “Can I take this off?” He asked before taking your shirt off.

“Yes,” you replied breathily. “Fuck it. Take all of it off. I missed you too. So much,” you said as you helped pull his clothes off, too. He pushed you against a wall. You kissed. Heavier, and hotter, and hungrier. You pushed him against a wall.

He gasped as he smirked. “I love when you act all tough when we both know I can have you squirming under me in minutes,” he growled, pupil swelling. The dimples at the very corners of his mouth betrayed his amusement, however, as he once again pushed you against the wall. You were both only in your underwear, now, and his lean body on yours had you aching. “My tough girl… how quickly do you think it’ll last when my fingers are in you?”

“Why don’t we find out?” You asked defiantly, knowing damn well it wouldn’t last long at all. By now you were both down the hallway and your bedroom was only a couple feet away. You needed him. Now. And judging by how fucking hard he was he needed you too.

The next moment went by in a blur and before you could catch yourself you were sprawled out on your back atop your bed. Aemond made quick work of moving you both inside, and made quicker work of pulling your panties down. He groaned as your thighs immediately spilled open for him. He dragged two fingers up your slit and circled your clit with your arousal. “Shit–,” he hissed. “Never make me wait so long to have this pussy again. Do you understand me? Never,” he said as he worked your already swollen clit. He played with it just how he knew you liked it and your cunt’s tiny wet sounds sent his cock throbbing. “Answer me.”

Tension built in the low muscles of your belly. Your legs began to tighten already – one of the tell-tale signs of your approaching climax. How the hell could he push you there so quickly? “N-never! Ahh-h never again!” You replied, voice light, and sweet, and tantalizing as any sin Aemond ever knew. “Please, Aemond, I want to cum…!”

He shoved those same two fingers into you. “Good girl,” he said as he curled those fingers. “This pussy is mine. All fucking mine. Give it to me,” he said huskily as he worked them in and out of you. It was sloppy and wet. Borderline obscene. Each time he slammed his hand against you he was mindful to press the heel of his palm against your clit and your mound, knowing how the extra pressure sent your pretty toes curling.

You cried out his name as your eyes clenched shut. The tension in your belly snapped and a wave of glorious bliss washed over you. Sweat sheened between your breasts and along your lip. You arched, quivered, shuddering in the aftermath of his intensity.

Aemond’s mouth crashed to yours and you threaded your fingers through the roots of his hair. It was still in a ponytail and you had no mind to take it out, you just had to pull him deeper into the kiss. He tasted the salt of your sweat and groaned. “Relax your pussy, baby, you’re clenching me really hard. It feels amazing but I don’t wanna hurt you pulling out,” he said tenderly, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck.

“Sorry,” you giggled. “Just feels too good.” You tried to steady your breath and relax as he laid beside you, continuing to kiss your neck and shoulders. When your spongy walls finally eased around him you were sad to feel him withdraw. Stress melted away from your subconscious and you wanted to thank him for the pleasure. You wondered if your eyes said it while he looked at you.

Leaning up, he discarded the final piece of his clothing and sighed in relief as his cock sprang free. He got between your thighs and looked down at you hungerily. “Look at you all doe eyed already. See? I knew you couldn’t stay tough for long,” he said, smug, as he lined up with your drenched cunt. He held one of your legs up against him, and you pressed the other against his side.

When you left for the store this morning you had no idea your afternoon would go in this direction.

He pushed into you. Inch by inch he sunk into you and soon he was as deep as he could be. A moan escaped both of you, and a throatier one left him when his free hand tugged at your bra. It was one that clipped in the front. He popped it open and rocked into you as soon as your tits spilled free. "You're so sexy like this."

With your body already sensitive from your first orgasm, and now with Aemond building a rhythm between your thighs, you weren't going to last long. "You feel so good," you purred, eyelids heavy. "Fuck I missed you."

Another sound left his chest and when you wrapped your legs around his slim waist you swore you felt goosebumps pebble all along his skin. Or, maybe those were your goosebumps on your legs. Whatever the case, Aemond leaned forward and kissed you again. "I missed you too," he rumbled. "Gonna let me fill this pretty pussy with my cum again?"

You two made good use of your birth control and you weren't about to deny him – or yourself – the pleasure of being thoroughly fucked and stuffed. "Y-yeah," you stammered, smiling.

Aemond mumbled something incoherent into your neck, and if your brain wasn't foggy from his perfect fucking cock you might have caught what he said.

He leaned up and supported himself on his forearms, pressing his forehead to yours. "You're my girl. You're my fucking girl. You're my fucking girl," he repeated again and again until the pace of his thrusts grew sloppy. Somehow the sloppiness of it, the neediness and urgency of his voice, sent emotion swelling in all of you.

Heat collected and grew out from your spine, webbing throughout your entire body. You clung to him desperately. You rolled your hips up into him and shamelessly grinded your clit against his pelvis as he drove in and out of you. It was all too much. You crumbled beneath him and let orgasm take control of you. The depths of your body squeezed and convulsed around him, holding him tight and soaking the fullness of his length with your slick. He never stopped or paused his thrusts.

His own peak followed. Once he was as deep as he could be he released everything he had into you. He stayed there, both of you panting through little moans, until he no longer twitched between your stretched walls. Slowly, he pulled out, and slowly, his seed dribbled out of you. Grinning, he rolled onto his back and scooped you against him.

"Let's stay here like this all day," you mumbled happily, fingertips trailing up and down his abdomen and chest.

"You'll get no argument from me," he said.

Quiet minutes passed and the sound of his heart nearly put you into a trance. "I'm sorry for how I acted," you finally admitted.

All the while he'd been petting and trailing his fingers through your hair. He didn't stop as he answered, "and I'm sorry for not trying harder." He kissed your forehead and held you tighter.

"Let's try it again. For real this time. With the titles and commitment and everything."

"Are you asking or telling me to be your boyfriend?"

You smirked. "I'm suggesting."

Returning your smirk, he pulled you atop him so you could straddle him. "You're all mine," he said with a dark eye. "My perfect girl."

Leaning down, you kissed and nipped his bottom lip. "Are you already hard again, Aemond Targaryen?"

A chuckle rumbled somewhere in his chest as his touch dented into your hips to hold you at just the right angle. With a roll of his hips he pushed himself up inside you again. "Whose cock is this?"

You gasped, eyes darkening with another round of lust. "Mine."

"That's right. Yours. Not anyone else's. It's fucking yours."

You rode him until your tits were covered in fresh hickies and you were filled with another load of him.

Yours. His. The second chance you both needed.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

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Masterlist

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#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #modern aemond #aemond smut #aemond fic #aemond imagine #request

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weemssapphic · 4 months

Note

Could I request a fluff fic for Miranda :0?

Maybe the weathers getting colder, cuffing szn etc Miranda falls for one of her neighbors who keeps bringing her baked goods, she’s unaware that said neighbor likes her!!! (unaware queen). Literally anything cute and sweet to get me thru the treacherous winter of Northern Europe HAHA

A/N: Hello! Sooooo a. this became a bit more of a Christmas fic than a winter fic, I hope that's okay, and b. I also failed to finish it before Christmas as I had originally planned 🥴 buuut I do hope you enjoy anyway! HUGE shoutout to @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze and @agathaandgwenslesbian for beta'ing and hyping me up to post this, I love you both 🥺💖

Merry Christmas, Baby

Words: ~6.3k | ao3 link in title Warnings: mentions of alcohol/drinking, cigarettes/smoking

You’ve been living in your new apartment for about three months now, after leaving home and moving all the way to Australia for work. You like to think you’ve settled in well: you’re starting to get into a routine, you’ve managed to decorate most of your apartment and make it feel like home, Sydney isn’t as daunting as it was in the beginning - you were even able to give a tourist directions the other day.

The only thing missing is, well, friends. You get along well enough with your coworkers, they’ve been welcoming and have even started to invite you out. But more weekends than not you find yourself exploring the city on your own or hanging out on your couch with takeout, watching Netflix and thinking about your friends back home. You try to FaceTime them as often as you can, but the time difference makes it hard, and sometimes it makes you sad to ‘see’ them and know you can’t just meet up like you used to.

To stave off some of the loneliness you’ve been feeling, you’ve spent the past few weeks attempting to meet more people - and one person in particular has caught your eye: your neighbor, Miranda. You met her in the hallway during your first week in the building - she’d come up the stairs as you were fumbling with your keys, struggling a bit as your arms were full of groceries. She’d immediately offered to help, her eyes wide and her smile bright as she’d rushed over to you and grabbed the grocery bags right out of your hands. The way she looked down at you, watching your every move with great interest as you unlocked your door, brought a flush to your cheeks that only got worse during the subsequent small talk.

Your interactions since then have been a bit sparse - you keep hoping you’ll catch a glimpse of her in the hallway, but you rarely do. Sometimes you’ll hear her apartment door fall shut late at night as you’re falling asleep, or you’ll hear her footsteps on the stairs early in the morning while you’re still getting ready - wherever she works, she seems to have irregular shifts.

~~~

It’s a Sunday evening and you’re spending it alone (again). When your friend back home had canceled your scheduled FaceTime call at the last minute, you’d decided to distract yourself by baking. As you put together the ingredients for blueberry muffins, you find your mind wandering to your tall, blonde neighbor - wondering what it is she does for work, where she’s from (you thought you caught a British accent but you weren’t sure anymore), whether or not she’s seeing anyone…

The sound of the timer pulls you out of your thoughts and you turn off the oven and pull the muffin tray out, setting it on the counter. Your heart sinks when you realize there’s no way you’re going to finish them all by yourself. You suppose you could bring some to work… You bite your lip, your brow furrowing as you stare down the baked goods. Perhaps you could bring Miranda some? Butterflies erupt in your tummy when you picture her opening her front door, her lips stretching into a smile that reaches her bright blue eyes. Perhaps she would invite you in, perhaps the two of you would spend the evening on her couch, getting closer by the hour as you get to know one another. Perhaps…

You shake your head, trying not to get ahead of yourself. You’ll just stop by with a few muffins and see what happens. Maybe she’ll be busy. Or she won’t even be home and you’ll be forced to leave them next to her door.

After preparing a small basket of baked goods and changing from your rattiest sweatpants into a pair of jeans, you slip out of your apartment and cross the hall. Your heart begins to pound, your hands turning clammy as you bring your fist up to Miranda’s door. After a brief moment’s hesitation and a deep breath, you knock.

At first, you’re met with silence - your heart sinks a bit, and you try to ignore the little pang of disappointment that begins to creep up on you. But just as you’re about to turn around, you hear a shuffling behind the door. It opens just a crack - you hear an “Oh!” - and then it swings open fully, revealing Miranda in a navy bathrobe. Her hair is wet, slicked back - one strand falls over her eyebrow and she pushes it back, a smile growing on her lips as she looks down at you.

“Hello,” she says, sounding a little breathless. You feel yourself flush as you realize you must have caught her just out of the shower - perhaps it took her so long to answer the door because she wasn’t dressed yet, and the thought makes you slightly dizzy.

“Hi.” You can’t help but gawk a bit, and the thought of just dropping the muffins at her feet and leaving before you can make a fool of yourself briefly crosses your mind.

Her brows furrow slightly and so do yours, before you realize that you should probably say something else.

“I just wanted to…” You gesture vaguely at the basket you’re holding. “If this is a bad time, I can come back later,” you manage to stutter out, focusing all your efforts on keeping your eyes on her face.

“Oh, you’re alright,” Miranda says, craning her neck a bit to catch a glimpse at what you’re holding. “Are those muffins?”

“Yeah. For you.” You thrust your arms out, holding the basket towards her. Her eyes widen, darting between you and the basket as she takes it from you.

Her entire face seems to light up with excitement - she looks positively giddy. “Did you make these?”

“Yes! Yeah. I like baking. And I made too many. So I thought I would see if you want some.”

The smile that’s broken out across Miranda’s face is one you wish you could save and put in your pocket to look at on your worst days. It lights up her entire face, making her eyes sparkle and her nose crinkle - it’s the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen. You’re so distracted by it that you nearly miss her next words.

“Would you like to come in? I was going to make some tea.”

“Sure.”

You blush as Miranda steps aside, allowing you to step over the threshold of her apartment. She shuts the door behind you then walks past you into her kitchen. Even the way she walks is attractive to you - the mesmerizing sway of her hips, the way she pushes her shoulders back and swings her arms, her long strides. Taking a deep breath, you follow her and lean against the door frame, watching as she sets down the muffins on the counter and puts on the electric kettle.

“I didn’t know if you’d be home,” you say, breaking the silence. You’re a bit embarrassed that your voice comes out hoarse, and you clear your throat. “I don’t see you around much. Do you do shift work?”

Miranda glances back at you as she rummages through the cupboards for two mugs. She smiles softly. “Sort of. I’ve been on call a lot lately.”

“Oh.” You cock your head to the side. “What do you do?”

“I’m, uh, a police constable.”

Your eyes widen as you process the information. It makes sense, you realize - and then you feel your mouth go dry as you picture Miranda in a police uniform.

“What do you do?”

Her question breaks you out of your trance, and you can feel your cheeks turn red. “Oh, um, that’s… I work in accounting.” You swallow back your embarrassment at having a “boring” desk job, your eyes darting around Miranda’s kitchen - anything to avoid meeting her gaze.

“Steady work then,” she says - you can hear the smile in her voice and you dare to steal a glance at her face. Her expression is soft, completely at ease, and you can’t help but feel your shoulders relax a little. “How come you moved to Sydney? Did you move here for a guy?”

A sound between a snort and a chuckle escapes your lips and you quickly look away again. “Nope.” You want to say that you’re more into women, but you get nervous and something stops you. “I just needed a change of scenery. I figured moving to an English-speaking country would be easiest, and I thought the weather here would be nicer than in the UK.”

Miranda laughs a full-belly laugh, throwing her head back. “I’m from the UK, you know.”

“Tell me I’m wrong then,” you tease with a grin.

Her eyes flicker briefly over your form, an amused grin on her face. “You’re… you’re not wrong.” She ducks her head in surrender - then the kettle goes off and she turns to busy herself with preparing the tea.

“So why did you move to Sydney then?”

“My boyfriend at the time was Australian.” Miranda hands you one of the mugs, then leans back against the counter, taking a sip of her own tea and observing you carefully. You try not to let on to the way that your stomach sinks when you hear the word “boyfriend” - it doesn’t mean she’s straight, you remind yourself (and besides, even if she did like women - it doesn’t mean she’d like you). You nod and hum in acknowledgment, hoping to come off as casual and unaffected as you sip your tea.

Miranda sets down her mug and reaches over the small kitchen table to grab a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Once again you find yourself mesmerized as long, slender fingers pull a cigarette out of the pack, placing it between her pale lips as she lights it.

For a moment, she seems unaware of your presence - she takes a deep drag from the cigarette, her fingers playing with the lighter as she exhales a cloud of smoke. Then her eyes fall to your face and widen slightly. “Oh, God, sorry. Do you mind?”

You shake your head - it’s not your apartment so it’s not like you have a say anyway, and, if you’re honest, you find it a bit hot. “Go ahead, it’s your apartment.”

She shoots you a grateful smile and takes another drag from the cigarette. “You want one?”

You nod and she tosses you the pack. Once you’ve plucked a cigarette from it, she steps towards you. “Here, let me,” she says, moving to light it for you as her own cigarette dangles from between her lips. She gets closer than would probably be necessary and her proximity makes you feel a little faint - you can smell the shampoo in her still-damp hair, and the smoke on her breath. Your eyes are trained on the lighter - when the flame goes out, you glance up, only to be met with the brightest blue eyes you’ve ever seen. They’re even lighter than you initially thought and her gaze is intense - it’s slightly overwhelming.

“Thanks,” you whisper hoarsely, forcing yourself to blink and take a step back. Miranda’s eyes are fixed curiously on your face as she plucks her cigarette from between her lips. She tilts her head, her lips parting into a smile.

“What?” There’s a playful edge to her voice and her eyes sparkle with mischief. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You freeze, your cheeks turning pink. “Like what?”

“You find me intimidating, don’t you?” You open your mouth to argue but she cuts you off, gesturing down the length of her body. “It’s my height, isn’t it? I get that a lot.”

“It’s not- I mean…” You shrug lamely, taking a sip of your tea to give yourself a moment to think. “It’s not you, I’ve just had a long day. A long few months, actually.” Okay, so you’re deflecting - but it feels way too nice just to bask in Miranda’s presence, and you don’t want it to end so soon by making things awkward.

Miranda’s face softens in an instant, little creases appearing between her brows. “From the move? It can be so hard to uproot your life like that.”

It’s a phrase you’ve heard before - people trying to sympathize with you, looking for something meaningful to say. But with Miranda, it feels different. With the way she’s looking at you, it feels like she truly understands.

~~~

In the past few weeks you’ve gotten into the habit of bringing Miranda baked goods - always on the pretext of having made extras for work and other neighbors (though you never have any intention of giving them to anyone except Miranda). It’s more than worth the hours spent in the kitchen to see the smile that lights up her face when she answers the door. Sometimes she invites you in for tea and a cigarette, sometimes there’s only time for a bit of small talk before one of you needs to get going - but each time, butterflies erupt in your belly and you find yourself wishing you were brave enough to make a move.

What you don’t know is that Miranda finds herself wishing the same thing. Sure, she loves everything you make her (nothing you’ve ever baked her has lasted more than 2 days at most), but the real reason her face breaks into a splitting grin when she answers the door is because it’s you who’s standing there.

Miranda can’t get enough of you - you’re easy to talk to, you make her laugh, you seem to take her as she is. And you’re damn beautiful. The most exciting part of her week is wondering on which evening you’ll come by unannounced after work, and she finds herself praying she’ll have the time to talk to you.

One such evening, you’ve come over with a tray of red velvet cupcakes - decorated with festive little Christmas tree sprinkles. Miranda’s just gotten off a shift and has the evening off, and she’s never been more grateful as she leads you into her kitchen and turns on the kettle. You make yourself right at home, settling on a kitchen chair and tucking your legs underneath you as you reach for the pack of cigarettes on the table - it’s almost become a routine now, and you look like you belong there. Miranda likes that thought more than she’d care to admit.

Still, despite how often you’ve come by lately, she feels there’s still some sort of barrier between the two of you. Your conversations are the best part of her week, yet they tend to feel a bit… shallow. She’s desperate to get to know you better but she’s holding herself back - the fear of driving you away, of being too much for you to handle, causes her to freeze up. You’re just being nice, trying to make new friends in Australia, and here she is, falling for you one red velvet cupcake at a time.

“Mir?” Your voice pulls her out of her thoughts and she looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. She tries desperately to remember what you were talking to her about, but she realizes quickly that her efforts are futile - she was too busy admiring the lock of hair falling across your cheek, the way you ran your fingers through your hair to push it back.

“Sorry.” She offers you a sheepish smile, her cheeks slowly turning scarlet.

You smile back, and her heart skips a beat. “I asked if you’re staying in Sydney for Christmas or if you’re going back to London?”

“I’m staying here. I work on Christmas, so…” She frowns slightly - she hasn’t gone home for Christmas in a few years. Usually, she works and spends her off-hours curled up in bed watching Christmassy rom-coms by herself. She’s gotten used to it. “Are you? Going home for Christmas?”

“Nah. I blew all my savings in the move, can’t afford the plane ticket.” Something about the way you shrug your shoulders, your gaze dropping to the floor, tells Miranda that your nonchalance is a front.

“Would you like to come over?” Miranda, what are you saying? “We could cook something and watch a movie together.” Miranda, shut up! “Maybe you could sleep over and we could keep each other company.” Oh, great, now you’ve done it! Miranda’s eyes widen as she realizes what she’s saying, but she can’t take it back now - and, to be honest, she doesn’t want to take it back. Her heart hammers wildly against her ribcage as she waits for you to reply. It only takes you seconds, really, but those few seconds might as well be hours as time slows and Miranda begins to find it hard to breathe.

“Oh, it’s fine, you don’t have to take me in! I’ll be okay, I wouldn’t want to impose.” Your words come out in a rush and your cheeks are turning pink - Miranda’s heart starts to sink and she scrambles to find the right words to save the conversation.

“You wouldn’t be imposing, I’d have just had a few beers by myself after work anyway.” She chuckles nervously, before adding, “I could use the company.”

She quickly looks away from you, finding the brief moment of vulnerability too much to handle - she couldn’t bear to see the look in your eyes at the moment, certainly one of pity or judgment.

“Oh… Well in that case, I’d love to spend Christmas with you. If that’s okay.”

Miranda’s eyes widen and she glances over at you to see you smiling shyly - her heart stutters in her chest and she feels her stomach flip pleasantly. She lets out a shaky breath, unable to stop the wide smile that’s creeping up her face. “Okay then.”

~~~

Ever since that evening in Miranda’s apartment, you’ve been buzzing with excitement. She’d ended up giving you her number so that you could plan when to come over, and it’s taken all of your restraint not to bug her every waking second - you wouldn’t want her getting sick of you and regretting inviting you over.

But as Christmas is just a few days away, you decide to shoot her a text as you’re lying in bed at night.

Y/N: Hey there, it’s Y/N! I just wanted to ask what time you wanted me to come over on Christmas? :)

You toss your phone aside, not expecting Miranda to text back anytime soon - it’s already late, after all. When your screen lights up moments later, however, your heart begins to pound.

Miranda: Hey! Miranda: I work until 4 Miranda: So evening I would say

Y/N: How does 6 sound? Is that too early?

Miranda: That sounds perfect :)

Y/N: Great! Should I bring anything?

Miranda: Just yourself ;) Miranda: Wait Miranda: Actually Miranda: Do you remember the cookies you brought me last week?

Y/N: What, am I not enough for you? ;) Y/N: (I’ll make some more)

Miranda: Are you sure?

Y/N: Absolutely!! Anything for my favorite neighbor.

Miranda: You’re too good to me

By the time you’re done texting her, you’re grinning down at your phone like an idiot. The screen goes black and you catch sight of your reflection - you blush and bury your head in your pillow. For the first time since you moved, you’re actually starting to get excited for Christmas.

~~~

Three days later you’re wrapping up a pair of Christmas pajamas (red, covered in little white snowflakes - you have a matching pair) to give to Miranda - you want to give her something for Christmas, but you don’t know her all that well yet to get her something personal. Still, you think (or at least, you hope) she’ll find the pajamas silly and fun.

Armed with the gift, a huge tupperware box full of candy cane cookies, your keys, and your phone, you pad across the hall and knock gently on Miranda’s door. You hear her muffled voice yell “coming”, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps, before the door swings open. Miranda’s eyes flick briefly down your body, over the wrapped gift and the cookies, before she finally meets your gaze. She’s slightly out of breath, and her lips curl up into a smile that meets her eyes. What you would give to kiss those lips…

“Merry Christmas,” you say, smiling back and forcing your eyes to remain trained on her own.

“Right! Merry Christmas!” You could swear you see Miranda’s cheeks turn pink, but before you have time to question it she’s ushering you into her apartment, her hand coming to rest on your lower back as she steers you towards the kitchen. “I did some food shopping the other day. I wasn’t sure what you’d want to eat, I’m not usually big on holiday foods and I didn’t have time to prepare anything because of work.”

Miranda’s rambling has you swooning - you can tell she’s nervous, though you aren’t sure why. If only she knew you’d happily eat frozen pizza or cereal for Christmas dinner, as long as you get to spend it with her.

“It’s fine, I don’t care much about Christmas dinner, we can eat anything.” You hope that you’re coming off as reassuring, though you can’t really tell as Miranda blushes again and lights up a cigarette.

“Maybe a curry?” she asks, chewing at her bottom lip.

“Yeah, that sounds great. Just tell me what you need help with.”

She seems to relax a bit, heading over to the fridge and pulling out ingredients. “What do you drink? Do you want a beer?”

“Please.”

The two of you spend the next 45 minutes side by side in the small kitchen, cooking, drinking, talking - mostly it’s Miranda, telling you about her workday. When she’s done chopping vegetables, she reaches for the pack of cigarettes again - “sorry, nerves,” she says with a faint smile. You still can’t fathom what she’s nervous about but you don’t want to push her, so you shrug it off and turn your attention to the curry that’s simmering in the pan. You dip a spoon into the sauce to try it, humming in delight the second the flavors explode on your tongue.

“This is really good, try it!” Without thinking you bring the spoon to Miranda’s mouth and, without thinking, she closes her lips around it. Her eyelids flutter shut and she lets out a little noise of pleasure that’s dangerously close to a moan. Heat pools in your stomach, your eyes glued to her lips as you slide the spoon out of her mouth - it’s the first time you notice a little scar above her lip, and you swallow thickly.

You quickly avert your gaze as Miranda’s eyes open again, taking a sip of your beer as you check on the rice.

“I was thinking we could just eat in the living room and watch a movie?” Miranda suggests when the curry is done cooking. You agree and help Miranda carry the bowls and a couple bottles of beer into the living room. It’s small, like yours, and a little cluttered. There’s a string of fairy lights above the window and a small Christmas tree sat atop a side table. Miranda’s eyes follow your gaze and she chuckles.

“I actually put that up two days ago, I panicked when I realized I didn’t have any Christmas decorations up at all.”

“You didn’t have to decorate on my account,” you tease, earning yourself a laugh.

“Oh but what kind of Christmas would it be without a tree?”

“Can’t argue with that.”

Miranda smiles at you as she settles on the couch, crossing her legs and setting her bowl in her lap. She gestures for you to join her. You tuck your knees underneath you, angling your body towards her. As you eat, you fall into an easy conversation - you find yourself getting even more comfortable in Miranda’s presence, feeling right at home in her apartment. You can tell she’s relaxing as well - she stretches her legs out, her toes (clad in Christmas-themed socks) touching the side of your thigh.

“I got you something, by the way,” Miranda says suddenly, leaning over to place her almost-empty bowl on the table. You follow suit, a smile lighting up your face.

“I got you something, too - wait here!” Miranda looks somewhat surprised as you jump up and rush into the kitchen, returning with the gift you’d brought. She now has a gift of her own on her lap, and she’s picking at the edge of the wrapping paper as you settle back down beside her, a soft smile on her face.

You exchange gifts and Miranda’s chewing nervously at her bottom lip as she watches you tear open the wrapping paper. It’s a cookbook for baking - you can’t help but laugh, and you look up to see Miranda’s cheeks turn pink.

“Is this meant to be a hint?” you tease, and Miranda chuckles nervously.

“Sorry, I-”

“I love it,” you cut her off, setting the book down beside you and leaning over to wrap your arms tightly around her torso. She returns the hug - her arms are strong and comforting and you’re immediately enveloped in her scent. It takes everything in you not to kiss her.

After pulling away, you gesture eagerly to the gift that’s in her lap. She has a look of nervous excitement on her face as she begins to unwrap it - her smile widens when she takes the pjs out of the wrapping paper and holds them in front of her.

“I hope they fit, I guessed your size. I have the same ones and you seem like the type of person who would like them.”

Miranda’s eyes widen as she looks over at you, her expression nothing short of giddy. “You have the same ones? Wear them! We can match.”

Her reaction is exactly what you hoped it would be. The prospect of wearing matching Christmas pjs is both adorable and a little intimate, and you’re filled with nervous anticipation as you head across the hall to your apartment to get changed.

When you get back to Miranda’s apartment a few minutes later, the blonde is sitting on her couch with her legs tucked underneath her. She smiles so widely that her nose crinkles, and she opens her arms to you. Without a second thought, you allow yourself to be pulled into a tight hug.

“Do you like them?” you ask as you pull away.

