#ive wanted to do this for a LONG time now. like ever since i heard the song and decided it was about kep sjfjfk | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

leilanihours · 1 hour

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hi! can u write caitlin clark x reader where caitlin is dating a popstar like as big as taylor swift? pls and thank u

# END GAME

pairing: caitlin clark x popstar!reader

word count: 2493

warnings: none!

summary: caitlin acting like an obsessed fangirl when she shows up at your concert.

from lani: this is the oldest ask i have in my inbox and ive been tryna clear out reqs so bear with me y'all!! anyways i kinda like this tbh and might write a part two soon! also here is a link to the full piano version of end game from the eras tour if yall wanna watch that 😋

“GOD, I ACTUALLY have no idea why i’m like, nervous,” caitlin smiles shyly as she thinks out loud. she was currently being recorded for “full court press,” a docu-series that featured her story along with kamilla cardoso’s and kiki rice’s.

the director wanted to get some shots of caitlin being a normal civilian (whatever the hell that means), so he instructed the videographer to follow her around this weekend. and it just so happened that this was the weekend she had tickets for your concert. your twenty-second concert of the tour. let’s just say it was no coincidence that you chose iowa city as the twenty-second show.

right now, she was in the front seat of her family’s car while her older brother, blake, drove them to the venue. caitlin’s clark was currently connected to the car’s aux so she, of course, had to play your music. she had an entire playlist for only your songs, but she would never tell that to anyone. not even you.

“yeah why are you nervous? you just need to like, chill,” her brother says.

“this is my first time seeing her perform since…y’know,” she smirks, hinting at her secret relationship with you.

she shoots a mischievous look to the camera, knowing full well that the audience that would watch this wouldn’t know for sure what she was talking about.

“remind me how you got us free tickets again?” blake fake-questions. he knew about the relationship, each of your families did. but for the sake of the camera recording their every move, he eggs caitlin on.

“i’m close…with her um…management,” she lies as she picks up her phone to text you. the time read “5:04” meaning it was only a few hours until you went on stage.

both of you were ecstatic to see each other here for the first time in months. with caitlin being busy with her basketball career and you traveling constantly on tour, it was difficult, to say the least. that’s one of the reasons tonight was special.

when planning out your tour, you requested that iowa city would be reserved for the twenty-second show of the north america leg and that it would be held at kinnick stadium. the reasoning behind it being the twenty-second show was obvious, as it was your girlfriend’s coveted jersey number.

the motivation for choosing kinnick stadium was that it was where you first met caitlin and where she broke an outstanding record with her team. you were one of the 55,646 people attending the iowa vs. depaul women’s basketball game in 2023. it became the most-attended women’s basketball game in history. you managed to get courtside tickets to the game and ended up getting to talk to caitlin after the win, which obviously led to something more valuable than friendship.

“have you ever talked to her? i heard she’s actually a fan of you,” her brother smirks.

“i’ve talked to her once in person,” she starts, lying of course, “it was actually here at kinnick when we played dupaul. she was in the audience, which was really cool.”

“oh that’s sick, actually. what about online? y’all don’t text or anything?”

“we do but, y’know, we’re not that close,” right as caitlin says this she receives a text from you saying the camera men were cleared for the show as long as they only recorded caitlin, not the show, “she just texted me actually,” she smiles big at the notification as she reads the text out loud. “how far are we from the stadium?”

“about ten minutes.”

“okay cool. i’m so excited, dude, you have no idea.”

“you’re such a fangirl,” blake laughs.

“okay we should have enough footage for now, we’ll start recording again once we get there or once the show starts,” the cameraman says from the backseat.

“sounds good, thank you,” caitlin replies as another text from you pops up on her screen.

my fav girl: can’t wait to see you babe i added a surprise to the setlist for you

my cc bby: omg no u didnt im alr so excited ur hyping me up even more

my fav girl: ur gonna love it trust

my fav girl: okay wait i gotta go get ready but ill see u soon!! love u!!

my cc bby: love u too ill see u out there!!

———

“i still can’t believe we’re here right now this is crazy,” caitlin says as she looks around the stadium that has started to fill with fans, “welcome to the ‘hits different’ world tour!” she motions to the stage behind her as she smiles at the camera with her arms up in the air.

your album “hits different” became a huge success in the past year. the internet buzzed with anticipation prior to the release and followed through with the praise the second it came out.

your fans posted reaction videos, theories, edits, the whole nine yards to show their appreciation. your songs were heard on radios, at bars, in school talent shows, literally everywhere.

the album was about growing from the mistreatment from former partners and finding true love again after too many instances of hurt.

and right at the center of your inspiration was caitlin. even before you began dating in private, she was your best friend who comforted you through your big breakup. she lifted you up when you felt like you could never get up again.

you poured your heart and soul into the album, expressing all your deepest emotions - positive and negative - through the power of your writing.

you won multiple awards for the project, including vmas for your creative music videos and grammys for your productions. the whole world knew your name. it was everything you ever wanted. but there were downsides.

aside from the expected criticism and hate comments, you faced more serious problems. you started receiving intense backlash for some of the lyrics in your song that dissed your exes, and some people didn’t like your boldness. they retaliated, making it seem like you were the villain despite being so badly hurt from your past relationships. people claimed you were “crazy” and a “drama queen.”

fortunately, the speculations and assumptions only empowered you further. the only thing you had to say to those comments was: “remind me, who’s worth billions of dollars and taking the world by storm right now?”

“where are we sitting, cait?” blake asks.

“we’re in the vip section actually which is insane.”

“dude how did you get vip pit tickets??”

“no, not in the pit, we have our own tent on the floor, i think.”

“no way, bro, you’re lying.”

“i swear! look, see! oh my god our names are on chairs!” she runs over excitedly like a little kid at a playground. the whole experience is making her giddy, acting like a proud mom or teenage fangirl.

“how did you swing this??”

“i have my ways,” she winks at the camera, “the show starts in like an hour so we can chill and maybe get some food? i wanna say hi to other fans and see how they’re feeling.”

and with that she’s rushing back out of the tent and up the stairs to the concession stands swarmed with fans. it’s like she forgets she’s famous too because she gets surprised when her own fans spot her and ask for pictures.

———

“how you guys doin’ out there?” you say into your mic as you walk across the stage to your piano. you hear a raging storm of cheering in response, “sounds good, sounds good,” you laugh. there’s truly nothing you loved more than performing and interacting with your fans.

“so…” you start as you begin to play a few chords softly, “tonight is a very special night for me, for this tour. it is the twenty-second show and we are here in iowa city and i don’t think i could feel any happier,” you beam as you hear more enthused cheers.

“there are many reasons why tonight is special but the most important being…this is where i first met my partner.” the loudest set of cheers yet. your fans were always up to date with your life. they knew boundaries, of course, but they couldn’t help their curiosity.

they cared about who you were with, there was no denying it, and they knew how you loved to draw your inspiration from your relationships. right now you only had one person in mind, but they had yet to figure out who it was exactly.

“and i wanted to give you all a little…gift, per se. let’s just say that i started working on a new album-“ an insane volume of screams cuts you off as you shake your head and laugh. “aw thanks! okay anyways, i’ve been very excited to post for you guys tonight and to see my partner who, yes, is in the crowd, so i wrote a little song.” more screams.

“-and i wanted to get your opinions on it! so here we go, this is the acoustic version of a new song called end game.”

you begin to sing an altered version of the upbeat song over the hums of the piano. the stadium was the quietest it had been all day as fans listened attentively to your lyrics.

little did you know, caitlin was having a mental breakdown of excitement. her face was as red as a tomato and she was practically shaking.

she loved when you would mention her but not mention her. she loved knowing that your relationship was just yours at the moment. she loved knowing that no one could take it away from you. she loved knowing that you were only hers.

and right now, as you make your way through the song, she’s paying close attention to your words. this whole announcement was news to her, and she assumed it was the surprise you had mentioned earlier. she was grinning ear-to-ear as she listened to your voice echo throughout the stadium.

she was entranced by you. the delicate yet passionate tone of your singing, the beaming smile on your flawless face, your bubbly conversations with the crowd - everything.

you had her full attention as you practically declared your love for her in front of thousands of people - millions if you wanted to count the fans that watched through live streams.

she was so enthralled that she didn’t even notice the cameraman pointing his equipment in her direction, capturing her hypnotized expression as she simply smiled watching you on the big screen. the viewers of the documentary would then know who she had fallen so hard for and who you dedicated many of your songs to, but she didn’t care.

all she cared about was you.

———

“thank you so much, iowa city i love you and we will see you all next time! get home safe please!!” you say into the mic as you begin to walk offstage. the sound of wild cheers, fireworks, and confetti cannons fill your ears.

as the final song of the show reaches its climax, you take a second to soak in the moment from the side of the stage. being a performer was one of your favorite parts of your job. you never got tired of any of it - the dancing, the singing, the fans - it was all part of why you started this in the first place.

a few minutes later, you are ushered away from the stage and back towards the dressing rooms to change out of your costume. you are handed a towel and water bottle as you make your way through the concrete tunnel with your staff right behind you.

“y/n, you have a few guests that wanna say hi, would you like me to let them through?” your assistant asks you.

“who are they?” you reply. you weren’t expecting anyone to stay at the venue after the show. you insisted you would meet caitlin and her family back at the hotel so it couldn’t be her, right?

“oh they’re just over there actually,” she responds with a pointed finger, “do you recognize them?”

you follow her direction with furrowed brows only to be met with the familiar faces of your girlfriend and her brother. your jaw drops in shock as you immediately run over to her now outstretched arms.

when you jump to hug her, you both almost fall to the floor from the impact. her arms snake around your waist as she lifts you with ease, squeezing you tightly.

“hi,” you breathe out with a smile, nuzzling your neck into her tall frame.

“hi, princess,” she whispers into your hair.

“i thought we were meeting up at the hotel for dinner? i didn’t think you guys would stay here!”

“you think i could wait that long to see you when i could just finesse my way backstage??”

you laugh at her phrasing, the sound instantly making caitlin melt. “i missed you so much, dude, you have no idea.”

“i missed you too,” she smiles brightly as she sets you back down on the ground. her large hands move to cup your flushed cheeks, “you did so good out there, baby, i’m so proud of you.”

“thank you, cait, that really means a lot to me,” you say sincerely as you momentarily depart from her to greet her brother, “hey blake, how you doin’? enjoy the show?”

“i’m doin’ good, y/n, and yeah, i mean, it was incredible, really,” he answers as he goes to hug you.

“love to hear that, i’m glad you guys had fun!” you reach for caitlin’s hand, holding it gingerly as you begin to walk in the direction of the awaiting golf cart, “i have to change out of this really quick before we go but i’m gonna ask for a space for you guys to hangout in the mean time.”

“what, you mean you have to change out of that sparkly leotard and those four-inch heels?” the brunette jokes.

“i know it’s crazy, i actually wanted to keep everything as pj’s,” you play along as the two of you move to sit on the back of the golf cart.

while you two were entangled in each other’s presence, you failed to notice the cameraman, once again, recording your interaction. he made sure to get both of your permissions to add the clips into the documentary, but he couldn’t help but capture the authentic smiles on both of your faces. he knew that the viewers would be able to feel the love through the screen and be overwhelmed with joy for the two of you.

after tonight’s events, you and caitlin knew that the public would eventually be able to figure out the clues left that all pointed to your intimate relationship.

you were both aware of the consequences, the potential feedback from the internet, but their opinions didn’t matter. the only thing that mattered was that you really were each other’s end games.

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rexscanonwife · 5 months

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Oughh,, ok I'm revealing now that I'm planning on emotionally wrecking everyone by going with the Kepler lyric video after all and I've so far fully sketched 9 PANELS 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 6 of which I did just today sjfjgjg

#jane journals #self insert talk #kinda sorta.#and ive got 12 MORE TO GO 😭😭😭 yall better appreciate this shit when its finished #and i mean im doing this for personal fulfillment too #ive wanted to do this for a LONG time now. like ever since i heard the song and decided it was about kep sjfjfk #the lyric video is hopefully gonna end up a true vision of what ive imagined every time ive listened to it #and not to brag but i showed my partner rhe thumbnails and that ALONE made her cry 😤😤#but anyway wish me luck yall sjfkfkg #im bringing a vision to life

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haerni · 15 days

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OH MY GOD, “who is he? ”

summary: feels like you’re fallin’ deeper & maybe you’re going crazy, right? does he want you or not? he’s so confusing!

ft. park sunghoon (based on ‘OMG’ by newjeans!)

content: fem! reader, tooth-rotting fluff, a lil bit of hurt comfort, sunghoon is that confusing guy, mutual pining, reader is a bit embarrassing i think? sunoo your support system! 1.8k words

— very very minimal proofread and editing bc ive only done this in one sitting (help me).

( 🍃 ) notes: this took me so long omfgsbks but here we are with my very first content on this blog, please be nice TT sunghoon might be ooc saur.. theres that! can u tell i love sunoo, i have to sneak him in. maybe the story will jump for awhile so sorry for that also.

you've probably liked PARK SUNGHOON for almost half of your life.

ever since he sat with you at the swing from the park you used to go to when you were kids and offering his own comfort when you were crying on that day, to this day forward when he offers his shoulder for you to cry on.

he never questions the reasons behind your cries, he never pushes and all he does is sit there and offer you whispers of solace that you take to heart.

because your best friend wouldn't want the worst for you.

because all he does is care for you.

and maybe—just maybe—you hate him a little for it, for doing things that make your heart flutter, for simply just touching your hair and pulling you closer hoping that it will quell the sadness that consumes you. or when he would walk with you home after his practice despite being tired and run down to the bones, he would never miss a day. or when he would call you such sweet things like you are together when you aren't.

or when one time he heard through jay how someone was making passes on you and disgusting comments about you, he comes home with a bruised lip and wounded knuckles. he refused to let you see him, not until you forced your way to his room with the first aid kit his mother let you borrow, because he also wouldn't let her treat him.

or when you can't even pretend to be okay in the sea of bodies in a party and he notices right away. he drags you by your hand and drags you out of the party without a care for anyone. he only tells you that he hates the party and would rather eat out in a convenience store nearby.

he holds your hand tightly, you knew that night you loved park sunghoon more than you could ever imagine.

a decade into your friendship, you fell in love with your best friend, park sunghoon.

you did your best to hide it, to keep these emotions at bay and lock away into the very bottom of your heart. you swallow the bubbling feeling in your throat whenever he's close. you did your very best to preserve the relationship the both of you built together. even if all you wanted was just ruin it and become something more.

loving park sunghoon was easy, it was easy as the breeze that touched your hair, it was easy as falling into a routine of living and looking forward to days when he's with you. the prospect of loving sunghoon comes naturally and you don't know how to stop it. it just grows more everyday and suddenly you find yourself in garden of flowers blossoming in your heart, so much that's its starting to flow out little by little and you're slipping, you're heart is becoming unguarded, the walls you've spent all your life building is chipping away slowly.

it's becoming suffocating, it's hard to breathe around him.

the passing touches, the stolen glances and brief silence has been occurring more and more.

it's only a matter of time, before someone catches on. unfortunately, that time is right now.

"what's with you and sunghoon, lately?" your friend, sunoo asks, "did you guys have a fight?"

a second passes before you answer him, "we did not. why do you ask?"

sunoo sits closer to you and puts his face on his palm, "you have been avoiding him."

you stopped, "no, i'm not."

"it's lunch and you're sitting here with me in the library, working on an assignment that's not due until next week, when you usually never miss eating when he comes by our room to eat with you." he pointed out.

too specific. were you that predictable? and when you don't answer sunoo realizes something. when his eyes widen too much for your comfort that's when you interject from whatever train of thought he had.

"or maybe—"

"i don't know what you are talking about, sunoo."

"you're avoiding him.."

"i already told you, i'm not—!"

"sure, keep telling yourself that." sunoo snorts at that, "i know you like him and not how a best friend should."

you can't breathe again, you were absolutely done for. because sunoo was right, he got the answer right and you couldn't find it in yourself to quip back at him. you can't find it in yourself to deny and brush it off, because it's simply not real, it's not what your heart is telling you. maybe, that was your last straw.

maybe that was all it needed for you to let out your heart just for once and face the reality.

you don't want sunghoon as a best friend.

the realization hits harder when someone utters it out, because you have lived all your life hiding and suddenly, it pours out like rain after a long unending drought.

now here you are. in the porch of your house under the moonlight with you encased in sunghoon's arms, because you were stupid enough to go out and try to forget about him, to go see other people and hope that you can lose all these feelings you have for him. it didn't, maybe it never will. a boy, somehow he's the same height and stature as sunghoon it was enough for you to agree for a dinner out.

it was stupid to begin with. you didn't even know this guy's name (you can't even bother to remember). because while you sat there and tried to engage with him, your mind drifted far on how he does not have the same moles as sunghoon, he does not make you laugh like sunghoon does, maybe he would've took you out to that ramen place you always go to after a long day instead of this fancy restaurant that you don't even know. quite sure enough that guy only talked about himself, you didn't listen.

"so are we going?" he gives you an all-knowing smile and as you try to turn him down a voice comes in.