“I love them!” The smile on her face is genuine, her eyes shining brightly, and you can’t help but blush, your entire body tingling a bit as your eyes drift down her body.

~~~

You’re about an hour into the second movie of the night and you’re already several beers deep (you’ve lost count, to be honest). You’ve scooted closer and closer to Miranda as the evening has worn on, and now you’re practically on top of her - your legs are bent at the knee, tucked against your body and resting on the outside of her thigh, your shoulder is all but glued to her own.

You drain the rest of your beer, then pout at the bottle. “It’s empty,” you say, more to yourself than to Miranda, who chuckles and shifts beside you.

“I can get you another one?”

“It’s fine,” you say with a giggle. “Maybe I should stop drinking.” You’re not drunk but you’re definitely tipsy - you turn your head to face Miranda a little too quickly and, for a brief moment, the room spins, causing you to burst into another fit of giggles.

Your eyes meet Miranda’s, before dropping to her lips and getting stuck there. They’re curled into an amused smile as she chuckles at your inebriated state - though the smile slowly fades as her brows begin to crease. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips and your own laughter quickly dies in your throat, your mouth going dry. You can tell Miranda’s breathing has gone shallow, her eyes falling to your lips. The air around you becomes thick and heavy, and Miranda’s gaze darts away.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, scrambling to scoot away - before she can get very far, your arm shoots out and holds her in place.

“What are you sorry for?” you whisper. The only sound you can hear is the pounding of your own heart in your ears as you wait for Miranda to respond. Her gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips, a lovely shade of pink rising in her cheeks.

“I-” she starts, cutting herself off as she swallows visibly.

“Do you want to kiss me?” You don’t know what prompted you to be so bold (probably the alcohol), but when a soft, barely audible whimper escapes Miranda’s throat, you can’t say you regret asking.

“Yes.”

You definitely don’t regret asking.

“I want to kiss you, too,” you whisper, leaning in slightly as you fix your gaze on soft-looking, pale pink lips that glisten slightly in the dim light of the living room. Then you stop yourself, hesitating as the room spins again. You’ve dreamed of kissing those same lips for weeks now but something is off.

The alcohol, you realize - you don’t want your first kiss with Miranda to be clouded by alcohol. You want to appreciate and remember the moment fully, you want to savor every second. So, as much as you’re dying to close the gap and absolutely ravage the lovely, beautiful woman sitting next to you, you decide to pull back. “But I’m going to wait until tomorrow. I want to be completely sober for that. And… if you still want to kiss me tomorrow… then I’ll kiss you.”

Miranda nods slowly, looking a bit dazed. “That’s, uh,” she starts, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat. “That’s a good idea.” She shifts in her seat, crossing one thigh tightly over the other. The air is still thick and heavy, and it takes everything in you not to say ‘fuck it’ and push her back onto the couch - but you mean it, you really do want to be sober for that. So you lean back, putting a few inches of distance between yourself and Miranda for the remainder of the film.

You feel yourself becoming more and more tired, and by the time the credits are rolling, you’re struggling to keep your eyes open. Pushing yourself up off the couch, you sway slightly as you make it to your feet, and immediately decide to sit back down so that you don’t fall over.

“You sure you can make it back down the hall okay?” Miranda teases, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she watches you lean back against the sofa.

You roll your eyes and shoot her a playful glare. “I’m not drunk. I’m just tired.” As if to emphasize your point, you yawn widely as you finish your last sentence - Miranda laughs.

“You can sleep here if you want,” she offers - then her face goes pale and she rushes to explain herself. “Not with me of course, but the couch is quite comfortable. Or you can take the bed and I’ll take the couch, that’s fine, too-”

She’s talking a mile a minute and it’s the most charming thing you’ve ever heard - especially since you definitely would sleep with her. You’d just prefer to do it sober. Giggling, you decide to show her mercy and cut her off. “Thanks for the offer. I think I’ll take the couch if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, let me get you some blankets.” She turns off the tv and stands, leaving the room for a minute and coming back with a pillow and an armful of blankets. You get up and try to help her to make a makeshift bed for you, but your movements are a bit sluggish and you realize you’re just getting in her way, so you end up perching on the edge of the coffee table until she gives you the go.

You snuggle into the blankets - they smell like Miranda, and it takes everything in you not to bury your nose in them and moan out loud. Instead, you shoot Miranda a smile and mutter a sleepy ‘thank you’ - she nods, telling you to yell if you need her, then turns to leave.

“Oh, Miranda?” You lift your head off the pillow and crane your neck towards the blonde.

She pauses in the doorway, turning back to face you as she runs a hand through her hair. “Hmm?”

“Merry Christmas.” You beam at her, even as your eyes threaten to close any second. The evening was far from a traditional Christmas celebration, but it was the best Christmas you’ve had in a long time.

“Merry Christmas,” she replies, her smile soft and genuine, before turning around and disappearing into her bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her.

~~~

You’re out like a light the second Miranda is gone, completely oblivious to the internal struggle she faces as she curls up in her own bed. She tries to close her eyes and force herself to sleep, but she’s not tired at all - her mind is racing and her heart is pounding, her entire body responding to the evening she’s shared with you. The laughter, the sense of familiarity and peace, the tension when you nearly kissed her. And, God, does she want to kiss you. But you’re tipsy, and you probably just said that in the heat of the moment - she gets it, sometimes alcohol makes her flirty and a little horny as well. You probably won’t remember that conversation in the morning - and you probably won’t want to kiss her anymore either.

She can’t help the way her heart sinks as she comes to that realization, and it keeps her up for the better part of the night. She feels like she’s just managed to nod off when the morning light starts to filter in through the curtains and she groans, burying her face in her pillow.

Thud.

Miranda freezes for a moment, her blood going cold as she hears a noise coming from her living room. Then she remembers that you’re sleeping on her couch and her body relaxes again. She’s nervous, wondering if you’ll be awkward about the previous evening’s sexual tension, but her curiosity about whether or not you’re already awake wins out and she pushes herself off the bed, smoothing a hand over her hair and wiping the sleep out of her eyes before creeping into the hallway, careful to be quiet in case you’re still sleeping.

There’s a clattering coming from the living room though, and she finds you collecting the beer bottles from last night that are still scattered across the coffee table.

“Hello,” Miranda says, her voice still a little hoarse from sleep.

Your head whips around towards the doorway and your cheeks turn pink. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to clean up a bit. Did I wake you?” The way you’re chewing at your bottom lip is adorable and makes Miranda want to kiss you senseless. She chuckles and shakes her head.

“No, I was awake anyway. Here, let me help.” Miranda helps you clear off the coffee table, heading into the kitchen with an armful of bottles and her empty bowl from dinner. You’re right behind her with the rest of the dishes and you immediately make your way to the sink and start washing them - it feels so domestic that it makes Miranda’s heart flutter, and she has to look away and focus on something else so that you can’t see the blush on her cheeks or the yearning that’s surely shining in her eyes.

“Do you want coffee?” she asks, waiting for your affirmative hum before starting to make some. She’s so focused on preparing the coffee machine that she misses you turning off the sink and padding over to her - she yelps as you press against her back, placing your hands on the counter on either side of her and boxing her in. Her heart is racing, skipping beats left and right as your body heat warms her from behind. Drawing in a sharp breath, she turns around to face you.

“Miranda?” Your voice is low and a little shaky, and your cheeks are flushed - gorgeously so, Miranda finds her mouth going dry.

“Yes?” she croaks out.

“Remember how I said I’d kiss you today if you still wanted to?”

All Miranda can do is nod, her mouth hanging open as all the blood rushes to her face.

“Well, I guess I wanted to ask you if you still wanted to kiss me? Because I’m sober now and I still want to kiss you.” You look just as nervous as Miranda feels - she nods again, afraid her voice will betray how badly she wants you.

“Please, say it,” you plead, your eyes wide and earnest. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Y-yes. I- I want to kiss you.”

Your lips curl up into a soft smile and your hands move from the counter to Miranda’s waist, your grip firm as if you’re afraid she’ll run away from you. You press yourself up onto your toes until your face is mere inches away from her own. She can feel your breath on her face, warm and shallow. Her eyes are glued to your lips, wondering when you’ll close the gap - then you do, your lips soft and plush as they press gently against hers.

She allows her eyelids to flutter shut and kisses you back, her own hands reaching out tentatively to cup your cheeks. You smile into the kiss and she takes the opportunity to deepen it - you groan softly into her mouth as her tongue brushes against yours, and she swallows the sound, groaning back in return.

“I didn’t think you’d remember,” she murmurs, her thumb stroking your cheek.

“As if I haven’t been thinking about that since the moment I first met you,” you tease with a seductive grin, before wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her down for a second kiss, even more passionate than the last.

@alexusonfire @brienneswife @pro-weems-places @bigolgay @kimiinou @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles @bychrissi @katie-bennet @giogwensversion @gela123 @friskyfisher @justcallmelittleone @michi2504 @scream-queenlover @a-queen-and-her-throne @sequoirius @anne-lister @winterfireblond @imgayforwoman69 @Ssappling2004 @fictionalized-lesbian @i-like-reading @aemilia19 @milfsloverblog @missdowling @billiedeansbitch @The_Demon_of_your_Dream @agathaandgwenslesbian @http-sam @Cute-catx @saltrage @renravens @opheliauniverse @zillahofviolets-bayolet @scarlettssub @catechristiestuff @niceminipotato @barbarasstar @women-are-so-ethereal @thevillagegay @willowshadenox @lilfartbox1 @larissaoftarthweems @dovesintherain @fallenbutch @lunala-rose23 @ahauandthesun @thenazwife @lvinhs @sweetderacine @daydream-cement @ilovetlcc @wastdstime @ladylarissaweems @spacetoaim22 @m1lflov3rrr

#miranda hilmarson x reader #miranda hilmarson #top of the lake #top of the lake: china girl #i haven't posted in almost 2.5 months and i'm ANXIOUS #hype a girl up 😭#i also clearly couldn't be arsed to come up with a better title i'm SORRY 🥲

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generalllimaginesss · 5 months

Note

"Who are you again?" with Nico. I have this thought that he wants to talk to her at a bar and gets nervous and is cocky when he approaches her. And obviously she knows who he is because his face is plastered all over the city. But she can’t stand when men are arrogant so she pretends not to know him and sends him back to his table. Then maybe he sees her at a coffee shop a few days later and he approaches her there too but in a more chill way. And she continues the “who are you again” joke but actually has a conversation with him.

Just like fluffy Nico being awkward and kind of being awful but only bc he’s nervous around the pretty girl.

Honestly I feel like Nico would be the most precious boyfriend ever. Whoever gets him wins in life. But anyways….here ya go! I kind of went a slightly different route with Nico not being very nervous, but I feel like this flows ok. Thank you for requesting! Keep them coming!

••

The bar that you were currently in was loud and slightly obnoxious. Because it was later in the night, the crowd was more rowdy than you cared for, causing you to become irritable with everything.

So here you were, sitting with a friend of yours at a table in the corner, trying to avoid people at all costs, when a group of guys walk through the door, some laughing, some heading to the bar, but one in particular caught your eye.

He was tall, had brown hair that was a little messy, but his smile was hard to miss. It lit up the whole room, a refresher from the scene that had been playing before his presence.

"Is that who I think it is?" Your friend elbowed you, pointing to where the guy was propping himself up against the wall talking to somebody.

As you sat there looking at him longer, trying to place his face, the realization that the guy is Nico Hischier hits you. He's practically the face of hockey in New Jersey, how could you miss that?

You watch as somebody hands him a beer and he takes a sip, his head tipping back slightly and his eyes beginning to take in the people around him. A couple of girls ask to take pictures with him, so he obliges. Some guys go over and talk to him about the game that night, but nothing really caught his attention until he glanced around the room and saw you sitting at a corner table, already looking at him.

Immediately, you break the eye contact, hoping that maybe he wasn't actually looking at you, but he pushes off of the wall and begins to walk in your direction.

"Holy shit he's coming over here," Your friend squeals, adjusting her hair so that she looks presentable.

"Shut up," You hiss, not wanting to seem like a crazy fangirl.

Nico gets intercepted by a guy with a Devils jersey on asking for a picture, but he immediately comes to your table afterwards, pulling a chair out and taking a seat.

Something about how he didn't ask if he could sit with you hit you wrong. Sure, he was famous and good looking, but that didn't mean that he got to do whatever he wanted.

You shifted your weight in your chair, eyebrows knitting together trying to figure the guy out.

"I saw you looking at me over there," Nico nodded his head to the spot where he was at earlier.

"And what about it?" You deadpan, your friend glancing between the two of you.

"I thought you would be interested, but apparently I thought wrong," Nico chuckled, putting his hands on his knees and pushing himself out of the chair to walk off. He took a few steps and stopped, turning towards you once more.

"I'm sorry..." He chuckled, running his fingers through his locks that hung just above his eyes, "...you now who I am, right?"

And that was the icing on the cake for you. You don't typically judge a person by the first couple of things they say to you, but he was so unbearably arrogant that it made your skin crawl. He might have been the captain of a successful NHL team, but the fact that he expected you to know who he was was gross. He was a human. He wasn't some god that graced you with his presence like he thought he was apparently.

"Hm, no I don't think so. Who are you again?" You chuckled, but it held zero emotion behind it. The audacity of this guy completely baffled you.

Nico bit his lip, realizing that he somehow struck a nerve within you. "Oh, I'm sorry, I just assumed-" He started, but was cut off by your harsh tone, "Well you know what they say about assuming? It makes an ass out of you."

You collected your purse and your friend as you left a dumbfounded Nico behind at the table, scratching his neck trying to figure out what just happened.

"What was that about?" Your friend nudged you as you made your way out of the bar and down the street.

"He acted like a pretentious bitch, that's what," Pulling your coat tighter around you, you arranged for an uber to pick you and your friend up and take you home, deciding that it was time to call it a night.

-----

A few weeks passed after the encounter with Nico at the bar. It never really crossed your mind much, other than the fact that you roll your eyes every time he was shown during a game that you watched. The whole ordeal just really disappointed you because he was very attractive and seemed to be sweet in all of his interviews and moments with his team, but actions speak louder than words and his actions at the bar were loud and clear.

You were currently walking into a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop that was near your apartment, preparing to have an intense study session since finals were approaching soon. The cozy ambience felt warm and welcoming, the perfect combination for you.

As you were beginning to zone in on the material before you, the bell from the door sounded, signaling a new person in the shop. Out of habit, you glance up and notice a familiar person making his way to the counter. He didn't seem to notice you at first, so you debated on gathering your stuff and leaving. However, nobody was going to have that kind of hold on you. If you wanted to study in this coffee shop, then that is what was going to happen. Even if there was a douche hockey guy.

You watched as he ordered and gave the barista his card to pay. Since he still hadn't seen you, you decided to shift your attention back to your notes, seeing that's the whole reason you were here.

You thought you got off without having to interact with him, but quickly realized that was not the case when the sound of somebody clearing their throat near you interrupted you studying.

"It's a small world, isn't it?" He flashed an innocent smile, watching as your cheeks heated, much to your displeasure.

"Seems to be," Your answer was short and to the point, hoping he'd get the hint that you were busy.

"Um, is this seat taken?" He motioned toward the seat across the table from you. Maybe he learned his lesson from last time?

"Nope," You moved your bag out of the seat so that he could sit there.

There was a few moments of awkward silence before Nico decided to speak up.

"I'm sorry about the other night. My name is Nico," His outstretched hand hovered above the table, waiting for yours to meet it.

You could have been rude and just ignored him, but there was something about the way that his little dimple indented and the softness of his eyes. He was just a beautiful person.

"Who?" You joked, causing Nico to laugh, his whole body shaking with him.

"I'm teasing, it's nice to formally meet you," Your hand connected with his and you could have swore there were butterflies going rampant in your belly.

"The other night...I don't want to make an excuse for being an ass, but it was right after a win and I still had an adrenaline rush, the boys were around, and I honestly didn't realize how rude it was until I was trying to go to sleep that night. I don't want you to think that the fame went to my head or anything. That couldn't be far from the truth," He fidgeted with the rubber bracelet that decorated his hand, making eye contact with you a few times.

"Hey, we all have our moments. You happened to catch me out of my element. Bars are not quite my scene," You giggled, recalling the nightmare that was the bar that night.

"I didn't get a chance to tell you the other night, ha, but you're beautiful. Like wow," He sat back in his chair, sipping his coffee as he grinned at you trying to control your blush.

"Why thank you," Your laugh caused a train reaction from him.

The two of you talked about so many different things. The topic of how he got into hockey came up, and then what brought you into the bar that night, the conversation just flowing effortlessly. There was never another an awkward moment after that initial one.

Before either of you knew it, 2 hours had passed. Although you should have been studying, the time spent with Nico was nice, something that you could get used to.

"I've really enjoyed this," Nico nudged your leg with his, causing tingles to erupt from the spot where he touched you.

"Me too. You definitely made up for what happened at the bar," You winked, causing him to chuckle in response.

"The team has a Christmas party coming up and I happen to be dateless right now," A cheeky grin formed as he began to gain the courage to ask you on a date.

"Well that's quite the predicament, isn't it?" You knew where he was going with it, but you decided to play along with him.

"Yeah, it is. You wouldn't know how to fix that, would you?" He licked his bottom lip before taking it between his teeth.

"I mean, there's dating apps, fangirls, I'm sure you can find somebody who would love to go with you," Smirking, you finished the last bit of your coffee that was now cold.

"There's also girls that you meet in bars who happen to go to the same coffee shop as you..." Nico trailed off as he watched your response.

"Mr. Hischier, are you asking me to be your date?" You feigned shock, covering your mouth with your hand in attempt to hide your smile.

"Wait, who are you again?" His eyes squinted mischeviously as you rolled your eyes and handed him your phone so that he could put his phone number in.

"I would love to be your date," He punched in his number and felt his phone vibrate in his pocking, signaling that you had texted his phone.

"I've got to go study for my final, so I will see you later," You announced as the two of you gathered your things and walked out together.

Nico gave you a tight side hug, one that was unexpected, but definitely wanted. His cologne was magical and he was just cozy. You walked towards your apartment, a smile etched onto your face as you immediately recall the whole conversation.

Nico glanced at his phone as he headed to his car, deciding to read the text that you had sent him:

"You're pretty cute yourself. Like wow," It read and Nico couldn't help but giggle and smile as he climbed into the driver's side of his car, shaking his head and thanking God that he was able to impress you this time.

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #jack hughes #nhl fanfiction #quinn hughes #trevor zegras #alex turcotte #cole caufield #jack hughes imagines #nico hischier #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier blurb #nj devils #new jersey devils

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queers-gambit · 1 year

Text

When Pride Married Prejudice

[ part two ]

[ series masterlist ]

prompt: in the beginning, your mother delivers disturbing news, but perhaps, not all is as it seems.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!reader

fandom: House of the Dragon

word count: 9.7k+

warnings: spoilers, cursing, small angst, 150% filler, small background, author breaks the fourth wall once but go with it - i promise it works. author is also given free rein of her imagination and this came out...hmm... ❗️major season one, episode seven spoilers

"What?" You asked with a beg over the sounds of the crashing waves on the cliffside your mother, Princess Rhaenyra, had lead you out to stand on. She had just delivered devastating news with a sympathetic gaze, making you beg her again, "Say it's not true, Mother, please, no, no. Th-This isn't... Mum, how could this happen?"

"I am truly sorry, my sweet girl," Rhaenyra sighed, nodding at you as her hands caressed both your cheeks to sweep stray tears as they fell. Her forehead met yours, making her whisper, "But while I could not stop the entire proposal, I was able to bargain for leeway."

"What does that mean?" You pulled back to look into her lavender eyes. They were full of sadness and regret.

"You will remain at Dragonstone with your family, so I might continue to teach you - and so you do not have to interrupt your other studies. But..." She sighed deeply, blinking a few times to clear her thoughts.

"But?"

"They want you married before you turn ten-and-eight."

"No," you blanched, shaking your head in refusal to free yourself of her comforting hold, "they cannot make me marry him. Mother, please, do not let this happen."

"I could only barter for us a few years yet, my love."

"This is the payment they demand?"

"Better this, my sweet dove, then that of blinding your brother," she countered with a frown. "The Queen was unwilling to barter at first, but the King thought it a rightful proposal."

"And who, might I ask, offered my hand to Aemond Targaryen for payment over a childish squabble - that, yes, did maim the boy, but that's not... It's not like... Oh, Gods, yes, okay, when I say it out loud, I suppose I can understand the reasoning. Then why does this still feel so wrong, Mother?"

She frowned and reached for you, pulling you in closer to hold. You clung to her in fright, allowing yourself a moment of rare vulnerability as you stood alone; the only sounds around you, that, of the temperamental sea. She spoke softly in your ear, "I am truly so very sorry, my sweet girl. I am." Her hand pet the back of your head, but her grip remained strong. "But there is honor in fulfilling one's duty. I wanted very different things for you, but fate is funny at times."

You tightened your hold on her. "Tell me the truth, Mother, what's happened?"

She sighed and laid a long, solemn kiss to the top of your head. "You are of an age now that you will understand." She gave a soft pinch to your chin, "And have always been much too mature for your age."

You chuckled softly, "I often think there's much you don't know about me. I am not the perfect child you've tried to mold me into."

"Oh, I know everything, my girl," she grinned, making you feel heated from embarrassment. "You were truly restless as a child, it was hard to keep you within the castle walls. But might I tell you a secret?"

"Of course."

"Ser Harwin was always looking after you," she chuckled. "He would take extra shifts in the night to patrol the city just to ensure you were safe. But what he reported back always made my heart swell with genuine pride."

"Might I tell you a secret?" She nodded and let one hand hold your upper arm and the other to caress an unruly strand of hair back behind your ear. "I always wondered if one day, you would name me your heir... So, when I could not sleep, I liked to linger around the city. I liked knowing the people, thinking, if I were to ever govern them, I'd better know them best."

"See?" She nodded. "Always far too mature for your age. Yet the matter of succession with us has differed..." You braced yourself. "You are my eldest child, and my only girl," she spoke fondly. "And when my Father named me his heir, going against decades of tradition, I always promised myself that I would not do the same to my daughter unless I had no choice. I would never make her endure what I was forced to. Yet, you were still young when Jace was born, and your Father and I had a conversation. Should the matter come up publicly, you were always to be heir to Dragonstone, and that was the end of the matter. When Luke was born... Things shifted again, but only just. You were still my heir to our home, but now, Jace is to be my heir after I take the Throne, and then Luke is to succeed his father's birthright to Driftmark."

"And now? With Joffrey?"

"Much will be discussed later," she promised. "But I have declared to the King that you are to inherit our home on Dragonstone, and there is no change in that. He approved, but..."

"But what?"

"He also approved of your hand being offered," she swallowed thickly.

"You would tell me in truth what has happened?" You nodded, holding onto her waist to keep yourselves anchored. She nodded, sighing deeply before starting her tale.

And yet, Dear Reader, to fully understand, we need to go back.

Your hand was held tightly in your father's ever since he received news of his beloved sister, Laena Velaryon, passing away due to complications from childbirth. In an effort to avoid being sliced open and bleeding out to death, Laena had risen from her bloody birthing bed, and hobbled outside to beg her dragon, Vhagar, to let her meet her end through dragon fire.

Neither your Mother, nor Father, the Lord Laenor, knew you had snuck into the study and read the scroll sent to them by your Great Uncle Daemon - who gave an honest recount of events.

Now, he and his two twin daughters, your cousins, Rhaena and Baela, were flying from across the Narrow Sea to lay the charred bones of Laena to rest on her ancestral home. And because Laena was a Velaryon before she took the name Targaryen, she was to be launched into the sea by means of an intricately carved coffin.

She'd rest with other Velaryon's at the bottom of the raging waters.

Laenor stood stoically as his Uncle Vaemond spoke in High Valyrian, proceeding over the funeral service as your entire family - both Velaryon and Targaryen - had gathered to pay their respects. Laena's coffin, which was carved to encapsulate her ethereal beauty, was set to a launching-cliff, and ropes were thread around to push and plunge her into the crashing waves beneath.

However, as Vaemond spoke clearly above them all, he was offering dirty, hardened looks to your Mother as she held your younger brothers around the shoulders. For a moment, you thought it looked as if they were shielding their mother, and you, who had inherited the Velaryon-Targaryen trademark features, stood between them and your father; creating a visual divide, unknowingly.

But you didn't think that way.

Your only concern right now was being there for your sweet, honorable Father, as he grieved silently with tears sliding down his cheeks. His hand was tight, and you knew he drew strength from your presence.

Daemon stood across the way, somewhat beside Vaemond, and could observe those around him as he stood with his hands crossed in front of him. Vaemond's words were veiled with threat, head turning to stare directly at your mother, "Salt courses through Velaryon blood. Ours runs thick. Ours runs true." King Viserys even recognized the tone; sparing a look to his daughter, who pulled her sons closer. "And ours must never run thin."

And then, oddly, Daemon started to chuckle.

Oh, one could chalk it up to hysteria of a grieving husband, but you knew better. You were a sponge in the courts and listened to everything said; forming your own opinions and often needing to sort through what you'd heard to form something of a mixed-truth.

You knew of the rumors surrounding your Great Uncle and his niece, your Mother, Rhaenyra... And this moment, where he literally giggled to himself, was in an effort to get the attention off of your Mother - and shift those beady eyes who offered her judgement onto himself.

You knew half-truths, mostly content to observe and just listen. It served you well enough - now, a perfect moment to see through Daemon's hysteria. He was offered nothing but silent, dirty glares - most of which came from your grandparents, the Lord Corlys Velaryon and Princess Rhaenys Targaryen; who stood, comforting Daemon's children while still grieving their own lost daughter.

Two young girls who had lost their mother and were watching her about to be laid to rest... And their Father laughs?

While Velaryon blood ran thick with salt, Targaryen blood was hot with fire - and the devastating need to protect one another. In those moments, Daemon felt the burning, pressing need to protect Rhaenyra over comforting his own daughters - something you'd come to grow used to.

The ropes were tightened, and your Father's arm wrapped around your shoulders to pull you in for a hug; something you returned with tight arms. He needed you, and you were there for him.

Salt was thrown over the coffin as it was edged over the cliff and Vaemond gave the final words of service. Just before Laena was plunged over the edge, he spoke, "From the sea we came. To the sea, we shall return."

The day had passed sluggishly and after a meal, you found yourself still with your father - but watching him sadly wade in the waters lapping at the rocky shoreline of the island. Dragons flew above you all, and once or twice, you saw your great emerald beast circling the island; playfully soaring around other (smaller) dragons.

"Daddy?" You called from the shoreline, feeling your nerves spike the longer you stood there. The sun was moving into position to sink and knew the hours grew later. "Daddy? Maybe we should go in now? 'S getting a bit cold - the waters are freezing! Daddy! Come in, please!"

He did not respond, he just stood there; waist-deep in the tide with you watching on the shoreline. Your fingers twisted together in nervousness, feet shifting in the weighty sand.

"Father! Please, come inside with me?" You tried again, but to no avail. He had waded out there after the funeral's dinner, and while everyone gathered on the stone courtyard for drinks and mingling, your father had fancied a walk. For an hour now, he's been standing in the water.

Your head looked up towards where you knew the courtyard was, and caught sight of your grandsire glaring down at your father. He frowned when he caught your eye, then nodded, waving for you to come up. You nodded in return, looking to your father once more.

"Daddy, I have to go in, it's getting late," you tried. "I do not wish to leave you, come with me, please."

"Go on, my sweet darling," Laenor finally croaked - but did not turn.

You sighed with defeat and turned for the archway, hustling up the stone stairs, and just as you reached the top, Ser Qarl was rushing towards you. "Princess," he muttered with a nod, making you smile.

"He will not come in, even for me," you spoke softly, "good luck. Might have to force him out."

"Of course, thank you, Princess," He nodded and darted past you, letting you enter the courtyard finally. There were respectful nods from those who attended the funeral; most offering words of condolences before you caught the eye of the King.

Approaching the two men, you bowed with respect and laid a hand to your Uncle Daemon's arm. "I mean no intrusion, Your Grace, my Prince," you nodded to them both, "and apologize for the interruption I pose, I only mean to extend my condolences to you, Uncle. How sorry I am for your Lady wife, and for this loss you feel."

He nodded, letting his free hand pat over your own. "Thank you, my gentle niece."

"My Prince," you nodded, "Your Grace."

As you took your leave, you heard Viserys offering Daemon to return to King's Landing - to court, or other. You did not hear the rest, finding your mother in the crowd and making a beeline for her through a slew of distant family and members of court offering their words of sorrow.

"Sweet girl," she sighed when she embraced you. "Are you all right? Where is your Father?"

"I could not get him to come in with me," you admitted with shame. "He prefers to stand in the waters, I think it makes him feel close to Laena... Like they're both together again, if only in the tide."

She sighed, petting over your head, "You shoulder too much of your Father's grief, my sweet girl."

"It is never more than I can handle, Mother," you assured. "My skin has grown thick and there is little else to be whispered that can faze me now. My Father needs me, and I am happy to fulfill that duty."

Truth was, once upon a time when you lived in King's Landing, your older cousin, Aegon, started to publicly tease you for being a "Daddy's Girl," and let that come churn-up negative connotations. Rumors grew and festered because of your complexion, where your skin was shades lighter than Laenor's and had bright white hair - while your brothers were pasty-skinned with dark hair.