"she's not going with you." you look behind, and there he stands one hand in his pocket wearing a white button-up shirt that you haven't seen before, a cold gaze accompanying it and his hair done all too perfectly—like he was on a date.

"hey! who do you think you are?" sunghoon ignores him as he offers his hand to you. tilting his head in question. you did not hesitate to grab it. it's almost a curse for him to know when you need him the most.

you can feel the heat rising up in your body as he intertwines both of your hands and gives it a squeeze.

he brings you home, like how he promised your dad when you were sixteen.

you bite your lips in hopes of suppressing all the emotions running down on you. but you can't really do that in front of sunghoon, can you?

you broke down.

and sunghoon was there—it was enough. it was enough for everything to pour out.

"i'm tired, hoon." his arms tighten around you, burying his face to your hair, almost as if he's kissing it in comfort.

you're tired? is it because of that guy? should he beat him up? you wouldn't like it anyway, so he erase the thought. park sunghoon has never hated anyone more than that jerk right now. he curses that stupid guy who made you like this.

"i hate you park sunghoon."

"you don't mean that."

you don't.

"i really really hate you." you were probably the worst to utter such words to him. to your best friend, to sunghoon out of all people. but you can't stop. "you're so stupid, stupid."

it takes him back, he didn't expect for you to be mad at him. he's silent for a moment as he continues to hold you like you're going to disappear.

"how am i stupid, baby?" there he goes again with those stupid nicknames.

you refuse to look at him, burying your face to his nape. and when you don't answer he talks for you.

"do you hate me that much for you not to look at me?" you really hate park sunghoon.

he sighs at the lack of your response. he sighs before he turns his face closer to your ear, "what am i gonna do, baby? you hate me, but i like you so much."

what? what the fuck?

that makes you widen your eyes processing what he just said as you sit up straight and facing him. and it makes him laugh a little, he probably shouldn't, but he couldn't help it. not when you're this adorably looking at him like you can't believe it.

"don't joke about things like that park sunghoon!"

wow, using his government name? "you don't believe me?" you don't answer. "why do you think i came to that awful restaurant wearing this shirt?" you knew it was new, you've never seen him wear it.

"because you want to fit it?" you answer.

"that too," he laughs, "and because you didn't eat lunch with me, you didn't walk home with me. i heard from sunoo, that you were out with someone and you didn't dress up because of me. you were on a date and it wasn't me. you were avoiding me, baby."

he looks at you and it hurts because both of you are a fucking idiot. all this time, sunghoon liked you.

park sunghoon likes you.

"how long?" and you can't help it, you have to know.

he thinks for a second, "hm.. since when you were on that swing? i thought you were pretty." he smiles so easily.

oh my god.

you buried your face once more, not really knowing what to do, because for the longest time you thought you were the only one feeling this way.

but sunghoon understands, he continues to talk, "jay thinks i'm obsessed with you. he's not wrong, you know? you don't have to say anything right now, i know you're having a har—"

you kissed him. park sunghoon is really an idiot. how can you not like him? how can anyone not even like him? he's so stupid. sunghoon's eyes widen a bit, but melts into your touch as quickly.

god, was this really happening? please don't ever wake him up if this is a dream.

you pulled away for a breather and he reached for another one causing you to block his lips with your hand.

feeling the blood in your cheeks, flustered as sunghoon kisses your palm instead. his hand coming up to yours to remove it.

"can i kiss you again?" you were going to die, "please?" you're sure of it.

"no!"

sunghoon laughs at that. you can't feel it, but his cheeks are really hurting now from smiling. maybe one day you'll let him kiss you more, but for now this is enough.

he has loved you almost all of his life.

𖹭 likes and reblogs are highly appreciated! i hope he is not too out of character :')

#sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #park sunghoon x reader #enhypen sunghoon x reader #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon imagines #enhypen #sunghoon #park sunghoon #( 🌟 ) HAE created a new post !

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purple-babygirl · 1 month

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in the far corner of the forest IV

Pairing: Orc!Bucky Barnes x human!f!reader

Word Count: 6,540

Summary: For the longest time, the kingdom has used Bucky as their number one fighter, forcing him to win their wars for them. The only thing he asked for in return after he was done was that they give him a wife, and they did. They handed him the orphan he picked on a silver platter; it wasn't like anyone would miss her. It would've been perfect if she actually wanted to be there though.

Warnings: mentions of hand injury, idiots in love, feels, jealousy, racism against orcs, angry behaviour, shouting, fight gets slightly physical, bruised arm, crying, angst (i'm sorry). I think that's all.

A/N: good news result in long chapters. thank you from the bottom of my heart for everyone who has wished me good luck with my interview, you guys are angels. please enjoyxx💜💜

“You’re in love.”

“I’m what now!?” Bucky chuckled dismissively as he dropped his axe.

Bucky had spent half a day at home, refraining from going to work because of his hand’s condition, but as much as he loved staying home with her, he knew he wasn’t made to take a break.

So he thought he would visit, talk to Sam for a bit and maybe get some pent up ‘feelings’ out on some tree logs. His metal arm was still working just fine after all.

“I said, you’re in love with your human wife,” Sam repeated, smiling so warmly that Bucky wanted to smack him.

“I got her a few weeks ago.” Bucky shook his head in denial of the mere idea of him falling for anyone, let alone a human.

He did love Sam and Sarah, but that was it. They were the only humans he could tolerate. He hated the rest of them. Hell, he hated the human half of himself.

Bucky was just trying to make life easier for himself, that was all. He has been through enough conflicts and he didn’t need this in his marriage too. He deserved to live a normal life like everybody else.

Yes, he was courting her, and maybe he did constantly crave the feel of her body against his ever since she let him hug her the night of the injury, and he was definitely getting hopeful now that she hadn’t tried to run for a whole half day, but that didn’t mean he was in love! Did it?

“And now you’re in love with her.” Sam smirked, knowing how much it drove Bucky crazy that a female human had him on his knees for her love.

“Quit saying that!” Bucky stood up, ready to walk away from his annoying friend.

“Why does it make you so angry that you’re in lo—”

“Don’t,” Bucky warned him, eyes angry and glaring.

“—ve?”

“I am not in love with her, okay! She’s human! Plus, that girl drives me crazy! Do you know how many times I had to bring her back after she’d tried to run in the first two weeks? Five fucking times! That’s almost once every two days, Sam. And she only had one foot working!” Bucky ranted heatedly, desperate to negate his best friend’s theory.

Was he in love with her? And if Sam could see it, did that mean she could too?

“Well, why do you care to bring her back? Why not just let her run?” Sam shrugged, internally dying for Bucky to acknowledge his feelings.

“She could die out there! Humans are weak.”

“So?” Sam probed, intentionally ignoring Bucky’s remark about humans’ strength.

“So— so I signed all those things when she was offered to me. She can’t— I can’t—”

“You can’t?”

“I can’t let her get hurt,” Bucky admitted lowly, sitting down on a log with a loud sigh.

“Why does that make you so upset?” Sam dug deeper.

“Because I think you’re right. I think I might be in love with her.” Bucky rubbed his eye with his good hand, pushing his hair back angrily.

“And?”

“And she thinks I’m the devil.” Bucky’s face fell to his palms.

“Did she ever say that to you out loud?” Sam asked, touching the end of his sharpened blade.

“She doesn’t need to, Sam. I see it in her eyes every time I find her after she’d tried to run away.” Bucky’s voice was broken like his friend has never heard before.

“I thought you said everything was better after your injury?”

“Yeah, but that’s not gonna last forever.” Bucky gave a sad grin, “she’s soon gonna go back to seeing me the same as before.”

“Well, it’s up to you to change her mind, Buck.” Sam patted his friend’s shoulder, giving a squeeze.

Bucky sighed once more before getting up.

Sam was a human. A very handsome one with much less scars and non-icy skin. He would never understand. It would never work. She hated him.

He could continue trying, but it wouldn’t change anything of the way she felt about him and their marriage. She had told him time and time again how she felt about both.

“Going home already?”

“Yeah, I can’t miss the running away bit. It’s my favourite,” he sighed, Sam's laugh trailing behind him.

“Smile at her for a change.”

“Shut up.” I do smile at her. I only ever smile at her.

“Sarah loved the jam by the way!” Sam yelled.

“I’ll let her know!” Bucky yelled back before exhaling sadly.

Sam would never understand. Her taking pity on him those past couple of hours was nothing more than sympathy and likely even guilt.

Sam would never understand that of all the eyes in the world, it seems like Bucky has managed to fall for the only ones that knew how to hurt him, the eyes that would only look at him as a disgusting, frightening monster.

When Bucky got home, everything was creepily in place. His door was closed like he had left it and he actually had to use his key to open it for the first time in a while.

Stepping inside, the warm smell of roast chicken welcomed him back.

The house was warm because all the windows were actually shut, too. It was all so calm and homely; the orc was seriously worried.

And then he heard it: his human wife’s sweet voice, humming the melody of a song unfamiliar to him. It sounded like it was coming from the kitchen.

Bucky carefully shut the door behind him, not wanting her peaceful mood to end so soon as he tried to take lighter steps to where she was.

Much to his dismay though, she needed something from the other side of the kitchen and when she turned around she saw Bucky and gasped, jumping embarrassingly high.

“You scared me!” She whined, holding a hand to her heart.

“Sorry.” Bucky smirked, entertained by how cute she looked when startled.

“Welcome home,” she mumbled with a bit-back grin, holding onto his forearms before getting on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on Bucky’s cheek.

She never told him, but she was unbelievably thankful when he didn’t specify which type of kiss he expected weeks ago, and even more thankful when he didn’t object to her pecking his cheek before burying herself under the covers.

Life with Bucky has gotten undeniably familiar lately and leaving him was all of a sudden an idea that didn’t interest her as much as before.

Everything he was saying and doing has brought her closer to him without her even comprehending it.

As the days passed, she had realized running away was too exhausting, too risky, and for what? It wasn’t like she had a home to run to or a treasure buried somewhere or a lover worth escaping her orc for.

Her orc.

Hers.

A word she never felt the meaning of until the day Bucky made her his wife.

Bucky was the first and only one to present to her a taste of something she has never had: the feeling of exclusively owning things.

The smile that graced her face when she brushed her hair the first time with the brush Bucky got her was new and unprecedented.

Her brush, he called it.

Her shoes. Her chair. Her towel. Her clothes. Her books. Her side of the bed. Her cottage. Her kitchen.

And her husband.

Everything was brand new and completely hers.

Nothing was handed down to her, nothing was used before the minute her fingers had touched it. None of the things Bucky gifted her had previous owners, including him and his heart.

Most importantly, she didn’t have to share any of it with anybody.

“You’re home,” Bucky said, a surprised yet very happy smile lighting up his handsome features.

“I thought the wife was supposed to say that,” she replied playfully, going back to the bubbling pot.

Bucky raised his eyebrows at the good mood she seemed to be in. He was liking this.

He watched her sprinkle some black pepper into the soup as he came behind her.

She could feel the heat of his body surrounding her even when they weren’t touching and it had her heartbeat going crazy.

“Thank you, little human,” Bucky whispered, before he leaned down and pecked her cheek as well, his stubble and blunt tusks tickling her jaw.

She felt her whole body jolt with electricity at the simple graze of his lips and tusks on her skin as she closed her eyes.

Bucky left the kitchen and went to the bathroom but she was still hot as if his warmth never left her.

And when she opened her eyes and absentmindedly reached her fingertips to touch her cheek, she found herself smiling too.

What was happening to her? What was this foreign feeling lifting her off of her feet in the middle of the kitchen?

“Sam’s sister loved your strawberry jam by the way!” Bucky shouted to her from the bathroom, making her jump again before smiling to herself.

He didn’t use Sarah’s name on purpose, not wanting to ruin her happy mood as he had noticed how angry she got every time he would say it.

“I’ll make her more tomorrow!” She replied with a grin, proud of her hand’s work, her jealousy long forgotten after Bucky’s words of the night before.

After all, how could she be jealous when she was the one that Bucky was looking at like that?

When she finished setting up the table and Bucky didn’t come out of the bathroom, she got a little worried.

He never took too long during his showers, and now that he only had one arm to use, she thought he would cut his showers even shorter.

What if his wound was bleeding again and he didn’t want to tell her and was trying to fix it by himself inside the bathroom? She knew she should have stopped him from going to the yard!

“Bucky.” She knocked on the door softly, wanting to make sure he was okay.

“Yes, little human?” Bucky instantly opened the door for her.

And he looked like a dream.

Steam has surrounded him inside the bathroom, water drops from his still-wet hair dripping down his muscular, bare chest and for the first time since Bucky has been naked around her, she found herself looking at him. Actually looking.

Bucky’s chest was so broad, beefy and ribbed down to his abdomen. Scars of all sizes and shapes littered the beautiful, icy greyish skin, a reminder of the battles he had fought and all the sacrifices he had made.

Her heart clenched at the sight, a pang of sympathy coursing through her as she could only imagine the pain he must have had to endure.

Still, she found her hands tingling in curiosity, desperate to know what tracing the healed skin would feel like under her fingertips.

Bucky was a sight for sore eyes, a sight that both captivated and unnerved her, stirring a flurry of unfamiliar emotions in her chest that she struggled to contain.

She averted her gaze, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over her at the unexpected intimacy of the moment.

“Are—” she chocked, her voice barely above a whisper as she coughed it out, “are you okay? You took a while.”

“Yeah, I’m just having a hard time drying up my hair with one arm,” Bucky reassured her, chuckling lightly at his dilemma as he let the towel around his neck drop.

He was completely oblivious to the way he just made her face burn up as her thoughts spiraled out of control.

“Come.” She took Bucky’s hand in hers, careful not to squeeze his palm, and led him outside to their bed.

It took Bucky a second to move his feet, but when he did, he felt like he was being carried on top of a cloud.

She felt herself drawn to him in a way she couldn’t quite explain, her heart pounding with a mixture of nervousness, curiosity and… desire. A new sensation was tingling all over her body, specifically in places she didn’t need to be tingling right now.

Positioning herself between his parted legs, she reached to take the towel from around Bucky’s neck.

His eyes watched her, surprise flickering in them as he realized what she was going to do, unable to believe what was happening.

Sensing her nervousness, Bucky offered her a reassuring, grateful smile, silently encouraging her to continue.

And as she began to carefully pat his damp hair dry, her touch tentative and her eyes focused, he felt warmth welling up inside him.

She couldn’t help but steal glances at his bare shoulder and chest, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at the engrossing sight. It was a feeling unlike anything she has ever experienced before, her heart racing with unparalleled excitement.

The awkwardness of the situation began to fade bit by bit as she focused more on the task at hand, in its place growing an overwhelming sense of closeness and familiarity.

Bucky’s hair was so soft under her fingertips as she took the towel up and down the brown locks. She wished she had given herself a chance to touch it more before.

As she finished drying her orc’s hair, she met his gaze with a shy bite of her lip, her eyes sparkling with newfound confidence.

Bucky reached out to take her hands, his smile appreciative as his lips pressed a deep kiss on each palm, silently thanking her for her kindness and care.

“I didn’t know your cooking was so good. You surprise me every day,” Bucky praised, as she filled his mouth with more lentil soup, trying not to think of his conversation with Sam or the way his body was still on fire from the mere act of her drying his hair for him.

He couldn’t even believe she was feeding him after seeing him struggle to keep the food on his spoon using his left hand.

“All the girls at the orphanage know how to cook. They teach us all sorts of things and make us to be good housewives,” she replied, suddenly nostalgic of her days at the orphanage, curious to know how, where and when Bucky got the chance to see her back then.

Bucky didn’t say anything, busying his mouth with chewing some bread as his smile shrank.

She didn’t look happy. Why did she stay then? Was she planning on running away at night that day? Maybe she put something in the food?

“I’m glad you like your dinner though,” she said, breaking the thick silence with a soft smile as she fed the orc a piece of chicken.

“Why didn’t you try to leave today?” Bucky couldn’t hold back.

She was taken aback by his question. She thought he wanted her here.

Was he finally done? Did he want her out? Was he not going to look for her this time? Has Bucky given up on her? Was he going to leave her be had she gotten out today?

Most importantly, she didn’t know how to answer because it seemed like she was done running away from her new life with him, and she didn’t know if she could admit that.

“I– did you want me to?” She asked, her voice strained as she tried to hold in the tears.

“No! No, of course not!” He assured her quickly.

“Then?” She chewed on her lip.

“I don’t want you to stop running if it makes you feel alive,” Bucky told her, his blue eyes gushing with love he didn’t intend to show, “I’m willing to go to the ends of the earth to find you.”

“What?” She wasn’t expecting this at all, all the tingles she had hardly managed to shake off after drying Bucky’s wet hair coming back to attack her.

How were these words coming out of an orc! And why did they make her heart stutter in its beats?

“I love your fiery spirit and I’m afraid I’m killing it by keeping you here against your wishes. I never want to be the one to snuff your fire out.” Bucky admitted, eyes sincere as he watched her.

She just stared at him for a moment, stunned as her heart skipped yet another beat.

If he only knew that he was the one who had managed to bring this fiery personality to life.

Bucky respected her silence and went back to enjoying his dinner, not wanting to push her for a reply. She could take her time.

She kept staring at him in confusion for another minute before taking her almost untouched plate and getting up.