Aegon liked to tease you for your close relationship and others joined in, thinking it got under your skin. Thinking it was something to laugh about when your Father started to train you beyond what others thought "acceptable". He was your biggest supporter, and helped you push yourself to new limits with horse riding, sword fighting, archery, even just a bit of spear throwing. Laenor and Coryls even once took you on an adventure at sea, where you learned the 'ropes' of sailing and how to fish "properly". You never let the snide comments and vile words taint your view of your "Daddy" because you knew the truth.

Plus, you could just say to Aegon, "You wouldn't know a Father's love even if it slapped you in the face." That shut him up every time.

Rhaenyra smiled at you and gently caressed your cheek, but movement behind your shoulder caught her attention. When you turned to stand at her side with her arm around your waist, you noticed your Uncle Daemon surging past everyone - but stopped when Otto Hightower, Hand of the King, who had a public distaste for the Rogue Prince, stopped him to mutter something. You imagine it was condolences, but you were too far to hear it.

When Daemon managed some comment and then escaped down stone stairs, you mother looked around cautiously. "Mother," you warned through the corner of your mouth. "I would not, now is not the time."

"Hush now, my girl, come with me," she sighed, taking your hand, and leading you towards your brothers. When you reached them, she stooped to speak to them, "Your sister is in charge, do as she says, but I want you all to go to bed."

"But, Mother - "

She cut Jace off, "Go to bed."

With a meaningful look to you, you understood and gave her a reassuring nod with a squeeze to her hand; often thinking your minds were connected by some string - making nonverbal communication essential between you. You often found that was what you searched for in a person, first. How their body spoke, despite the words their mouths form.

"Come on, let's say goodnight," you coaxed your brothers, turning to your grandmother and cousins first. You knelt before them, offering, "My sweet cousins, I cannot say how sorry I truly am for this loss. But should you need it, I am here for whatever you need."

"Thank you, cousin," Rhaena whispered, leaning forward to hug you.

"I'm only a few doors down," you whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. You bid Baela a goodnight as well, letting your brothers step up as you helped your grandmother to her feet. She smiled at you and pet over a lock of hair. "We're going to bed, Grandmother, I will see you in the morning, yes?"

She nodded, sparing a glance to the kids before taking you a few steps from them. She sighed, "How's Laenor?"

You frowned, "He would not come in from the sea, Grandmother. Not even for me..."

"He always had a soft spot for you," she sighed, "surely, if you can't get him in, he'll have to be moved."

You nodded, "I did try."

"You did incredible," she praised, taking both cheeks in hand. "I have heard nothing but songs of how you have been the support your father needs. Thank you for being there."

"It is the least I can do after all he's done for me," you whispered. "I only wish I could take his pain. It is a weight that I fear he is buckling under slowly."

Rhaenys sighed and nodded. "I fear for it, too, my sweet. All right, well," she sighed and leaned in to kiss your forehead. "You get some sleep, some well-deserved rest. You've had a day."

"We all have," you whispered, taking her hands in yours, "and Grandmother? I-I want to tell you that I am sorry for you loss. No parent should ever have to bury their child."

She sighed and nodded, squeezing your hands. "You have always been the sweetest girl - and I am so proud to be your Grandmother. I love you, thank you for your words."

Your eyes shut and let her lean in to kiss your forehead. "I love you, too," you promised, smiling at her when your eyes opened to her softened gaze. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she nodded, letting go of you so you could take your little brothers under your arms.

"Grandfather," you spoke to Corlys as you approached. "I hate to interrupt, but we are off to bed and wish to say goodnight."

He gave you all a smile and gentle hugs, speaking softly, "Goodnight, my dears. I'll see you in the morning." Finding no other family members that you cared enough to speak to, you lead your brothers into the Driftmark castle.

You nodded to those you passed, easily navigating the boys to their rooms and did not leave until they were changed and in bed properly.

"Sister?" Luke whimpered.

"Yes, my sweet?" You paused to turn back to him, single candle in your hand and one on his bedside table.

"I-Is Ser Harwin truly gone?"

You sighed, pausing to sit on his bed and pet some hair off his forehead. "I'm afraid so, sweet boy. But Mother speaks true, the Strongs are not our kin and we are needed here. But that does not mean you cannot mourn him, Luke. He was a gallant knight and truly felt part of our family - though he was not our blood."

He nodded, "Could we say prayers for him?"

"Of course," you agreed. "I'll say one for him tonight, too, all right?"

"Thank you," he whispered, letting you lean in to peck his forehead.

"I love you," you promised, letting a finger push the button of his nose.

"I love you, too," he nodded, snuggling into the blankets. "Good night."

"Good night, sweet boy," You whispered, blowing out his bedside candle and parting ways with your own single candle in a holder. You shut their door and moved for your own room, but just before you could prepare yourself for bed, you heard a strangled roar from your opened windows.

It could've been any dragon, but something felt familiar about this sound.

Something felt wrong and you were quick to change into a pair of trousers, a tunic, and boots; rushing off from your room with the intention of checking on your dear, sweet Kasta. She wasn't by any means the largest around but she showed no sign to stop growing - making her rival a few older dragons already. You worried she was being challenged, and easily snuck from the castle walls.

However, you gasped when you rounded a cliffside and almost ran straight into someone.

"You!"

"Aemond! Gods!" You hissed, glancing around and pushing him towards a small alcove of the cliffs in case of any patrolling guards. "What're you doing out at this hour? You should be in bed!"

"What're you doing out? You should be in bed, too," He retorted quickly.

You narrowed your eyes, "I have reason - "

"Maybe I do, too."

You hummed, eyeing him a moment. "What if we agreed to go about our business - never seeing each other, hey?"

He considered it before nodding. "Deal. I didn't see you, you didn't see me."

"Exactly," you chuckled to your 'uncle', though you were 18 months older than him. It was strange, indeed. "Whatever you're doing, just be careful, Aemond."

He nodded, "Yeah. You, too, Y/N."

You both snuck away in opposite directions - where you made for the mouth of the Dragon Pit, and Aemond, in the direction of open sand dunes. You were curious and considered following him, but you were distracted by wanting to check on Kasta more.

After sneaking beneath the Pit, you could not locate your great beast and didn't know if you felt relief or not. So, you spent the better part of an hour searching for the emerald green beast, sighing with relief when she was located at last. Only after you had to scale a fucking cliff, but she was worth it.

"Kasta," you panted in High Valyrian upon approach, the lazy dragon lifting her head from the sandy nest she'd made. "What're you doing, my girl? Hey?" You chuckled lightly, hearing her whine lowly. You sat at her head, giving it a loving stroke. "It is warm in there?" She lipped at your hands, making you wonder, "You okay? I heard something and worried it was you - that you might've been in trouble?"

She growled lightly, lifting her head in interest when the distinct beating of wings was heard - along with a voice shouting in exhilaration. You lifted your head to spy Vhagar circling the island, curiosity peaking; but also assuring you that it was not your dragon that you heard before.

"I thought Vhagar had no rider?" You questioned Kasta, but the dragon lifted her head to stare into your eyes - giving a knowing look. "I see," you whispered.

There was a shuddering quake to the ground, and you knew somewhere nearby, a dragon landed. When your own dragon gave a soft snarl, you felt something on the back of your neck stand on end. She left her head fall back down as you stood.

Unknown to you, your siblings and cousins had searched for you in your rooms before deciding to confront Vhagar's newest rider by themselves. Yet, unknown to them, you were expertly scaling down the cliffside to rush for the Dragon Pit.

Yet, you were still too late.

Aemond had Luke by the throat - all the kids bloodied and bruised to some capacity - and with a large, jagged rock in a raised hand above his head, Aemond was threatening, "You will die screaming in flames just as your father did! Bastards!"

"Aemond! NO!" You raged, rushing to the scene out of pure panic from seeing your younger siblings, cousins, and uncle all bearing marks of a fight.

"My father's still alive!" Luke struggled in Aemond's grip, sobbing.

"So, he doesn't know, does he, Lord Strong?" Aemond snipped at Jace with a sneer, and to your shock, Jace then brandished a dagger.

"NO!" You finally made it to them; first yanking the two girls further back for safety, but it left time for your brothers to attack. "JACE!" You screamed with Baela, trying to keep them back as the boys were so intertwined in a fight, you could not intercede them. And with a dagger in play, you did not risk being an accidental casualty.

Aemond had thrown back Luke and wacked Jace in the head with the rock - knocking both to the floor in whimpering pain.

"All right, that's enough, hey, hey, no more - no fucking more," you stepped in, hands held in peace. "No, you've all made your points - Aemond, please," you begged when your uncle rose the rock above his hand again, smirking in taunt, with the intention of bashing Jace's head in. "Aemond - think for a moment, do not do this," you tried to reach for him, but it was too late. Jace threw a handful of sand to Aemond's face, blinding him a moment, and leaving time for Luke to pick up the forgotten dagger. "NO, LUKE, DON'T!"

But it was far too late.

Luke swung his brother's dagger upward and sliced through Aemond's face - both boys screaming. One in exhilaration and the other in unfiltered pain.

"NO!" You screamed again, reaching Luke first and making him drop the dagger by wrangling his wrist in your hand; your adrenaline pumping so harshly that you didn't realize when the blade sliced through the skin of your palm. You turned quickly, only vaguely hearing the Knight's Guards arriving. "Aemond, Aemond," you begged, taking hold of the moaning and groaning Prince. "Oh, let me see, let me see, c'mon, lad, 's all right, let me have a look," you hushed, huddling over him for privacy and coaxing his hand away. "Gods be good," you hissed, snapping his hand back in place and using your own to add pressure. Both of your hands bloodied within seconds. "Hold pressure, hold the pressure," you told him softly, looking up to see the White Cloaks. "L-Lord Commander, the Prince Aemond needs a Maester at once."

"Let me see," he knelt.

"No, no, it needs pressure for the bleeding," you told him, keeping firm hold on your distant uncle. "Come, help me get him to his feet."

"What happened?" He demanded, doing as you bid.

"I do not know, I arrived too late," You covered, helping Aemond but turning to walk at his back to keep hold over his hand, over the sliced eye he was basically holding in socket.

It was pure chaos from then on, and once you were all gathered in the throne room, the Maester took over.

"Y/N!? Aemond!? Oh, my Gods! What has happened!?" Alicent demanded as she rushed into the room; Viserys limping with his cane in hand not far behind her.

"In a moment, Your Grace," you pleaded, the boy sitting with your hands still holding in injury.

"I need to see the wound, Princess," the Maester frowned.

"All right," you agreed with him, and then looked to your uncle. "Easy, easy, easy, it's gonna gush a little," you whispered, your bloodied hand peeling Aemond's with your own to give sight to the full injury.

You could've thrown up from the sight, but only stepped away as more members of court arrived on scene and the Maester was swooping in.

Turning to Alicent, you explained, "In truth, Your Grace, I do not know much - other than the boy has been maimed. I read it's important to hold pressure to injury before a professional can take over, so, I only helped the Prince do that," you showed your bloodied hands.

"Dear girl," Viserys took your one hand, "you're bleeding on your own, I can see the cut."

"Oh, i-it's just a small cut, Your Grace," you nodded swiftly.

"How did you come by it?" Viserys demanded. His voice then lowered as he bowed his head to tell you privately, "You alone have always told your Grandfather the truth, do not let that change now."

You gulped but held your head up to tell him quietly, his withered hand still holding your wrist, "When I disarmed Lucerys, Your Grace."

"Why were you not in bed?" Alicent asked.

"In truth, I heard a dragon roar, and it sounded so familiar, I worried it was my dragon, Kasta. She's larger than some and still grows, I worried she was being challenged and then feared she was hurt. I was only out of bed, Your Grace, to check on Kasta, I swear it."

Viserys' eyes flashed to gaze heatedly over the others gathered from after the fight - but otherwise, just sighed. He nodded at you, "You're not at fault for worrying. Go on. Clean your hands, dear girl, let someone bind them."

"Thank you, Your Grace," you whispered, nodding with a small smile, "Grandfather."

He smiled briefly in return and patted your shoulder as you turned with dismissal, a handmaiden stepping up to help you wash your hands of blood in a basin and then examine the 'wound'. "It is shallow, Princess," she informed with a nod of her head. "It will heal, but I will bind it to help protect it. Perhaps avoid a sword in this time."

You smiled mutely and nodded, letting her work as the room was stewing in anger and tension as more and more members of the court showed up.

You waited patiently for your mother, letting your anxiety fester to new heights as you began to understand, as the eldest present to the scuffle, you'd be expected to recount events. But you didn't know all of the situation, only what the children had tried to tell you in a jumbled rush on your way there. But they didn't get far as the guards couldn't stand their squabbling, telling them to silence themselves until the King asked for explanation.

As the Maester worked, Viserys was demanding answers of the Lord Commander Westerling, and his Guards; who were not watching the Princes, and therefore, assumed fault for letting everything get to this point. By extension, as second in command with the Queen's Guard, Ser Criston Cole stood under interrogation, as well.

And the King was beyond angry; making you gently flinch when his voice turned hateful towards his guards.

Your hands were wrapped, and you moved along the edge of the crowd to then take a seat on the stone stairs that lead to the throne room to take a moment and think about what you witnessed. You needed time to absorb it all, to just think; to digest.

From beside the light of the hearth, Alicent, watching the Maester work on stitching Aemond's wound closed, asked, "It will heal, will it not, Maester?"

He paused a moment, the room turning towards the Maester and Prince for the answer; and your head lifted to listen. Your brothers stood beside one another without any cleaning to their wounds - simply because they were still on trial for this entire ordeal.

The Maester answered, "The flesh will heal, I'd wager because the Princess Y/N acted quickly to hold pressure." Eyes turned to you as you felt tears of embarrassment and anxiety fill your eyes, bowing your head to avoid their gazes. "But the eye is lost, Your Grace."

Both of Aemond's parents looked genuinely distraught as you finally stood to near your brothers; taking each of them under your arms. They noted the bandages on your hand, but did not get to comment as the Queen was rounding on her eldest son, Aegon, to demand, "Where were you?"

"Me?" Aegon asked, gasping when his mother's hand clapped against his cheek to whip his head to the side. "Ow!" He yelped, "What was that for?"

"That was nothing compared to the abuse your brother suffered while you were drowning in your cups, you fool!" Alicent hissed, teeth bared; her anger tangible.

The doors above you clanged open, and Corlys charged through them, demanding, "What is the meaning of this!?"

"Baela? Rhaena!" Rhaenys gasped, following her husband down the stairs. "What happened? What happened?" She asked, taking the girls instantly into her arms.

Corlys looked around with a fierce gaze, standing before you lot as you tightened your hold on the boys. Not a moment later, your mother was finally opening the doors - looking spooked by the news she received. "Jace?" She looked around - and when she located you three, she was shouting, "Luke!"

You stepped back to let your mother kneel before the boys; and felt a hand smooth around your shoulders. Looking up, Corlys brought you into his side for a tight hug. Your bandaged hand laid on his stomach, making him take it up and examine it with a tight jaw.

"Show me, show me," your mother rushed to your little brother, pulling Luke's hands from his face and revealing his own injury. "Who did this?"

"They attacked me!" Aemond shouted from his seat.

"He attacked Baela!" Jace shouted back.

"He broke Luke's nose!" Baela shouted, and then, the over-lapping voices were too great and many to make out. Yet, bits and parts met your ears as Uncle Daemon arrived on scene, and chose to lean on the door with crossed arms instead of rush for his injured daughters. You did not speak, Corlys and you stood silently and listened.

"He stole my mother's dragon!"

"Enough," Viserys demanded, but the children still shrilly argued.

"He was going to kill Jace!"

"I didn't do anything!"

"Enough!" Viserys tried again.

"It should be my son telling the tale!" Alicent joined the efforts.

"He called us - "

But Viserys roared over everyone, cutting Jace off, "SILENCE!"

The room echoed with the aftermath of ringing voices; everyone shying into themselves, and making your father's father tighten his hold around your shoulders. Behind you, your brother whispered to your mother, "He called us bastards."

Rhaenyra stood in thought and kept the bloody boys behind her, sharing a small look with you as her eyes skated over your bandage. But nothing could be said as her hands came to wring together as Viserys called, "Aemond..." His cane struck the stone with each step he took, "I will have the truth of what happened... Now."

"What else is there to hear?" Alicent interjected. "Your son has been maimed. Her son is responsible."

"It was a regrettable accident," Rhaenyra swiftly defended - but even she sounded shaken.

"Accident," Alicent repeated, Corlys pulling you back a step to let your mother be seen. "The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to an ambush. He meant to kill my son."

You wanted to correct her that it was Jace's dagger and Luke only picked it up when her son meant to bash in Jace's head - but now wasn't the time, because your mother was snarling in defense, "It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves." You nodded in agreement, and Viserys saw the motion. "Vile insults were levied against them."

"What insults?" Viserys questioned.

It was silent before Rhaenyra responded, "The legitimacy of my sons' birth was put loudly to question."

"What?" The King asked.

"He called us bastards," Jace spoke up, making the room go still. This was the confrontation everyone was waiting on...

"Y/N?" Viserys asked, making you tense up.

"What?" Rhaenyra turned to you. "You were involved?"

"I only arrived at the end," you shook your head. "I do not know what was said or done in full," you begged to the King to understand through your words, and it seemed, your other Grandfather did by how he shifted slightly in front of you. "Though, yes, the word 'bastard' was hurled as insult, Your Grace..."

"My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace," your mother swept back in, making you shudder a breath. "This is the highest of treasons..." Her words settled over everyone. "Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders."

Aemond had turned in his seat to glare at your mother, his older sister; making the King look down at him. But it was the Queen who asked the Princess, "Over an insult? My son has lost an eye - possibly his life, should your daughter not of been there!"

Viserys looked again to Aemond, asking, "You tell me, boy. Where did you hear this lie?"

"The insult was training yard bluster," Alicent tried to save. "The lot of boys. It was nothing."

"Aemond..." Viserys prodded. "I asked you a question."

To save her son from answering, Alicent asked, "Where is Ser Laenor, I wonder? The boys' father? Perhaps he might have something to say in the matter."

"Yes. Where is Ser Laenor?" Viserys agreed, eyes looking to your mother.

"I do not know, Your Grace. I... Could not find sleep. I had gone out to walk," You mother answered.

"Entertaining his younger squires, I would venture," the Queen snipped, making some in the court smirk and snicker as the insult registered.

"I beg your pardon, Your Grace," you pushed away from Corlys to face Alicent and the King, but your gaze was set on the redheaded woman, "because I understand you are distraught from your son's injury, but do not mistake that for giving you leave to openly insult my father, or add fuel to such allegations. This is not the training yard, Your Grace, leaving no room for bluster. Mind your manners."

"Come here, girl, and hush yourself," Corlys sighed, pulling you back to his side. He sighed as Viserys chose to ignore your comment, which made the Queen stiffen her spine and avoid your heated gaze.

"Aemond... Look at me," Viserys directed to his son, making the One-Eyed Prince meet his father's angered, hardened eyes. "Your King demands an answer. Who spoke these lies to you?"

You didn't see the Prince's eyes cut over to his mother, but saw the King straighten his spine to look at his wife - and knew.

It was as if a collective breath was held as the King was then told by his son, "It was Aegon."

"Me?" Aegon repeated quietly, looking truly shell-shocked to be thrown into the mix. You sighed gently.

The King now turned his sights on his eldest son, growling, "And you, boy?" He stalked up to the taller kid. "Where did you hear such calumnies?" But when his son did not answer, nor meet his gaze, the King shouted, "Aegon! Tell me the truth of it!"

With a tremble to his tone, Aegon spoke, "We know, Father." He met his father's gaze, "Everyone knows... Just look at them," his lip curled, "and then look at her. She is true-born, that cannot be disputed."

Your chin lifted as your glare turned deadly, daring anyone to say more as the King was silently surveying the room. But he chose not to pursue this further, and snapped, "This interminable infighting must cease!" His cane punctuated his words. "All of you! We are family!" He only glanced at Aemond, perhaps finding the injury too gnarly to look at longer; turning his gaze to the room again. "Now make your apologies and show good will to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your King demands it!"

But nobody spoke as the King's words did not feel truly fair. Perhaps, the others were going to wait for him to leave to 'handle' this situation, but before he could, Alicent was speaking, "That is insufficient." The King turned to hear her words. "Aemond has been damaged, permanently, my King. 'Good will' cannot make him whole."

"I know, Alicent, but I cannot restore his eye."

"No, because it's been taken!" Alicent refused her husband's words.

"What would you have me do?" Viserys growled.

"There is a debt to be paid," she decided, and the room went still. "I shall have one of her son's eyes in return."

Heads turned to look at your mother and brothers, and you broke away to then stand at your mother's side and kept Lucerys behind you. The crowd muttered with discomfort as the King approached the Queen, "My dear wife..."

"He is your son, Viserys," She begged through her tears. "Your blood."

"Do not," Viserys warned, "allow your temper to guide your judgement."

That was supposed to be that, but chaos still rained. She spoke defiantly, "If the King will not seek justice, the Queen will. Ser Criston... Bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon."

"Mother!" Luke gasped, and she kept him back and between you.

"Alicent," Viserys tried.

"He can choose which eye to keep, a privilege he did not grant my son," Alicent sneered.

"You will do not such thing," Rhaenyra defended and your hands tightened on your brother.

"Stay your hand," Viserys demanded.

"No, you are sworn to me!" Alicent refused with a shout, making it known she was desperate for action. And eyes turned for Cole, knowing he was nothing better than her leashed dog.

"As your Protector, my Queen," Cole refused - a smart decision.

"Alicent, this matter... Is finished," The King leered fiercely. "Do you understand?" It was quiet as the woman did not respond, everyone watching as Viserys turned from the room; but paused to address, "And let it be known: anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra's sons," he then directed at Alicent, sneering, "should have it removed."

"Thank you, Father," Your mother spoke softly from her place, something making the hair on your neck stand on end. You did not turn as your mother did, lowering herself to speak to her sons - you watched the Queen.

And thankfully, you did.

You watched her stride for Viserys and yank a dagger from his belt and turn. "Mother!" You gasped, stepping in front of her protectively as the Queen charged.

"Alicent!" Viserys screamed.

"Stay with the King!" Westerling demanded of Cole as he followed Alicent. "HOLD YOUR APPROACH!"

"My girl!" Rhaenyra pushed you out of the way in time to step forward and take hold of either of Alicent's wrists. It was chaos as they engaged; everyone trying to space out and move from the way as the King's Guards were tangled amongst each other.

Luke screamed shrilly in fear as your mother took on Alicent. You wanted to turn for the boys and huddle them close, but Corlys was back at your side, and together, you both stood as pillars in front of them while Princess and Queen struggled against one another.

"Stay your hand, Cole!" Westerling demanded of the disobedient knight; making Daemon push off his post to intercept the man.

"You've gone too far!" Your mother struggled with Alicent.

"I?" The Queen repeated breathlessly. "What have I done but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law! While you flout all to do as you please!"

"Alicent! Let her go!" Viserys demanded.

"Mother!" You worried, wondering if you should step in. Would you be reprimanded for cutting down the Queen? You eyed the sword at your Grandsire's hip - leaving it open for you to take.

Yet, you dare not.

"Where is duty? Where is sacrifice?" Alicent spoke tearfully still. "It's trampled under your pretty foot, again!"

"Release the blade, Alicent!" Otto, the Queen's father, called from the end of the hall.

"And now you take my son's eye," she told your mother, "and to even that, you feel entitled."

"Exhausting, wasn't it?" Your mother countered. "Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness." She whispered, "But now they see you as you are."

Alicent shouted in anger; the women pushing away from each other and blade sliced through flesh. Corlys and you both caught your mother when she was flung back, but the sounds of trickling blood pattering onto the floor drew your attention.

"Mum," you worried when her wrist was sliced open to let blood drip freely down her hand, through her fingers; pooling to the stone floor beneath you. "Gods," you whispered, looking up in shock, muttering for those who did not see, "you cut her."

"Darling," your mother hushed, but you were grabbing at her wrist to try to hold pressure - like you were trained to do.

It was silent besides that as everyone waited for the next move to be made. Nobody did until Prince Aemond stepped into the circle; earning the attention of those lingering.

"Do not mourn me, Mother," the Prince spoke softly, looking at Alicent. "It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye... But I gained a dragon."

Vhagar had a new rider.

"This proceeding is at an end," Viserys decided, giving everyone a stern look. Cole wrangled free and Daemon stalked forward to crowd you closer to your mother; Luke coming up to hold your waist as you were holding the wound as tight as possible.

Aemond moved to hug his mother in comfort, something you were doing in your own way. Jace took the rear, and stood with Daemon and Corlys, giving Alicent a first look at the family that would bring ruin to her own. But your mother, too, got a good look at the family who would bring your own doom.

"Could we please see to this?" You asked, nodding at the blood that seeped, again, from between your fingers.

"Yes," Rhaenyra agreed. "Perhaps in our rooms."

"Let's go," you pleaded, offering the Hightower Queen one more glare before turning with your mother to keep the pressure on her wound.

"I sought an audience early this morning," your mother explained softly, "before the King and Queen were to depart for King's Landing. And I know it is feeling unfair, my girl, and I do not want to see you go, but the tension can not fester beyond this. Vengeance is a powerful weapon, and I would not see my family harmed for something as petty as this. My hope is that with Viserys around, they will warm up to you, and you will be safe."

"So, after you sent Jace, Luke, and I away this morning, you and Father discussed, what? Selling me off?"

"I know it hurts," she relented, but you sighed.

"No, no, I am only being jealous."

"Of what, sweet girl?"

"Perhaps of not having a cock of my own, so that I might have some say in these matters. Or maybe I am merely jealous of the idea of leaving you while the boys stay. Yet, at least, I will have some time with you yet before I am to marry - not many Ladies can say they have that luxury."

She took a sobering breath, "I knew you'd understand. But for all it can be worth, I am sorry."

You nodded, sighing, "For our family's honor, and for Luke's full vision, I will marry Prince Aemond when the time comes..."

"My girl," she breathed with relief, bringing you in for a bone-crushing hug. After a moment, she pulled back to sniffle; and just over your heads, three of the royal dragons took flight - with Vhagar swooping low to the waters before following the King's ship.

You both paused to stare after them.

"Do you trust them, Mother?"

Rhaenyra sighed, "I trust my father, but the Hightower claws are dug deep." You both breathed for a moment. "You will be a single spot of Targaryen Black in a sea of Hightower Green, my love. Our House words must not be forgotten..."

Your chin lifted, knowing in heart, you would always be a Targaryen Dragon more than a Velaryon Sea Horse - telling her gently, "Fire and Blood..."

"When the time comes," Rhaenyra sighed, "I can only pray I leave you with dragon scales instead of skin - so that their green flames do not burn you, my sweet girl."

You smirked gently at her, "Mother, fire - whether Green or not, cannot kill a dragon. Though I know I've salt in my veins, too, it is the blood of Old Valyria, and fire will be my ally."

Rhaenyra sighed and turned to pull you in closer with a kiss to your head. "I know it is sudden news, but we still have years with each other. Much will change, but I will never leave you feeling unprepared." Movement, again, caught her eye over your shoulder; making her sniffle and sober up. "Go on, go now. Find your brothers for me, please."

You agreed, and after a kiss to her cheek, left her be; passing your silent Great Uncle Daemon along the way with only a head nod of acknowledgement.

Time on Dragonstone was never the same. Days after laying your Aunt Laena to rest, you lost your own father, Lord Laenor, to a petty quarrel he had with his lover, Qarl. The lad was never found, apparently somewhere lost to the Stepstones, but the anger never dissipated. Your mother had welcomed the Knight into the family, and he turned blade on your father?

In Laenor's father's hall?

The devastating blow was hardest on you, who could not grieve far enough. You internalized a lot of it, but your brother's tried to help you shoulder it all - yet this was a path you walked alone. Seemingly only days after that, on your ancestral home, your mother then married her Uncle Daemon, and your cousins Baela and Rhaena were now your step-sisters.

They lived with you all on Dragonstone and your mother took your education very seriously. Professors came into port to be guests of the castle, dedicating hours upon hours a day to tutor you in a broad arrangement of subjects.

History, philosophy, reading, philanthropy, writing, specialized tutors to broaden your Valyrian, a whole class on just diction - forcing you to learn new words; first-aid training, and even drawing.

Your step-father also took up your training after your beloved father had passed. Daemon recommended you work your anger and grief out through the training yard, and you took that advice to heart. He posed as a challenger in damn-near everything, and by the Gods, you tried not to feel competitive, but it sharpened your wit and instincts. Daemon knew what he was doing, and yet, never showed an ounce of 'loving warmth', only stoic respect.

Your mother taught you what she could about being both Lady and wife - taking meals privately with you to go into more expressive details. Questions you had, she answered; and as you grew older, you wondered deeper - and she often answered with red, flushed cheeks. Yet your mother kept her promise and would not let you go off to King's Landing unprepared.

You read books. Wrote letters, kept journals. Learned from experience, learned from reading; did what you could to understand as much as possible, never quenching your thirst for knowledge.

Perhaps, subconsciously, you wondered if this would create more distance between now and your marriage - but your 18th nameday was creeping up, and you were out of options.

Three months before, your summons arrived.

Your mother tried to deliver the news softly, but tears broke her waterline; and you understood that she meant to say goodbye. Apparently, by Queen Alicent's hand-written letter, you were to marry the Prince before the week's end, and it was already midweek.

Aemond did not wish for a big wedding, but your family insisted on something. Viserys had called upon the royal dressers, and all festivities would be covered. All you had to do was show up, and yet, it felt like that was the hardest chore. Your mother had sniffled as she pet your hair off your shoulders, nodding, "It's time, my girl."

Daemon opted not to attend the wedding and after a bit of persuasion, your mother and brothers decided to stay on Dragonstone with him. You were to travel alone because you were to hit the ground running, and you were beyond nervous.

Your mother helped pack your things - sending servants and maids away to let you two have moments of privacy. She gave you last second advice, promising that when you need it, she was always there for you. Dragonstone wasn't far by dragonback and there were always ravens to send - but she warned you about the Hightowers more than likely intercepting letters.

She advised you to write in code.

Promised she loved you.

Swore to you that marriage wasn't always all so bad; and before you knew it, you were standing with Kasta's packed saddle - facing your family for the final time.

"Well," you breathed, nodding at them all, "I wish to say that I will miss you all, and thank you for the incredible years."

"Good luck, sister," Jace nodded.

The night before, the boys had snuck into your room for the last time and let you hold them; tears of sadness weeping into their dark brown locks. You smiled at him, "Thank you, brother. I will send a raven when I am settled, and... Well, you know."

"When you're married," Luke teased, giggling lightly.

"Hush," you mother chided gently, but smiled at the boy, glancing at you. "Go hug your sister goodbye, love."

Luke frowned deeply and rushed for your waist - though, no longer being a small child, he was still a young lad; and you could wrap your arms around him tightly. You kissed the top of his head and sighed, "I'll miss you with my heart, Luke. I promise to write you, you can practice writing me back if you want."

"But, sister," he worried, pulling back only so to hush, "what if the nightmares come back?"

You smiled at him, "I left you a present on your bed. I hope that helps you through the nights. Let it be a comfort." It was a red and black stuffed dragon toy, something you prayed would comfort him in your absence.

He nodded, tears falling down his cheeks. "Do not go," he begged gently, holding your skirts.

"I'd stay if I could, but this is for the best," you assured, never having the heart to tell him that your marriage arrangement was made some years ago, and now, as you were a woman, it was time to 'pay up' to save him from being blinded. He didn't need to know the truth.

Jace pulled Luke back but instantly stepped up in his place, instead. He sighed into your neck; much taller than the last time you remembered, and letting yourself loose a few tears. "Do not let them change you, sister. Please, be safe," Jace rushed in your ear, tightening his hug.

"I will," you cried, giving him a squeeze. "Be there for Mother... She'll need you now."

"I won't disappoint you," he promised, pulling away.

"Be good," you chuckled at him, patting his shoulder as he moved back. Baela and Rhaena stepped up to hug you goodbye, having grown fond of their older 'sister' during the time you had together. You kissed their foreheads, bid them well, and again, promised you were only a raven away.

Daemon was next, and he did offer a hug (shockingly). You squeezed into his embrace, and when you pulled back, he wished, "Good luck in the city, niece. Remember the leech will feed, even when fat. My brother's blinded by..." He sighed. "Nevermind. It's not your responsibility. Just do not let him forget his family loves him."

"I'll be sure to be there for him, Uncle."

He nodded, "Then - good luck. Marriage is mostly political, so, play your part with caution in mind."

"Your advice has always been appreciated," you nodded. "And thank you - for all the lessons you gave these past years."

"What a student I had," he smirked, giving you a final nod as you moved on to your mother.

She took a long, shuddering breath. "You'll write, won't you?" Her hands reached, as they always did, to pet over the silver locks that spilled down your shoulders.

"Of course," you promised softly. "You will not be rid of me so easily."

"I should hope not," she chuckled, but held her tears at bay.

"Say it now, Mum, and I will stay," you promised in a whisper. "You need me, and I will stay - "

"No," she sighed, moving to hold your cheeks. "You are no longer responsible for me. I would not let you go if I thought it was feeding you to the wolves... Though I wish for you to stay, there is a duty to be performed, my sweet girl."

You nodded, letting a few tears fall down your cheeks. "I'll just miss you terribly. Who will I go to for advice?"

"You'll understand who to trust, but keep in mind that you might write in a journal. Let it act as if it's me, and write, my girl. Hide it away, burn it even, but do not let yourself feel so isolated."

"A Black Dragon in an Emerald Mine," you snickered softly, making her grin. "I will not disappoint you, Mother."

"You never do," she promised. "Be careful, and do not trust anyone. You're in the snake's garden now, and their bite is fierce."

You nodded, hands over hers to hold your cheeks. "I wish you'd be there."

"I do, too," she promised. "But you are my strongest girl, you will endure this with grace."

You nodded, leaning in to hug her one last time. She sniffled into your neck, but after a moment, you had to giggle, "Mum, you've got to let me go. Mumma, c'mon, now."

She groaned and released you, "All right, fine. Go on. I love you - so much. Do not forget that."

You climbed onto Kasta's mighty back; needing something of a rope ladder to get on her properly. With another wave, your family called their love and luck; hearing Kasta roar in departure before surging forward, spreading her wings, and then leaping off the cliffside. You held on tightly as she cut through the air, your family all watching as Kasta roared once more but otherwise, did not turn back.

You cried during the whole flight; truly afraid of what you were to encounter when you landed. Alicent and the Hightowers knew of your arrival, and you wondered why she insisted on such a swift wedding.

Last you knew, your fiancé had both concurred the largest dragon in the world but also lost his left eye.

Perhaps there was a rush so you could not back out. But you had honor, and if your hand in marriage is what it took to heal the rift between your families, to soothe the wound Lucerys inflicted, then so be it. There was honor in completing one's duty.

You prayed, through tears, it was enough.

[ part two ]

[ series masterlist ]

#aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond the kinslayer #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond hotd #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd x reader

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silentwonderlocks · 2 months

Text

Your Own Sky- Albert Wesker x GN!Reader - One Shot

Warnings: Cursing, descriptions of violence and murder, angst

You shouldn’t worry too much now, dear. You’ll soon be free of all of this anyway.”

The Police Station looked different at two in the morning, almost like a haunted house taken right from a movie set and put in the quaint town known as Raccoon City. The light mist of rainfall didn’t help with its appearance either. It stood tall glaring back at you as you stood outside the main gate. Your morning shift was long over but you couldn’t help but drag yourself back here, late at night when fewer officers would be around the station. You have found yourself doing this for two long and torturous weeks ago when everything changed in the S.T.A.R.S. program when everything began to change in you.

Your hand pushes open the ornate pewter gate, leaving it ajar just enough to walk through. Once your hand leaves the gate, you listen as it shrieks itself close. The sound echoed in your mind for a moment, when did this place start to begin to feel like a prison? You took your time walking up the concrete steps, each step felt like a sentence until you finally reached the double wooden doors. You pushed them open and walked inside, now in the main lobby.

The main lobby was nothing like the normal police stations in America, then again, nothing was like Raccoon City. It was once a regal art museum, filled to the brim with paintings, and elegant sculptures. Now nearly completely renewed as a fancy-look police station. It used to be one of your favorite things about the place, how every room felt like a discovery wondering what was originally here. Thankfully, the police station did end up keeping more of the more.. defining pieces such as the pure white marble maiden statue in the lobby. The lion statue at the top of the main double staircase, the unicorn statue next to the library, and so forth.

No one was there besides the young receptionist at the police desk, Officer Bradley. A man in his early twenties, with a short black buzzcut, and a gold hoop earring in his left ear. Currently in the middle of what looked like some random game card on the computer, Solitaire maybe? Bradley seemed to have felt you staring because his head snapped up to you so fast, you were sure he must have pulled a muscle. His milk chocolate eyes lit up slightly seeing you, you had both been pretty friendly in the short time together. A few greetings and asking what each one would be doing that weekend, nothing more than short and friendly talk.

Bradley smiled at you, it wasn’t a friendly “Hey good to see you one”, it read more of a “Hey, you should be home resting”. A sympathetic and sorrowful one. It was the same treatment you and most of your fellow members of S.T.A.R.S. The constant coddling and walking on eggshells, the never-ending condolences. You hated it in a way, you wish everything would just go quiet and back to normal but it wouldn’t. But you swallowed your pride and gave a small smile back at him. Now was not the time to be thinking about the past, not yet.

“Shouldn’t you be at home, resting for your shift tomorrow? Or should I say today?” Bradley asked in a smooth baritone voice. You swore that if he wasn’t a cop, he would be making a living as a singer.

You let out a soft laugh then shook your head at his comment. He wasn’t wrong but it wasn’t the first time that you had come into work with less than 8 hours of sleep. Plus the station’s crappy coffee while tasting like utter garbage, did its job of keeping you awake when needed.

“I’ll be fine, all of us practically live here anyway,” You responded dismissively, waving your hand.

“Heh..maybe for you. I like going home and living the outside life.” Bradley says with a chuckle and slight shake of his head.

“To each their own I suppose, dont work too hard.” You say as you begin to walk away and the small ramp then up the left staircase of the station. You heard Bradley snort but didn’t proceed to say anything more.

You walked up the stairs, turning left into the library’s hallway. You walked past the huge bookshelves lined with all kinds of research and information. Empty tables and chairs, with a few wrappers from the vending machine candy. It doesn’t take you long to get where you truly want to go, where you need to go. Past the unicorn statute, into a long L-type hallway. Finally, you reach the section of the station you have been dreading to be in every day since that night. The lone door stood there, with a metal plaque in big bold letters next to it that read: S.T.A.R.S. Special Tactics and Rescue Service.

You stare at the words that seemingly mocked you. If S.T.A.R.S was supposed to be at the top of the team, Raccoon City’s best of the best then how did everything go so wrong? The taste of bile slowly rose in your throat, you knew why. It sickens you and makes you want to scream out. But you don’t.

Being outside of the S.T.A.R.S office was already a hard thing but being inside was a different experience. Even now as you stand in the doorway of the office. You just frown looking ahead at the desks. There were nine long wooden desks, some facing back to back with the others. It was a small space for each person but they made it work. Everyone had something or a style to their desk to indicate it was theirs. You walk up to the desks, noticing the tenth and eleventh one on the right side pinned against the wall. Out of the eleven desks there, five were empty and cleaned out.

You frowned looking at them, it was only two weeks ago when your Captain took you and the rest of S.T.A.R.S on a mission regarding a mansion. The Mansion Incident. At the time, it seemed like a normal mission despite the reports of people.. eating each other. You took a seat at your desk, it was across from Jill’s and diagonal from Chris’s. Both respected co-workers and survivors with you. You couldn’t believe it was only two weeks ago, you lost five members of your makeshift family. It didn’t help that memories and sounds of their laughter and voices were a mere fade now. Tears began to prick your eyes, you didn’t want to forget them and all the time spent together, but every day you felt them slipping from your mind. You held your head in your hands trying to calm the pain.

Monstersourus. That is the word you use and still use to describe that night in question. It started normal, being dropped off to investigate only to be chased into a mansion nearby by hideously diseased-looking rottweilers. The rest of the night was a house of horrors, people being picked off left and right, monsters of all kinds and shapes attacking you from any opportunity that arose. The worst of it all was the betrayal by the man whom you loved and respected the most. Captain Albert Wesker. The man who sealed everyone’s fate that night and the rest of their lives.

Your relationship with Wesker was…complicated to say the least. He was your boss first and foremost but over the two years of working along his side.

Something had changed, your dynamic was simple at first.

You would always greet him like you would any other officer, and he would usually respond with a curt ‘morning’ or just simply nod his head. You would ask him along with the others if he would join you for drinks after a successful mission. He would always decline, saying ‘I have more important things than killing my brain calls on cheap alcohol’. A statement that rings deeper in you than you remember.

Sparring sessions with him is where the dynamic began to change. It was a late night after a rough mission, rough missions are usually ones where the team isn’t able to save everyone and in this case, it was a young kid. It hit you hard and instead of going home for the night like everyone else did. You stayed there in the workout area, just punching the hung-up bag over and over until your hand felt numb. The memory is slowly replaying in your mind.

“Poor stance and swing. Who taught you how to punch?”

You jolted in surprise, turning around to see your captain, standing in the doorway. Bemused by your fighting. His arms were crossed over his chest, his black sunglasses staring back through you. Still in his uniform without the vest and radio. Your heartbeat sped up, he always had this imitating nature to him.

“uh...Chris sir.” You respond at first, waiting to see if he needs you for something or if he is just making conversation.

Wesker scoffed, the corner of his thin lips twisting into a light scowl. His grip on his arms seemed to tense up.

“Remind me, I need to retrain Mr. Redfield. He’s getting sloppy.” You nod at his request, expecting him to walk away and leave you to finish up your workout. But he didn't, he stood there longer. Like he’s waiting for something.

“How long were you watching??” You ask him with light pants.

“Enough to know that if you’re in a real fight, you won't last long.” You stared at him with an offended expression, unsure what to say.

“Excuse me?” He scoffs one more.

“I know you’re not daff, you heard me the first time. I will not be repeating myself.” You frowned looking at him, this was honestly the most you have talked with him.

You and he may have not talked but you did notice things about him. While being a hardass and strict as the rest of the members put it, you saw him as ambitious and just closed off. Over the last two years, you had picked up on his little mechanics. Wesker is a man who speaks with his body when he’s not speaking words. How his lips twist into a scowl when he’s annoyed, when he’s pleased he lets out a smooth hum noise. When he’s livid, which you have only seen a few times, his jaw clenches, and his eyebrows furrow. At this moment, you knew Wesker was annoyed with Chris but other than that. You didn't know why he was here, wait he did...

“Would you like to teach me properly?” You ask a bit more sassy than you would like. Even if he was your boss, you didn’t like being criticized so rudely.

“If I didn’t then the S.T.A.R.S department would become a joke. I have no room nor the patience for more idiots on this team” And that was how the weekly sparring sessions began.

As the memory fades, you let out a short laugh filled with pain. You close your eyes, wiping the tears away. After the sparring sessions happened, you improved to the point that Wesker said you didn't spar anymore. That didn’t stop the two of you from continuing the routine. You grew to learn about him, how smart the man truly was, and how blunt he could be. It was worth it, or you thought at the time it was worth it.

Despite the tears no longer pricking from your eyes. The pain wouldn’t stop, now that you had remembered and started to think about Wesker. Everything was hurting, you never felt so alone and small before this. Finally picking yourself up from the office chair, you go to the small closed section with a glass door in your way. It wasn’t just any section though, it was Wesker’s office. Or it used to be his. Now it was just another empty seat along with the other five. Out of the twelve of you, you had officially lost six members of the team.

Opening the glass door, your breath hitched. Since that night at the mansion, you hadn’t stepped foot in his office. Part of you was angry, and out of spite wanted nothing to do with him or his belongings, but it wore you down to regret and sadness when you realized that despite how angry you are. You miss him dearly.

To your shock, all of his belongings were still here. All of his books are on the back counter behind his desk. The wall was still littered with all of his achievements and plaques from the departments. His name mocking you as well as you reading the title on the desk.

“Captain Wesker”

Even his desk looked like how he left it. All neat, a pile of papers stacked nicely underneath his desk lamp. A black rotary telephone sat near the lamp, which made sense if the police chief needed to reach him quickly. On the other side of the desk was a computer similar to the one Bradley was playing on. His office chair wasn’t like yours and your fellow members. His was a black and puffy cushioned chair, lucky bastard.

A sickening feeling came back to you, how was his office left untouched but the others were picked clean? Did…no one care? Were...you supposed to do that? A sudden twinge of guilt ripped through you. The more you looked around, you began to notice that Wesker had nothing truly sentimental, nothing that seemed to break the fine line of work and personal life.

Each step inside his office felt like the air was limited. Your emotions ranged from anger to sorrow. You wanted to trash his neat office, you wanted to reflect on the man who killed your friends and co-workers. Reaching his desk, you went and sat down in his seat. You let out a shaky sigh, it still smelled of him...Your hand clenched into a fist as you noticed something that made you want to scream and cry. It was small, so small that you wouldn't have noticed it unless you were behind a desk. Unless you were Wesker sitting in his spot.

In the corner of the computer, there was a tiny wallet-sized photo tucked into the edge of it. So it wouldn’t be able to fly away. The photo was of you and Wesker at the bar, you smiling brightly and him giving a half-annoyed smile to the camera. You were both sitting at the bar counter, a beer in each hand, you had your arm around his waist. Your head leaned into his chest while at the time Brad took the photo. At the time, Wesker wasn't used to nor ready for that kind of contact. Fumbled to hold you back, so the photo caught him trying to hold you back. His free hand is in mid-air.

That photo was the first night he had shown up at the bar. The first time, he had swallowed his pride and decided to join you. While he didn’t come along with everyone, he showed up later. You were so happy and slightly tipsy that you couldn’t help yourself and hug him and excitedly scream to get a photo. You assumed he probably regretted it with how annoyed he seemed. You didn’t know that he ended up keeping the damn photo.

“You bastard..you…” You spoke through gritted teeth, feeling the tears coming back.

“How could you?” You finally asked the question that no one would answer.

More memories began to cloud your mind, all kinds of memories. But the ones that hurt the most were the happy ones with him.

“Wesker. I’ll be fine, I walk home all the time when my car is acting up. I walked here, you know?”

The two of you were outside, it was snowing down awful. You were sure the roads had to be worse than the sidewalks. You were bundled up in a beanie, scarf, and police jacket. Wesker was standing beside you, in a long black winter coat with a red scarf and leather gloves. Fancy man he isn't. Everyone was gone at this point so you were just outside enjoying the last of your coffee when he asked you about your home. He let out a grunt that sounded like a scoff.

“I will not ask you again Y/n, get in the car before I make you work overtime.” Wesker’s lip turns into a slight smirk as he walks to his car. The use of your first name caught you off guard.

“Hey! Do you even know where I live??” You called out walking after him.

“Of course, I need to know my officers' locations in case it's an emergency.” You let out a scoff of your own, of course, he does. Wesker always seems to know something ten steps before you do.

“Wipe the snow off of your shoes.”

“Yes, Mom,” You joke, doing what he asked and entering the passenger seat.

Once you realized what left your mouth, you were frozen waiting for his response. Should you apologize? You weren't really on joking terms with him yet so this was a step in either direction. It must have been a good step because when you heard him lightly chuckle. You finally felt relaxed. Despite the light mood, it was quickly gone when the drive began. What the hell do you say? Do you even say anything? Maybe he likes the silence and you didn’t want to bore him. After that night with him coming to the bar, you quickly realized the next day. He had smitten you and so being in his car alone was making you more nervous than you wanted. Wesker kept his eyes on the road, taking the right roads to get to your apartment building. You would steal looks, watching as the pasting streetlights illuminate his face. How the hell could he wear sunglasses at night?

“Can I ask you something?” You finally spoke, feeling the words tumble out like a nervous mess. Great.

“Only if I can ask something back,” Wesker responded in a smooth tone, keeping his eyes ahead.

“Why do you always wear sunglasses?”Wesker snorted slightly then finally looked over at you for a moment.

“That’s it? You have the chance to ask me anything, and you want to know about my sunglasses?”

“Yep!” You said with a sheepish tone and smile.

“I'm just curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat Y/n.”

“Well, satisfaction brought it back.”

Wesker let out another chuckle at your quick wit.“Touche.”

Then there was a silence like Wesker was hesitating or thinking over his next words carefully.

“Let’s just say, I like to be mysterious.”

You couldn't help but laugh at that. It seemed like a throwaway answer rather than the real one.

“What? That’s it? No way. Even at night too?” Wesker smirked once more.

“You already asked your question. It’s my turn.”

You slightly pouted at how he wasn't going to answer your questions but you understood. Maybe it was a touchy topic for him so you didn’t push it any further.

“Do I scare you?”

You blinked at his question. Did he scare you? Not really, maybe intimidate you but never scare you. He was a strict man, ruthless but he was a man who didn’t like incompetence and you could respect that. “Scare me? Why do you ask that?”

“Answer me and I’ll tell you.”Now it was time for you, to choose your words carefully.

“No, you don’t. You’re… a man who speaks his mind. Your appearance can be intimidating but you don’t scare me. You are a blunt man, ruthless sometimes but I think you do it because no one has the balls to do it. Pardon my language.”Wesker said nothing, and suddenly you felt small.

Oh no, did you say something wrong, were you kissing his ass? You noticed that his grip on the steering wheel tightened and then loosened. Like he was fighting an internal conflict with himself.

“I appreciate your honesty.” You waited for him to continue talking but didn't and you didn’t push him. Maybe he was dealing with something and just needed the small reassurance but you didn't have the guts to ask him. You believed he wouldn’t tell you directly either, you were just a coworker. Nothing else as much as you wanted it.

Neither of you spoke for the rest of the car ride until he parked to let you out.

“Y/n.”

“Hm?”

“Before you go inside. I would like you to accompany me to dinner this week if you’re free.”You blinked in surprise. No way, he wasn't asking you out?

“Dinner?”

Wesker sighed once more, opening his mouth to speak but you beat him to it.

“I know I know, you don't like repeating yourself. But I just wanted to make sure I heard you right.”

“Is it a yes?”

“Yes.”

There your relationship began to blossom from simple co-workers to a forbidden romance. A fruit that tasted so sweet who could ever see the downfall? It was bliss and simple and you loved it. You noticed all of the little things that came along with the relationship.

While Wesker wasn’t affectionate, he would show his feelings in other ways. Firstly you noticed how he would leave you a cup of warm coffee on your desk since he would always get there before anyone else. Secondly, you noticed he was always around you more often. It didn’t matter if you were with other people or by yourself, he was always in the room with you. The nights after work were your favorite part, just being able to unwind with him on his couch talking about the future and what office made him upset that day. He rarely kissed you, when he did It would be a short peck on the cheek unless you engaged first. The man talked more with his hands than his words. His hand often being on your lower back, a simple but effective sign that you were his.

It didn’t take long for people to notice Wesker’s little changes either, how he seemed to be less annoyed and a little more lenient with some others. A rumor going around that he had to be dating or seeing someone, thankfully the two of you were good at hiding the truth. Him more than you.

Tears rolled down your cheeks onto his polished desktop, you gritted your teeth. Your head in your hands gripping the sides, hurt and anger fully taking over your mind and body. Slamming one clenched fist down, you quickly removed yourself from Wesker’s chair as if it seared you. Wiping away your tears, you take one last one at the photo on his computer. With one smooth motion, you remove it and stuff it into your pocket.

Standing in the doorway, you glance over your shoulder. Taking one last look at the shell of a man who once resigned here. You close the door, leaving your heart behind with the ghosts. Wesker was gone, dead by his own devices and here you were being helpless. Helpless for him.

You let out a shaky breath trying to keep your composure. As you turned to exit the S.T.A.R.S area, your breath hitched spotting one of the things you have been dreading.

On the wall, next to the exit door was a framed photograph of the entire S.T.A.R.S team. Both Alpha and Bravo. A small sorrowful smile reached your lips, your fingers gently brushing over the glass.

“I miss all of you..so much. I'm sorry, I couldn't save any of you..” You spoke with a somber tone.

“Chris, Jill, Rebecca, Brad, Barry, and me..we are the only survivors. I promise you, we are avenging you all. We’ve been gathering evidence to take down those Umbrella bastards ever since that night.” You spoke again, this time with venom in your tone.

“Even if it kills me, I will avenge you all.” With those last words, you exit out of the S.T.A.R.S area with no intent of returning for the night.

You make your way back into the main lobby, Bradley is nowhere to be seen. His computer paused on the card game still. You thought nothing of it, assuming he went to the bathroom, which you were grateful for. You didn’t need him to notice you had been crying, and then coddle you like a child who lost their toy. You eyed the time on the computer. 3:30 am, damn you were here for nearly two hours and you didn’t even realize it. You sighed, rubbing your face, feeling now a wave of exhaustion hit you. You shook off the feeling, needing to get home first then you could pass out.

You open the main door walking down the concrete steps and reaching the ornate gate. The rain was no longer a mist, now actually coming down rather hard. You could hear thunder booming throughout the night, which meant lightning wouldn’t be too far. You cursed, rushing through the gate, its shrieking drowned out by the rain. Reaching your car, you get in and begin to drive home, focusing on nothing but the lights and the road. Alone with nothing but the rain and your memories.

You should have seen the signs, and the changes in his behavior and attitude one week before the mansion incident. He was on edge constantly, how he seemed to be colder towards you without any warning. You remember how you confronted him about it, an hour before getting on the helicopter.

“Wesker, what is your problem lately?” You asked after you followed him into the armory to talk.

“I'm not sure I know what you mean L/n.” He responded nonchalantly as he seemed to be picking out various types of ammo for the mission.

“Bullshit. Why have you been acting so cold towards me? Did I do something??” You ask, genuinely concerned and hurt by his attitude.

“It’s simple. I don't have any more use for you, you were a fun little experiment. “ His tone was harsh despite his calm composure.

“Experiment?! So… all of this time we spent, the sparring sessions, the late night talks and kisses. All lies?” You asked now angry, feeling yourself tear up but you blinked them away fast.

“What were you expecting? That I settle down and we would be married? Only a fool would wish that. I have more important things than wasting my breath on a lowlife love like yours.” Wesker hissed out, as he began to walk out of the armory.

You said silent at his words, you felt your heart break with every word.

“Now if we are done with this childish talk, we have a mission to prepare for. I expect you to be fully professional and not let your ridiculous feelings cause us failure. Understood L/n?” He spoke not even to glance back at you, the knife digging deeper.

“I..but..”

“I believe I was clear L/n.” He spoke once more, his tone cold and distant.

“Yes…Captain..” You spoke clenching your fists, watching him exit the room and turn down the hallway. You listened as his heavy footsteps departed away. Only when you knew he was truly gone did you let yourself cry.

A loud honk of a horn started you out of your thoughts, you jolted into the driver’s seat. Noticing the light was now green, you sheepishly waved to the car behind you and began to drive once more. You let out a sniffle and wiped your face, dammit when did you become such an emotional wreck?

Your grip on the steering wheel tightened, as you continued to drive. You could feel the photo in your pocket burning a hole in you, you felt sick. You had to be insane for caring so much for a man who didn't deserve it.

After what seemed like an hour's drive, even though it was only a fifteen-minute one, you finally pulled into your apartment building. The rain hadn’t calmed down so you had to book into your building without getting more soaked than you were. You ran up to the second floor wet squeaking noises following you. Unlocking the red door, you step inside, closing it then proceed to take off your wet shoes and coat.

Home didn’t feel completely the same either, so many of your co-workers had come over for events and Wesker had been here plenty of times. It felt like being in a stranger's home that just looked like yours.

“This whole city is a damn nightmare,” You spoke to yourself as you walked down the hallway into your bedroom.

Newspapers were scattered everywhere, along with books and piles of paper of old police reports and whatever evidence you gathered on the Umbrella Corporation. One of your walls was covered with photos and a stereotypical red thread connecting locations on a local map. The remaining members of S.T.A.R.S were out for blood and you couldn’t blame them, they had played god and taken away innocent lives. You just wish you didn’t have these damned feelings, it would be so much easier to be hateful.

Ignoring the mess, you go to your mirror and stare at yourself. Your hair was a mess, your eyes were red and puff no doubt from all the crying, and dark circles were beginning to form from the lack of sleep. Jill had offered you some sleeping pills since everyone was dealing with nightmares but you declined fearing you would get dependent on them. You rubbed your face, exhaustion fully aware of your expression. Thank god you didn’t fall asleep at the wheel.

Your eyes drift up to the right corner of the mirror, it is splattered with different photos. All of them have you in them, in some way with different people. Some are family, some are friends and some are your co-workers. You slowly take out the photo of you and Wesker out of your pocket. You glare at it, waiting for it to engulf itself in flames. But you sigh and then tape it on the mirror along with the others. It looked so out of place but maybe that’s why it felt right to keep it there. You just hoped that Jill or Chris wouldn't be coming around anytime or they would throw a fit.