She almost ran to the kitchen with her hand on her heart.

What was going on with her? Her heart wasn’t seriously beating this loud for the orc. Could it be?

He sounded so selfless and spoke so gently like he has never before and she was overwhelmed.

His words were doing things to her that she has never felt before. What was wrong with her?

She knew she had caught herself staring at him without a shirt just minutes ago, maybe admiring his eyelashes as he slept in some early mornings, but she rendered it curiosity and nothing more.

She shook her head, her thoughts startling to her as she emptied her plate in the garbage and started washing it vigorously.

Bucky no longer had an appetite, sighing at her reaction.

He told himself he could understand, but it was still hurtful the way she jumped out of her chair.

He left his plate on the table, not wanting to invade her privacy by going to the kitchen before leaving the cottage altogether.

He probably shouldn’t have said anything.

She revisited the subject the same afternoon though, not wanting there to be any misunderstandings between her and Bucky. Not any longer.

“I don’t wanna leave anymore,” she admitted timidly, making Bucky’s smile betray him and his usual frowning.

“But I don’t like being locked away in here all day either,” she said carefully, scared to upset him.

“Where do you wanna go? The forest is dangerous, little human.” Bucky was back to frowning at the thought of anything bad happening to her again.

It was torture for him when her foot was still healing and he was the most relieved when it finally did. He couldn’t just let her roam around when she didn’t know the area.

“Take me out when you come back from work maybe? Or even on your day off,” she suggested, desperate to see the world.

“And go where?”

“Anywhere. We can walk around the woods before it gets dark, you could show me your shop, I could meet Sam? Or we could even go to the market!” She suggested eagerly.

She has been locked up for so long and she didn’t want to continue her life like this.

Bucky actually thought about it and he didn’t hate the idea. Taking her out with him would ensure her safety. He would be by her side and he would protect her. He also liked the thought of taking her out and properly courting her even if she didn’t know that that was what he was doing.

He said he didn’t want to kill her spirit by keeping her in here and she gave him the solution.

“Okay.” Bucky nodded at her with a smile.

“Okay?” She exclaimed happily, not believing Bucky would actually take her out to see around.

“Okay.” He nodded again reassuringly, her happiness making him laugh.

“Well, don’t you have tomorrow off?” She asked suggestively, gesturing to his hand.

Bucky laughed, nodding, “put your shoes on.”

“Thank you, Bucky.” She involuntarily gave his healing hand a squeeze, kissing his cheek before running to get her shoes.

Bucky swallowed hard, hoping he would be able to hold himself together and not completely melt under her sweet company.

“You’ve got to promise me though,” he said.

She looked at him questioningly as she slipped one foot into a shoe.

“No running away, little human.”

“No running away. Promise.” She promised, shaking her head with a shy smile.

Bucky smiled big, taking her smaller hand in his as she grabbed her basket in the other, ready to browse the market with her husband.

Her husband. That was starting to sound unquestionably comforting.

“Oh, and one more thing.”

“What?” She tilted her head with a grin.

“You owe me a kiss,” Bucky said, his tone serious.

“No, I don’t! If anything, I just gave you an extra kiss!”

“Yes, you do. From that morning. You’re still one kiss behind!”

“I just made up for it!”

“Doesn’t count. That one covers the night before.” Bucky shrugged, a smile etched on his lips.

“Okay, fine.” She kissed Bucky’s cheek, “stop going around saying other girls’ names though.”

Bucky laughed, “I only know one!”

“Still too many,” she whispered under her breath, but Bucky heard it, smiling from ear to ear as he took his hand in hers, taking the right path out of the woods. ~ It was a beautiful afternoon, full of warm sunshine and fruitful deals. She has got some pretty good stuff for really good prices.

She couldn’t believe Bucky actually gave her pocket money.

He didn’t want her to have to ask him for money every time something caught her eye. He wanted her independent, fulfilled and brave as she bought herself whatever her heart desired.

Her heart was so full and her smile was inerasable.

Bucky didn’t let go of her hand all day and she actually liked it so much that she never complained. The feel of his calloused skin against her soft palm wasn’t like anything she has felt before.

She didn’t want to let go of his hand even while looking at the different stands and booths at the market.

But she eventually liked the flower stand too much and told Bucky she would take a look at them while he continued buying them the fruits he was picking.

“Good afteroon,” a smooth voice interrupted her admiration of the potted plants before her, making her look up for a second.

“Good afternoon.” She smiled coyly.

“Any favorites?” The handsome man inside the booth asked her.

“All of them,” she giggled softly, the sound catching Bucky’s ears at once.

The man laughed back, “okay, I think I have something special for you. How about this one?” He brought her a purple flower from the batch hidden behind him inside the booth.

“Oh, how beautiful! What is this one?” She wondered, amazement sparkling in her eyes at the sight of the pretty petals.

“That is a Globemaster Allium. Pretty, isn’t she?” He asked, staring at her desirously as she looked at the flower.

“Yes, she’s stunning!”

“I’m Cole by the way—”

She heard Bucky clear his throat next to her and looked up at once, the innocent awe in her eyes softening the orc a little.

“Look, Bucky! Isn’t this the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?” She pointed to the flower pot excitedly.

Bucky leaned in, his frown scaring her a little, her breath hitching when his lips tickled the shell of her ear, “no, little human, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

She chocked on her own saliva, hiding her hot face with her hand as she coughed, “Bucky!” She whined with a shy smile.

Where did that come from!

“Let’s go,” Bucky said with a nod of his head, eyes stern as he glared at Cole.

“Can—” She held his wrist, “can I have it?” She asked softly, gesturing to the flower pot.

Bucky wanted to say no. He didn’t want her to have this farmer’s flower. But he couldn’t say no to those hopeful, beautiful eyes of hers.

“Fine.” He watched her get the money out of her pocket and she smiled gratefully as she almost set them down on Cole’s counter.

“It’s on the house,” Cole said, still smiling dreamily at her.

She could all but swallow as she gave a polite smile back before looking up at Bucky for help.

“Take your goddamn money.” Bucky made a quick job of paying for the flower, taking the money from her and slamming it on the counter, making the whole booth shake.

He quickly took his wife home, deciding that was enough socialization for the both of them for the day.

She wasn’t going to lie, she was loving jealousy on her orc. It felt so intoxicating to have someone love her so much that he was jealous of other men talking to her.

She wouldn’t tell Bucky, but she would probably spend the nights of the next week smiling at the wall every time she remembered how he held her hand back home just a little bit tighter that day.

Her own heart was running wild at the sight of the orc now and she didn’t want it any other way.

“Now you know how it feels,” she teased with a smile as they were getting ready for bed.

Bucky couldn’t let it go, talking about how they were never going to stop by that farmer’s flower booth ever again.

“That’s not the same! I was never into Sarah! But that man was openly ogling you!” Bucky grumbled, his frown digging deep into the skin of his forehead.

“He was just being nice, trying to sell his flowers,” she laughed, upsetting Bucky even more.

How couldn’t she see it? The guy was all over her!

“He was flirting and you were all giggles and blushes.” Bucky copied her, going to the bed and burying himself under the covers, facing the wall.

He understood now why she had done that.

“Hey, that’s my spot!” She joked, not knowing if Bucky was being serious.

“Not tonight,” he murmured from underneath the covers.

“Bucky,” she whined, uncovering her orc’s face.

Bucky didn’t reply, pushing himself closer to the wall.

She tried to bring him on his back by the shoulder like he so easily did her a couple of night ago, but he was too strong for her and his body wouldn’t budge.

She huffed, “okay, you left me no choice.”

Bucky remained still, wanting to see what she meant by that as he felt her shift behind him.

Before he knew it, she was on top of his bicep, trying to slot herself between his body and the wall.

“What on earth—”

“You started it, Bucky!” She said, voice determined as she kept pushing, trying to squeeze herself in the small space accessible.

Bucky looked at her in amusement for a second before moving back, making her body drop as larger space became available.

She landed with the tiniest “ouff” on the mattress, facing Bucky on her side with her back to the wall, its coolness helping soothe the heat rising to the surface of her skin.

That was the closest she had been to Bucky since their hug the night of his injury, face to face as his passionate sapphire eyes watched hers.

“Hi,” she whispered, heart in her throat.

“Hi,” Bucky replied with a charming smile, smoothing some of her ruffled strands back in place.

She stared at the orc’s eyes, not the slightest bit scared of the fact that she was trapped against the wall by his huge body.

“You’re not the only one who wants to be loyal to this marriage, Bucky,” she said, surprising Bucky and herself, “I don’t want the farmer. I don’t want anyone else.” but you.

Bucky smiled in disbelief, taken aback by her words, and she took it as permission to move closer to his chest. He instinctively wrapped her up in a protective hug, wondering how he was able to hold himself back from kissing her.

She pushed her face into her orc’s chest, his scent and warmth engulfing her into a protective bubble.

She couldn’t believe she said the words she has just said and it made her bury her burning face deeper in Bucky’s arms.

He could only hug her tighter, his nose in her sweet-smelling hair as his smile grew bigger.

This moment right there was everything Bucky has ever wished for. He could die a happy orc right then and there.

It became a habit for them to go out to the village on Bucky’s day off. They were both having a great time, getting closer and falling harder.

Cole hasn’t spoken to her again after learning that the snow orc was actually her husband, and she respected Bucky’s feelings and never approached Cole’s booth no matter how pretty the plants on his stand were.

Market outings were their thing now and she wasn’t going to let anything ruin that.

She didn’t want anyone else’s attention but Bucky’s anyway. His hand has almost fully healed and she could now squeeze it all she wanted whenever she got excited about anything they encountered.

One thing did occur that annoyed her though and that was the way the jewelry lady would look at her every time she and Bucky would pass by. The woman had so much pity in her eyes when she saw her hand in an orc’s and she hated it.

She despised the way people misjudged her orc when he was far better than any human man she could’ve ever ended up with.

Yet, the lady kept giving her those pitiful looks, probably thinking Bucky had enslaved her or something.

But enough was enough.

When Bucky was busy looking at the knives, she made her way to the jewelry lady, determined to put an end to the ridiculousness.

“He is my husband,” she sternly told the lady in the jewelry stand, taking the chance that Bucky wasn’t listening.

“Oh.” The lady quickly gave a kind smile, turning from concerned about her to happy for her, “I apologize for misjudging you, dear. I was only worried about you. We’ve all heard stories about him.”

“Well, that’s all they are. Stories.” She ferociously defended, her eyes still stern.

“I’m sorry,” the woman sincerely expressed her regret, squeezing her hand.

She nodded with a small smile, accepting the older woman’s apology.

“I don’t see a ring on your hand.” The jewelry lady gestured to the collection of rings in her glass box with a wink.

“Oh.”

The sentence caught Bucky’s ears as he turned away to look at her embarrassed face.

“We didn’t get time to buy one. It all happened so quickly,” she explained awkwardly and Bucky’s expression fell.

“I have a pretty collection if you wanna take a look, and don’t worry about the price,” the older lady suggested kindly.

“No, it’s okay—”

“Choose what you like, sweet thing,” Bucky whispered to her, immediately by her side when he saw her eyes skimming over the jewelry, “I’m sorry I’m not familiar with the human marriage traditions. I should’ve gotten you one sooner.”

“It’s okay, Bucky. You don’t have to,” she reassured with a tender smile.

She didn’t need a ring to know that she was Bucky’s.

“I want to. I want you to wear my ring, little human.” Bucky raised her hands to his lips, placing the softest kisses on her each finger.

Her heart surged as a shy smile spread on her lips, heat rising to her cheeks.

“Okay.” She nodded happily, feeling like she was in a dream and she never wanted to wake up.

Though very expensive, Bucky ended up buying her the ring she chose. It was the prettiest gold ring with a moss agate blue diamond.

She tried to talk him out of it, wanting to pick something cheaper, but Bucky wouldn’t have it.

She has never felt as special as she felt with Bucky’s ring on her finger. It was the prettiest thing from the most handsome orc.

And in that very moment, she was the happiest that she trusted her gut; that she gave Bucky, and herself a chance for this marriage to be something more than a contractual deal.

Bucky couldn’t believe she has finally let him make her his. When he slipped that ring on her tiny finger, he felt like he was king of the world.

While walking back to their cottage, a new dream got unlocked inside of her, one that included her and Bucky and their very own little stand in the market.

“Can we stop by the shop before we go home?” She asked tentatively.

“Sure, why? Did you forget something there yesterday?”

She has been to the shop a couple of times, curious to meet the important people in Bucky’s life and possibly have friends of her own, too.

“No, just wanna show Sarah the ring,” she said, a shy smile lighting up her happy face.

Bucky brought her hand to his lips, kissing her ring finger this time, “to the shop it is.”

Everything was going amazingly and she wished with all her heart that it would stay that way, but unfortunately, the very next day was a day for another fight that none of them saw coming.

Bucky still hasn’t recovered from her little stunt a few weeks ago and today he came back to find the cottage empty again.

He should have locked the door. He shouldn’t have trusted that a ring on her finger might stop her old habits or give her a magical change of heart.

What about all the small moments she had shared? Did those mean nothing to her?

Bucky’s anger and feeling of betrayal wiped away everything nice that had happened between the two of them, only remembering that she never wanted to be here in the very first place.

“Why are you so adamant about making me lose my mind?” Bucky asked, pushing her inside and slamming the door behind them.

“I’m not! Would you just listen?!” She yelled back, startled by the harsh treatment.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Bucky shouted as if he didn’t hear her.

“I was just—”

“Wandering through the forest alone is dangerous, I’ve told you time and again, and yet you keep doing it!”

“Would you listen to me?!”

“No! You acted like you would stop running, so what changed?!” Bucky threw his big arms in the air, making her take a step back.

Bucky looked bigger than he usually did when he was livid like that.

“I wasn’t running!” She repeated, her voice tinged with anger of her own at the distrust.

“Stop lying!” Bucky growled, roughly grabbing her by the arm.

“I’m not lying,” she insisted as she tried not to wince at the way Bucky held her forearm, her jaw clenched defiantly.

“Then what were you doing up the hill, huh?” Bucky unconsciously squeezed her arm harder.

“You’re hurting me.” She tried to pull away, but Bucky wouldn’t release her.

“You think you’re the only one who has fucking feelings?” Bucky shook her in his hold, unintentionally bruising her further.

She cried out but it fell on deaf ears, “Bucky, let me go!”

“Do you think what you do doesn’t affect me just because I’m not a goddamn human?!” He forced her closer, making her tears fall as he barked in her face.

His words hung heavy in the air, echoing through the spacious room.

“Bucky, please,” she tried again, not wanting to fight anymore.

Bucky finally listened, suddenly shocked at his actions as he let her arm go.

It’s been so long since he had made her cry and he just ruined everything good he had worked on building with her.

She just stood there, whimpering in pain as she held her arm to her chest.

Bucky watched her roll the sleeve of her winter dress up to look at her arm and there they were: thick fingerprints on her flesh.

“I— I’m sorry,” he whispered, trying to get closer to look at her arm, swallowing hard.

To his surprise, she let him.

“I’m sorry, little human.” Bucky wiped a few of her tears away, regret evident in his voice.

“I wasn’t running,” she repeated, pushing her hands in the pockets of her dress, “I was collecting berries to decorate the cake I made earlier.” She pulled handfuls of now ruined wild strawberries, raspberries and blackberries out of her pockets and dropped them on the wooden table for him to see.

She left Bucky alone to stare at the berries and went to the kitchen.

And boy did he stare.

He felt so stupid and ashamed at the way he had reacted. He just hurt her and she wasn’t even trying to leave. He wouldn’t let her explain either and had unjustly judged her.

She got out a cold water bottle from the fridge, pushing it to her bruised arm.

Bucky walked into the kitchen, shame branded on his face.

“Are you okay?” He asked, not knowing what to do to correct his mistake.

“What do you think?!” She irritably snapped at him, waving her bruised arm in the air.

“I just wanted to help!” Bucky barked back.

“Well, I don’t want your help!” She shouted.

“Fine! Don’t want it!” Bucky walked out, his feet stomping on the wooden floors.

He stormed out of the cottage, violently slamming the door behind him.

Bucky then realized what he has just done and how he had made the situation even worse. He kicked a rock so hard he was sure it flew to the other side of the forest as he saw birds flying disruptively.

“Damn it!” He yelled out loud, slamming his fist to the door, making her flinch inside the cottage.

The fight between the orc’s rough exterior and his rather tender feelings for her was torturing Bucky. What he meant to show was that he cared about her and was worried for her, but instead he’d done what he’d done.

She, on the other side of the wall, irately got out of the kitchen with the trash bin and swept the berries from the table, throwing them in the garbage.

When Bucky got inside again, she was cleaning the stain of the berries from the table, her features still twisted in a frown.

He opened his mouth, trying to think of anything he could say to fix this, but nothing came out. With a sigh, he left the cottage once more, leaving her all alone.

She sat down with a huff, throwing the cloth in her hand across the room.

She let her tears run in frustration.

It was supposed to be a peaceful night where they enjoyed a delightful desert that she has worked hard on making and was going to work hard on decorating.

She was trying to start a life with him. Why did he have to ruin it like that? She wasn’t running. How could she make him believe her?