“I believed in you.” You say out loud, your eyes never leaving Wesker’s photographed expression. You wanted to say so much yet, the words never came out.

“How long have they been slipping you a paycheck?!” Chris asked out of anger and disbelief staring at the end of Wesker’s barrel.

All of you were in the mansion’s underground lab, with blue fluorescent lighting, and huge tanks filled with all kinds of failed experiments. Wesker was over by what looked to be an advanced computer system with three or four screens displaying information you didn't understand. Next to him was a huge water tank. You stood in between Rebecca and Chris, you were already in a vulnerable position, Wesker having broken up with you earlier. You had just spent the majority of the night in both mental and physical pain. All of the zombies, gigantic animals, and the mutated experiments, it was truly a nightmare. If your heart wasn’t broken it was destroyed now, bleeding out.

Wesker kept his eyes on Chris and gave a little scoff moving forward. The barrel inches away from Chris’s face

“I think you’re a bit confused.” He spoke, finally turning to look towards you and Rebecca. It’s like his next words were directly at you.“I’ve always been with Umbrella and S.T.A.R.S. were Umbrella’s.” He paused, correcting his words.

“No, rather, my little piggies.” You felt your face contort into anger, despite your heart sinking into your stomach. He meant what he said earlier, just an experiment. Wesker continued seeming proud of this moment.

“The Tyrant Virus leaked, polluting this whole place. And unfortunately, I had to give up my lovely members of S.T.A.R.S.” Chris raised his hand to point at Wesker in a hateful tone.

“You killed them with your own dirty hands! You son of a bitch!” You knew how much Chris had respected Wesker so part of you felt relieved that you weren’t the only one suffering with these emotions.

“No..” You finally spoke, seeming to be a deer caught in headlights.“Oh yes, dear. Just like this.” Wesker smirked, turning the gun on Rebecca and shooting her in the chest.

“Rebecca!” Both you and Chris screamed, moving to go and check her wounds.

“Don’t move!” Wesker hisses out now the gun raised on both of you.

“You..” It was the only word you spoke, turning around to face him in anger.

“Oh come on. I don't think you want to die just yet dearheart.” Wesker mocked you with his old nickname for you. Motioning to a bleeding Rebecca on the ground with his free hand.

“I have something that's of some interest to you.” Keeping his gun pointed at the two of you, Wesker looked back at the system and began to type in a code with his free hand.

The large water tank next to Wesker lit up showing a huge humanoid monster with one hand being long claw-like appendages. Its fleshy heart was exposed on its chest beating loudly. Your eyes widen in horror at whatever that thing is. Its milky white eyes ran shivers down your spine. Soon the water began to drain within the inside of the tank. You watched as Wesker lowered his gun to turn to the monster. He had a sense of pride in himself as he spoke.

“The ultimate life-form...Tyrant!” Wesker spoke moving in front of the tank. Chris began to laugh with pity and sorrow.

“Wesker, you’ve gone senile.”

“You won't get away with this you bastard!” You yelled at him finally finding your voice.

“Neither of you will understand.” His voice filled with awe and pride. Wesker raised his arms like he was watching his child take its first steps. “It's…magnificent.”

Once Wesker finished that last word, the creature known as Tyrant began to move its large claw arm.

In one quick motion, it broke the glass piercing Wesker through his lower stomach and abdomen. It lifts him in the air, Wesker’s body slowly sliding down on the claws. Those groans of pain and yells he let out would always haunt you. You couldn't help but let out a scream feeling his blood splattered on your face.

“WESKER!”

You and Chris watched in horror as it stepped down from the water tank with ease then tossed Wesker’s body to the other side of the lab. His body bleeding out and slumped down. Without a second to waste, you and Chris pulled out your guns and began to shoot at the monster. Bullets seemed to deflect off of it, but once you and Chris realized the exposed heart was its takedown. You nearly used all of your ammo combined but it was dead…for now. That wasn’t the least of your concerns though, now self-destruction was active meaning you had less than 10 minutes to get the hell out.

“We need to get out of here, I'll get Rebecca. Go and get Jill, she’s in the basement here somewhere.” Chris spoke going to pick up Rebecca, slinging her arm over his shoulder, putting her weight on him. Then rushed out leaving you alone with Wesker and the monster.

You took a moment to walk over to Wesker and knelt beside him. Your hand reached over removing his sunglasses, his crystal blue eyes finally exposed to you. A shaky breath escaped your mouth, you tried to hold back tears.

“Oh, Albert. Things didn’t have to be this way...We could have been..” You couldn’t finish the sentence knowing it didn’t matter anymore. He wouldn’t be listening or answering.

“Rest now...You’ll be alright now..” You whispered leaning down to kiss his cheek then you closed his eyes.

“I love you…I shouldn't but I still do..” Tears were now rolling down your face, salty mixing into the metallic substance stuck to your face. His blood.

Placing his sunglasses back on his face, you gave him one last kiss on the forehead then rushed out to go rescue Jill and escape this horrible nightmare.

Little did you know.

You were sure those final moments with Wesker would haunt you forever. Maybe that’s why you took the photo, you just wanted to forget what bad he had done. You wanted to remember the man you fell in love with. Closing your eyes, you hung your head down contemplating what to do now. A nice shower would probably be a good start, or you could just go and crash for the night.

Just as you were about to move from the mirror, you froze in slight terror and disbelief. His cologne…you could smell it but it wasn’t faint like how his chair was. It was strong and overbearing as if he was in the room with you…

You shot your head up, to look in the mirror and you opened your mouth in shock. In the reflection, in your dark hallway. A pair of bright amber eyes glowed in the darkness, piercing through your soul. Suddenly lightning strikes outside, illuminating your room and you see him.

Albert Wesker. Standing there in your hallway.

Wesker smirked at you, tilting his head. He stayed in his spot, his hands behind his back. Those amber eyes glowed brightly. Still wearing those damned sunglasses but now he seemed to be dressed in a black suit.

“Hello, Dearheart. Did you miss me?”

“No…you’re dead.” You finally spoke, convinced you were having a psychotic break now. It was the only logical explanation. You had seen him die with your own eyes.

“Quite the opposite.” You blinked for a second and he was suddenly directly behind you in your reflection.

You yelped, turning around to punch him in the face and you gasped when he caught your wrist and tsked softly.

“Now now, I know I taught you better than that.” The harsh grip on your arm, his cologne was stronger than ever now. You were practically inhaling it. This was real, he was real.

You sneered tugging your arm away, like his touch alone burned you. Your body trembles trying to process this new information.

“What the fuck? How are you alive?!”

“You think so little of me? I’m smart enough to not let that be my resting place.”

“I saw you die! That…thing impaled you! No one should be alive from that!” You are trying to understand how this was possible.

“So you did miss me?”

“I never said that you bastard!”

“Oh?” He spoke leaning forward, his face inches away from you. You instantly took a step away, your back hitting the mirror. You watched out of the corner of his eye, he’s grabbing something.

“Then what’s this?” He asks now, holding the wallet-size photo between his middle and pointer fingers. A smug look on his face.

You scowled knowing you didn’t have a good answer to that. You hated how much this man knew you, as much you wanted to kill him and the other part screamed for you to embrace him.

“What are you doing here Wesker? Come to mock me then finish the job?”

Wesker’s face dropped from the smug look to his usual stoic one. He tossed the photo across the room, not concerned if it got lost among the mess. He moved away from you, looking over your evidence and red thread wall. He lets out a scoff.

“If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already.” He then grabs a newspaper.

“I see you’ve been busy with a school project.”

“Umbrella won’t be getting away with this.” You sneer at him.

“Oh, they already have,” Wesker says, turning towards you.

You blinked in confusion.

“What do you mean? Once I show this evidence with Chris and Jill to Chief Irons. Umbrella is done!”

Wesker tsks then scoffs.

“Umbrella has most of the police station in their pocket, including your ‘precious’ Irons. It’ll be a matter of time before S.T.A.R.S. is no more than memory”

“No..” You said, shaking your head. You didn’t want to believe it but if what Wesker said down in the lab is true then he’s right. All of this evidence would be for nothing but you still had to try.

“I dont care what you say, I'm going to take down Umbrella even if it kills me.”

Wesker’s eyebrow furrows in annoyance, he walks over to you.

“Join me then.”

“What? Are you fucking seriously right now?” You ask with a sorrowful laugh.

“Why would I trust you? After how much you’ve hurt me after you nearly let me die. After you killed our co-workers.”

Wesker glared at you, his eyes flicking from bright amber to a deep red. In his eyes, it was a necessary event, maybe you wouldn't understand now but you would one day.

“Because I know you love me.”

Your face went pale, you stood there eyes widening. How the hell did he know? Was he alive when you knelt beside him? Oh god, did you leave him there to die? Why didn’t he say anything to you?

“H-how. Did you..” You knew the answer, he heard you back down in the lab.

“No. You're wrong” Doubling down on your words.

He smirked leaning down, his arms now wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. Just like he used to do. You sneer trying to push him away but you are caged there. Did he get stronger since you saw him last?!

“Let me go!!”

“What’s wrong? Here I thought you would be ecstatic to see me.” He taunts refusing to listen to your requests.

“Fuck you!

Wesker scowled at your words, his grip tightening on you.

“What a shame. It seems my little act was too perfect. If I didn’t care for you, I wouldn't be here wasting my time.”

“I don't care! I don't want you here and I don't want to see you! You fucking bastard! You killed innocent people!” You ask, feeling too many emotions at once. Anger, sorrow, happiness, cautiousness. All fighting to be opened like Pandora's box.

Wesker just hummed ignoring the little tautrim you seemed to be throwing. He just chuckled, at your poor attempt at rejecting him.

“I did what I had to do. Now what I want is mine, and that is you.” He says in a smooth tone, his gloved hand holding your chin and stroking it. Wesker continued to speak.

“I have plans for the future, and I want you there.”

You frowned looking at him, why weren’t you pulling away from him? Damn your body, it missed his touch so much.

“What kind of plans?” You asked, scared of his answer. You watched Wesker’s thin lips grow into a sinister grin.

“Plans for greatness, my dearheart. You and I, ruling over this world and creating a new order. Just like we talked about it”

His words were crazed but filled with a truth you’d never heard from him. Yes, in the past, you had talked about changing the world but you thought that's all it was. Just small talk.

“We’ll take down Umbrella?” You asked, unsure of your morals anymore.

Five minutes you were ready to scream and claw his eyes out, now you were so confused. Your heart was screaming for you to trust him, and be with him all over again. Your brain told you no, this man would betray you again and would kill you in the end. You just wished you could pick a side.

“You may not believe me but I do have my reasons for wanting Umbrella to burn.” Wesker leaned in, his nose brushing against yours.

“Why fight it?”

“Because..i..” Your words trail off, your eyes locking with his amber ones. They were a beautiful shade of red and orange, glowing lightly. He was beautiful before but now, those eyes..

You didn’t finish your sentence closing the gap between you and him. The kiss was unlike anything the two of you had experienced before. You could feel his desire and wants through the kiss and he could feel your passion. Maybe he misses you just as much as you missed him.

What you wanted to say was that it’s the right thing to do. You felt like you were now the traitor, wasting so many nights and tears on them just to throw them away for him. All of the dead members must be rolling in their graves, and you knew there had to be a spot for you in hell.

“Good” Wesker said in a pleased tone, pulling away from the kiss, his arms still tightly holding you.

“It’s time to create our sky.”

Jill stood outside of the apartment, worried for Y/n. It had been days since anyone had seen them since that last night at the station. Jill had figured that the trauma had finally gotten to them, and they needed some time away.

Rasping her knuckles on the door, she’s put on edge when the door opens from her knocks.

“Y/n? Are you here?” Jill calls out opening the door but doesn’t come in. Feeling something is off, and lingering silence isn’t helping either. Jill pulls out her pistol and gets into the proper stance searching the apartment carefully. She searches each room finding nothing, not even a sign of Y/n anywhere. Finally reaching the bedroom, Jill opens it and swings her body side to side, ready to shoot anyone that isn’t Y/n.

Nothing, not a sign of them. All of the newspapers, the reports, and the red thread wall. Gone, as if it never happened. Jill frowns, putting her pistol away, she steps inside and just feels confused. There was a lone note on the mirror.

All it read was: I'm sorry.

Pulling out her phone, she attempts to call Y/n. Dialtone.

“Shit! That’s not good...I need to tell Chris.” Jill rushed out of the apartment building.

She would never notice the wallet-size photo lying in the corner of the room. The one of the two lovers, now reunited once more in secret.

#resident evil #albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #jill valentine #chris redfield #resident evil 1 #resident evil wesker #albert wesker x you #x reader #canon x reader #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil x reader #albert wesker x y/n #albert wesker one shot

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bingbongsupremacy · 5 months

Text

Forget Me Not Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: I haven't seen any of the marvel movies in a while so this is my own made up version of the tower and all of that. I don't remember it haha.

Summary of Series: After an unexpected encounter with HYDRA, Bucky is left without memory of who you are.

Fic Summary: Bucky is finally released from the hospital and back at the tower. No matter what you do, you can't seem to avoid him.

*Not Proof Read*

*****

It's been a week since Bucky got back. Steve's been with him the entire time. I just don't know what to do.

Did I make the right decision not telling him who I am? It's less complicated without a partner, right?

It's been hard to avoid him. Our rooms are literally down the hall from each other, and he's usually in the main rooms with Steve when he's not busy working out.

I've had to completely change my schedule, now going to the gym in the middle of the night just to avoid an accidental encounter.

It's not that I'm upset with him...I just don't know what to say. It's like we're starting all over again. How can I do that? I know everything about him already. His passions, the things he loves most in life. I know his deepest secrets and regrets, his hopes and dreams.

And he...well he knows nothing about me.

All those late nights spend talking while staring at the stars, completely gone from his memory. All the city dates we went on, completely in the past.

How am I supposed to just look at him and start over? I guess I did this to myself, insisting that no one tell him about us. I deserve the pain I'm getting from this. I chose this.

A knock at my door pulls me from my thoughts.

It's four in the morning, who in the hell is up?

I pull open the door and am immediately met with two pairs of eyes. Of course they'd be up at four in the morning, they're probably working out.

" Steve? " I question, trying not to let my gaze slide over to the waiting brown haired man.

" Y/N, I need to ask you a huge favor. " Steve's eyes are wide with panic.

" What is it? " I ask, shifting to my other foot. I tap the door handle nervously.

Steve begins to explain. " There was an attack in Manhattan yesterday, We need to head there as soon as possible. I figured since you're on temporary leave...maybe you could help Buck out? "

My heart begins to pound faster. " What? "

Steve lowers his voice so the man a few feet behind him can't hear. " He's still so confused about everything. He doesn't even know how to work the Elevator by himself. " Steve lets out a sigh. " I can't leave him by himself, not until we're sure HYDRA didn't reactivate him. " He explains. " Please, Y/N, I wouldn't be asking this unless I absolutely had no other choice.

I glance over at the other man. His attention was quickly turned to the huge window a few feet away.

" Steve, I don't know. " I begin.

" Please, Y/N. It'll just be for a day or two. Just until we get everything calmed down. People's lives are at stake, Y/N. " Steve's expression is filled with worry.

I let out a sigh. " Fine. Two days. "

______

I stare at the screen ahead, flipping through channels. News about the attack in Manhattan flood just about every channel, each with a different news caster telling the story.

" Can I try? "

I turn my head in the direction of the familiar voice. The voice I've heard for years. " What? " I ask in confusion.

Bucky's eyes glance down at the remote in my hand. " Can I try changing the channel? " His voice sounds...nervous. Unsure if I'll let him.

I nod. " Yeah, of course. " I hand the thin item over to him. " Just press that to change it. "

Bucky nods, a small hint of relief on his face. He flips through the channels.

We sit there in silence, nothing but the buzz of noise coming from the tv making a sound.

" Are you hungry? " I ask, finally acknowledging the ache in my stomach.

" Yeah, actually. " Bucky nods. " I just, uh, I don't know how to get to the kitchen. "

I let out a small smile. " It's alright, I'll help you. " I lead him towards the elevator. I explain the different buttons to him, letting him press the right one to take us to the kitchen.

Bucky looks at the elevator with intensity, trying to take in all the technicalities. When it dings to signal we're on the right floor, he takes his time leaving.

I lead him to the kitchen where we finally figure out what to eat, deciding on simple sandwiches.

Bucky pulls a knife from the drawer, pulling the plate closer so he can cut it.

I let out a small laugh.

He's very picky about his sandwiches.

Bucky's eyes turn to me, confused. " What? "

I shake my head. " Nothing. I just didn't know the sandwich thing stemmed back from when you were younger. "

" Sandwich thing? " He asks, still confused.

" Yeah. " I nod, taking a bite from my own sandwich. " You cut off the crust and slice it into triangles. "

Bucky lets out a small smile. " Uh, yeah. My mom used to cut it for me that way. I guess I never really stopped, huh? "

I don't respond, continuing to eat my sandwich.

" If we're friends, why do you always ignore me? " Bucky's voice breaks through the silence.

" Oh. " I didn't think he noticed. " I've just been busy I guess. "

Bucky nods, not quite believing me. " Yeah...okay. " He doesn't push it.

He asks another question a few minutes later. " Can you tell me about us? "

I freeze. " What? "

" About our friendship. "

I feel my body begin to untense. " Oh, yeah. What do you want to know? " I avoid his gaze.

Bucky turns to face me. " I'm not sure...How did we meet. I mean, you know how I eat my sandwiches, so I'm assuming we were close? " He takes a bite of his food.

I nod. " Yeah, I guess you could say that. " I set my plate in the dish washer. " Well, " I begin. " We met the day Steve found you. He brought you back here. I was the one who helped you get everything you needed to live here comfortable. I don't know, I guess we started hanging out? " And making out. " And yeah...that's really it. " Fucking lie. We spent months going out before we finally decided to make it official.

" Really? So you helped me. "

I nod again. " Yeah. I made sure you felt comfortable here. I mean, you came from such a bad environment...I don't think you knew what an actual bed felt like. You insisted on sleeping on floor no matter how many times I tried to get you to try the bed. It took months of convincing before you finally tried it. " I let out a laugh at the memory.

Bucky is silent.

" I'm sorry. "

My head turns towards him. " What? For what? " I ask.

" For not remembering you. I'm sure this is annoying, having to teach me everything again. You already did it once. It must be hard not having the same Bucky around. " He admits.

" Hey, It's not your fault. " I gently place a hand on his arm. " I don't mind, seriously. You're still the same you...just with less memories. "

Bucky doesn't respond.

I try to change the direction of the conversation, failing miserably. Tension sits heavily in the room.

" Why don't I go show you how to play on an X Box? "

#fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #marvel x you #marvel x reader

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i-love-scarameowche · 3 months

Text

Soft yandere David x reader

TW: Slight angst, ooc David probably, size+strength difference, a few uses of Y/N, after time skip, stalking, fem!reader.

WC: 1.2k

You were practically rushing around this morning, in a hurry because you have a job interview. You woke up late, had to make breakfast for your little sister, bring her to school, and now, it's finally after the interview. You hope you got it. You already work as a bartender, but it's just not enough to provide. Especially now that your rent has been raised.

As you walk, spaced out and thinking, you bump into someone. You freeze and look up from the ground, and you have to crane your head to look at the man. Your heart practically stops in your chest. The guy is, to say the least, huge. And you don't live in the best place, though practically none of Night City is necessarily "the best". You're terrified. The man looks tired and annoyed, his eyes are narrowed and his eyebrows are furrowed as he looks down at you.

"I-I'm so sorry." You choke out, quickly backing up from the man. His expression stays the same for a minute, before it softens. "Nah, it's good. We both should've watched where we were going." The man says, smiling a little. "Um..yea. Thank you." You reply. You thought he was going to be livid and have a much, much, worse reaction than he really did.

The man just smiles a little more and holds out his hand for a handshake. You hesitate at first, but take his hand and slightly shake it. Your hand is miniature compared to his. "I'm David." The man, who is now known as David, states. "Oh um..I'm Y/N." You clear your throat as you utter, but David just nods. "Nice name. Well I gotta go so, I'll see you around?" David lets go of your hand and begins to walk past you, turning his head back a little to hear your response. "U-Uh..Yeah." You murmur, and David smiles as he walks off.

David was right, only he sees you a lot more than you see him. He excuses his actions with the thought that, well, Night City is dangerous. He's just making sure you're okay. There's no harm to it. He just needs to protect you. You have no cyberware, he assumes you couldn't afford it even if you wanted to, do you want cyberware? Is that little girl your kid? If so, how young were you when you got pregnant? What's the girls name? He's sure she needs a father figure in her life, right?

The next time you bump into David was a few weeks later, he smiled down at you and asked if you wanted him to help you home. It was pretty late. And he doesn't seem like a bad guy, but you didn't say yes. You barely know him! David jusr smiled and nodded. He gets it. If he was in your position he wouldn't have said yes either. But still, he followed you after you left, making sure you didn't realize he was there. He doesn't want to call it stalking, he's just making sure you're okay, but yeah, he basically stalks you.

Eventually, after a few months of purposefully bumping into you, the dates not too far apart but not too close either, you considered David a friend. You started planning some hangouts if you had some free time. He learned that the girl, Nana, is in fact not your daughter, and she's 7. You brought Nana with you when David invited you somewhere or vice versa, and she was shy at first, but she grew to like David.

David was with you while you worked every now and then, just stared at you as you poured a shot of liquor for a customer. David walked you home after your shift ended, 12am. You offered to let him stay, and so he is. You don't have an extra bedroom in your apartment, and you know the couch isn't very comfortable, so you added that he could sleep on your bed if he wanted. He was ecstatic. Up until he realized that, 1, you'd be sleeping on the couch and 2, your bed nor your couch allows him to lay down comfortably. But he was still optimistic, he got to be around you, and you trusted him enough to sleep in your house.

You gave him two blankets and a pillow when he said he was fine with sleeping on the couch, and now it's dark, he's sitting on your couch, a blanket hanging off his shoulders and another covering his lap.

He can't sleep. Maybe because of the fact he's sitting, or maybe the fact he's been left alone in the dark with his thoughts; He doesn't blame you for either, he gets why you can get a bigger couch or a big spare bed, and why you can't keep the TV on for very long. But the real reason he can't sleep, at least to him, is because you're so close to him, just down the hallway. But at the same time you're so far away, he's in the same small apartment as you, yet can't even catch a glimpse of your face right now.

David tries to be optimistic again, at least he can protect you and Nana if something happens. Because you certainly can't. He admires you even more for the fact that your only Cyberware that is installed is for communication and the basics, not only because you couldn't afford any Cybernetics, but because you don't want any. David's thoughts are back to the fact that you're in another room. How do you look when you're sleeping? Maybe you look peaceful, blessed with the sweetest of dreams? Or maybe your face is contorted in fear, your mind riddled with terrifying nightmares?

David stands, quickly folding the two blankets you gave him and placing them on the couch. He quietly walks down the short hall and is faced with your closed door. He tries to excuse his actions, what if someone broke into your room? He's just checking. He opens the door.

David is met with a rather small room, even for this apartment, the only thing in it is your bed, closet and photos of Nana as well as drawings from her taped onto the wall. He searches for you through the darkness, he can see you easily so he steps closer. He's rather quiet for someone of such large stature. Once he's beside your bed he just stares for a little. You don't look peaceful nor fearful. You just look...troubled and tired, yet so beautiful. Just like always. Even in the few hours of sleep you get, you don't get a break, your mind is still riddled with thoughts of paying rent, waking up on time, feeding Nana, paying the babysitter, making sure Nana is okay.

You don't deserve to have to work two jobs and get a small amount of sleep before the cycle repeats. You don't deserve to have had to drop out of school so you could take on jobs and pay for you and your sister's necessities.

He sighs and moves his large, cold and metal hand up to his face and kisses the thumb lightly. David then reaches down with the same hand and brushes his thumb against your cheek as he simultaneously crouches down beside the bed. He makes a promise to himself. To his mother, to Nana, and to you.

No matter who else he fails or has to hurt, he'll watch over you.

He'll protect you.

Notes: This was a request for my Cyberpunk Edgerunners book on Wattpad !! I love him

#yandere david martinez x reader #yandere david martinez #david martinez x reader #david x reader #cyberpunk edgerunners x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere cyberpunk edgerunners #🌹 ʳᵒˢᵉˢ ⁱⁿᶠⁱⁿⁱᵗᵉ ᶠʳᵉᵉˢⁱᵃˢ #🪻 ʳᵒˢᵉˢ ᵇᵘⁿᶜʰ ᵒᶠ ˡᵃᵛᵉⁿᵈᵉʳ

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creweemmaeec11 · 1 year

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Smoke and Deliveries Pt 2

Part 1

I'm so proud of how this snippet is turning out. Please let me know your thoughts; I'd love to know!

Civilian saw Vapour again much sooner then they'd expected.

Not that they'd *expected* to see them again. That would imply a plan to run into one of the most dangerous people in the city on purpose, and that most definitely wasn't happening. No way.

If civilian was silently hoping it might happen, well, that was different than admitting it out loud, and *certainly* different from planning it.

In fact, Civilian was *planning* on never seeing them again.

This wasn't the point.

The point was, they ran into the villain again only a few days later.

Civilian was out doing some everyday activities in town. It was a nice evening, the sun just starting to go down, and they were walking down a smaller side street heading to the grocery store when a familiar voice came from the alley behind them.

"Hello shutterbug, lovely evening, no?"

The civilian whirled around, a strange molten feeling settling in their gut as their eyes settled on the figure.

Vapour stood in a luxurious suit-like jacket with what they could have sworn was a Burberry scarf draped around their neck. His smile was just as sharp and charming as they remembered. Deadly yet enthralling.

"V-Vapour," Civilian stuttered out, suddenly feeling short of breath.

The villain's eyes shimmered, smile sharpening, "I think that's the first time I've heard you say my name. Most people are too afraid, but I like the sound of it on your tongue," they smirked. It definitely didn't slip into a purr toward the end.

"Are you following me?" They blurted out, trying to ignore the heat rising in their cheeks.

It seemed a preeminent question, but the second it left their lips, their brain seemed to click back to reality as they remembered exactly who they were talking to.

Luckily, before they could sputter out what would have been a grovelling apology, Vapour gave a startled, but lighthearted laugh.

"Shutterbug," he said as he tipped his head to the side, tone dripping with amusement and... something else, "How could following you possibly benefit *me?*"

Civilian blinked. Something else was, undeniably, a degree of warm fondness that made their heart run laps in their chest.

"Uhm,"

They blanked, unsure what to say because, well... what good would it do? It's not like they had anything to offer, short of $10 cash and unlimited pizza discounts.

Vapour's smirk only seemed to grow at their tongue tied-ness.

"You can sleep easy, shutterbug; rest assured, I was merely passing by when I spotted you and thought I'd pop up to say hello,"

Civilian swallowed again, brain still buzzing, but the danger alarm in their mind was no longer blaring. Now, however, a different kind of alarm was sounding, a curiosity and interest of sorts, that felt like it could be just as deadly a game to play in the end.

"Oh, uhm..." Civilian could feel the heat growing in their face, and they couldn't seem to get it to stop. Their heart just wouldn't behave itself either. Something about being in Vapour's presence made the air feel... electric, exciting in a way that was both dangerous and alluring. The thrill of a rollercoaster. Maybe it was foolish, but... "H-hello"

The villain's smile grew delighted, at their seeming willingness to engage in the game, eyes drifting over the civilian in front of them, "so what's a little bug like you doing out at a time like this?"

"Oh, just uh, getting some grocery shopping done before my shift begins for the night," civilian replied sheepishly, fidgeting with their sleeve.

"Do you always work night shifts?" Vapour replied, tilting his head slightly in a clear show of interest.

This was beginning to feel strangely casual, though the electric buzz of the air was still ever present, but the adrenaline of danger had calmed "yeah, I always ask for the evening shifts, let's me sleep in late,"

Vapour laughed, "not a morning person, I take it?"

Civilian chuckled back, "definitely not. What are you, uh... I mean," they hesitated, gaze drifting to the ground shyly, "am I allowed to ask what you're..."

The villain smirked, "heading to a meeting, which I'll probably now be late for if I don't leave soon, unfortunately,"

"Oh! Of course! You should get going!" Civilian sputtered; they did *not* want to be responsible for Vapour being late to whatever villainous meeting he was attending. There was a disappointment in their chest however that they weren't sure how to feel about. "Uhm.. before you go..." they decided to take the leap of faith, their curiosity getting the best of them. "Can I ask something...?"

"Be my guest," the villain replied, hands moving from his pockets to behind his back casually.

"What... uh, what made you come and say hello?" They asked meekly.

Vapour smirked. He didn't answer right away, letting the question hang. His sharp eyes examined the civilian in front of him as a chilly breeze blew through the alley and past them both. Next to them, a streetside garden full of flowers was blooming.

With a gust of wind, a single rose was plucked from one of the bushes and sent soaring through the air, caught effortlessly by the villain's hand as he stepped forward with one smooth stride.

"You intrigue me," he finally replied as he tucked the rose behind civilian's ear.

Civilian's breath stuttered; it felt like their heart was suddenly pounding hard enough to push the air right out of their lungs.

The villain's hand lingered, thumb skittering feather-light over their cheekbone, causing goosebumps to rise all across their skin while they froze. His face and eyes were surprisingly soft as he looked over them. Civilian felt like they couldn't *breathe*.

Then suddenly, the villain smirked, "until next time shutterbug,"

And just like that, he vanished, like dust in the wind, particles slowly blowing away with the breeze as the contact of the hand on their cheek turned ghostly.

Civilian continued standing frozen, staring at the spot Vapour had just stood. Their face was burning, and there was no doubt the villain had felt the heat on his fingers.

Their cheek and ear were tingling so much they almost felt itchy, buzzing from the contact as if it had completed an electric circuit.

It would make sense, because they were pretty sure their brain was currently experiencing a power outage.

It felt like they couldn't think. Had that just happened?

Their heart was roaring.

Finally, after who knows how long, civilian managed to force themselves to keep walking. They did their grocery shopping in what felt like a daze. When they finally got home, they collapsed back against their door.

"Oh my gosh," civilian muttered, bringing their hands up to their cheeks.

Their fingers brushed the rose still tucked behind their ear, and they felt their face heat up.

Oh, they were in so very much trouble.

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from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras · 12 hours

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This story started with Guthláf, Théoden’s banner bearer. To carry a flag in war was (in LOTR and real life) very dangerous, and it got me thinking about the kind of person who would willingly take on that danger and why (see here for Guthláf’s answer). And then I got thinking about what it would be like to love that kind of person and have to watch them do something so brave and glorious and selfless but also so perilous. And that brought me to Wídfara.

Like Guthláf, Wídfara exists in canon for just a few sentences. He’s from the Wold. He’s intuitive about the weather. That’s it from Tolkien. But I do so love an obscure horse boy of Rohan, and two together is even better. Here they are in part 1 of 7, where our boys have their first meeting.

August, T.A. 3017

When he’d taken a third wrong turn in as many tries, Wídfara finally decided to ask someone on the street for help. Unfortunately, getting anyone in Edoras to stop to answer his questions proved even harder than finding his own way around the city. It wasn’t that people were unfriendly or unwilling to assist, but rather that they didn’t seem to even notice him as he tentatively raised a hand or stammered out the beginnings of a greeting. Everyone walked so quickly and with such a busy sense of purpose that they were invariably four steps past him already by the time he got his first few words out.

A quick glance up at the sun told him that he was going to be late if he didn’t get himself together soon, and the last thing he wanted was to make a poor impression on his very first day. He already had enough working against him – his simple country clothing, his thick rural accent, his obvious cluelessness in navigating his way around, all of which marked him clearly as an outsider – and he didn’t need his new éored thinking that he was careless or unreliable on top of everything else. He shifted his pack on his back, hastened his steps around another corner and felt a wash of relief at the sight of a garrison complex with the king’s banner flying in front.

An older man, clad to the waist in armor and standing with a rigid military bearing, waited on the front steps of the central building, just under the banner. His eyes scanned all the passersby, and when they landed on Wídfara they lit up with a spark of intuited recognition. The rigidity melted away in an instant, and he beckoned Wídfara over with a smile and a welcoming wave.

“I’m on the lookout for a new rider just in from the East-mark, and I would bet my horse that you’re him. And right on time, too. My name is Elfhelm.”

Wídfara dropped his pack and stood to attention. For all that he didn’t know about Edoras, he certainly knew the name of Elfhelm, the commander of the garrison and the functional First Marshal of the Mark any time the king himself wasn’t present. “Yes, Marshal. I just arrived in the city last night. My name is Wídfara, sir.”

Elfhelm’s bushy eyebrows shot upward at the distinctive heavy twang of Wídfara’s words. “The Third Marshal told me he was sending us a real country boy, and I see that he wasn’t exaggerating. Where exactly are you from, son?”

Elfhelm’s open, casual manner took Wídfara by surprise. Back home, his captain had been a rather grim man, one who never spoke an unnecessary word or showed his riders even a hint of his own personality, and Wídfara had expected the leaders of Edoras, some of the most powerful in the kingdom, to be even more stern. But yet again, it seemed, he simply had no understanding of how life in the capital actually worked. “I’m born and raised in the Wold, Marshal,” he answered. “My family has run herds out there for generations. It’s quite…” He glanced around at the bustling rush of people moving in and out of the collection of buildings around them. “It’s different from the city.”

Elfhelm nodded with a sympathetic smile. “Well, that’s certainly true. I imagine that Edoras can seem a little overwhelming at first to someone who’s spent his whole life in a place like the Wold. And an éored reordering is never easy on anyone. Saying goodbye to the people and places you’ve always known is a rough task.”

Wídfara swallowed hard on the lump that immediately formed in his throat. It had been less than a week since he’d been forced to say those goodbyes, gathered together with family and friends and brothers-in-arms out near his old post in the plains where the Limlight joined the Anduin. The Wold had never been a thickly populated area – the land was too unforgiving, the semi-nomadic lifestyle of the herdsmen too harsh – but as more and more families moved out of the grasslands and into the East-mark’s larger settlements and towns, an independent éored for the Wold had become increasingly unsustainable. No one had been particularly surprised when the reordering was announced, but it had been painful nonetheless and especially so for Wídfara. Because while his friends were reassigned to one of the three surrounding éoreds in the Eastemnet, all within a few hours ride of home, he had been singled out for transfer to Edoras, a place so foreign to him that it might as well have been Dunland or Rhûn.

His face seemed to betray some of his thoughts to Elfhelm, who put a large, comforting hand on Wídfara’s shoulder. “Change can be tough, son, but it also presents opportunity. And you’ve been given a golden one here. It’s not often that someone gets called up to the king’s éored – I can only remember one other time that it happened, and my memory stretches back longer than you’ve been alive. But your old captain was adamant that there isn’t a finer mounted bowman in all of Rohan and it would be a waste to just reassign you to yet another remote outpost. If you’re even half as good as the men of the East-mark claim, you can make a real name for yourself here.”

Wídfara felt his face grow hot, and he looked down at his feet. No one had told him how this transfer had come to be, and the thought of that dour, taciturn captain singing his praises to anyone was almost more than he could believe. And while he was proud of his own talent, he felt an instinctual urge to defend against the implication that the other riders of the Wold were any less skillful. “Everyone who grew up where I did learned early to shoot from a moving horse, sir,” he offered. “A herd will always attract wolves.”

Elfhelm chuckled. “That may be so, but your captain didn’t convince the Third Marshal of the Mark to send just any old herdsman to us. He picked you. Try to remember that.” A bell behind him tolled, and he glanced toward the door over his shoulder. “I need to get back to some other business, so we’d best get you on your way. You’ll be living in Barracks A with the other unmarried men of the company. You can drop your belongings there and then head over to the armorer to get everything you need. Training starts tomorrow at sunrise.”

“Thank you, Marshal.”

Elfhelm was already halfway out of sight before Wídfara realized that he had no idea how to find either Barracks A or the armorer. He considered calling after Elfhelm for help, but the marshal had indicated that he was busy and surely his other tasks were more important than giving basic directions to an ill-informed newcomer. Instead, he reshouldered his pack with a sigh, resigned to wandering the complex until chance took pity on him again, and he took a few hesitant steps toward his left.

“Other way, Wídfara!”

He looked up to see Elfhelm watching him from the doorway, one foot already inside and the door itself held open with his elbow. The older man laughed and nodded in the opposite direction. “Second building on the right. Can’t miss it.”

A furious blush rushed back to Wídfara’s cheeks, and he winced as he felt it spread across his ears and neck. “Sorry, Marshal. I’m still…I’ll learn my way quickly, I promise.”

Elfhelm stepped back outside, allowing the door to close behind him as he walked a few paces toward Wídfara again. “It’s alright to be new, son. You just need someone to help show you the way of things here.” He cast an appraising eye over Wídfara and chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip for a moment. “Keep an eye out for Guthláf. He’s from Edoras, but his mother grew up in the Eastemnet and he spent much of his childhood out there. He even talks a lot like you do. You’ll like him, and he’ll help you get to feeling like home again.” He turned once more to head inside.

“Marshal Elfhelm?” Wídfara called after him. “How do I find him? Guthláf, I mean.”

Elfhelm looked back over his shoulder and smiled. “Anywhere there are people gathered, he’ll be right in the middle of it. You can count on that. He’s one of our best, and he’ll take good care of you. Just don’t let him talk you into playing dice with him unless you’ve got money to burn.” He pulled open the door and his last few words drifted out from the hallway. “See you at training first thing tomorrow!”

Wídfara rolled over again, grimacing as his left shoulder made contact with the floor. One of his first tasks that day had been to see the garrison’s armorer, where he had been fitted for new equipment and received the distinctive tattoo that would identify him as a member of the king’s éored: a small crown above a hill. Each éored had its own mark, used as a crude means of identification in the event that a rider was injured or killed far from home, and the armorers typically etched the designs onto the shoulders of new members, punching a small ink-tipped needle repeatedly into the skin to create the necessary lines and curves. The new tattoo left a lingering pain in Wídfara’s arm, though it was minimal compared to the ache he felt in his heart when he watched the armorer draw a line through his old éored’s mark, casually crossing out an entire decade of his life with a few minute’s quick work. But that had just been the start to an increasingly difficult day.

The éored’s clerk seemed unaware that Wídfara had joined the company, and no arrangements had been made yet for his pay. Wídfara was counting on those funds to support his parents back in the Wold, especially now that he was no longer close enough to help his father with the herd work during his free hours, and the possibility that his first wages would be significantly delayed left a sour feeling in his stomach. Then he had gotten lost on his way to the mess hall and again between the mess hall and the stables, where he discovered that the stablehand sent to fetch his horse from last night’s boarding house had brought back the wrong animal. At every turn, he seemed to be in the wrong place, with the wrong information, running into obstacle after obstacle while being constantly asked to repeat himself as the city dwellers struggled to understand his accent.

He had greeted the eventual coming of night with urgent relief, happy to retreat to the privacy of his little room in the barracks where, at least for a few hours, he knew where he was supposed to be and what he was supposed to be doing. But even then, he struggled. The small, soft bed in the room felt unnatural to him after so much time spent sleeping rough in field camps or out on the plains with his family’s horses, and he quickly gave up on it, crafting himself a makeshift bedroll on the floor instead. After an hour of further tossing and turning, though, he realized that the bed wasn’t the only thing that felt wrong. A windowless box barely big enough for both the empty bed and his nest of blankets on the floor was a poor substitute for having shimmering stars overhead and endless golden plains around him, and he wondered how he would ever find rest in such a confined little space. He sat up, frustrated, and decided to take a walk in an attempt to clear his mind.

The streets, at least, were much more enjoyable to him at night, when few others were out and about. It was quieter, and he could walk at his own pace without worrying that he was holding up someone behind him. Keeping close attention to where he turned and how to retrace his steps, he headed up a hill, thinking to get a good view of the city from the top of the rise and perhaps be able to better orient himself amidst the maze of the city’s layout.

It took only a few minutes from the barracks to reach the peak of the hill, but he was disappointed to find that the view down onto Edoras and the surrounding plains was largely obscured by a thin haze in the air and heavy overhead cloud cover that dimmed the light of the moon. The quiet of his walk was also broken by the presence on the hill of a small tavern, a little wood and stone building from which drifted not only the smell of ale and baked bread but the clamor of voices and laughter and singing. The windows were aglow with warm yellow light, and he could see a large and boisterous crowd inside, many members of which seemed to be about his age. He considered going in – his rational mind understood that the only way to make friends in new surroundings was to put himself where other people were – but the thought of dozens of bodies pressed into such a small building made him a bit panicky, and he had already used all the energy his mind could spare that day for navigating the stares, questions and sometimes the judgments of so many others. That would need to be a challenge for tomorrow instead.

He leaned against a corner of the tavern and gazed northeast, back toward the beloved home that was now obscured by the intervention of both distance and weather. A gentle breeze blew from that direction, and he closed his eyes to savor the soft feel of it against his cheek and in his hair. There was a clean, earthy scent to the air, and he willed himself to believe that this sign of a clearer morning on its way could also mean that good things were on their way for him.

At that very moment, the door of the tavern flew open, bouncing noisily off the wall, and a tiny gray dog scampered out, followed by the striding figure of a man in the uniform of his éored.

“I just need to let Slaga out for a minute,” the man called back to unseen companions inside. “Hold the game for me, and I’ll be right back to finish taking the rest of your money.” A laughing chorus of boos rang out as the door swung closed again, and the man chuckled to himself.

Wídfara registered the stranger’s words as they were spoken, but what flooded his heart with joyful recognition was the lilting drawl of their delivery, the comfortingly specific cadence and tone that represented Rohirric as Wídfara’s ear had always heard it voiced. It was the sound of his cousins calling to him from across the grasslands, his friends teasing and joking as they sat around a fire at night. It was the sound of his old life, and he wanted nothing more than to hear it again.

The other man was crouched down now, cooing affectionate endearments at the tiny dog that bounded in adoring circles around his feet, and Wídfara lightly cleared his throat. The man froze at the sound, the last doting little trill dying on his tongue, and he smiled sheepishly when he looked up and saw Wídfara standing just feet away. “I’m sorry. I thought Slaga and I were alone out here or I surely would have kept that to myself.” He stood and extended his hand in Wídfara’s direction. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. I’m Guthláf.”

Guthláf. The name chimed immediately in Wídfara’s memory, and he smiled to himself at how effortlessly correct Elfhelm had been on all fronts – where Guthláf would be found, how soothingly familiar he would sound to Wídfara, and how quickly just a few words of that familiar sound would kindle a feeling of comfort and kinship in him. He closed the distance between them with a few steps, and in the dim light that shone from the windows he found himself face to face with an unusually tall, well built man with long blonde waves, a trim blonde beard, and striking eyes of the palest blue. He gripped Guthláf’s hand with grateful enthusiasm and smiled. “Wídfara. You wouldn’t have seen me before, as I only just got here.”

“I certainly don’t have to ask where you came from,” Guthláf said, and Wídfara thought he detected a slight strengthening of Guthláf’s matching accent in the reply. “Welcome to Edoras, Wídfara. What brings you here?”

Wídfara nodded at Guthláf’s uniform. “I’ll be joining your company starting first thing tomorrow.”

“Is that right? We’ll be glad to have you. The boys could use an eastern rider to show them how it’s really done.” He glanced down briefly at the dainty little dog that was now cautiously sniffing Wídfara’s boots. “Don’t hold it against me. The absurd fussing with the dog, I mean. Every man has an embarrassing weakness, and I guess Slaga is mine.”

“Think nothing of it.” Truthfully, in any other circumstance Wídfara would have found both the toy-sized dog and the indulgent spoiling of it a little ridiculous, but he wasn’t about to say that to the first person in the city to take any interest in him. Outside of Elfhelm, who as Wídfara’s commanding officer was certainly no peer of his, it had been a struggle that day just to be noticed by anyone else, let alone engaged with or welcomed. Wídfara was eager not to squander this opportunity, especially with someone who seemed so friendly and good natured. “I love dogs and have nearly always had one myself, though admittedly never one that size.”

“He is small, isn’t he? I got him when he was a puppy and expected him to get bigger as he got older, but he just never did. And by the time I realized I had myself a lapdog, the rascal had already worked his way into my heart.” He bent down and scooped Slaga up into his arms, where he quickly settled with the look of one who spent a lot of time in just that position. Wídfara reached out and gave the dog a gentle rub behind the ears, which was received with a small, contented sigh.

“He doesn’t usually like strangers,” said Guthláf, looking up with a smile. “But then again, you’re not a stranger anymore, are you, Wídfara of the East-mark?”

Wídfara couldn’t identify anything unusual or remarkable about the way this question was asked, nothing that would explain the sudden rush of warmth that settled over him when that open, earnest smile was turned in his direction. But it was there all the same. “Not a stranger, at least not in the technical sense. And I would hope one day to be a friend, though I wouldn’t presume to call you that yet.”

“No? Why not?”

“You barely know anything about me.”

“But that’s not a problem. Discovering things about each other is half the fun of friendship.” He inclined his head and fixed Wídfara with a long, thoughtful look. “And I have a feeling there is much to discover about you.”

The steady gaze of those cool, blue eyes sent an anxious flutter shimmering through Wídfara’s chest, and he looked away. Before he could muster the nerve to speak again, the tavern door opened, and a red-haired head popped out.

“Guthláf, if the game doesn’t restart soon, Hildred insists he’ll take his losses back and charge you interest for making him wait.”

Guthláf laughingly rolled his eyes and waved a hand in concession. “Buy him another ale from my pot and tell him I’ll be right there.” The red haired man nodded and went back inside, and Guthláf turned once again to Wídfara.

“Do you ever play dice? If you’ve got the time now, you can join us, and by the end of the game you’ll have ten more great friends, I promise. Though I can’t promise I won’t take your money.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I’m something of a professional.”

Wídfara laughed. “Believe it or not, I’ve already been warned against playing dice with you, and I don’t know the rules anyway. But I appreciate the offer.” The temptation to stay in the kindly glow of Guthláf’s company was strong, but the tumult of the busy tavern still intimidated him. And the length of the day, with its many ups and downs, was beginning to catch up with him at last. “Will I…or, rather, I hope I’ll see you at training in the morning?”

He cringed inside at how needful the question sounded to his ears, but if Guthláf heard it that way he gave no sign. Instead, he smiled broadly and tapped a fist against Wídfara’s arm.

“Of course. I’ll look for you there, friend. Now wish me luck, not that I need it!” He and his dog slipped back inside with a wave, and Wídfara watched through the window just long enough to see them disappear into a rowdy group of men, all wielding mugs and talking excitedly to one another.

Alone again, he turned then to retrace his steps, mercifully finding his way back to the barracks without incident, and he stretched out once more on his floor with a heavy yawn. The weight of sleep closed in on him quickly, and he soon drifted into the comfort of peaceful rest, where a pair of the palest blue eyes lingered in his dreams.

Notes: Guthláf’s dog is named Slaga, which means “Killer.” Presumably he chose that name before he realized his “puppy” was already full grown and would always be a lil’ tea cup.

@emmanuellececchi @konartiste @sotwk @dreambigdreamz (I don’t usually have a tag list but I tried to @ people who had specifically requested it at some point — if you want off (or on, I guess) don’t hesitate to say so!)

Dividers by the lovely @quillofspirit ♥️

#guthláf #wídfara #rohan #forth eorlingas #obscure blorbos #♥️🐎🗡️#horse boys in love #lotr #lord of the rings #tolkien #guthlaf #widfara

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a-multi-fandom-maniac · 10 months

Text

Trust Me

(gif created by me)

Paring: The Riddler x reader

Requested by @yourcaptainkira64 :

“Hello, can I request a paul dano riddler fic if you write for him. Tropes I like are forced proximity and friends to lovers. Maybe even a yandere riddler of you're up for that (because he's kinda crazy). Lol happy writing!

Warnings: Themes of obsession, stalking, swearing, mentions of injuries, forced proximity (?), hints of one-sided love, friends to lovers, no use of y/n, first person pov.

Note: My first post! I hope that this is okay, I’ve only seen the movie like twice so I hope this fits your request😅 I also just googled riddles so I’m sorry if they’re kinda stupid LOL, enjoy! <3

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The nights were long, and seemingly never ending.

Crime, murder, vengeance; The city of Gotham was the birth place and home to the bad seeds and the innocents, though nowadays it was difficult to differentiate the two from each other. If you’ve lived here as long as I have, you learn to never trust what someone claims themselves to be…no matter how well you know them.

It was nearing 3am at the Gotham general hospital, marking the twelfth hour of my shift. An attempted store robbery turned shootout nightmare landed twenty-three people in the hospital; no fatalities, but a few close calls. Originally today was an off day for me, but we’re understaffed and the crime rates are rising once more.

But then again, what’s new?

I slumped back into the old chair in the empty break room, reflecting back on my night. Hour after hour of running from room to room while the police are breathing down your neck isn’t the easiest thing to deal with, but someone has to get it done. I love what I do, honest, but there’s times where I question myself…but then again doesn’t everyone?

I drag hands down my face as a half-hearted attempt to rid myself from the pure exhaustion taking over my body when I heard my phone ding. I sigh as I lazily reach for it from the pocket of my scrubs and unlock it, as a small tired smile reaches my face.

It was Edward. He’s been my friend since I made the move to Gotham from where I used to live. We’ve gotten close over the years, while many say he’s…different-I find him kind.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary to check in on my while I was at the hospital, but it was a little odd that he was up this late. I opened the message to see what he sent.

Huh.

It was a photo of the sky. You could barely make out some stars peaking out from behind the stormy, smog ridden clouds- but they were there. Typically, Edward would send a little joke or something like that while I was at work but scenery pictures were new. I began to type a reply when suddenly he sent a follow up message.

Edward: What blooms like a flower whenever it rains but shrivels up when it stops?

I scoff out a small laugh. A riddle, what else would I have expected. On most days I love trying to solve his riddles, but tonight drained me of any energy I had left to try to solve it. I sent back a poor attempt of an answer as I gathered my things and approached the entrance to leave when my phone went off once more.

I slowed down to look back to my screen and upon reading the message, my body began to feel a sense of…something.

Edward: An umbrella. Make sure to use the red one outside of the entrance, it’s there specially for you. Get home safely.

I reread the message twice while looking around the almost empty sterile halls that surrounded me. I slowly approached the automatic sliding doors as my ears picked up on the heavy pelting of rain hitting the concrete. The flickering outdoor lights provided an eerie ambience as my eyes jumped from left to right until-

Ding!

Edward: To the right is where you’ll find what you need.

My heart spiked as I whipped my head around in all directions, observing. He had to be here, how would he know?

“Edward?” I quietly called out.

No response.

My chest begins to feel tight as a newfound feeling overcomes me. Something I had never felt before around Edward.

Fear.

Eventually, the lights stabilize themselves for long enough for me to notice the splash of red contrasting against the wet sidewalk. I drag myself over in the direction of it, making sure to be aware of my surroundings as I pick up the object.

An red umbrella, the one from his message. I was frozen in place. In the moment, this didn’t feel like a simple act of kindness. It felt scary; like a dream where you know it will become a nightmare at any given second.

“What the hell?” I whisper, voice shaking.

Suddenly, there was a startling bang to my left as I felt my legs move on their own. I began running as fast as I could, dropping the umbrella in my moment of panic. The only thing I could think of in that moment was the desperate urge to be safe in my apartment until the sun rose.

By the time I reached my place my heart was nearly beating out of my chest as water dripped from my face as I locked the door. I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t speak, and I couldn’t even put together a coherent thought. I let myself shut my eyes for a second before clumsily reaching for the light switch to the left of me and flicked it on. I peeled my eyes open as I adjusted to the light, when I stopped breathing at the sight before me.

Spread across my living room were pictures of me. Everywhere. Pictures of me going to work, me sitting in my living room, even me out on a coffee date with a guy my friend set me up with. My throat was dry as sandpaper as I tried to swallow my fear and walk closer. My legs shook like jello and it felt like I could feel my bones rattling inside my body. I slowly reached my hand towards a picture as I brought it to my face to examine it.

It was the coffee date image…except red marker was aggressively scribbled over my date while a big circled surrounded my smiling face, drops of ink spilling down to the bottom of the picture. I dropped it as if it was on fire as I backed away. I continued examining my apartment when I spotted a light yellow envelope on my coffee table.

I picked it up and turned it around, it was addressed to me with a smiley face next to it. I ripped the envelope open and reached my hand into it, pulling out the contents within.

It was a card?

“Okay..” I breathed out, feeling a little relieved. There was a picture of a caricature heart on the front with the words: what is mine that only you can have?

I tried to think, but my mind was foggy with unease. I opened the card.

My heart <3

I began to inch backwards, trying to calm down. This couldn’t have been from him, no it was too..too crazy. Edward wasn’t crazy! He was a sweet guy who worked in forensics and liked stupid jokes and riddles. He wasn’t capable of-

My back suddenly made contact with something behind me as I loudly gasped and flipped around, heart sinking in my chest down to my churning stomach.

A green figure loomed over my shaking body, eyes burning holes through my head as we stared at each other. I couldn’t see the intruder’s face, but I knew those eyes anywhere.

“Edward?,” I shakily whispered, seemingly stuck in my spot. My brain was screaming at me to run and get out of there, but my body was stuck in place like my shoes were glued to the floor, “what..what are you doing?”

He called out my name as he reached out to me. He placed his green faux leather covered hand on my face, moving down to caress my cheek. I should have ran, but I couldn’t help but feel my stomach flip in some weird way.

“You made it safely,” he said, smiled evident in his muffled voice. His eyes were squinted happily from behind his clear framed glasses, “I was worried about you when you didn’t take the umbrella I left you.”

He paused as his piercing gaze subtly hardened as he continued looking into my eyes.

“Why didn’t you take it?”

My breathing began picking up again. I hesitated for a moment before speaking up.

“Edward-“

“NO!” he suddenly yelled as he backed up, pacing around the open space of my living room. My heart stopped as my body jerked at his sudden outburst.

“I tried to help you! I’m looking out for you so no one else needs to, why can’t you just see that?”

He stopped his pacing as he came back over to where I was stood. He, surprisingly, gently grabbed my arms as he looked back into my eyes.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted; For you to be safe with me. No one else,” he said with a forceful undertone to his voice.

I felt tears making themselves known in my eyes, and the burn of my nose trying not to cry. I was terrified, but at the same time comforted by his words.

“Are you going to hurt me?” I whispered, not wanting to say the wrong thing.

His eyes seemed to soften as his grip loosened on my arms, but still keeping me in place.

“No,” he said while repeating my name, “no no why would you think that? All of this is for you! I would never dream of hurting you, you mean too much to me. I care too much about you to let you slip away from me.”

Oh.

He…cares about me. I should be scared. I should be terrified out of my mind and screaming for help, praying someone will answer. Or that the signal would light up in the sky and I would be saved.

But I didn’t feel afraid from his words.

I sniffled as I scanned up when down his body, examining what he was wearing and then back up to his eyes. I slowly reached for his glasses and mask as his body stilled while I revealed his face.

Edward. It really was him.

I looked at his face in silence before finally speaking.

“You won’t hurt me?” I quietly asked, “I need to know if I’m in danger, no matter how much I know and trust you.”

He suddenly had a dark look in his eyes as my words. He cupped my cheeks in his hands as he leaned in close to my face.

“I would rather die than cause you any harm.” he answered, “Trust me when I say that I will keep you safe from anyone or anything that tries to hurt you.” He paused and leaned in closer.

“I would kill anyone who even looked at you the wrong way.”

He moved his face next to my ear.

“You have my heart, and I know that I have yours.”

My breath hitched at his words. He was right. Edward always made me the happiest whenever I was stressed, especially at the hospital. But could I bring myself to love him when this is his true self?

He pulled away and looked into my eyes once more. It felt as if he could read every thought going through my mind.

“Just let go and let me take care of you, let me love you,” he begged, a desperate look in his eyes, “that’s all I ask. Please trust me.”

I couldn’t look away. I gave a small smile and a hesitant nod, and that’s all it took.

“Okay,” I whispered, mind racing a million miles a minute.

“I’ll trust you.”

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#the riddler #paul dano #the riddler x reader #the batman #fanfic

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storiesbyrhi · 1 year

Text

Angel of the First Degree - Chapter 15: Christmas

Eddie Munson x Chubby!Reader 3605 words Series Masterlist

Warnings: Anxiety; fatphobia including internalised; drug use; bullying; body issues; discussion of body function and fluids; period shame/stigma; disclosure of sexual assault (chapter 2); disordered eating and thoughts of food; shitty/abusive/critical parents; porn magazines; smut; reference to suicide (specifically Virginia Woolf’s); no beta; grief/mourning; verbal fighting; meat (turkey)... for the vegans; warnings updated each chapter

Synopsis: When Eddie Munson finds you in the midst of a panic attack, it is the beginning of something. A fic featuring body and sex positivity, Eddie in a dress, soft small moments, scary big truths, and all the usual special feelings you’d expect from one of my stories.