She desperately wanted, needed Bucky to trust her.

She cried harder, feeling helpless in the face of her orc’s rage as her heart clenched at the thought of a happiness gone so soon.

Part V

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 1 year

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Studious IV (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

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

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

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

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

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

My Masterlist

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

Studious IV

You were never setting foot in the library again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Were you really wishing that he had?

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

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

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

The next several days of entries were almost identical.

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

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

Before joining you.

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

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

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

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

Aemond knew you. Even then.

And yet you had so dreadfully misunderstood him.

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

But really?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But… damn him. It is quite educational.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…the breasts, and lower.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You undoubtedly did not want an audience for that…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’ll be whatever she wants.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, you reached what you had been waiting for.

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

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

Tonight was almost worse than our wedding night.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But her room looked different tonight. She finally unpacked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was another small patch of angry scribbles.

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

She did not like the kissing.

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

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

And she asked, ‘Why?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But I didn’t get to do any of that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I do not think this is going to work.

Especially not after my first attempt was so disastrous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They are almost as beautiful as her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘I miss home,’ she said, finally.

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

I apologised again for upsetting her and left.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until I once again acted like an absolute fucking fool.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then you heard footsteps approaching.

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

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

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

He was not wearing his eyepatch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1K notes · View notes

mellaithwen · 2 months

Text

To hum and sway (bucktommy, 1.4k words)

[read on ao3]

Spoilers/Spec-fic for 7x06 "There Goes The Groom" After the wedding that wasn’t, and the wedding that was, after the search, and the rescue, and the drama of the day, Buck finds himself sitting in the hospital waiting room when Tommy turns up...

Now that Chimney’s been moved out of the ICU, the hospital staff have kindly set up a cot bed in his room for Maddie to get some rest beside him, while Buck stands—or rather–-sits sentry outside. While his sister clearly couldn’t have predicted she’d be reading out her vows standing between a heart-rate monitor and an IV stand, Buck’s just glad she was able to read them out to Chim at all.

A nurse shuffles past Buck down the corridor, and he pulls his legs back from where they’d been obnoxiously extended in his late-night exhaustion. He runs a hand through his hair, grimacing at the bright fluorescent lights of the waiting room before stretching his neck and shoulders until he hears a satisfying pop.

His hands clench into tight fists on either side of the chair he’s sat in, and he grips them tightly until his knuckles are white and the pain of his own nails digging into the flesh of his palms is enough to distract the guilt spiral he’s been fending off all day.

Maddie and Chimney will get their big-day. Buck will make sure of it. They’ll have the party that they rightly deserve, surrounded by their friends and family. A happy day, a calm day. The quiet, intimate ceremony in their own back garden that they’d wanted all along before losing track of the guestlist.

But that would be later. When they were both ready, and recovered. At least for now they got to wear the rings. At least they got to call each other husband and wife.

Finally.

“Evan?” Buck’s head shoots up from where he’d been lying back, leaning his heavy head against the wall.

There were so few people who called him by his given name nowadays...

His parents had long since left to do what they referred to as “damage control” with the guests and venue—since the rest of the 118 were more concerned with Maddie and Chimney than appeasing distant relatives who had traveled just so gosh darn far, Evan.

He’d corrected Bobby almost instantly on that first day so many years ago, that his name was Buck, and besides, his captain was currently driving Mr and Mrs Lee back home for the evening after spending so many hours in the same holding pattern of he’s stable—that’s the main thing—until Chimney had finally woken up and insisted with a raspy voice, that his Captain marry he and Maddie right then, right now...

And Eddie? Eddie had only ever called him Evan the once.

(Buck would be lying if he said he didn’t think about that moment often…)

But no, it wasn’t him either; Eddie was with Hen, roaming the corridors for a vending machine that worked until Bobby came back to bully them all into finally getting into his truck and going home. So that just left…

“Tommy? W-what are you—?”

“I came as soon as I heard he’d been found. How’s Howie doing? How’s your sister?”

Buck’s brain struggles to keep up, his software in need of an update—Tommy’s here, standing in front of him. In the hospital corridor. Buck’s phone was god knows where, and with Chimney missing and his sister losing her mind with worry, he hadn’t had a chance to think about the fact he’d accidentally ghosted his date. But here he was. Standing in front of Buck like a guardian angel who’d done more than his own fair share to help in the search—all the while still wearing the clothes he’d put on as Buck’s plus one to the wedding that never happened that morning.

This is probably the closest thing to flustered he’s seen Tommy look the whole time he’s known him, and if the circumstances were different Buck thinks he would have found it endearing—but his head’s too much of a mess to even go there right now. The soft blue shirt he’s wearing is rumpled now but Buck just knows it would have been pressed and clean to start with. The slacks and matching suit jacket are both a wooly kind of mauve. Buck thinks it would have been nice to press up against the material as they slow-danced at the end of the evening. The lights would be dimmed, while the wedding band played something slow. He wonders if his parents would have noticed. He finds he also doesn’t really care.

He remembers Maddie and Chimney’s kiss under a symphony of high-pitched beeps, and the mumbled static of a tannoy announcement requesting a doctor’s presence in triage. Jee had clapped her hands in Mrs Lee’s arms before pretending to throw invisible flowers in the air just like she’d practiced with her uncle Buck.

How’s Howie doing? How’s your sister?

“They’re—” Buck falters when he finally answers, genuinely unsure in the grand scheme of things. If he were to answer literally, he’d say they were sleeping. But emotionally? Physically?

“They’re…”

Chimney’s in the hospital. Maddie almost lost him again, and if Buck looks down, he knows he’ll find that there’s still patches of dried blood on the sleeves of his ruined pink jacket—remnants of the day, along with the pounding behind his eyes that he just can’t seem to shake.

Tell Maddie—

No, no Chim, don’t you dare make me do that, you can tell her yourself, okay? Just stay with me. Eddie’s gone to get help and Maddie’s waiting for you to come home—

“They’re married!” Buck finishes with a laugh that’s incredulous only so far as the circumstances of the last twenty four hours have made him seriously question his own sanity. Or maybe that’s just the last dregs of adrenaline leaving his head in a spin.

“Bobby performed the ceremony, but Chimney wore the white-gown this time.”

He’s deflecting. He’s searching for humor, for the laugh to be had at the absurdity of it all. He’s the class clown disrupting the other kids because he didn’t hear what the teacher said and he’s trying not to panic. He’s overcompensating at the academy because he has no support system to speak of in LA, and he needs this. He wants this. He can’t flunk out. He can’t fail.

He’s pushing and pushing and pushing to see where the boundary lies, to see how far he can go before he disappoints the family he’s found at the 118. He wants to know where that line in the sand is. How long until the tide comes in? How long until he drowns?

He’s….. he’s exhausted. And when Tommy tilts his head to the side and frowns, reading Buck like an open book of sad tells, suddenly the effort to keep the mask in place is too much. His shoulders slump and Buck’s whole body hunches forward with the weight of the day pressing down on him—only to find Tommy’s arms there ready to catch him when he falls.

“He nearly died,” Buck whispers into the crook of Tommy’s neck as he’s embraced. “Chim nearly died and if we hadn’t found him when we did….”

His voice cracks, the words seemingly too painful to even speak into the universe. Buck can’t bear to say more, and Tommy doesn’t ask him to either, he just pulls him in closer, squeezes him that little bit tighter, and holds him there for as long as he needs. He brings his hand up to the back of Buck’s neck, gently kneads at the knot he finds there. Cradles him like he’s something precious and deserving when for so long he’s convinced himself of the opposite.

After a time, when Buck’s breathing starts to even out, the hitch in his chest seemingly dissolved into the atmosphere, and the shock has thawed enough for him to feel the soft material of Tommy’s jacket under his fingertips, he finds that Tommy has been slowly moving their bodies into a sway. Leading, just a little bit—really they’re barely moving at all—but if Buck pretends, he thinks he can hear music playing.

“You said you wanted to dance,” Tommy says; answering the question Buck hadn’t gathered up the courage to ask yet. For the first time in hours, Buck’s mind goes quiet.

“Thank you,” he whispers a little self-consciously when the words catch in his throat.

Thank you for coming, thank you for holding me, thank you for being here with no judgment and no expectations. Thank you for caring when we barely even know each other. Thank you for treating me kindly, for being gentle and soft when all day I’ve felt like I was being strangled with barbed wire. Thank you.

When Tommy hums in response, Buck can’t help but lean into the embrace, finding solace in his arms. He can feel the warmth of his breath drifting along the side of his neck, soothing the goosebumps that reside there.

And when he presses a soft kiss on the stubble of Tommy’s jaw, it tickles.

-fin.

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damagedcoda6669 · 5 days

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omw 2 getting diagnosed w POTS :3

is tumblr just my designated place 4 mental health/disability posting now????? yes. thagts vry tumblr.

so i went 2 the ER twice earlier this year becuz of extreme lightheadedness after standing up 2 the point of almost passing out, and i got a referral 2 a cardiologist becuz they noticed irregularities w my heartrate on the ekg. it took so much time waiting and i was so upset and angry that i had 2 wait so long, but i had my first appointment 2day!!!

ive known since my second ER visit that i probably have POTS, so it was EXTREMELY FUNNY when the assistant had me lay down 4 five minutes and then stand up, and after taking my heartrate the first thing he said was "have u ever heard of smth called POTS" LOLZERSSSS (MY HEARTRATE WENT UP 2 FUCKING 140 BTW)

then the cardiologist came in and the first thing she said was smth like "have u heard of POTS" ITS 2 OBVIOUS. IM THE POTS MAN. basically she told me that its PROBABLY pots but that she wants 2 rule it out becuz theres no cure and im so young n healthy n beautiful and she doesnt want me 2 have pots (she was so sweet :( and so im gonna have 2 get an echocardiogram and get bloodwork done and wear a heart monitor 4 two weeks

kinda excited 2 find out whats wrong w my fucked up heart!!! i think if i do end up having pots im gonna look in2 getting a wheelchair and try 2 adjust 2 it (i tried out one of the public wheelchairs at walmart recently and i was so embarrassed 😭 but i need 2 get over it becuz using a wheelchair is gonna be SO MUCH easier than walking I NEED 2 GET OVER IT NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW)

the heart monitor is gonna make me feel liek joseph w the ring around his aorta.. /JOJO REF

#jack.txt #birdie #damagedcoda6669 #disability #disabled #pots syndrome #pots

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kk43mi · 10 months

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needy┊kabukimono

PAIRING ┊ kabukimono x f!reader(dom-ish) GENRE ┊smut WC ┊ 1.2k+ WARNINGS ┊ obsessive behavior , somnophilia , clinginess , pussy eating , fingering , blowjob , good boy , lowercase intended!!! SYNOPSIS ┊ the first time you gave a blowjob to kabuki, he became obsessed with the feeling and pleasure. always asking for more and more, at the wrong time and place, outside at the woods? he wanted it. other people were around? he wanted it. you were busy with work? he wanted it. A/N ┊ written by kam , hope you guys enjoy ! been thinking about this for a long while, time to let it out. a little drabble btw!

the first time you gave a blowjob to kabuki was when he asked about it, he heard about people talking about getting into the act of intimacy and that made him all flustered.

he got all shy and fidgeting with his fingers asking if he could do it too. "n-niwa was talking about doing stuff like...I dont know...like the thing...its embarrassing.."

of course you had to help your poor baby out, guiding him to the bedroom and taking his clothes off for him. he gets all shy saying "do i have to be naked...?" he asks so innocently.

"yes, now relax you wanna do this right?" you would reassure him and he would nod.

moaning and shuddering out of pleasure when your tongue starts kitten licking his tip, making him seeing stars already, hips bucking upwards as his back arch in an impossible angle.

the way his tip was inside your mouth had him whining and whimpering. "a-ah! so-so good..! mgh..mmgnh-!!"

and thats when he lost it as his whole cock was inside your mouth, touching the deep parts of your throat. which makes you gag a couple times, but he holds onto your head for leverage, gripping a handful of your hair, trying to withstand the pleasure.

hes so cute trying to hide his little whines and moans by biting his bottom lips, maybe a little blood trickling down mixed in with his drool.

he came on the spot,since this was his first time initiating in any kind of action, it wasn't surprising. but you swallowed it all, gulping down the white substance. hips shaking, and he let out the most pornographic moan ever.

"that-that felt so good y/n...one more..?" he asks so innocently and you let out a chuckle. "one wasn't enough?" he shakes his head as he pleas for another one.

and from there on, he always asked for you to pleasure him. even when you got back from work he would get up from his seat jumping up to you in thrill. giving you a tight hug and kissing your lips.

"y/n! youre back youre back! can we do it now? pleaseeee? ive been waiting all day..." he would pout.

"eh..but we did it yesterday already-and it was the first time...you got addicted..?" you would laugh it off but he wasnt having it. "noo pleaseeee, i havent released the whole day...need you.." he would say before rubbing himself on you.

"but im worn out...next when im free alright?" you try your best to convince, but all he did was pout and cry.

"dont you love me? cmon ill just do all the work this time!" he whines and you just sigh in defeat.

"alright fine...just only one time." he would nod before dragging you to the bedroom, already taking yours and his clothes off.

"n-ngh-! ah-fuck.." you moaned out as he ate your pussy out as if he hasn't eaten in years. slurping and licking your folds, sucking on your clit. "so good~ you taste so good..." he would mutter out.

he was always so hungry for your pussy, always chowing down on it as if there was no tomorrow. eating your pussy out as he rubbed his cock against the mattress to get some friction. even if you were begging him to slow down and trying to get away sometimes, he would just pull you back in by the thighs and eat you out.

if you were tired he would just do everything just so he could cum. bottoming out as he inserted his cock inside. makes him whine in pleasure, he couldnt help but move on the spot! thrusting himself at a fast pace while he kissed you with both elbows resting on both sides of your head.

you would whine, telling him to please slow down but he just couldnt! your pussy felt too good, squeezing so tight and good around his cock, you can basically feel him twitching, knowing he was close.

"gonna cum...! cum..cum cum cum!" he said as his thrusts gets sloppier and faster. "ah-wait not inside!" you screamed out but he kept going till he would reach his high. "kabuki!"

he would finally pull out, cumming on your stomach, and even on your face. then you squirting on his cock and stomach as both of the individuals could be heard trying to catch up their breath. but you can feel him sliding his cock on your folds.

"one more..p-please.." he would stuttered before pushing back in which had you arching. already sensitive from the orgasm you had. a long night soon awaited you.

you loved kabuki, but sometimes he would just annoy you by crying and whining when he didn't get what he wanted. even if you both were shopping for food at the markets, he would get needy, holding onto your arm and already grinding on your thigh.

"'m needy....please..now." you would sigh telling him nows not the time. but he then starts whining, crying which brought attention from other shoppers and it had you embarrassed until you dragged his arm, bringing him to a empty secluded place, behind some strangers house...sure there were other people too but less than the markets.

"god you irritate me so much..." you would say before taking his pants off, then flipping him to the wall, to where his ass stuck out. prodding two fingers around the rim of his ass. he would whimper at the feeling scratching onto the walls of the white concrete.

then finally inserting it inside of him, he would let out a slutty moan, almost loud enough for people to come. thrusting your fingers in and out of him, curling them at the ends, poking at his good spot.

"mmnggh-! nghh ahh~!" kabuki would let out with no shame, not even caring if people heard him, he just felt too good!

"quiet down, or else people will see." he nods and obeys obediently, biting his bottom lip to contain his moans from slipping out. "good boy." you praised him before stroking his cock. and his eyes rolled to the back of his head, moaning and saying incoherent sentences, drooling at the pleasure he was getting.

thrusting your fingers in and stroking his cock was already enough for him to cum on the spot, making a mess on the wall, coated with white sticky cum. leaving him breathing heavily.

sometimes there would be days where youre too tired to even do anything, denying his requests of doing it so you can get some rest, sure it takes some convincing but then he would just pout and say "fine!" with a needy tone.

but little did you know, he would just wait until you passed out, just so he could take your clothes off and insert in his cock in your hole. thrusting in and out, skin slapping skin, just the feeling of your pussy pulsating around his cock. he always got off to the feeling of it and could cum immediately.

after that you would scold him for creating a mess when you were asleep, always feeling sticky and having to clean up.

when you guys had your intimate moments, and this time you told him he could cum inside, he couldn't hold in his excitement. saying "r-really?! okay! ill cum inside..." the thought of cumming inside you always excited him.

there when he first came inside he was so addicted to the feeling. after that he just couldnt stop cumming inside you, your pussy felt too good for him to stop, he would go on and on till his cum was basically translucent.

you would have to be the one initiating in aftercare, always so tired whenever he came multiple times...what did he expect. you would clean yourself and him up, then relaxing in a calming silence of cuddling and telling endearments to which kabuki would command.

requests open!

#genshin x y/n #genshin wanderer #genshin headcanons #genshin fanfic #genshin x you #genshin smut #genshin imagines #scaramouche #wanderer #genshin #genshinimpact #genshinimpact smut #kk43mi

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satuguro · 1 year

Text

*ೃ࿐TO FAULT A NET

[ ACT IV: REAP WHAT YOU SOW ]

spider-man! ethan landry x black cat! reader

#SYNOPSIS— your reputation matters more than you think, superheroes aren't good with emotions, mindy and chad are always ready to fight each other, and ethan can recognize you by your smile alone.