Chapter Summary: It was the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

Author's Note: We also continue with our little peppering of glimpses into Eddie’s masterplan. Bonus: We find out what's in the Garfield mug.

“The roads are awful,” you tried to argue.

It was just under a week until Christmas, and from where you sat on the bed, you could see snow falling outside. Forest Hills had already become a depressing version of a winter wonderland.

“I’m taking Wayne’s truck. He got chains put on.”

Eddie continued to shove things into his duffle bag, not bothering to face you as he spoke.

“Why can’t they at least meet you halfway?”

Eddie held back a smirk. “It’s not the same as me driving over to someone’s house to sell them a few joints. Not your friendly neighbourhood drug dealer. They’re a supplier, you know?”

“Okay but doesn’t that make them dangerous?”

“That’s why you’re not coming,”

“Eddie,” you whined, but the pitch is sad and he heard it.

Eddie stopped packing and sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s one night, angel. I’ll be in and out there. I promise if there was a different way of getting the product, I’d do that. But no Rick means I gotta fend for myself, and I want it done before Christmas, ‘kay?”

He felt like shit for lying to you, but there was no other cover story. Eddie had spent hours thinking about it, but all alternatives made no sense. Driving to Chicago to buy a few months’ worth of drugs got him to the city without you.

Eddie had added flourishes to the story to make it seem more real. People suffered through the holidays; weed was a saving grace he could charge a premium for. People partied through the holidays; coke and party drugs at holiday rates. Supply and demand.

It was hard for you to come up with a valid enough reason for him not to go. The income generated from the product would be supporting you after all. Regardless, you felt sick knowing Eddie would be alone on the icy roads for so long, and you were terrified at the thought of who he’d be meeting in the Windy City.

When Eddie kissed you goodbye, he held your face in his hands and studied it. “I love you,” he said softly while his expression was set in a hard frown.

“I love you too. Be safe.”

Once he was gone, you went back to bed with the hopes of sleeping through the subsequent forty-eight hours.

At the wheel of Wayne’s truck, Eddie had Hawkins in his rearview mirror, and a list of addresses and times riding shotgun.

…

It came as a surprise to you that you had, in fact, not met all the different sides of Eddie. As Christmas Eve Day dawned, your boyfriend was running on adrenaline, black coffee, and a questionable amount of sugar.

You sat at the kitchen counter, nursing a cup of milky tea, watching him measure out herbs and spices. At first, he was explaining the recipe to you. Quickly it descended into Eddie muttering something about oven hot spots and internal turkey temperatures. It would have been funny if he didn’t look so unhinged.

When Wayne came home from his night shift, he froze in the doorway at the sight of Eddie in the kitchen.

“Jesus. This shit starts earlier every year,” he said.

“Yeah. Yeah. And every year I get closer to the perfect fuckin’ bird, don’t I? Huh? Yeah?”

“Alright. Calm down. Don’t get your turkey in a twist… If this is happening, I’m taking the bed for a couple’a hours,”

“Yeah, ‘kay. Don’t mind the wet patches,” Eddie replied with a dumbass smile.

You closed your eyes and felt your cheeks heat.

Wayne made a noise of extreme discontent, grabbed the blanket hung over his fold-up bed, and disappeared into the bedroom.

“Why did you have to say that?” you whined.

Eddie cackled and returned to his precious Christmas Eve roast. “After you eat this, you’ll let me say whatever I fucking want.”

When his prized bird was safely on its way to cooked perfection, you joined Eddie to help prepare the sides. Mashed potatoes and peas. Gravy and cranberry sauce. Most of it was store-bought mixes because Eddie had spent so much on the bird. You didn’t care at all. With the trailer smelling of food and pine, and a small collection of gifts under the tree, it was shaping up to be a kind of beautiful Christmas.

When Wayne emerged from the bedroom, it was late afternoon. Dinner was well on its way to being cooked, and Eddie was sitting on the floor in front of the oven. He’d let you bake gingerbread on the condition that he watched the oven to ensure his turkey wasn’t affected.

“If anything, my cookies are gonna smell like it!”

“Lucky them!”

Wayne took his usual position in the single armchair in the corner of the room. He’d put on a record then relaxed in for the night.

“We don’t always get Christmas Eve together,” Eddie explained. “He asked for it off this year,”

“That’s good,”

“For you,” he added. You had joined Eddie on the floor next to the oven, and looked over at him when he said it. “My first Christmas with him was awesome. I mean, all things considered. Reckon he wants yours to be too.”

It felt good in that way that hurts.

When your cookies were out and cooled, you and Eddie sat at the little table against the wall and began to decorate. Your first three were gingerbread replicas of you, Eddie, and Wayne. You glanced over at Eddie’s plate. He had bitten limbs off his men and eaten them happily.

“They fought valiantly,” he told you.

“Who was the war against?”

“Christian fundamentalists,” Eddie replied, not missing a beat.

“Jesus,” you laughed.

“Nah, he’s actually on the other side.”

You watched him for a few more moments, lost in his own little storyline of broken soldiers and religious zealots. Truly, there was nobody else like Eddie.

After gingerbread men and spiked eggnog, the Christmas crackers were brought out. You won against both Eddie and Wayne, wearing a pink and a blue paper hat on your head. Wayne won against Eddie, leaving Eddie to pout and smell the gunpowder sticks left in the halved crackers.

“Like sparklers,” he told you, inhaling dramatically.

Wayne unraveled the tiny piece of paper in his hands and sighed. “Why did Santa’s helper go to the doctor?” You and Eddie shrugged. “Because he had low elf esteem.”

Eddie snorted. “Alright, gimme one?” You handed him one of yours. “Ahhh, ‘kay… What’s the best Christmas present in the world? … A broken drum… You just can’t beat it,”

“We should save that for Gareth. Okay, mine says… What do you get when you cross Santa with a vampire?”

“Frostbite,” Eddie answered immediately.

“Yeah,”

“That’s my favourite Christmas joke,”

“You have a favourite Christmas joke?”

“Yeah. That and: what do you get if you cross a bell with a skunk? Jingle smells,”

“That’s bad,” you said but laughed anyway.

“Wayne has a photographic memory for shitty jokes,” Eddie told you, pointing up at his uncle.

“What did one snowman say to the other snowman? … Can you smell carrot?”

And it went on like that until the oven timer binged and Eddie screamed so loud beside you that it hurt your ears.

“Holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck. Yes. Yes, this is it. I’ve done it. I’m a god. I’m a culinary god. The best goddamn chef in all of Indiana.”

You and Wayne stood and watched Eddie pull the turkey out of the oven. He’d done the math and timed all the sides perfectly. He began to mumble to himself (although you were beginning to suspect he was actually talking to the turkey) and put things on serving plates.

“Guess we better set the table,” Wayne said.

The small table against the wall was pulled out and a third folded chair was fetched from somewhere in the trailer. You set out three plates and lots of cutlery. The table wasn’t big enough to put everything on, so Eddie arranged a buffet on the kitchen bench where you each could serve yourself from.

“Looks good, kid,” Wayne offered when you were all at the table.

Eddie took a swig from his can of beer. “Thanks,”

“Really good,” you added. Eddie smiled at you. For a split second, less than even, you saw something in his expression. “What?”

He chewed his lip. “I just… It’s good to see you excited about food,” he said softly. Only months earlier, it would have been a risky thing to say. Not anymore.

You smiled back at him.

“We eating? Or…” Wayne hesitated. “You wanna say grace or something?”

Eddie snorted. “Grace?” They pulled faces at each other, then Eddie conceded. “How ‘bout… Here’s to… graduating, having a hot girlfriend, and a perfectly cooked turkey.”

Wayne shook his head but held his drink up anyway. In unison, the three of you said cheers.

…

Christmas dessert was bags of candy and the final dregs of eggnog. You and Eddie were laying side by side on the floor under the tree, looking up at the twinkling lights.

“What time you start tomorrow?” Eddie asked Wayne.

“Early.”

You hadn’t thought about the fact that so many people work on Christmas Day. You had been living a life of privilege with your parents, one that included holidays off.

“Let’s do presents tonight then,” you suggested.

“Good idea,” Eddie agreed, sitting up and pulling Wayne’s haul out.

A couple of records, novelty socks, and a book of gift vouchers Eddie and you had made that entitled Wayne to things like ‘get out of your turn to vacuum,’ ‘one night alone in the trailer,’ and ‘get out of jail free.’ He laughed at it and Eddie made a comment about how it was probably going to come back and bite you on the asses.

“Your turn, angel,”

“We agreed one thing each,” you whined when Eddie pulled out multiple gifts.

“This one’s from him, so that doesn’t count. And also I was born to break the rules baaaaaa-beeeee,” he replied, his big brown eyes jellifying you.

Wayne’s present to you was a gift card to Build-A-Bear. “I know it’s a bit of a cop-out, but… you know… you’re always happy when you get back from that place.” The gift card was the type you could only buy in-store. The picture of Wayne Munson in that rainbow vomit of a room was somehow even stranger than Eddie in one. You wondered if Kasey had served him.

Eddie had bought you two books, and much like the one you received for your birthday, one was suspiciously aligned with what you would have had to read if enrolled at college. The other was about how modern sociological ideologies can shape the supposed objective understanding of ancient art and literature, therefore ancient culture. Eddie got the gist of it but winced when he flicked open to a random page and tried to read the academic writing. He knew you’d love it.

After the two books, he handed over a final gift. After all the birthday presents and other things he’d given you, you wondered what there could be left for Eddie to wrap.

“Oh, fuck. Hang on,” Eddie exclaimed, jumping up and running to the bedroom, returning with Hellfire. “You might need him for this.”

Unwrapping the small box, your heart melted and you giggled at the cuteness. It was a small replica of Eddie’s pick necklace obviously meant for Hellfire. When you put it on him, it sat perfectly around the cow’s neck. Eddie had used his miniature figurine equipment to make it for you, pulling apart old jewellery in the process.

“Now he really matches you,” you said holding him up, beaming.

“Actually, he matches you. There’s more in the box.”

With Hellfire next to you, you picked the box up again and moved a piece of tissue paper. You hadn’t noticed when Eddie stopped wearing his necklace. Now, it was in the box, offered to you in an act of devotion. It was a promise that he was yours, completely and entirely. And, you were his, adorned with his trademark.

“Eddie,” you started.

He knew that tone. It was the one that voiced shaky thoughts of inadequacy.

“Before you do the whole routine,” Eddie interrupted, waving an accusing finger at you but still wearing a soft smile. “Don’t be a grinch.”

You breathed out, then nodded. The weight of the chain and pick was nothing, but still, it felt like a grounding force weighted with love.

Honestly, you didn’t know where to go from that, didn’t know how to process what the gift symbolised, so instead you picked up your Christmas present to Eddie.

“Well, I stuck to the one thing rule…” you teased.

There was a strange little store in Hawkins, barely a hole in the wall. It sold candles and incense and glittery rocks. Not long after Eddie had passed ownership of the ruby ring to you, you had seen another like it in the store. It probably wasn’t a real fancy ruby, but the red stone was genuine. The ring was less dainty than yours, but you were drawn to it every time you passed by the store.

The woman who worked there reminded you of Stevie Nicks, always in lace and hand knitted things. She had watched you come and go from her store, always lamenting over the red garnet ring. “What does it mean to you?” she asked one day.

You felt embarrassed to be so seen, but she was kind. When you told her about Eddie and showed her the stolen ruby ring, she smiled, saying, “Red garnets are gemstones full of love.” After she told you about how scientists were making synthetic garnets but without the earth energy or characterising imperfections, you moved aside so she could help a group of teenagers.

The group was vaguely familiar, maybe they had been Juniors that year. On top of the usual anxiety you felt whenever groups of kids were nearby, you sensed something else. The girls in the group were asking lots of questions about things on one side of the store, while the boys huddled together on the other. Doing your best to stay off their radar, you slowly made your way to where you could spy better. They were lining their pockets with small trinkets and crystals.

The woman had been so gentle with you, never making you feel bad for not buying whenever you stopped by. You imagined it was hard to own a business like hers in a town like Hawkins. Besides, you thought, there were rules about shoplifting. Eddie had told you he never used his five-finger discount anywhere where the owner was also the person at the register. Honour among thieves.

The kids in the store didn’t get the memo and it filled you with a dash of bravery. You quickly moved to the closed door and knocked over a stack of books that sat neatly by it. Everyone in the store looked to see what the commotion was.

“Sorry,” you said. “I’ll pick them up. You guys can pay for the stuff you’re getting while I do it. I’ll be quick.”

The boys all looked at each other. “What stuff?” one tried.

You began to slowly rebuild the book tower.

“Guess I should get baskets so customers don’t have to put things in their pockets,” the woman said, leaving the girls to go stand in the boys’ personal space.

They dumped all the things out onto the counter, legging it out the door just as you opened it wide. “Fucking bitches!” and “Freaks!” were thrown in as they left.

“Did they break anything?” you asked, walking over to help the woman put things back in their rightful homes.

“Thankfully not. I normally just let them leave with it all,”

“Why?”

“Apparently confronting people makes myself a target, according to the Chief. S’not been the same since Hopper died…”

“I’m sorry,”

“Not your bad to apologise for. Anyway, thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

You thought on it… “I did. It was the right thing to do.”

The woman looked at you, almost through you. She had that otherworldliness to her gaze that Eddie sometimes got. People like them saw the universe differently.

When she offered you the ring as a reward for stepping in, you declined. As you did the next time you were there and she offered, and the third. The fourth time you sighed.

“This ring stopped being mine the minute you walked in here,” she said. “I think it’s meant for your boyfriend.”

Sitting on the floor cross-legged, Eddie mirroring your position, you knew that the witchy woman was right all along.

“Just one is one more than I need,” Eddie said, tearing into the small gift. The wrapping paper gave way to the small velvet box. “Oh my gawwwd.” It was a new voice for him. “Baaaaabe. Honey bunny. Cupcake. You shouldn’t have.” He hadn’t even opened the box. “I do. I will be your wife.” But then he opened the box and his impersonation of bouncy fiancé girl dropped. His eyebrows knitted together.

“You don’t like it?” you said more than asked before you could stop yourself.

“No, no, I love it. It’s just too much,”

“Oh. No. It’s not…” You went to say more but didn’t really know how to begin to justify something so small to someone so big.

Thankfully, Eddie shut up and accepted it, putting the ring on and staring at it. You knew him well enough to know he was holding back tears. His eyes glossed over and he scrunched his nose up like a rabbit. When he was ready, he looked back up at you.

“I love you,” he said so seriously. There were so many things going through his mind. A masterplan with so many moving parts he felt tired all the time. It was coming together though, and he was so close to the reveal.

“I love you too,” you replied, voice shaky.

Wayne waited a few moments before breaking up the intense gaze-off you and Eddie were in. He cleared his throat. “I’ll put this here for safe keepin’,” he said, standing and reaching up to a shelf of his mugs to put the book of vouchers in it. As he angled the Garfield mug, he heard a sound. You watched Wayne pull the mug down and peer inside. “What the hell?”

“You would not fucking believe how long I’ve been waiting for you to find that!” Eddie said, loud and proud, shooting up and clapping his hands.

Wayne fished out the object and held it up. It was a human tooth. “Jesus. Is this real?”

“Ah-huh,” Eddie answered, cackling. You and Wayne both waited for him to explain. “You remember when one of my wisdom teeth was coming in?”

“Do I bloody remem- Yes, Eddie, I do. Bitched and moaned about it day and night but wouldn’t go see anybody ‘bout it,”

“Yeah, well, you know Hacksaw Henry? Got him to pull out the back tooth so the new one could just come in. Worked a treat.”

It was hard to tell who was more horrified.

“You did what?” Wayne nearly yelled.

“Hacksaw Henry?” The name told you a lot but you needed to know more.

Eddie laughed again. “That’s been in there for almost two years,”

“Hells bells, you’re going to be the death of me,” Wayne said, flopping back down on his armchair and throwing the tooth across the room to Eddie.

“No, seriously, Hacksaw Henry?”

“He’s from the other side of the park. Watches too much T.V. and reads these weird medical journals. He’s Forest Hill’s resident quote unquote doctor,” Eddie told you while examining his old molar, remembering the day it was pulled from his jaw.

“You let him pull a healthy tooth?”

“Nah; I paid him to pull it. ‘Sides, the tooth wasn’t perfectly healthy. When the wisdom one started to break through, this one started to rot. See?” he explained, handing the tooth down to you.

You could see what he was talking about, but all in all, it still seemed like an insane thing to do.

“Cheaper than an actual dentist. Hurt like a bitch, but heard getting your wisdom teeth out does too. Skulled a six pack before to calm my jangled nerves… And voila…” Eddie added. “Honestly thought you’d find it sooner, old man… Guess Garfield isn’t your favourite?”

“You know those are the special ones,” Wayne said, pointing to that particular shelf of mugs.

“Can I keep this?” you asked, still studying the tooth.

Eddie looked at you and grinned wide. He loved that you wanted it. That you’d asked for it. He would have pulled all his teeth to give you a complete set if you’d use that soft voice again.

“Consider it your final present. Merry Christmas, babe.”

Forest Hills was loud and lit up with Christmas cheer. Once you and Eddie had retired to bed that night, you held each other under the covers.

“It’s weird we both went with jewellery,” he said, finishing the sentence with a kiss on your forehead.

“Great minds?”

“Great minds,” he agreed.

The stretch between Christmas and New Years was a strange liminal time for most people. As you and Eddie drifted to sleep, bruises from his lips leaving a trail from your neck to your underwear, your two great minds thought of that in-between space and what it meant for you both.

Next Chapter: Fireworks

End Note: RIP at Wayne sitting there while you and Eddie get all lovey dovey over a tooth lmaoooo. Also, If you’ve seen the episode of Bob’s Burgers where Bob starts talking to the bird and falling in love and shit, that’s the energy we were channeling here.

Fic Taglist: @ajeff855 @b-barnes04 @eddie-munson-is-a-sweetheart have you changed your URL? @nerd-squad-headquarters @word-wytch @harrys-tittie @munsonsmel0dy @sidthedollface2 @eddiethesexy @bardicfrustration @orpheusredux @munsonsgirl71 @a-time-for-wolvess @eddieswifu @rosaline-black @thegirlwhohides @emotionaldreamer @e0509 @briasnow-blog @kiyastrf94 @erinsingalong @rainylana @thescarletangelsstuff @mrsdollardog @tayhar811 @chickennug90 @b-irock @nana90azevedo @eddiemunson95 @akiratoro420

Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @munsonlives @sweetpeapod @depressooo-expressooo-blog @thorfemmes @hawkins-high @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @mymoonisalways-in-scorpio @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @lacrymosa-24

#Mine #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson/You #Eddie Munson x Chubby!Readder #Chubby!Reader

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poseidonsdaughterthesiren · 1 month

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The Daughter of Poseidon: Chapter Nine

A/N:We finally get real fluff between Jason and Della! Have fun!

Della sighs in relief as Quebec City fades behind them. She shifts and soaks in the warmth of being back on Festus. She could almost curl up like a cat on the dragon’s back.

Leo passes them sandwiches from his pack. He’s been pretty quiet since they told him what had happened in the throne room.

“I still can’t believe Khione,” he says, “she seemed so nice.”

“Trust me, man,” Jason says, “Snow may be pretty, but up close it’s cold and nasty. We’ll find you a better prom date.”

Della smiles at him and Piper hums in agreement. Leo looks anything but pleased.

“Della,” Piper says, “How did freeze Khiones hands together?”

“I found out a few months ago that I can manipulate ice. It takes a lot of focus, but I am much more skilled at it than Percy. He struggles with it stunningly. He can do it but it’s not his favorite.”

‘Well,” Jason says, “It was pretty impressive. Your storytelling skills were pretty good too.”

“Lots of practice,” Della laughs.

“Any other secret powers we should know about?” Jason teases.

At the front of the dragon Leo tenses.

Um, I have the gift of siren song…”

“Siren song?” Leo asks. “Like Ariel from the Little Mermaid?”

“Yeah…it kind of works like hypnosis. I’ve only used it once. During the war last summer.”

“So…it’s kind of like charm speak?” Piper asks.

“Yeah, except I have to sing a song.”

“Fun, that might come in handy,” Leo grumbles.

Silence fell over the four demigods. Something seems to be upsetting Leo. Whatever it was his mood seems to be affecting Festus as well.

No one says anything. Della imagines that like her they know whatever they’re about to face in Chicago is not good. The way Boreas was entertained by their quest–he knows something they don’t. He seemed to believe this quest was a suicide mission. Hmm, not any different than Della’s past quests.

Della glances up at the night sky. Stars flicker bright against the inky midnight. She spots the constellation Cancer first. She looks over just a tad and spots her constellation Leo. Della sighs, and she wonders how Annabeth and the other’s search for Percy is going.

Her eyes begin to droop, and before she knows it the stars blur together and the inky midnight sky swallows her whole.

⬳

Della opened her eyes to the gush of the ocean waves. She glanced around her vision blurry. She could make out she was on a ship. There was an open door to her right. She exited the room to find a set of stairs. This place seemed familiar.

She staggered up the stairs to find herself on the deck of a ship. Wait, she knew this ship, The Queen Anne’s Revenge. Mist encapsulated the deck of the ship.

Della moved towards the foremast of the ship. Tied to the mast were thirteen-year-olds Della and Annabeth. Percy stood off to the side candle wax stuffed in his ears.

Oh, the island of the Sirens.

Annabeth struggled against the rope Percy had tied them in. While Young Della heard the singing but unlike Annabeth she didn't react.

“Percy! Percy, untie me! Please…” Annabeth bellows.

Percy looked away from the two of them.

“Della…” a voice called. A familiar voice. “Del…”

Della is thrust from The Queen Anne’s Revenge

When her vision cleared, Della wished to be whisked from this memory.

Blue light drifted towards an all too familiar coffin. The coffin shimmered like a cloud of pure energy. Then it descended into the sarcophagus which turned a violent shade of gold.

Luke sat upright in the coffin, but he was no longer Luke. His eyes once a warm brown now glowed gold, just like the sarcophagus. Kronos. He looked straight at Percy a twisted smile on his face.

“This body has been well prepared,” His voice sounded like a razor blade sharp and unforgiving. It was Luke, but it wasn’t Luke. It was an ancient, cold sound like metal scraping against a rock. “Don’t you think so Percy Jackson?” “

Percy said nothing his mouth hung open in horror.

“He feared you. His jealousy and hatred for you kept him obedient. For that, I must thank you.” Kronos said.

His eyes moved from Percy to Della. His smile grew even wider.

“As for you Della Jackson,” He chuckled, “You became a bigger distraction than the Athena girl. I should obliterate you.”

Percy scooted closer to Della. He tried to shield her from the Titan.

Della felt the air in her lungs leave her at once. She was a bigger distraction than Annabeth? What–

“Pity, you didn’t take his offer when he took you,” Kronos said, “You were so close…”

Percy looked at Della devastation evident on his face. “Del, please tell me you didn’t–”

Kronos laughed. “She should've, it would've saved her from her fate!”

Della is whisked away.

“Hey, it’s you again. Della right?”

“Percy?” Della groaned. She opened her eyes to see her twin leaning over her.

She can’t tell where they are it seems like somewhere and nowhere at the same time. They seem to be in a city but everything is blurred.

“Yeah, good to see you again.”

“Where are we?”

“I have no idea. But I don’t think I’m conscious wherever I am.”

Della sits upright so fast she almost collides heads with Percy.

“What do you mean you’re not actually conscious?”

“I mean, these interactions with you actually feel real. Everything else…I’m pretty sure they’re just dreams.”

Damnit, what in Tartarus had Hera done to him?

“Della?”

“Hm?”

“The last time we met…you said you knew me.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“How do we know each other? And why can we do this?” He gestures to this communication telepathy thing.

“I don’t think I can tell you…I’m sorry.”

“Why can’t–”

“Della! Come on Ariel wake up!”

“Who is–”

“Wonder Boy…”

“Wonder Boy? Della who’s–”

Darkness rips Della away from Percy.

⬳

When Della opens her eyes her vision is blurry. It starts to clear out and she’s met with worried blue eyes. Her head rests on someone’s lap and their fingers run through her hair. She tries to sit up but hands push her back down. Della can see their lips moving–there’s a strong ringing in her ears–finally sound hits her.

“Della? Hey,” their voice is soft like silk, “Easy Mermaid. You took a pretty bad fall.”

“Wonder Boy?” Della whispers.

“Yeah, I’m here. We’re all here,” Jason says. He leans back a bit.

She glances around to see she’s lying in Piper’s lap. Leo is crouched behind Jason. His eyes are ablaze with worry.

Jason and Piper help her sit up. As soon as they get her in a sitting position she topples over straight into Jason’s chest. His arms wrap around her. He maneuvers her so she’s facing the others.

Piper’s digging through her bag for something.

Della tries to gauge where they are. They’re definitely not on Festus anymore. They seem to be in a warehouse of some sort.

Jason notices her dazed look. He steadies the arm holding her to him and runs his free hand across her head checking for bumps and cuts. His hand hovers over one spot.

“Shit,” he mutters.

Piper and Leo’s attention snaps to the two of them.

“What is it–oh,” Leo says. He’s leaning over Jason’s shoulder. “Pipes–”

“Found it!”

Piper holds out a Ziploc bag containing ambrosia. She opens it and breaks off a medium chunk. Thank the gods.

Piper passes the piece to Jason, who holds his free hand out.

He places it carefully in Della’s mouth.

Della chews it quickly. Unfortunately, it’s not completely doing the trick. She sags against Jason a bit more.

“Della, hey, come on, stay with us,” He says. His grip tightens just a bit.

“Still hurts,” she whispers.

“We got a first aid kit?” Piper asks.

“Yeah,” Leo says. He leans back from Jason and pulls out some gauze, a damp washcloth, and an ice pack.

“How did you just pull those out of an empty belt?” Piper asks.

“Magic,” Della whispers. “But we don’t need that…just get me to water.”

“Water? Oh yeah, Poseidon’s kid.” She’s not even sure who’s talking.

“I saw a creek outside!”

Arms scoop her up and dash away with her. The air around her swooshes–she’s flying.

“Del, keep your eyes open,” a voice commands. Jason.

Before she knows it she’s placed in icy cold water. She sighs in relief. She fully opens her eyes to see Jason leaning over her in the water. He looks even more scared than in the throne room.

Della sits up in the water.

Jason keeps a hand on her shoulder. He uses the other one to check the back of her head. Jason sighs in relief and pulls her into a hug. He uses one hand to cup the back of her head and the other to pull her closer.

“You scared me, Ariel.”

“Sorry Hercules,” she mumbles against his shoulder.

Jason stands up, not letting go of her, and flies them back to Leo and Piper.

When they land back in the warehouse they see Leo examining Piper’s foot.

Looks like Della wasn’t the only one injured.

“What happened?” Jason asks. He lets go of Della and they squat down next to Piper and Leo.

“She tried to stand up and toppled over in pain,” Leo explains, “It’s her ankle.”

“Shit,” Della and Jason say in sync.

Della reaches for her bag and unzips the middle compartment. She pulls a wad of fabric out. She unrolls the wad to reveal a ziploc bag of ambrosia. Della snaps a very small piece and hands it to Piper.

Piper eats it quickly and then groans in pain, “More.”

“Not a good idea, too much will kill you,” Della sighs.

“That’s smaller than what she gave you,” Leo comments.

Jason sighs. “That’s why you struggled to heal. It was too much.” His face resembles a kicked puppy.

“Hey,” Della says, “Fix Piper, mope later.”

Wow, that sounds too much like Beth.

“I think we need to try to set her foot,” Jason says.

“Have you ever done that before?” Piper asks. Her voice goes up an octave.

“I think so…”

“You think or know?” Della asks.

Leo pulls out some gauze and duct tape from his belt. Somewhere he finds an old piece of wood and splits it in half to make a splint.

“Alright Leo, hold her leg down,” Jason says, “Della, be ready to wrap.”

Leo salutes him. He gets into position. Della takes the stuff from Leo.

When Jason sets the foot, Piper flinches so hard she punches Leo in the shoulder.

He yells almost as much as Piper. But it worked, her foot was now facing the right direction.

“Ow,” she breathes.

Della begins to wrap Piper’s foot making sure it’s secure.

“Jeez Beauty Queen!” Leo rubs his arm. “Glad my face wasn’t there.”