#CONTAINS— enemies to lovers, slowburn, antihero&vigilante reader, familial issues, implication of ptsd, gore, blood, murder, death, reader is overly flirtatious, reader & ethan had trust issues

#AUTHORSNOTE— ethan and the reader are so 'she fell first but he fell harder' coded, also this was supposed to be one long part but i spit it into two bc tumblr wouldn't let me edit so i'm sorry in advance xx

ACT I, ACT II, ACT III, ACT IV, ACT V, EPILOGUE

you still couldn't believe that you had brought the hero over into your apartment.

your promise to catch ghostface with him was followed by a pregnant pause as you both sipped your glasses of water. the hero was still playing with your cats (they loved him) as he drank water, his mind trying to process what had just happened.

from behind the mask, ethan wanted to cry. he wanted to sob and break everything in his path because he had just lost quinn, and he blamed himself for it all.

the sound of your feet shuffling away from him made him look at you in interest. you were moving carefully, the stitches he had done to your side inhibiting your movement. ethan could see how uncomfortable you felt, but you hid it from him as you began taking out two pots, putting it into your sink to fill both with water.

"should i go?" ethan began, carefully picking up your cats and putting them on the floor. he stood up. "you seem.."

you pulled out two ramen packets, looking at him with a raised brow. you then walked to your fridge, pulling out two eggs.

"you seem busy. making food." he swallowed thickly, watching as you placed the eggs to the side and put your pots of water on the stove before turning on the heat.

"i am kind of busy," you said pointedly, glancing at your pots of water before looking at the hero. the upper portion of your face was still hidden by your black mask, but ethan could see your indifferent gaze as you studied him. "why, do you wanna stay?"

the whites of his mask blinked at that. his mask, still pulled up to reveal half his face, revealed how he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, thinking about your offer. he seemed unsure. distrustful. exhausted; which honestly, made sense.

you gave him time to think as you turned to your now boiling water. you put the two eggs into one pot before opening the packets of ramen. but your actions faltered when you heard his response.

".. do you want me to stay?" the hero asked you, tilting his head slightly.

a beat. "no." you stated dryly, putting the ramen noodles into the water. "but i feel like you've been eyeing my food ever since i asked— it's kind of hard to tell with the whole mask thing —but i'm guessing you're hungry."

the parts of his face that were unmasked turned a soft shade of red at that. ethan cleared his throat, walking towards where you stood, he leaned on your counter with his back to the countertop. you could feel his eyes on you, watching you as you used a fork to mix the noodles in the boiling water.

"so you do want me to stay," he said with a ghost of a smile.

"no, i don't. but you're staying regardless, aren't you?"

"just for the food," he hummed. "and your cats."

"not for my presence, spider?" you asked, your flirtatious side coming out of you.

"your kind presence?" he tsked. "no." he said, making you roll your eyes. but he saw that rare, downturned smile that tugged at your lips.

his sister. quinn is his sister.

the sudden pause in your actions made ethan peer at you from behind his mask. the realization of what he had said dawned on him, his eyes widening from behind mask.

"she was like a sister to me."

he was lying to you.

you were both playing an unspoken game, two brilliant people with incredible abilities constantly one upping each other, catching onto the clues and making conclusions before the other could reach them. pushing and pulling, trying to solve a string of killers all while hiding who you really were from someone you found stitching up even though you knew you didn't have to.

you quickly returned to stitching him up, your hands now steady as you pushed the needle into his skin again. it reminded you so much of your past, how your world and your idea of your father turned completely sideways when you patched him up. the mere action of patching someone else up who wasn't you made turmoil brew in your eyes.

you were a selfish person. you had stepped on other criminals to get what you wanted, stepped on other people in order to achieve the highest reward; the criminal world knew better than to trust you completely for fear of your lies and manipulation. but to you, patching up someone's injury was something akin to sacred.

it meant you cared.

and that terrified you.

you came to one conclusion as you stitched up his wound for once, your memories were muffled, overtaken by the connection you had made.

ethan was spider-man.

and he knew you made that connection. just by how quiet you had gotten, just by how your hands, once trembling with the weight of the past, steadied.

you couldn't say anything. not without compromising your own true identity. not without compromising the deal you two had, because who would the police care about more, the identity of a superhero or the identity of a woman who had been stealing since she was a child? who had stolen files from their department and gave them to others without another word, who at times stole evidence just to be able to pay the rent.

you couldn't have him know. and you couldn't have him turn you in.

always one step ahead of him. but for some unknown reason, he could read you like his favorite book, and you could study him as though he was your favorite painting. it was as though your mind had chosen to learn his sincerity, and his learned the hidden meanings behind your written words.

but if you knew his family relations, just how close were you to the group? the fact that you most likely knew who he was behind the mask terrified him, because not only did he not know who you were, but you were only working with him because of a deal.

he couldn't turn you in if you helped him catch the killer.

feeding into your suspicions would only give you leverage above him. something to feed to the mafia, to the criminals, to anyone. and more people would get hurt.

you were untrustworthy. maybe it was because his sister died, or maybe because ethan had been stressing over everything so much that he found himself shutting down his emotions again and again for the sake of finding the killer.

he needed to get you away.

"i have to go." he stood up abruptly, his wound only halfway stitched up.

"what?" your eyes widened at his words. "now? i'm not even done stitching you up—"

"i'll do the rest myself."

"like hell you will," you snapped, the sudden change in his mood making you not only confused, but curious. "i'll finish it—" you protested, walking after him as he made his way to the window. but before he could shove your window open, he turned to you.

"why're you helping me?"

his question made your breath hitch, the words on your tongue dying as you blinked.

because i'm not as heartless as you think i am. oh, i also need you to not turn me into the police, so i can't have you dying in gale weather's apartment. but there's more to that.

"you patched me up," you forced out, "i'm returning the favor."

"you and i both know that you don't just patch people up like this." the whites of his mask narrowed at you, his heartbeat pumping loudly in his ears.

"what's that supposed to mean?" you asked slowly, suddenly annoyed at his words.

the hero let out a huff, his filter completely gone and manipulated by the constant stress and turmoil he had felt over the past week. "even the police know that you've manipulated your way around criminals and mafias because everyone knows you work alone," he said through gritted teeth. "you don't act kind just because you care—"

"fuck you," you seethed, but you couldn't deny it. you had a long history of manipulation, of acting for your own benefit and choosing yourself over others. and the deal to never get caught by him was still weighing on your mind.

"you act like you care to get your way. but if i'm wrong, then tell me." from behind the mask, ethan studied your face, brows furrowed when he looked at you. "tell me that you're not known for doing that. that you're not still in this because you're just trying to make sure i won't turn you in to the police in the future. tell me that you're genuinely starting to care, that you aren't just using me. tell me."

there was a beat of silence. your jaw clenched as you looked into the whites of his mask, not backing down from his stare. he was so close to you. his breath fanned over your lips, his own lips slightly parted.

it seemed as though the tension thickened with every passing second as you wracked your brain for what to say. for what to tell him.

because as much as he was correct, if you were to just agree, it didn't feel honest. there was more to your actions, but even you didn't know what it was.

but that was a lie too. you knew exactly why your actions were becoming more selfless, why you found yourself thinking about others more and more. thinking about him more and more.

you were getting attached.

and because you couldn't say anything, because you had never been good with speaking about your emotions, you did what your gut told you to.

you hooked your finger on the collar of his suit and tugged him in, pressing your lips to his. you felt his breath hitch before his hand went to your neck, slowly moving up to hold the back of your head as he pulled you closer to him, his other hand pulling your waist closer to his body. your senses were full of him and only him, how he smelled like like cedarwood and musk, how he tasted sweet despite the blood he spat from his mouth earlier, how he was so warm, like a furnace that soothed your cold limbs.

you pulled away from him, your forehead resting on his. a single string of spit connecting the both of your lips with a single horizontal swipe of your tongue across your bottom lip, the connection was broken.

his adam's apple bobbed as his heavy breaths matched yours. "please tell me you're not just in it for the deal anymore."

your lack of a response made his heart ache. he searched for any sign of hesitancy in your eyes, something, anything to showed that you cared, but you avoided his gaze.

the deal still mattered to you. you were using him to evade police. his face fell at the realization.

the hero scoffed in disbelief, pulling away from you. just like that, your limbs were pulled away from the heat, your world didn't smell like cedarwood and him, and the taste of pennies was all you could feel on your tongue. "right." his finger hooked over where his mask was pulled up, pulling it down over the rest of his face as he opened your window. without another word, he swung away, making you clench your fists in frustration.

in the end, you always had yourself.

you tore your mask off your head, frustrated tears burning behind your eyes as you moved to your window and shut it, this time, making sure you locked it behind you.

"you're a liar! let me go—" you kicked against the man's arms that wrapped around you as though you were practically nothing but a box he had to carry. tears blurred your vision as you looked at the man in front of you, his grey eyes cold as he looked at you.

you used to look up to him. your father used to bring him into your home— the only person you ever remembered visiting —introducing him as frank costa. uncle frank.

he had taken you in after your father had died. cared for you, fed you, provided you shelter. you were 16 now, making it six years since he stepped in as your father figure. six years since he claimed that as your father's best friend, that he felt like it was his duty to care for you.

it was all a lie. it was all a lie, because he was the reason why your father was caught escaping prison. it was all because of him.

"let me go!" you cried, your screams of betrayal turning into sobs as your head hung low, tears dripping onto the concrete floor. he was using you. using you to continuously steal for him in exchange for the simple necessities you needed to survive. and as you grew older, as your skills became more precise, so did his greed. your thefts grew larger. pick pocketed wallets became jewelry from houses, and then that became jewelry from museums.

you were being used. used for your skills, trained to become some thief simply to survive a day.

"i always guessed that this day would come, you know," frank said, looking at you as though you were nothing. as though those years of pretending to care was finally coming out for what it truly was; hatred. pure contempt. "you were always so clever. just like your fucking father." he punched you in the face, making you groan in pain when you felt a crack in your nose. "so fucking stupid. refusing the biggest crime family in new york for what? for nothing." another punch to the other side of your face. his crony let you go, making you fall on the floor.

a swift kick to your side made you taste iron. another kick to your back made you nearly lose consciousness.

frank grabbed you by the collar, lifting you up to study you cruelly. there wasn't anything in his eyes as he admired his work of bruises and injuries, watching as blood flowed from your nose like a continuous faucet. your eyes were half lidded as you drifted in and out of consciousness. the weight of your head was too much for you, and you found yourself struggling to keep it up.

and when you found the little bit of strength to do so, you spat in his face, the splatter bloody along the expanse of his cheek. but as you spat, your hand also curled around the gun he kept at his side.

"you fucking bitch," frank sneered at you before shoving you to the ground again, making you skid against the concrete. the rough graveled ground made gashes all along your exposed arms and legs, and you found yourself lying in a fetus position, cradling the gun to your chest to hide it from them.

and as he and his worker advanced towards you, ready to beat you to death, you pointed the gun towards them and shot them both. his worker in the head, frank in the chest.

you listened as frank choked on his own blood next to you. you sat there in that empty warehouse, listening to the squelching sounds of blood pouring from frank's mouth. pulling your legs to your chest, feeling the continuous pain from all over your body, you cried. you cried like the 16 year old you were, your back heaving with every gut-wrenching sob you let echo around you. when that was all you heard, when you were surrounded by your own sobs, you realized just how lonely you were. how you had no one, and how you wished that someone would come in to care for you. but no one did.

no one was looking for you, no one comforted you. because all you had was yourself.

patrol was quieter when he was alone.

ethan realized that now, as he watched policemen fix the caution tapes around the carpenter sisters' apartment. usually he wasn't one to shy away from playful banter with the policemen (as he felt as though they all had sticks up their asses in some way), but he had no energy. no drive. he hadn't, not for a while.

without you shamelessly commenting on everything and humoring him with your dry humor, he found the nights to be quieter. not necessarily more peaceful, but quieter regardless. ethan wasn't sure if he appreciated it, but it's what he wanted.

his mind was full of the killer, his sister, and most importantly, you. how you seemingly oozed distrust, how your appreciation and oftentimes liking for your position as a criminal made you the last person many people would choose as an ally.

but then his mind drifted to how you didn't hesitate to drag him into your home and patch him up. how, despite the memories that obviously plagued your mind, you forced yourself to continue on.

but then brought up the question of your possible knowledge of his identity. why didn't you say anything? admitting his true name did make him realize that you probably did know him outside of his mask. and that would make him suspicious of your identity.

it was all too complicated, and ethan felt so many emotions at this point, that he just felt numb. apathetic. like a mindless robot going about his day, eating with no appetite, drinking with no thirst. just surviving.

it had carried on even in his day to day activities outside of superhero work. it had been three days since the last attack, and everyone was surprised that there had been nothing. no threats, no calls, nothing. but even though everyone was surprised and only mildly pleased, they were still all on edge.

the door to his and chad's dorm opened as tara walked in with mindy. ethan didn't look up from his position on the couch, only raising his hand in a half assed wave towards them. his eyes were set on his phone as he mindlessly scrolled through social media, ready to drown out whatever they were talking about.

"we were gonna stay in tonight, maybe order takeout. it isn't safe for us to all be split up," tara said to you as you hesitantly walked into chad and ethan's dorm.

"you should join, y/n. you know, just so that we can watch over you," mindy stated, and you shrugged as you closed the door behind you. if anything, you appreciated mindy's honesty more than most.

"why not," you said in response, face falling when your eyes landed on ethan's. he seemed to not expect your presence either as he stared at you, his lips slightly parted, throat suddenly dry, face slightly flushed.

there it was again, that sense of familiarity he felt.

"hi," ethan said awkwardly, swallowing thickly as he quickly moved a bit to the side of the couch just in case you wanted to sit. "i— uh, haven't seen you in a while."

but he had. you forced a tight-lipped smile, one that didn't really reach your eyes as you took his silent offer and sat on the other side of the couch. "thanks," you murmured, looking away from him to stare at the t.v that played some show.

a beat of silence. "are you okay?" he suddenly asked you, making you glance at him. those brown eyes of his— the same eyes you always wondered were behind the mask —stared at you expectingly.

"i should be asking you that," you replied smoothly, easily lying past your emotions.

"but i asked you first."

"so?"

"so, you answer first. c'mon," ethan pushed, worry flashing in his eyes as he noted your lack of sleep.

you blinked at him. "i'm fine. i feel.. fine." another lie. "your turn to answer."

ethan shrugged, looking at the t.v show. "better than before, in some ways. i guess."

"hey—" mindy walked out of chad's room to look at the both of you, her hand covering the bottom of her phone. "i'm ordering chinese takeout right now. what did you two want?"

you thought for a second. "is it from the place on mott street?"

she nodded.

"i'll have the braised noodles and beef." you caught the look ethan gave you from the corner of your eye. "what? that place is good."

a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. "i'll have the same thing," he told mindy, who gave them both a thumbs up before disappearing into chad's room again. "d'you eat there a lot?" ethan asked you, unable to stop his curiosity.

"i did. used to be my favorite place when i was younger." you tilted your head slightly as you turned your body a bit to face him. as he spoke, it made more and more sense for him to be the web-slinging hero. ethan was more serious when he was behind the mask, sure, but the way he talked was the same.

"i haven't had the time to try as many restaurants around here as i wanted to," ethan said.

"i can bring you to my favorite spots some time." the offer fell from your mouth before you could catch it, but it made a genuine, hopeful smile appear on his face.

his smile was the same too.

you turned your body away from him and didn't speak to him after that. you had to keep yourself away from him. there was no reason for you to care.

an hour and a half passed before the food actually arrived. the entire group— tara, sam, sam's boyfriend (danny, you learned his name was), mindy, and chad —all sat in the living room, some of them sitting on the floor.

"we are not watching a scary movie, mindy! this is arguably the worst time to do that!" chad said to his twin, who only rolled her eyes stubbornly.

"the original nightmare on elm street is literally a masterpiece— chad, give me the remote!" she lunged towards him as he held it away from her, their bickering making you watch on interestedly.

you slurped a noodle, chewing it briefly before swallowing. "are they always like this?" you murmured to yourself, watching as mindy finally snatched the remote from chad. sam and danny occupied the other half of the couch, making you (much to your chagrin) move closer to ethan.

noodles slipped from his chopsticks again, a frustrated huff escaping him as he tried to pick it up again. his focus was honed into trying to pick up the noodle, so much so, that he didn't answer your question.

you turned to him, the past promise you made yourself to try and not engage faltering as you watched him amusedly. you watched for a minute until he realized you were staring, his cheeks flaring in embarrassment.

"thanks for the help, y/n," ethan muttered sarcastically. he watched as a genuine smile tugged at your lips. a downturned one, one that fit you so well, one that made ethan's eyes widen when he figured it all out.

"not for my presence, spider?" you asked, your flirtatious side coming out of you.

"your kind presence?" he tsked. "no." he said, making you roll your eyes. but he saw that rare, downturned smile that tugged at your lips.

it was you. it had been you the entire time.

and you saw the slow realization dawn over his face. the way his face paled, the way his chopsticks fell into the takeout box. the way he breathed, "you," as he stared. he finally figured it all out.

"i have to go," were the first words that fell from your mouth right as the movie began. you ignored the protests from the others as you carefully moved past them, grabbing your coat from the hook near the door.

"nightmare on elm street was about to start!" mindy protested behind you.

"y/n," ethan said, hurriedly putting his takeout on the side table. he would've nearly dropped it if it weren't for his quick reflexes, catching the box before it could drop. and spill. further. but when he looked back at the door, the door was already shutting.

the cold air hit you harshly as you walked out of the dorm building. the starless sky only held the moon as it shone down onto you, joining the street lamps as you walked down the pavement trail. hugging your leather jacket around you, your steps were quick as you made your way to your car, heart beating quickly in your ears.

"y/n!"

ethan's voice called after you, making your blood run cold. "go away," you snapped, ignoring the hoarseness of your voice as you tried to keep walking away. but he was quick to follow.

"just talk to me—"

"talk to you?" that made you turn around and look at him, an incredulous look on your face. "after all the shit you told me? after what you said?"

"you didn't deny any of it, did you?" ethan retorted, hurt and guilt flashing in his eyes. "when i asked you if you were starting to care, you said nothing." his eyes looked over your face. "i asked you to say you weren't just using me and you said nothing. you couldn't even deny it—"

"why does it matter?" you laughed in disbelief. "why do you care so much? you said it before, right? i'm the criminal? you're the hero?" you demanded, jabbing a finger to his chest.

ethan's jaw clenched in frustration as he looked at you, feeling every jab of your finger. "i didn't want you to just see me as some way to get away from the police—"

"then how do you want me to see you, ethan?" you bit back.

"as someone you can fucking care for, y/n!" he snapped. "as someone you can trust! as someone beyond just a guy you made a deal with!" his confession rang in the air, his chest heaving at his outburst. ethan's gaze was hard as he stared at you. "i wanted you," he breathed out, "to care for me as much as i was starting to care for you."

your cold gazed faltered for a moment at that. ethan was searching your eyes for something, for any sign of care, but as soon as he saw it, it disappeared.

you only had yourself. you only had yourself. he did not deserve to have someone like you.

he deserved better.

"most of the mafias knew nothing about the killer. some even admired him." you avoided his gaze, turning slightly away from him. "i'll go with the group to the theatre tomorrow, and after that, that's it. my part of the deal is done." you tried to walk away from him, but his hand took your wrist, stopping you.

you turned to look at him, eyes shining with the possibility of tears. the once lighthearted eyes of his had lost all the spark in them as he looked at you. studying you like you studied your favorite paintings. taking in your every feature, your every angle, your every imperfection. "do you really not care about me?" the question came out as a breath, his heart beating loudly in his chest as you looked at him.

you could feel tears threatening to feel. your nerves were going haywire from the argument, but also because of the fear you felt. the fear of caring for someone so much.

how could he care for you as much as you cared about him?

you shook your head. ethan's heart broke.

ACT V, EPILOGUE

#AUTHOR'S NOTE— sorry again for the fact that i had to split the last part into two parts. there's still the next part left & the epilogue!

#TAGLIST— @ethanlvndry , @iloveneilperry , @starsfilm , @goosenoggin , @aminatic , @wenvierismycomfort , @l5byrinth , @wroetoslut , @briefwinnerpersonaturtle , @oliviapopewannabe , @wzrlds , @raggedyoldwitch , @hotweeb , @marsyay78 , @valenftcrush , @bonkyandsteeb3000 , @bubs-world , @danis-stuff-is-here , @nuhteyam , @ravenstrueluv , @taeversity , @heartipods , @gcidrvsh , @theapulidooo , @volturi-girl-imagines , @duolingofanaccount , @buorke , @grxcisxhy-wp , @strangerdangerwrites , @mrslandryy , @michaelangdonsslut

#scream 6 imagines #scream 6 smut #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagines #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry #ethan landry x you #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry x y/n #scream fanfic #scream 6 fanfic #ethan landry fanfiction #to fault a net—!#scream 6 imagine #scream vi imagine #scream vi smut #scream vi imagines

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toxic3mmy · 28 days

Note

haiiii :3 can you perhaps do alex comforting you after you find out you guys are pregnant? >~<

ummm yes!!!!!! is that even a question!!!!

prompt: you find out you and alex are pregnant together

no warnings! fluff!!!!

you found yourself pacing back and forth in your restroom. you were practically biting your nails completely off as you waited. finally your phone timer vibrated. you sat on the toilet lid and took a deep breath.

the pregnancy test was laid in your hand. you slowly flipped it over and saw those two little lines. you didn’t know what to do.

of course you were ecstatic! ever since you got with alexis, you decided that you wanted a family with him. it was just… very unexpected and a lot earlier than you planned. you hadn’t even brought up family making talk with alex.

oh god, alex…

as if on cue, a light knock on the restroom door brought you back down to earth.

“baby? are you okay? you’ve been in there for quite some time…” he jingled the doorknob to let him in

you quickly looked everywhere for a hiding spot for the pregnancy test and the box it came. you shoved it under the sink and pulled yourself together.

you slowly unlock the door and put on a fake smile for your boyfriend.

“hi”

“what’s wrong? were you throwing up again or?” he asked, worry written all over his face

“no i was um pooping… i had a coffee earlier and it did not settle well in my stomach” you laughed, trying to seem normal. you needed time to prepare for the talk with alex. you had absolutely no clue of how he’d react to the news.

“i told you too much caffeine is bad for ya… well, sorry for interrupting you. i thought something was wrong. i’ll leave you to it then” he laughed lightly

and just like a god damn miracle, the box flopped out from under the sink. you should’ve cleaned that cabinet out a long time ago. it was so full that the damn pregnancy test just decided to show itself. your eyes teared up as alex walked forward and pulled out the test from inside the box.

“y/n… is this? is this real? please tell me it’s a prank..”

anger filled within you. he wanted this to be a joke?!

“i knew you would react like this! i don’t need you! i don’t need anyone! i can raise my baby alone!” tears were now streaming down your face as you spoke

alex had a sad look on his face. he stepped forward and grabbed your face in his warm hands. you sniffled and looked at him.

“baby girl… i never said i didnt want the baby. yeah, it’s a little bit early but i would never hesitate to raise a baby with you. i want to be the baby’s father.” he gently dried your face of tears

“you mean that?”

“of course i do y/n. you had me worried.. i thought you would force me to leave you or assume i wanted you to have an abortion. i want you and.. i want the baby” he smiled softly, relief evident on his face

“i guess i do assume the worst in situations like this. this is 100% your fault by the way! you can’t keep your hands off me!” you laugh, teasing your boyfriend a bit

“i guess you’re right on that one. but isn’t it your fault for being so sexy in the first place?” he smirked

“oh shut up!”

“but in all seriousness, how far along are you?” he asked, taking your hand in his

“i think three weeks? i haven’t had my period in three weeks and ive been pretty nauseous daily ever since”

“that makes sense. im really sorry for not being responsible and wearing condoms. but are you sure you want to keep it? i’m not saying i don’t want you to but i just wanna make sure you think about it, i mean a baby is a big decision” he rubbed your hand soothingly

“im really sure alex.. are you sure you still want me? i’m never going to have this body again and.. i’m scared of you losing interest in me after i have the baby” you said, feeling insecure about how much you’re going to change throughout this pregnancy

“is that what you’re worried about, mi vida? that’s got to be one of the silliest things i’ve ever heard. you being pregnant won’t stop me from loving you.. nor will it change my attraction for you, if anything, i find it really attractive..” he said, touching your smooth face gently

“you do?”

“i do. you’ll be carrying our baby. our baby.. the product of our love. you’ll have a growing being inside of you that’ll have both our features. and seeing a baby grow inside of you that’s mine and yours… that’s goddamn attractive if you ask me” he chuckled lightly

“oh alex” you let out a sob, practically jumping into his arms as he held you close to his chest

“don’t worry baby girl, we’re gonna be fine. i’ll do everything in my power to make sure you and our baby are okay and safe, okay?” he said with a kiss to your temple

“yeah… i’ll have the best man in the world helping me raise our baby..” you snuggled into him more

“you make it sound like i’ll be an amazing father. i mean i can see myself being the best father possible but i can’t say i’ll be perfect. i’ll definitely do my very best to be a good father because our baby deserves it” he explained, caressing your hair

“woah… daddy alex? that’s pretty hot, im not gonna lie. i kinda see where you’re coming from that me being pregnant is attractive to you” you pulled back a bit to look at him as you spoke. you saw him visibly freeze

“did you just… did you just call me daddy??” he blinked a few times, processing what you just said

“you’re already an amazing daddy to me, always taking care of me. i’m good practice, no?” you practically purred, loving the blush that crept out onto his cheeks

“th-that’s, th-that’s not what i meant!” he stuttered, very flustered,

“i mean yeah i take care of you and look after you to the best of my abilities… but d-daddy?” he continued

“i know what you meant alexis, i think i just have a lot of hormones in my body right now. i think… i think these baby hormones are making me feel stuff already. i mean, the thought of you being a father is really sexy… im definitely turned on, not gonna lie” you confessed, not even feeling embarrassed

“so daddy alex then, huh?” he smiled, the blush still bright on his face

“mhm…”

“i dont know what got into you but, hey im not complaining” he chuckles and wraps his arms around you

“you’re such a dream..” you sigh

“y tu eres la mujer de mis sueños, eres la cosita mas hermosa y perfecta que me ha pasado” he said lovingly to you

“god, im going to love you forever”

“i love you so much too, forever. this baby will definitely make that love even stronger”

“i agree, mi amor”

“by any chance, have you thought of any baby names? i know you said you thought about us having a family and stuff..” he asked randomly

“i have actually, have you?”

“it’s kinda weird but i have. for a boy, i think carlos or joan and for a girl maybe paz or xochil” he said thoughtfully and you gushed at the fact that he even thought of baby names

“those are actually really pretty. i was thinking for a boy, ezekiel or alexis jr and for a girl something like hyacinth or eliana” you said

“are… are you serious” alex asked, looking down at the floor

“yes, i mean its perfect. i’ve always adored your name and he could be our little junior” you shrugged as if it wasn’t the biggest compliment to alexis

“our little junior… that’s just… wow, i have no words” he smiled

“maybe if it’s a girl, she can have my name or something similar?” you said after a minute

“it’s settled then. if it’s a boy, alexis junior and if it’s a girl, she’ll have your beautiful name” he smiled, leaning in to give you a quick kiss

“then it’s decided” you agreed

“can you promise me something? well, two things” he asked

“sure baby”

“can you please promise not to stress yourself about this pregnancy? i don’t want anything bad happening to you or our baby..”

“yes alex, i promise”

“and also… please don’t stop loving me after the baby is born. i know it’s common for women to have postpartum depression and things like that or even resentment towards the father for getting them pregnant… but i promise to do everything in my power to ensure a good life for you and our baby. i’m going to do everything for us, y/n. just, please don’t stop loving me…” his gaze shifts to the ground once again

“ay mi corazóncito… i could never ever stop loving you. you’re the only person i want to raise a family with… you’re my family” you say genuinely

“oh my god… thank you amor. thank you for everything. i’ll take care of you, okay?”

“okay alex” you nodded and after a while,

“maybe… maybe we should celebrate” you say suggestively

“oh… you mean..” he said innocently

“yeah..”

“yes… we definitely should celebrate” he nodded

“well then get to it daddy, mommy needs tending to”

alex lifts you from the toilet seat cover and takes your hand in his. he leads you to your bedroom and he made love to you. he was absolutely gentle and just overall a gentleman, tending to your needs.

he was going to be an amazing father, that was for sure.

#alex quackity #alexis quackity #quackity #quackity x reader #quackity x y/n #quackity fanfic

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iikatsukii · 1 year

Text

3:15 (breathe)

synopsis: story inspired by the song 3:15 by russ

pairings: lo’ak x metkayina!reader

warnings: angst to comfort & minor violence

word count: 6.6k

a/n: ive been writing this for too long but im back with a present 🫶🏾 (also i know this one isnt shortened by a read more thing im sorry guys i tried idk why its not working but hopefully when i get my laptop charger back ill be able to fix it but pls just bare with me just this once)

you had been staring at the roof of your marui for about 20 minutes now. you were dreading getting up. you've felt like this for the past few months but couldn't pinpoint exactly when it started. being the youngest daughter of tonowari and ronal is like asking every boy in the clan to court you. when you chose rotxo, all the boys in the clan were heartbroken. you and tsireya found it kinda funny, to be honest.

you and rotxo have been dating for about half a year now. everything leading up to the relationship had been amazing. the fleeting glances, soft touches, the surprise dates. he had courted you perfectly, so he was over the moon when you finally said yes. his loving actions continued three months into the relationship. then suddenly, you started to notice a shift in his behaviors.

he wouldn't surprise you with dates anymore, he only hung out with ao'nung and his friends, he wouldn't make time for you, and when you did ask to spend time with him, he would brush you off, saying he was busy.

of course, your siblings didn't know about this. rotxo told you not to tell them. "i mean, what would ao'nung think of me? he would never want to be friends with me again," he told you. you sighed, "you're right, rotxo. i'm sorry. i won't say anything." rotxo pulled you into a hug, holding your head to his chest so you couldn't see the smirk he held on his face. on the other hand, you held an expression of self-doubt. like you knew the choice to not speak up was dumb, and you wished you could take your words back, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

so you remained in rotxo's arms day after day, putting on a show that everyone believed. never saying anything to anyone. never saying anything about all the harsh words rotxo would say to you, about the loneliness you felt, or about the scars he left on your heart.

tsireya, your twin sister, suspected something was off about your relationship because of how differently you had been acting recently. ever since rotxo started treating you poorly, tsireya would hear you cry yourself to sleep every night. still, when she confronted you about it, you would brush her off, saying she was probably hearing things from how tired she had been. and the thing is, nobody else seems to hear it, so it's not like tsireya can have someone to back her up.

you finally gathered the energy to get up, 2 hours later than you were supposed to, and you groaned, knowing your father was going to kill you. you quickly get dressed, rushing to find someone, anyone who can tell you where your father is. finally, you see a huge crowd, what looks like the entire clan, gathered at the shores of the beaches.

"uturu has been asked.." you heard faintly. as you made your way to the front of the crowd, where you heard your father's voice, you caught the tail end of the conversation. "toruk makto and his family will live among us. my children will teach your children the ways of the water so that your family does not suffer the burden of being useless." you hid behind your father. as he spoke, you looked over to who he was talking to.

a group of 6 darker-toned na'vi were standing huddled together. 2 parents and 4 children. you analyzed each child, still hiding behind your father. the smallest, youngest na'vi was holding her mother's hand, hiding behind her leg, similar to how you're hiding behind your father. the older female, who looked about your age, had an annoyed look on her face. you giggled at her expression, being able to tell that she wanted to be anywhere but here.

then you looked at the taller, assumingly older brother. he looked tight-laced, like he was the perfect child. a golden boy, if you would. not really your type but eh, who are you to say anything. you have a boyfriend, for crying out loud. you shouldn't even be thinking things like this in the first place. you rolled your eyes, ignoring the annoying thoughts in your head, as you looked at the other boy standing next to the eldest son.

that's when you noticed the eyes that were staring back at you. they were the prettiest amber color you've ever seen, accented by… is that hair above his eyes? his eyes glowed in the sun, and his markings? don't even start; his markings running along his body were mesmerizing. but the one thing that interested you was the look he held in his eyes. nobody had ever looked at you like that, and of course, that makes it harder to pinpoint precisely what makes you feel this way. while you were entranced in the visitor's eyes, you failed to notice your own boyfriend noticing you. once the clan's people started to disperse, your sister grabbed your hand and dragged you over to the new family.

rotxo was going to approach you, but he was stopped by ao'nung, who nodded his head back to the water, where they would later meet you, tsireya, and those 'freaks' for lessons. ao'nung missed the furious expression his best friend held. rotxo was quick to fix his face, though, playing nice. he saw the looks between you and that forest boy, and he was not happy about it. he decided to observe from afar before confronting you about anything, not wanting youîu to know that he noticed anything.

as you and tsireya approached the family, you got to take a closer look at the boy before you. your thoughts, though, were interrupted by your twin, "let us show you to your new home," as she and you guided the new family to their home, you could tell their father was trying to stay positive, but the way their mother dropped her belongings when she saw where they would be living was comedic to you. you couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction, not maliciously, of course. you're not like your brother ao'nung and boyfriend rotxo.

"sister, i was late to the gathering. i have no idea who these people are or what's happening." you whispered to your twin. "oh right! where were you, by the way? i had to go through ilu training with the boys alone! it was horrible." she groaned. you sighed. yeah, you're definitely gonna get your ass beat when you get home. "father didn't happen to notice, did he?" you said, already knowing the answer. tsireya just laughed "skxawng." she said, hitting your shoulder. "hey!" you said defensively, ready to hit her back until a hand caught yours. you turned around to see one of the new na'vi boys. it was the younger one.

"as amusing it is to see two sisters-" he started

"twins," you and tsireya corrected at the same time. it freaked both boys out, but they thought it was cute in a way.