“Sorry,” Piper says, “And don’t call me ‘Beauty Queen’ or I will punch you again.”

“You all did great,” Jason breathes. He reaches a hand out to Della and strokes the back of her head where her cut had been.

Della sinks into the touch for a moment then focuses on the situation again.

Piper has that sad look on her face again.

Leo examines the back of Della's head.

“Woah! It’s gone! Like just barely a hint of a scar!” Leo exclaims.

“Yeah water usually does a pretty good job with wounds,” Della says.

“But still! That was a deep cut! Like we could see–”

“Okay, Leo,” Jason sighs, “It’s gone she’s alright now.”

They could see her skull? What in Hades happened?

“So…” Della says. She sits down by Piper. “Anyone going to tell me what just happened?”

Jason sighs and sits across from the girls. Leo follows suit and sits down by him.

Della crosses her arms. “Where’s Festus? And more importantly, where are we?”

Leo’s expression turns sullen. “I don’t know with Festus. He just jerked sideways like he hit an invisible wall and started to fall.”

“As for where we are…” Leo points to a logo on the wall.

Della squints and just barely makes out a large red eye with stenciled words: Monocle Motors, Assembly Plant 1. Something about the red eye gave Della the chills.

“Closed car plant,” Leo says, “I’m guessing we crash-landed in Detroit.”

“How far is that from Chicago?” Piper asks.

Jason hands her a canteen. “Maybe three-fourths of the way from Quebec? The thing is, without the dragon, we’re stuck traveling overland.”

“No way,” Leo says, “That is our least safe option.”

“He’s right,” Piper says, “Besides I don’t know if I can walk.”

Della sighs, seems to be a trend this evening. “And Jason, you can’t fly four people across the country.”

“No way,” Jason agrees, “Leo, are you sure Festus didn’t malfunction? I mean he is old, and–”

“And I might not have repaired him right?”

“I didn’t say that,” Jason protests, “It’s just–maybe you could fix it.”

“I don’t know,” Leo sounds crestfallen. He pulls a few screws out of his pockets and starts fiddling with them. “I’d have to find where he landed if he’s even in one piece.””

“It’s my fault,” Piper says suddenly.

Della, Jason, and Leo all look at her confusion bubbles between the three of them.

“How you were asleep? You and Della both were,” Jason says.

“Yeah, Babe I love you but I doubt that highly.”

“You’re just shaken up,” Leo says, “You’re in pain just rest.”

Piper looks about ready to break down and cry. There’s something else going on with her. Something more than just this damned quest.

Leo stands up. “Look, um Jason, why don’t you stay here with them bro? I’ll scout for Festus. He’s got to be around the warehouse somewhere. If I find him maybe I can figure out how to fix him.”

“Hey, no, you can’t go alone–” Della stands up too quick. Her vision blurs a bit and she nearly topples over.

Jason catches her before she can hit the floor. “I thought you healed?”

“Hmm, I did,” Della mumbles, “This is normal though my body’s trying to process not having a concussion anymore.”

“Great reason for Jason to stay here with you two,” Leo says, “Look I’ll be quick. Just don’t run off without me.”

“Couldn’t even if we tried,” Piper mutters.

Leo reaches into his tool belt and pulls out a flashlight. He flicks it on and disappears down some stairs.

Jason sighs and situates himself across from Piper and next to Della. Thanks to the whole they created in the ceiling there’s a bit of moonlight that illuminates their faces.

“You guys look better,” Jason says softly. He crosses his arms over his legs and glances down at the floor.

Della scoots a bit closer to him. She nudges him just a bit.

She’d almost died, again. Gods, Percy would have lost his mind if he knew–correction–if he remembered her, he would. Also, their connection is…real. It’s repetitive–so why is happening now? They could’ve used this ability six months ago–no they could’ve used it ages ago during the last war.

Jason smiles at her but it doesn’t meet her eyes.

“You did a good job,” Piper says, “Where’d you learn first aid?”

He shrugs. “Same answer as always, I don’t know.”

“But you’re getting some memories back, right?” Della sighs.

“Yeah,” Piper chips in, “Like that prophecy in Latin back at camp or the dream about the wolf?”

“It’s still fuzzy,” Jason sighs, “like de’ja vú. You ever forgot a word or name and it’s at the tip of your tongue, but it isn’t? It’s like that–only with my whole life.”

This, this is what Percy is going to have to go through when he wakes up? \What if he doesn’t get lucky like Jason and find other demigods? What if his amnesia is so bad he forgets how to use Riptide or how to fight in general?

Della shudders at the thought.

“That photo in your pocket,” Piper says. “Is that someone from your past?”

Jason jumps a bit, he looks like a deer in headlights.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “it’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s okay,” he relaxes a bit, "I’m trying to figure some things out.”

Della looks at him. She places a hand on his shoulder.

“That’s Thalia in that photo,” she says, “Gods, I should’ve put it together sooner.”

“What do you mean?” He looks at her.

“Boreas he called you Jason Grace. That’s Thailia’s last name, not to mention the Zeus thing, but I thought maybe just half-siblings–”

“You sure you’re not a daughter of Athena?” Jason chuckles.

“My dad would be so pissed to hear you ask that,” Della laughs. Her hand slips from his shoulder.

Piper laughs with them but it’s half-hearted. Their laughter dies down, and Jason clears his throat.

“Anyways, I have this feeling I’m supposed to find her. Hera left me that memory for a reason. It’s got something to do with this quest. But…I have a feeling it could be dangerous. I’m not sure I want to find out the truth. Is that crazy?”

“No,” Piper says.

“Not in the slightest,” Della says, “The truth is never easy.” She twiddles with her thumbs.

“Jason, Della” Piper says, “Speaking of the truth, I need to tell you something–something about my dad–”

She doesn’t get the chance. Somewhere down below, metal clangs against metal, like a door slamming shut. The sound reverberates throughout the warehouse.

Jason stands up in a flash. He slips his coin out of his pocket and flips unsheathing his sword. He peers over the railing.

“Leo?” he calls.

No answer.

“I don’t like this,” he says. He crouches down next to the girls.

“Me neither,” Piper says, “You need to go check that out.”

“No, I’m not leaving you two here alone–”

“It’s fine Hercules,” Della sighs. She grabs one of the railings behind her and stands up.

Jason rushes towards her to make sure she doesn’t fall.

Della simply waves him off and lets go of the bar and moves a few steps forward. She searches her pockets for her pin. The smooth cool beak touches her fingers. Della pulls it out and taps the beak releasing her sword.

“We’ll be fine,” she promises. “Just be quick, I have a bad feeling about this.”

Jason hesitates. “If I’m not back in five minutes–”

“Panic?” Piper suggests.

“Glad to see you’re back to normal. The dress and the makeup were a lot more intimidating than the dagger.”

“Get moving Wonder Boy,” Della says, “I don’t believe in the force, but right now–”

“The force?” Jason smiles.

“Star Wars,” Piper laughs, “I thought you didn’t watch movies–”

“Percy and I loved them as kids, but that’s not the point! Go!”

“Sure thing Ariel,” Jason smirks. His eyes sparkle with mischief.

Gods, he’s hot–hotter than Luke ever was.

He turns and makes his way to the stairs and runs off into the abyss.

Della turns back to Piper and moves closer to her. She paces a bit, and fidgets with Leda’s handle.

This place is bad news–she should know she’s been in enough shitholes like this warehouse. Times keeps ticking by, and the longer the boys are gone the more that bad feeling deepens.

A loud bang! Echoes through the warehouse.

“Shit,” Della mutters.

“So,” Piper says, “How’s your head?”

Della pauses her pacing and looks down at her.

“Better, still aches a bit, but I’ve dealt with worse.”

Piper hums and rubs her hands together.

“How’s the foot?”

“Still attached,” Piper smiles.

Metallic footsteps slam against the stairs. They don’t sound like Jason or Leo.

“Jason?” Della calls.

Something isn’t right and she knows it. That feeling is in overdrive.

“Yeah,” he calls from the darkness, “On my way up.”

It’s definitely Jason’s voice, but something is so off right now. Della raises Leda and steps in front of Piper.

Piper pulls her dagger close to her.

The steps come closer.

“It’s okay,” Jason’s voice promises.

At the top of the stairs, appears a face, a scary, almost familiar face. It wears a black grin, a smashed nose, and a bloodshot eye in the middle of its forehead. A cyclops and unfortunately it’s not her brother Tyson.

“It’s fine,” he says with Jason’s stolen voice, “You’re just in time for dinner.”

Della charges at him and swings Leda at his chest.

He groans at the cut, but it completely heals as soon as the slash appeared. His teeth stretch into a terrifying smile and he slams the back of Della’s recently healed head and everything turns black.

#jason grace x jackson!reader #jason grace x reader #percyjacksonxsister!reader #heroes of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #oc character #fanfic #percy and annabeth

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unrefinedmusings · 2 years

Text

Between the Shelves - Part 3

IT’S FINALLY HERE!! I’m so sorry for the delay on this, I moved to a new city and had intense writer’s block. Thank you for all the encouragement!! It means so much to me as this was my first fanfic and first stab at writing in a long time. Also fair warning that in this chapter the vibe shifts from flirty romcom to straight up filth...

Stephen Strange x Bookstore Owner! Reader

Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: 18+, smutty smut smut, explicit language, unprotected sex, daddy kink, size kink sort of

Stephen POV

After the Avengers briefing, Stephen spent the entire night and the morning of your date making sure there would be no distractions or interruptions. He had checked in with Fury about potential threats being monitored, talked with each of the other Sanctum’s masters to ensure everything was in order, and triple checked the seals of his own sanctuary.

The two of you agreed to meet at an Italian restaurant nearby your apartment. You mentioned it was a favorite of yours, so he jumped at the suggestion.

With an hour to go before the dinner reservation, Stephen started getting dressed. It was a little early, but he had already ran through his to-do list. Being ready a bit early was better than being alone with his anxiety about tonight’s date. Flirting at your store fifteen minutes at a time, and even the oral sex yesterday, was one thing. Going on a proper date where the doctor would have to be charming for a few hours, charming enough to get another date…that was a different beast entirely. He worried the spark the two of you had would be extinguished outside the comfortable bubble of your store. On top of it all, it had just been so damn long since he’d done this.

Ignoring the nerves eating away at him, he dressed himself in a black suit jacket and pants with a white button down underneath, the top button undone in an attempt to be casual. He decided against a tie, not wanting to come off as stiff.

That’s too bad. She would look so good with a tie stuffed in her mouth, muffling those pretty moans—

Shoving those ideas aside as well, Stephen focused on fixing his hair. He was nervous…but also desperate to fuck you. He’d quite literally gotten a taste yesterday and was starving for more. His cock twitched in his dress pants at the memories of you on his tongue. You were so tight around just his fingers, he couldn’t wait to feel that around his dick.

He checked his reflection once more before heading out of his bedroom just ten minutes before your date was set to begin. Standing in the foyer of the Sanctum, Stephen was about to conjure a portal when he heard America’s voice coming closer. Too preoccupied with his thoughts about the impending date, he had not taken the time to check if the Sanctum was empty.

Oh shit.

America, Mordo, and Wong entered the room, inquisitive expressions on their faces as they took in Stephen’s attire.

“Where are you headed?”, Mordo questioned with amusement in his eyes.

“Out,” Stephen replied, hoping he sounded nonchalant.

“Out where?”, Wong implored.

“Why are you dressed so weird?”, America said at the same time.

“I’m going to…a play. And I’m dressed nice, not weird.” Stephen paused. “Do I look weird? The suit looks good? Right?”

“Yes…it looks fine, Strange,” Wong replied, confused as to why Stephen was asking him for fashion advice for the first time in their many years of friendship.

“Okay, thanks. I’ll see you all later,” the doctor mumbled in a huff before creating a portal and rushing out.

Reader POV

Despite buzzing with excitement, you did your best to focus at work. The hours until your date couldn’t pass fast enough. After closing, you hurried home to get ready. Luckily you had resolved the debate over what to wear last night after a thorough, hour long inspection of your closet.

Once you got home, you immediately went to take a shower to freshen up and, frankly, calm down. You were giddy, moderately nervous, and unbelievably horny all at the same time. Taking a few deep breaths under the stream of hot water, you promised yourself to stay composed the whole night.

Oh my god, I haven’t seen him completely naked yet.

Composure went out the shower door as your fingers found their way to your clit, lightly circling the pleasure point as you imagined the toned, bare form of your favorite Avenger. Memories of his lean, muscular body pressed tight against yours filled your brain. You moaned aloud recalling the feel of his strong thighs under your hands.

Ten minutes and an orgasm later, you were dried off and ready to start primping. You left your hair down in loose, wavy curls and lightly made up your face to give it a natural look. However, your favorite part was the dress. Despite rarely worn, it was one of your best purchases: a sexy red number with spaghetti straps and a high slit up the side. You worried it was too sultry for a first date…until you remembered that you had your date’s tongue in your pussy yesterday. Coming on too strong wasn’t really an issue here.

Plus, you knew the famous Doctor Strange would love seeing you in red.

After finishing off the look with black strappy heels and minimalist gold jewelry, you grabbed your purse and headed out.

Stephen POV

Quickly shutting the portal behind him, Stephen arrived in the alley next to the restaurant. The two of you had decided to be discreet to avoid unwanted attention, so opening a portal in the middle of the street wasn’t an option. Taking it a step further, Stephen applied a glamour charm on himself. Those who knew him well would see his true face, while strangers and fans would be tricked by the spell. The sorcerer wanted no interruptions tonight. Making his way to the front, he awaited your arrival.

“Stephen,” he heard, turning to the left to see you walking his way.

He’d never seen you dressed like this. Your usual outfits were soft, dainty little pieces featuring lots of florals. Granted, you still drove him crazy with ample cleavage and short hemlines, but he had never seen you in something this…provocative.

Fuck, just portal back to the Sanctum and tie her to the bed.

Stephen’s cock throbbed at the idea, but the rational parts of him decided against it. For now, at least.

“Hi sweetness, you look…gorgeous,” he remarked in awe, while gathering you in his arms for a hug. He felt the brush of your lips against his cheek before pulling away.

“Thank you,” you replied with a light blush. “You don’t look too bad either.”

“High praise,” Stephen noted with a sarcastic tone. He placed his hand on the small of your back and you leaned into his side. “Let’s head inside.”

Reader POV

The restaurant was adorned in romantic lighting set by warm bulbs, a number of candles across the tables, and the glass baubles hanging from the ceiling, casting reflections around the room. You and Stephen had been seated in a secluded corner of the restaurant, at a small round table decorated with a vase full of wildflowers.

The waiter had just finished taking your drink orders: white wine for yourself and a martini for him. Although, you were surprised you managed to even get the words out to order considering your mouth had gone dry at the sight of Stephen in a suit.

Oh fuck dinner, just climb into his lap and ride him until your legs give out.

You always had an active sexual imagination and a healthy libido, but since the doctor entered your life even you could be surprised at how horny your thoughts turned. Fighting against your carnal urges, you focused on the menu and engaged Stephen in conversation about the few times you had been here before. You were not just trying to get in bed with him and needed to convey that. This was more than just sex to you.

Within a few minutes of talking, you had already begun to relax in Stephen’s presence. Former worries about your compatibility subsided while he talked about his work. He had recounted anecdotes about his mystical and superhero duties during your conversations in the past, which you could tell were thinly veiled attempts to impress you. However, this was much more personal than stories of which monster he valiantly fought that week.

“She nearly blew a hole in the front doors of the Sanctum,” he said with a chuckle. “Wong would have been furious if it was anyone else but America.”

You laughed once more at the antics of his colleagues. So far you had learned about two of his close friends, Wong and Mordo, the latter of which you found out was the reason he originally entered your store.

Your heart was melting at the fondness and care in his voice when talking about his teenage apprentice. It was clear that the relationship was more than just mentor and mentee. He viewed her as family, just as he did his friends. You found yourself fantasizing about what a good father he would be.

Sweet Jesus, can my ovaries calm down?

Stephen asked about your work, prompting you to share stories of interesting customers and memories of the shop’s early days. Despite feeling insecure about how boring your life must seem compared to his, the Avenger seemed enraptured by the conversation and prodded you for details.

By the time the food came out, you were feeling completely at ease with him. By the time you were halfway done with your entree, the two of you had inched closer and closer until the distance was just shy of being indecent. By the time you finished, his hand had come to rest on your knee.

The combination of his touch, the two glasses of wine you had, and the ought to be illegal sight of Stephen in a suit was too much to take. You were only human, how long could you be expected to keep this level of arousal at bay? Besides, you had a surprise for him.

“You know, I took your advice,” you said casually.

“What advice,” he questioned, mirth in his pretty blue eyes.

You hand rested atop the one he had placed on your knee, and then began guiding it up your exposed leg through the slit of your dress. His eyes widened in surprise, but Stephen made no attempt to stop the dangerous game you were playing. As your joined hands moved higher up your leg, he understood what you were alluding to.

With his fingers on your bare hip, you remarked in an innocent tone, “You told me to go without. It was a good idea. Now I don’t have to worry about panty lines in this outfit.”

You brought his hand from out under your dress and placed it on his own knee. He was silent, his eyes dark and his face serious. After a few moments of silence, his arm came up to rest on the back of your chair. You nearly choked on your wine when you felt the zipper of your dress fall every so slightly. His calloused thumb gently stroked the newly exposed skin on your back, while his other fingers remained on the zipper.

“Stephen, we’re in public,” you warned in a hushed voice.

“Exactly. And there’s just a single zipper and two little straps keeping me from taking you right here…in public.”

You whimpered at the suggestion, your thighs clenching together under the tablecloth. The zipper fell lower.

“You wouldn’t even mind, would you? You want my cock so badly, you wouldn’t even care if I gave it to you right here. Your pretty body bent over the table, completely naked, while I slam into your tight cunt from behind. Everyone’s eyes on you, watching you turn into my wrecked little slut.”

“Stephen—”

“Who’s Stephen? You know my name, sweetness. Say it,” he whispered, hot breath fanning across your ear. He dragged the zipper down further, and the straps on your shoulders were beginning to fall. A little more and your breasts would be spilling out the top.

“Daddy,” you breathed as your eyes fluttered shut.

“Good girl.”

The zipper was pulled up and his hand came up to rest at the nape of your neck. Hearing footsteps approaching the nook you and Stephen were seated in, you opened your eyes and saw the waiter approach.

“Is there anything else I can get for you? A dessert menu?”, he probed with a friendly smile, unaware of the sexual charge in the atmosphere.

“No thank you, just the check please,” Stephen replied coolly, as if the previous filth he spewed in your ear about defiling you in front of an audience hadn’t been spoken.

A wave of defiance ran through you as the waiter walked away. You tugged Stephen closer by one of the lapels on his suit jacket and complained, “But Daddy, I wanted dessert.”

His free hand grasped your upper thigh and squeezed hard.

“Don’t worry sweetness. I’ll share mine when we get to your place.”

Stephen POV

After paying the bill, Stephen promptly grabbed you by the hand and exited the restaurant. Entering the alley, he pulled his sling ring out to conjure a portal to your apartment. You both stepped through and were led to the hallway just outside your door.

He could have had you two walk directly into the bedroom, but he enjoyed the sight of you scrambling to find the keys in your purse. The task would be probably be a lot easier if Stephen was not behind you, sucking a bruise onto the side of your neck. His hands grasped your sides, slender fingers spreading across your ribcage and inching dangerously close to the swell of your breasts. He pressed his erection against you and you abandoned the search in your purse to bend over slightly, grinding your ass on his cock.

Stephen bit down on your neck to stifle a groan. With a wave of his hand, your keys were levitating out of your purse and into the lock. While he did love to watch you squirm in his arms, he didn’t want one of your neighbors to come out and see the two of you dry humping in the hallway.

Once inside, he pressed you up against the door and slotted your legs together. He knew you were aching for some relief as you used this as an opportunity to shamelessly grind down on his thigh.

“Sweet girl, are you making a mess on Daddy’s suit?”, he questioned in between leaving sensual kisses on your neck.

“No,” you lied, your hips still rocking against him.

“Well if you need some assistance…” Stephen trailed off as he sank to his knees. The urgency from yesterday’s frisky encounter at your shop was gone. His hands trailed up your legs slowly, bringing the material of the dress up with them. He let out a heaving exhale breath right against your cunt once it was revealed to him, before dragging his goatee against the insides of your thighs.

“Please, please don’t tease,” you begged.

“You asked for it,” he rasped before raising one of your legs over his shoulder and pressing his face into your aching core. He went straight for your clit, alternating between tracing it with his tongue and flicking it. He looked up to see you writhing above him, your head falling back against the door with a thud. You hands fisted in his hair, making him groan into your cunt and sending vibrations throughout your middle.

“Fuck me! Please, please fuck me,” you moaned in desperation. Despite how achingly hard he was, he was not about to give into your pleas for more just yet.

“But sweetness, I’ve been waiting for so long. I want to take my time with you, I barely got a taste yesterday,” he replied, his fingers replacing his mouth while he talked.

“Barely? I came on your face!”

“Yes but only once. When I fantasized about finally taking you, my goal was to get you there three times.”

“You think you’re going to make me cum three times? Someone’s confident,” you teased. He quickly put an end to your backtalk with a smack to your cunt, making you cry out.

“I’m going to make you cum three times on my tongue tonight. We’ll find out how many times you can take it on my cock,” he rasped against your core before continuing his assault on your pussy. His hands kept you pressed against the door, unrelenting against your bucking hips. The doctor was drunk off the taste of you, lapping across the length of your slit and devouring all the arousal you leaked. Hearing you cry out from above only spurred him on further and soon he felt your thighs shaking next to his ears as you came on his face.

Reader POV

After the earth shattering orgasm you had against your front door, you had to hold onto Stephen’s form given how shaky your legs were. He smirked before picking you up bridal style. You yelped in surprise, but didn’t hate the feeling of being in his arms like this.

“Bedroom?”, the sorcerer asked.

“Door at the end of the hall,” you replied.

He carried you across your apartment and laid you down on the soft white sheets of your bed. You reached out for him, but he remained standing. His movements were slow and controlled as you watched him take his jacket off and lay it on the back of your vanity chair. His eyes never left yours as he undid the buttons on his shirt before removing his belt and shoes. Your mouth was agape and nearly drooling at the sight of his exposed torso.

“Are you alright to stand, sweetness? As much as I’ve enjoyed it tonight, I think we should get you out of that dress.”

You complied wordlessly, moving off the bed to stand before him. He turned you around to finally undo the zipper of your dress, removing the straps from your shoulders and revealing your body to him. He turned you again and let out a shuddering breath at the sight of you. Once more he dropped to his knees, but this time to tenderly undo the straps of your heels and lift you out of them. The intimacy of the action was too much and left your legs wobbly once more.

He rose to his full height, one hand on the small of your back pressing your body close to him and the other cupping your face to pull you into a deep kiss. You frantically started tearing at the remainder of his clothes, pushing his shirt off his broad shoulders and lowering the zipper on his pants. With one tug on the waistband of his boxers, you were finally treated to the sight of a completely naked Stephen Strange. You had broken the kiss to take a step back and admire his form, your eyes drinking him in. If you weren’t drooling before, you definitely were now.

“Enjoying the view?”, he said, breaking you out of your trance.

“Absolutely,” you replied, unashamed of having been caught ogling him.

“Ditto, gorgeous.”

He pulled you back to him, lifting you up and tossing you back onto your bed. Before you knew it, he was on top of you and kissing his way down your body. The sorcerer was thorough and left filthy kisses, bite marks, and hickeys all across your neck and chest.

The pleasure you felt only intensified as he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, teasing the other with the rough skin of his fingertips. You cried out and clawed at his back when he bit down on your tit, soothing the skin with his tongue, before switching to the opposite nipple and giving it the same rough treatment.

“Daddy, please! Please fuck me, I can’t wait any more,” you begged.

“I don’t know, sweet girl. You have such a tight cunt, I doubt my big dick will even fit,” he noted in a smug tone.

Grasping at his hair, you pulled him up to your face and pleaded, “Make it fit!”

The two of you met in a brutal kiss as the head of his member brushed against your slit. You moaned at the feel of him dragging it along the length of your cunt, coating the tip in your arousal. Your back arched off the bed, pressing your chests even closer together, and you bit down on your date’s bottom lip. Stephen dragged one hand down along the side of your body and to the back of your knee, bringing it up around his hip. You felt his warm, wet cock teasingly start to enter your cunt, forcing you to moan into the kiss.

Slowly, he pushed himself into you. He was fucking huge and the stretch was delicious. With a grunt he bottomed out inside of you, leaving you breathless and choking. Your eyes squeezed shut and you felt tears escape the corners.

“Oh god, you’re splitting me in half,” you whispered. It wasn’t a complaint, not even close. Just a statement of fact.

“That shouldn’t sound so good,” he rasped against your lips.

Both of you stayed like this for a few moments, savoring the feel of each other. He was throbbing inside your walls and despite how full you felt, you pussy was clenching around his cock to draw him in even deeper. Your nails were digging into his shoulders as you opened your eyes to meet his.

“Fuck me, I can take it.”

Stephen responded immediately, pulling out until only the tip of him was inside before roughly thrusting into you. He hitched your leg up so now both were around his waist, your ankles locked against his back. His movements were unyielding, yet still left you moaning for more. Your cries, his grunts into the crook of your neck, and the lewd sounds of your skin hitting his were all bringing you nearer to release. His thrusts quickened, letting you know he was close too.

You felt his hand moving between your bodies and his fingers were on your clit, rubbing circles and flicking until it was all too much. One more thrust and you came apart, screaming out into the night and giving your neighbors another reason to hate you.

Stephen set a brutal pace, your limp form unable to do anything but take him into you again and again as he chased his own orgasm. His thrusts grew erratic until he came with a loud groan in your ear, his hot load shooting inside you.

He stayed buried in you, the weight of his body comforting as he lied on top of you. He nuzzled his nose against yours before kissing you slow and deep. He moved off of you and out of you to lie on his back, and his hands grasped your waist to drag you with him. Basking in the afterglow of your orgasms, you and Stephen cuddled with your head resting on his chest.

“Finally,” he breathed.

You huffed out a laugh with what little air was left in your body. “Been thinking about this a lot Doctor Strange?”

He chuckled, low and deep, before gently caressing your face to make you meet his gaze.

“You have been a constant in my mind since the moment we met. I have been thinking about you far too often and many times in the most inopportune situations, but I just can’t help it. And, if I have not made it clear already, I want much more than just tonight.”

Your heart swelled at his words and you brought your face to his, placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Me too,” you replied with your forehead pressed to his.

The two of you stayed in this perfect, silent moment a little longer before you made a move to get up. Stephen clearly saw this as a heinous crime as he grasped your wrists and pinned you to the bed.

“I want more than just tonight…but tonight is not even close to being done yet.”

Stephen POV

Several hours later, Stephen found out you could cum on his cock four times. That combined with the three on his face was all you could take before you were begging him to stop. But Stephen prided himself on his persistence and that’s how his fingers ended up where they were now: teasing your swollen clit with his fingers while your body twitched under his ministrations.

“No, can’t,” you whined at him. It was clear from the glassy look in your eyes that you were too far gone for more coherent sentences.

“But sweetness, you look so pretty when you cum. I just want to see it one more time. One more for Daddy,” he whispered into your ear, followed by his fingers entering you. Choked moans left your lips as he plunged his digits in and out of you, a task made easy by your previous releases and several loads of cum he left in you. It wasn’t long before he felt the tightening of your walls. Another push against that sweet spot inside you and he saw you fall off the edge, crying out into the night as your whole body shook from pleasure.

Finally satisfied, Stephen smirked at the sight of you: splayed out on the ruined sheets, cunt overflowing with his cum, trying to catch your breath. He pulled his fingers from your core to bring up to your lips. You opened your mouth and sucked without being told to.

“Good girl,” Stephen cooed, “See? I told you I’d share my dessert.”

You moaned around his fingers and sucked greedily at the fluids he provided. Stephen removed them and placed a gentle kiss on your lips, followed by even softer ones to your cheeks, forehead, and eyelids. You smiled dreamily underneath him. He used magic to freshen up your sheets and summon a towel from the bathroom. He wiped the now overstimulated bits between your legs and smiled when you murmured your thanks, exhaustion overtaking you.

Stephen gathered your spent body in his arms, spooning you from behind. You sighed happily as his strong arms encircled you and he placed a kiss to the top of your head.

“So…do I get a second date, sweetness?”

A/N: Thank you everyone for reading! This is technically the end of the series, but I have ideas for one shots about these two in a relationship so maybe look out for those

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