"as amusing as it is to see twins bickering with one another, i believe a lesson is in our near future? per request of your father, that is." the tone he used was teasing. how could he speak to you with such confidence when he didn't even know your name? rotxo had never spoken to you like that. his words were always soft, almost shy as if he didn't want to scare you with how loud you knew he could be. for some reason, though, it made you like rotxo more.

but with how things have been going well recently, rotxo isn't that soft-spoken boy anymore. hell, he barely acts like your boyfriend now. so maybe it won't be wrong to get to know someone new? only as a friend, though. you would never dream of cheating, let alone act on it.

you looked down to see that the younger brother, whose name you still had yet to find out, was still holding onto your wrist, waiting for an answer.

oh shit, he's waiting on an answer.

you had zoned out, daydreaming about the boy who was gazing at you equally as curious. thankfully you guys had an energetic little girl to catch your attention. "LAST ONE TO THE WATER IS THANATOR BAIT," she said as she jumped into the water.

you and your sister giggled at the young girl's actions, deciding to jump right in after her. the remaining na'vi jumped in as well as you and tsireya swam, guiding them to where you would have this supposed lesson. as you and your twin swam, she explained everything that had happened while you were sleeping using your clan's sign language. it was making more sense now. this family fled their home, seeking a safe place to stay… uturu…

as you had gotten to the rocks by the beach, you noticed that your brother was there, which could only mean one thing. rotxo was here, too, great. you didn't really feel like pretending to be happy with him around people right now, but you slapped on your usual fake smile, praying to eywa that these newcomers were as easy to fool as everyone else on this island.

you had begun your lessons as usual, you and tsireya being paired up with the youngest son as he was having the most difficulty.

"breathe in. breathe from down here," tsireya said as she placed her hand on lo'ak's stomach. you placed your hand on his heart to check its speed as you continued, "breathe out." you sighed again. "lo'ak, your heartbeat is fast," you said, looking up at him, happy that you had learned his name because now you could address him by his name.

"sorry," he said,

"try to focus," tsireya added, his eyes meeting hers as she spoke. you noticed that when his eyes shifted, his expression remained the same bright, curious look he gave you; he also held with your sister.

maybe that's just how he looks at people, you thought as you continued to help him.

you felt eyes on your back, knowing it was rotxo staring at you. you looked over your shoulder and made eye contact with your boyfriend, smiling and waving at him, getting nothing but a stone-cold look in return. nobody seemed to notice, so the embarrassment was yours alone. or so you thought until you turned back to lo'ak, seeing as he had seen the whole interaction between the two of you. nobody had ever noticed something like this happen. you tried to read the forest boy's expression but couldn't. all you knew was that he didn't have that same bright look in his eyes as he looked at rotxo.

so maybe he doesn't look at everyone like that…

the exchange sent a shiver up your back. you had a feeling nothing good would come of these two interacting, but over the months, rotxo had diminished your self-confidence, finding yourself seriously doubting your judgment. so you ignored the feeling, not thinking it would be worth risking the normalcy in your daily life.

with lessons finally ending, you excused yourself from the rest as you walked back to your marui, knowing that your parents were about to beat your ass. you walked into your home with your ears flat against your head, tail between your legs, and head hung in shame.

"y/n te ronal'ite," your mother sneered.

oh yeah. you're fucked.

"father, mother, i am sorry i do not know why i overslept this morning–"

"this is the fifth time this has happened, child. you do not know why you have overslept five times this month?" your mothers' words were harsh; you knew she was very upset with you because of how you had been acting recently. you also knew she didn't like your relationship with rotxo, no matter how nice she thought the boy was. to her, something was just off, she could hear eywa whispering to her about it at night, but when she awoke in the morning, it became nothing but a second thought as all her tsahik duties became a priority as she started her day.

"mother, i am sorry. i do not know why this is happening, but i promise it won't happen again," you said, falling to your knees and begging your parents for forgiveness. you hated when they were upset with you, from when you were a kid until now—especially your father.

you were a daddy's girl; you couldn't help it. your father was your safe haven, and you hated when he was disappointed in you even more than you hated when your mother was mad at you. so when you looked into his eyes and saw concern and not disappointment, you knew something was wrong.

"ma y/n, what is the matter? ite, if something is wrong, you know you can tell me." your father tried.

this was the one thing you couldn't confide in your father for. usually, you have little to no trouble telling your father what's wrong, but this was different. you couldn't bring yourself to tell him. so you just looked up at your father, tears in your eyes, and said

"nothing is wrong, father. i have no excuse for waking up late, so please issue my punishment. i have to finish my chores for the day," hearing your voice so cold sent a shiver up your parents' backs. that was what made them realize there really is something wrong. no matter how much you deny it, they can finally see past the facade that you've been keeping up.

how have they never noticed? how long has this been going on?

ronal looked at her husband, silently asking him for help. for once, the tsahik didn't know what to do. as attuned to eywa as she was, the great mother can't outright tell her what is wrong or how to solve it, thus leaving ronal feeling hopeless.

useless.

a tsahik who can't even help her own child. what good is she?

tonowari cleared his throat, drawing attention to himself.

"two weeks, ilu keeper. you are to bring and return the villager's ilus as well as headcount the north, south, east, and west pens before the eclipse to ensure all ilus are accounted for. you are dismissed," your father's tone was equally as cold as yours. you knew the game he was playing, and you wouldn't fall for it this time. you knew your father was just trying to reciprocate the attitude you were giving him so you would crack. so you quickly left your home, knowing that if you stayed any longer, you would burst into tears and beg your father to hold you in his arms.

your depression had continued for months after the day of the sullys arrival. things with rotxo had only gotten worse, and to you, it seemed like nobody was noticing your depleting health. but in reality, everyone knew you were sad, but nobody knew why.

except for one person

you were so grateful for lo'ak. he was the only person who noticed. he saw everything and sat you down, saying you couldn't endure this abusive relationship anymore. he saw all the scowls and rolled eyes your boyfriend sent your way when you were looking and when you weren't looking. he also saw stuff that you hadn't seen. like rotxo entertaining different girls throughout the village. all of those girls being the ones who you said were your very good friends, but more specifically, it was your best friend.

you and your sully boy were walking along the shore, deciding to go for a walk after he had returned from his daily chores. the walk was silent, but you noticed the furrowed eyebrows above lo'ak's eyes, indicating that he was thinking.

"if you think too hard, you may end up hurting yourself, forest boy," you teased, giggling at his reaction. the boy had rolled his eyes, relieving his eyebrow of their stress as he nudged your side with his elbow. "hey, watch it," he said, laughing along with you.

then he got serious again, you noticed the stress return to his eyebrows, and you couldn't help but stop walking, concerned for your friend.

"lo'ak, what is the matter?" you asked, voice quiet, almost a whisper. lo'ak had barely heard it over the sounds of the tide washing up against the shore. he was silent for a while, debating on if this was his place to say anything, but the boy was worried for you so he spoke up.

"as your friend, y/n, i cannot allow you to continue to be in this relationship." his words were firm. you knew this was coming, and you were hoping you could avoid it, but in the end, it seemed inevitable. you sighed, exhausted, dropping your facade.

"lo'ak, please. don't say anything to anyone. i am fine, okay? rotxo is just busy, is all–"

"yeah, busy suckin' face with your so-called friends, y/n," lo'ak huffed, tired of seeing you endure this treatment. you perked up at his words, though. what was he talking about?

"what do you mean?" you said as you stepped closer, wanting to look deeper into his eyes to ensure he wasn't lying.

"your boy has been cheating on you with all the girls you call your 'friends', especially your best friend. whenever he says he's busy with ao'nung and the guys, neteyam tells me he sneaks off halfway through. and i've personally caught him with so many girls y/n. he's been cheating on you." the words echo in your head.

cheating?

with your friends?

your boyfriend…

your boyfriend.

a new feeling had blossomed in your chest. it felt like a raging fire in your chest, out of control and blazing with heat. oh, you were pissed. so lo'ak hatched a plan for you.

"take this," he said as he reached up to his neck, taking off his communicator and giving it to you. "wear it tomorrow. and right before eclipse, i want you to go to the west ilu pen. but be quiet when you get there. that's usually where rotxo meets your best friend." the words squeezed at your heart, but the fury in your chest overpowered it all.

"fine," you said as your eyes met his once again. you moved your hair behind over your left shoulder as you turned around, signaling for him to put the communicator on for you.

once it was secure, you turned to face him again, knowing that this would be the last moment of peace you would have until the storm you had been so severely trying to avoid.

"thank you," was the last thing you said to the forest boy before you made your way home. knowing the next day would be one of the worst days of your life.

it was a few minutes til eclipse, and you were waiting in a hidden spot near the west ilu pen just like lo'ak had told you. you had been waiting here for 15 minutes, and neither rotxo nor your best friend had shown up. did lo'ak lie? what reason would he have to lie? it's not like he likes you. lo'ak always uses phrases like "as your friend…" and "friends don't treat friends like that," insinuating that he, too, thought of you as a friend and nothing more, so what reason would he have to lie. you were about to radio him, pressing the button on your neck, because you were getting annoyed waiting here for so long. but then you heard a familiar laugh.

that's your best friend's laugh.

you turned around, peeking through leaves to see rotxo and your best friend holding hands, laughing with one another. keeping your hand against your communicator, you tried to get as close as possible without revealing your hiding spot so that lo'ak could hear everything happening.

"are you sure this is okay, rotxo? what about y/n? you know she's my best friend." your best friends laughter had died down as the two came to a halt.

"ma yawne, you need not worry." your boyfriend reassured.

"but what about her? you guys are in a relationship, and she is olo'eyktans daughter. if we get caught, we're done for. plus, she's been looking so sad recently. i can't help but feel like she knows." tears sprung to her eyes and you couldn't help but roll your own.

"mawey, my love. she does not know. besides, she has been ignoring me recently. i've been left alone, wondering if she's okay. i ask her every day to talk to me and tell me something; i reassure her that i'm here for her and that she can talk to me about anything. she brushes me off, not even giving me the time of day. it is like she has completely shut me out. i feel so left in the dark," your best friend just coos at the boy, pulling into a hug in an attempt to 'hug' him when she really is just trying to push her boobs against his chest. his hand placement wasn't any better. he had his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to himself if even possible.

OH, BOO FUCKING HOO, IS HE FUCKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW??

it was taking every molecule of self-restraint in your body not to blow your cover and strangle the man you call your "boyfriend." upon hearing his words, you could only scoff. this is what he's been doing? while he's been ignoring you, leaving you lonely and hurting, he's been out in the village, cheating on you and playing victim, making everyone think you were ignoring him.

you could only roll your eyes as you walked away before you were discovered. you were furious. you knew exactly how you wanted to approach this, thinking based only on your heated emotions, throwing all rational away. as you walked away, your hand fell from the collar around your neck, knowing lo'ak had heard enough. he was probably on the way to your parents' marui right now to tell them everything.

you walked to rotxo's family marui; glad to see the rest of his family is still out doing whatever they do. you could care less. he and anyone related to him could perish, poof into thin air, never to be seen again, and you wouldn't bat an eye. in fact, just the idea of it brings a smile to your face. a smile that instantly dropped when the flap of the marui was pushed aside, revealing your boyfriend and your brother.

"ao'nung, leave. i need to talk to rotxo," you said as soon as you made eye contact with your older brother. you knew he was clueless about what had happened because he was hanging out with his friends all day. supposedly, so was rotxo.

"sorry little sister, but you're going to have to leave. rotxo and i are–"

"AO' GET THE FUCK OUT!" you screamed at your brother, eyes falling to the floor, knowing he wasn't the target of rage, so you probably shouldn't be treating him like this.

your brother was surprised you raised your voice at him but listened anyway, knowing that this wasn't his problem and he honestly didn't care about your relationship as long as rotxo treated you right. and to his knowledge, his best friend is treating you right. rotxo, you told your brother that it was you shutting him out, so ao'nung just assumed this would be another one of those 'irrational arguments' that rotxo always tells him about.

watching your brothers back retreating toward your home, you turned your attention to the man of the fucking hour.

"my best friend? are you serious right now, rotxo?" you asked him to get straight to the point.

rotxo rolled his eyes, groaning because he realized you knew he was cheating on you.

"y/n, don't be like this. my family will be home any minute–" you cut him off.

"i do not care. you are walking around telling people i shut you out? cheating on me? you are out here forcing me to put on a smile, fake happy, so your reputation doesn't get ruined, and you have the nerve to try and bring mine down with you? saying i'm leaving you in the dark. making yourself seem like the goddamn victim?! you're cheating on me, rotxo. FOR FUCKS SAKE." the english word that the sully children had taught you felt like the only word that could adequately convey your feelings.

"using the words that sully boy taught you, huh? you know you've been spending a lot of time with him. you're lucky the only rumor i spread was that you left me in the dark. be grateful that i'm not telling everyone how you've been spreading your legs for that freak." you gaped at his words. how did he know about how much you've been spending with lo'ak? of course, he's completely wrong about what you guys do but he's always busy with his friends, blowing you off, cheating, and not caring who you're with or what you're doing. regardless of how he knew or not, you and lo'ak were friends, and that's it.

"we are just friends. i would not even have to hang out with him if my own shitty boyfriend actually acted as if he fucking likes me. we hang out as all young na'vi do, free diving, ilu racing, sea shell collecting. things i've done with you, my siblings, and countless other friends, like the bitch you are cheating on me with, so why is it a problem when i do it with lo'ak? hmm, rotxo? what's your fucking problem? are you projecting? is that it?" you were blinded by your rage, not even realizing that you had approached your boyfriend, but it felt like your words weren't getting through to him. he still held this shitty condescending smirk on his face, and you were sick of it. so you pushed him with all the strength you had in your body. rotxo fell to the floor pretty hard, groaning in pain as he landed funny on his wrist.

"ah! ha–" rotxo graoned in pain as he gripped his wrist. his gaze met yours as he spoke again "look, she's finally snapped. what? are you going to go, run to your little demon blood? are you going to let him cheer you up like the little slut you are? might as well prepare yourself for tomorrow because when ao'nung asks me what we argued about, i'm telling him i found out you were cheating on me with that sully boy," rotxo stood from his place on the floor, holding a look you had never seen on him before. he walked towards you menacingly as you matched his pace, walking backward until your back made contact with the wall of his home. his hand came up to your neck, squeezing, not noticing that he had once again pressed the button on your collar so lo'ak could hear everything.

“y/n? what's wrong? what's going on?" you heard his voice in your earpiece but kept quiet, not wanting rotxo to know he was about to get caught.

"you're so easy, huh? playing hard to get for everyone in the village when really you just wanted to be a whore for a half-breed freak who has only brought problems and war to our home–" you pushed him off of you, running out his marui with your head down, not wanting him to see your tears as if he hadn't already.

as cruel as rotxo had been to you, he had never called you such degrading names like this.

as angry as you were, hearing someone you once loved say things like that to you felt like a bullet to the heart.

you ran to a hidden oasis within the forest line of awa'atlu. only you and rotxo knew of it, but recently you've found yourself coming here alone much more than you would come here with him.

falling to your knees in front of the river before you, you allowed the dam to break, letting all your pent-up emotions out. you couldn't help but cry to yourself. you hated life like this. you hated living a lie, not wanting to bare this pain anymore. you cried, sobbed, screamed, wailed, anything to get this hurt out of your heart.

rotxo had broken you. he had taken your pure, innocent heart and smashed it to pieces. no matter how much you tried to love and care for him, you realize he would never really love you. it was all just a ploy to get in with the olo'eyktan's daughter. he was just like every other stupid boy on this island. but you fell for him, and you hated the feeling.

and for him to cheat with your best friend, of all people? how could he? did he even love you?

to say lo'ak was worried was the understatement of the fucking year. he was basically having a panic attack rampaging the island after he didn't find you in rotxo's marui when they arrived. lo'ak had come with his family and yours, everyone having heard the cruel words that rotxo had spat at you thanks to lo'aks communication device.

jake and neteyam personally held lo'ak back from killing the metkayina in front of him.

"YOU FUCKER! YOU CALL HER A WHORE WHEN YOU'RE THE ONE STICKING YOUR DICK IN ANYTHING THAT HAS A FUCKING HOLE, YOU PUSSY–"

"lo'ak, that's enough," jake said, trying to restrain his youngest son.

"NO, HE'S RIGHT! DAD, LET ME GO! LET ME BEAT HIS ASS!" lo'ak looked over to see tonowari and another warrior holding ao'nung back, but the look on tonowari's face showed that he was seconds from ripping rotxo limb from limb for what he had said to his daughter.

that's when lo'ak noticed you weren't in the marui. pulling himself from his father and brother's restraints, he ran out, immediately going to all your favorite places on the island, trying to find you.

he searched the shallow reefs on the east side of the island. he visited the ilu pen on the south part of the island because that's where you kept your ilu. he checked the floral shoreline on the northwest part of the island, knowing that you loved getting all your flowers from there, whether it was for your hair, a top, or a gift for the new boy on the island.

lo'ak noticed a forest line near the floral shores, so he also decided to check within that area in case you were wandering around there.

walking through the forest area kind of reminded lo'ak of home. he had been reminiscing on the flora of his home when he heard what sounded like crying—very loud crying.

immediately arming himself, prepared to protect himself or someone else. lo'ak stepped into the clearing, seeing you kneeling over the stream, fists clenched into the ground beneath you as you let out the most heart-twisting cries he had ever heard.

you were crying so loud you hadn't even heard the forest boy approaching you. feeling arms engulfing you, you began to panic. whoever it was immediately tried to soothe your struggles, and much to your surprise, you listened. you felt warmth, security, and comfort. things you never felt around rotxo, at least, not anymore.

"mawey, y/n. mawey. try to match my breathing," it was a familiar voice, but with all the physical and emotional pain clouding your senses, you couldn't pinpoint who it was. regardless, you tried your best to match his breathing, your heavy breaths slowing to quiet sobs and whimpers. it felt like your heart was really breaking. this realization was painful. rotxo didn't love you. he was using you.

you just wanted to be loved, and rotxo made you feel that way for a while. but that was the problem; it only lasted a while. then everything went to shit, and you were left cold and alone while rotxo was out cheating on you and forcing you to fake a smile for everyone around you so that you wouldn't ruin his reputation.

your cries had died down, and you were resting within the hold of the person behind you. his hushed words of comfort hadn't stopped, praising you for controlling your breath as he soothingly rubbed your shoulders. when you calmed down enough, you turned to look at the source of your comfort. it was honestly one of the last people you expected it to be.

you would've thought your brother or sister would find this secret spot before the forest boy did.

"lo'ak, what are you doing here?" you asked him, trying to escape his grasp and wipe your tears at the same time. lo'ak was quick to grab hold of your hands, preventing you from moving away from him.

"mawey, y/n. just relax. i'm here for you, and you can cry all you want to, sevin. i am not going anywhere." his voice was so comforting as he pulled you back into his embrace. you just sighed as you felt another wave of tears coming to your eyes. so you cried it out, relieving every sob, scream, and cry you had ever kept in, and lo'ak stayed with you through it all. never once letting you go and never stopping his whispers of reassurance.

when your sobs died down again, you noticed he intertwined his fingers with yours. you hadn't noticed his hands before. you weren't aware, but your ears perked up a bit, and your tail started to rev to life a bit when you saw he had five fingers instead of four. you wordlessly detangled your hand from his, causing the boy's ears to fall flat to his head.

you noticed his hands. did you see him differently now? his thoughts started as a drizzle quickly forming into a hurricane, but when he felt both of your hands grab one of his pulling it closer to your swollen eyes so you could examine it better, he chuckled. he thought it was cute, seeing you fiddle with his fingers as your soft sniffles continued. if this was distraction enough to keep you from crying, then lo'ak would let you play with his hands 24/7.

you didn't know that lo'ak's hands were his biggest insecurity, so the way you played with them and looked at them with wonder and not worry made his heart swell. lo'ak had not thought his life would be turned upside down like this, being forced to move away from his home and learn new ways of life. he hated it. but willingly getting to know someone and maybe even starting to fall for her had to be the best thing on that list. lo'ak knew he liked you for a while but never made any advances as you were taken. even though he could've been treating you so much better.

he loved how your hands felt in his and how your smile brightened up an entire room. he loved how attuned to nature you were. you hadn't even realized the school of fish swimming around your ankles rested in the river before you. it was as if the animals were trying to comfort you, too, somehow being able to sense your distress.

“y/n. do not listen to him. he is nothing but a lowlife who derives pleasure from others' pain," lo'ak started ranting, not caring if you were listening. he just wanted to speak his mind. "you are beautiful, y/n. the most beautiful, strong, loving, kind, graceful na'vi i've ever had the chance to meet. if moving away from my home means i get to find a new home here, with you, i would fly, walk, jump, or crawl my way here a hundred times over. i would do anything to be with you properly. i want to heal you from that asshole's mistakes. i want to show you what it feels like to be loved. not because you are olo'eyktan's daughter. but because you are you."

his eyes remained focused on yours as he recited every word. but you could tell he wasn't speaking something memorized or forced; he was speaking from his heart. you could hear it, as if eywa herself was whispering it to you. but you were hurt. could you trust someone so soon?

almost as if he could read your thoughts, he spoke up again.

"i know your trust is weary right now, but let me prove it to you. i will court you properly, meet your parents officially, ask for their blessing, i–" lo'ak sighed, almost as if he didn't want to continue, but he did. "i'll even stop fighting with ao'nung." that got a laugh out of you.

"lo'ak, are you sure about that?" you asked, looking up at him through your tears, flashing the first genuine smile he had ever seen on you. he was amazed. if he thought your fake smile lit up a room, then your genuine smile could bring light to an entire clan.

"i would do whatever you want me to do, syulang. i just want to be with you. i want to love you if you'll have me. we can take things at your pace. i'm in no rush because, for you, i would wait forever," he yearned for you, waiting patiently to see if you'll accept him.

you couldn't find any reason not to. this boy had to have been sent to you by eywa. he was meant to be the remedy to heal your heart after this tragic breakup. you were crying, but they were tears of joy and relief. you were finally free. free to feel love. free to feel happy. free to be you.

in the heat of the moment, you felt something wiggling under the ground beneath your leg. looking down, you see a glow worm inching up your leg. most do not know, but since the metkayina spirit tree is underwater, these little glow worms come up from the sand or appear on or around you whenever eywa tries to give you a sign. they're the metkayina equivalent of a woodsprite.

you could only gasp at the sight of the tiny creature. so he really is eywa sent? you thought as you saw a glow worm crawling up lo'ak's shoulder. this caused you to laugh, seeing as he also noticed the glow worm on his shoulder and started to panic, trying to flick the bug off his shoulder without hurting it.

"kehe, don't do that," you said as you grabbed his hand to prevent him from hurting the poor thing. you carefully placed your hand in front of the glowworm, allowing it to crawl into your palm. you took lo'ak's hand in yours, facing his palm up to allow the glow worm to walk from your hand to his.

"what is this?" he asked as he brought his hand closer to his face turning it as the glow worm walked around.

"i've heard about omatikaya woodsprites from kiri. they are like that but for the reefs. they are sent from eywa, meant to be wordless messengers," you explained to the forest boy.

your forest boy.

lo'ak couldn't help but smile at you, processing the words you had said. as he spoke again, he held nothing but love in his eyes, "y/n, i see you. oel ngati kameie," he gently held your face in his hands to ensure you made eye contact with him as he said it to you. you cried even harder because rotxo had never said that to you. and you're glad he didn't because you wouldn't have been able to say this back,

"oel ngati kameie, forest boy."

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sunnycanvas · 8 months

Note

Balwin and his wife honeymoon

You sighed as you walked after the wedding. It had been tiring. Greeting all the high ranking guest of came to visit from far and nobles of the kingdom. You could already tell some saw you as friend while some saw you as foe to reach their ambition. It was tiring to smile and entertain your guests. All you wanted was go back to your beloved. You could tell that even Baldwin IV also felt the same.

Now you finally reached your bedroom with priest and nobles wishing you goodnight on your way to room. You swore you heard some maid giggling and some women gossiping about you and Baldwin IV. "Doesn't matter, they are not worth thinking over" you thought. "At last at your bedroom" you thought smiling locking your bedroom

You finally sat on your bed and looked at your room. You thought about Baldwin IV and how happy he looked in altar. You could see he was in brink of tears he was so happy. You looked around your room and saw no sight of him

"It seems like he is already greeting the guest. Your cheeks flushed as you remembered the next part of ceremony. You closed your eyes and thought of his leprosy infected body. You always found his body hot despite his scares. Actually you found his body hotter with scars. You sighed and thought of his nude body when you accidentally saw when he was bathing. You moaned at the thought of him fucking you hard. Of him taking out his frustration of war on you and you like obedient wife sucking his cock whenever he arrived from war or maybe Baldwin IV taking you to war with him and making you serve as his sex slave. You would cook, clean and pleasure him. After all a good virtuous wife doesn't disobey her husband.

"My, love?"

You jumped when you heard the voice and noticed Baldwin iv already in the bedroom. "How long have you been here" you questioned. Baldwin IV chuckled at your reaction and said "For a very long time".

"I swore that I locked the door" I locked the door you questioned confused. He nervously replied "I was in bathroom" . You could tell Baldwin IV was nervous about the next part of ceremony as well.What you failed to notice that despite his nervousness Baldwin IV took wanted to fuck you hard like rabbits in heat but he was afraid that he might get you infected with leprosy.

Baldwin IV sat down next to you on bed and nervously said his deepest desires

"I want you to do something for me"

He gulped and continue "I want you to play with yourself"

You looked at him confused and he looked down embarassed and said "Masturbate , for me"

You were confused but also knew that Baldwin IV was virgin and afraid to transfer his disease that was the reason of put you at distance many times but you could tell despite everything Baldwin IV really wanted to fuck you and was feeling nervous about it for personal reasons.

You started stripping while dancing a bit by swaying your hips to tease him. You could see Baldwin IV blushing furiously at your private strip show. You soon sat on bed spread your leg and began playing with your folds. You started remembering the blessing of seeing his nude body while he was bathing and had the audacity to feel jealous of water that flowed down his body. You close your eyes in bliss and played with your folds as well as nipples thinking of Baldwin IV hands instead of your own

Baldwin IV felt flattered by your little game of seduction showing you didn't care what he looked like, when Baldwin IV saw you close your eyes he felt bold enough to play with his cock

He loved enjoy your private strip show and loved hearing you moaning his name . He couldn't hold back anymore and took out his cock and started rubbing himself as he closed his eyes in bliss not noticing that you stopped. He kept on moaning until he felt something warm on his dick. You were grinding on his cock. "My lord, please forgive me but I can't help myself" "I really wanted to do this for so long" "Ever since I saw you bath"

"What are you talking abou-Ah! You started to ride again. Attempting to finally get off the heat you felt in your pussy.

"Stop" he commanded

You looked at him shocked. "You sure a good virtuous wife and queen our Kingdom needs who is peeks at her husband and tries to dominate him on bed"

You felt like crying, not wanting to accept you were a bad, disobedient wife and queen of the kingdom. That was unacceptable in laws of religion.

"I hate the thought of submitting to someone, especially to my wife"

"On your knees"

Not wanting anger your lover you did what he told you

"Lower"

You bent down even lower

"You (Y/N) will give me a kiss of peace on my cock"

He felt you pull down his pants and take out his cock.Soon cold, round and wet was on his cock. Baldwin IV was suprised not expecting you to immediately do as he commanded and sucking him. "(Y/N) Ah!" He moaned and started thrusting his hips inside your mouth "My love don't feel insecure, I love you the way you are. We can stop if you want". He tightly gripped your hair making it hurt but you quietly took it all "But unfortunately I don't want you to stop". His leprous dick was veiny, large and thick. You loved how squishy it felt. It was like you were sucking dessert. He finally cummed inside you and you swallowed his cum. It tasted bitter sweet.

Baldwin IV felt like animal instincts took over him and he commanded "Get on the bed". You did as you were told and quickly went on the bed.

Baldwin IV all of sudden felt shy seeing your nude body and looked away shyly. You chuckled at his behaviour knowing that the king never felt the warmth of a woman. He slowly crept towards the bed and gently pushed you down. With his trembling hands he slowly bend down his hand towards your chest. Once his hand reached your chest he started playing with your boobs. Rubbing and squeezing them. He sighed in bliss and began kissing your neck

You moaned and later winced in pain when you felt him sucking hard. You realised that Baldwin IV was leaving a hickey.

"I saw the way men were looking at you, they need to realise that you belong to me". Baldwin IV replied angrily

While you giggled at his possessive nature while bearing the pain. Baldwin IV ensrued he left hickies all over your neck. He soon started leaving it on your chest. He soon reached your nipple and started sucking on it. While his other hand played with your other boob, rubbing and squeezing it. He soon reached your belly and started leaving butterfly kisses especially towards your naval region. Baldwin IV bend down near your fold blowed air on it with his mouth. You arched your back in pleasure. You felt embarassed by his actions and tried closing your legs but he forcefully streched them apart.

"You are so beautiful. I love the colour of your vagina it's so pretty" as he says this he leans forward and kisses the nub inside vagina. He could see your a single drop of your cum coming out of vagina and about to reach the bed sheet. Before it could reach Baldwin IV pulls out his tongue and takes single lick of it. He stops and closes his eyes in bliss savouring your taste

"I love how soft your flower is" with his fingers reaching down and playing with your folds. Your legs desperately try to form more friction by his fingers by arching your back. Baldwin IV smiled at your desperation and sucks his fingers covered in your cum

"And how sweet your nectar is" "Here you too taste it". He dipped his fingers in your vagina again and forcefully put his fingers inside your mouth forcing your to taste yourself

"Suck my fingers, like a whore you are" you ended up doing as he said wanting to prove him that you will be good virtuous wife and queen for the kingdom of Jerusalem.

Baldwin IV forgot all about his shyness and became rough. He bent down and started sucking your vagina. He started eating you out. Licking , kissing and sucking so hard that you felt that it was his last supper on earth for which he was grateful for, he sucked, nibbled and kissed your nub do hard that it got swollen. He later went your tummy and started using his teeth bitting you on your stomach. He made long bite marks on your stomach by moving up and down

"Jerusalem will need an heir which we have to give " as he said this he went back to kissing and biting your nipples by switching turns "Soon they will be filled with milk to feed the baby" he said this while simultaneously angled your his cock near your vagina and thrusting inside you. You arched you body in pain as his enamours dick split you into half that blood slowly came out. You could tell now that Baldwin IV had forgotten all about his leprosy and making love to you like any ordinary man. Your hole in pussy happily welcome his love in exchange of blood. You cried in slight pain and Baldwin IV kissed all over your face as apology

"Move" you whispered

Baldwin IV slowed moved savouring the feeling of your folds. "You are so tight" he whimpered. "A perfect pussy to get impregnated". He started pounding inside you hard with his cock constantly savouring tightness of your hole.The pain turned to pleasure and you enjoyed his cock in bliss. You soon felt him cumming inside you. He cummed so much that you could feel that some of his cum falling in bed sheet. Baldwin IV took out the cum that had fallen out and put it inside you pussy. You winced a bit at a bit overstimulation. "We need to ensure that none of my cum is wasted" "The more you get it inside you the better will it be" you felt tired and wanted to sleep until you heard "Ready for round 2?" You sighed knowing you won't be getting any rest

#baldwin iv #baldwin iv imagine #baldwin iv x reader #kingdom of heaven #kingdom of heaven 2005 #kingdom of heaven fanfic #kingdom of heaven fanfiction #kingdom of heaven fandom #kingdom of heaven headcanons #king baldwin iv

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 10 months

Text

Studious V (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

Aemond reads your notes, and you both finally come clean. After he introduces you to his best friend, you invite him back to your chambers.

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

Warnings: OOH BOY ITS TIME! We got tiddy suckin', we got fingering (f receiving), we got oral sex (f receiving), and we got p in v sex (finally), and of course, Aegon!

Author's Note: Bone apple teeth, y'all

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

My Masterlist

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

Studious V

Only a few minutes later, you sat across from Aemond at the small dining table in his chambers – obviously only ever intended for one. He had to drag one of the chairs by the hearth across the room just so you could sit with him. For he had insisted you stay while he read your notes, assuring you that it would not take long.

“I read very quickly,” he explained. “I have to, if I hope to read everything I want to.”

Now, you sat silently across from him as you watched him read. He held your diary in his right hand while his left held open his own where it rested on the table. While reading, he would often look between the two, cross-referencing what you had written about with his original entries.

It was quite amusing, being able to watch his reactions. Subdued as they were, you still caught him, on various occasions, both smiling and frowning. He even blushed once! You smiled as you recalled him doing the same to you – watching your face as you read in the library. Perhaps you were more similar than you had once thought.

For a long while, Aemond said nothing. He hardly even looked at you – only glancing up a few times and shying away when he noticed you looking back.

Until once, he did not look away. Though he did blush quite deeply.

“I apologise,” he whispered, “I did not realise how… detailed I was in some instances. You should not have had to read such depravity. Please, forgive me.”

So, he reached the library entry. And you had not written anything in response – a stark difference from every other entry. It was no wonder that he thought you offended. But you were most certainly not offended, and you had heard enough apologies from him to last you the rest of your lifetimes.

You reached across the table – hardly difficult, as it was so small – and brushed your fingers against his. The urge to fully take his hand was strong, but you did not want to push too far before the two of you had settled everything.

“There is no need to apologise,” you said, your first words since you gave him the diaries. “It is perfectly natural for a man to… think about his wife in such a way. Didn’t Septon Eustace tell you that so long as we were married, lust is not a sin?”

Aemond smiled a little at that, but his brow was still furrowed in concern, as if he did not believe you entirely.

“I actually –” you began, laughing a little as you spoke to relieve the tension. “I actually found it quite… interesting.”

“Oh!” Aemond’s mouth fell open, and his eye widened in the same expression that had once made you think he looked like a freshly caught fish. This time was perhaps even more satisfying than the first, as a flush quickly spread across his face and climbed all the way to his ears, until he was as red as his family crest.

“I… um, I am glad,” Aemond’s statement sounded curiously more like a question as his eye darted from you to the table to the diaries. “I thought that… I suppose… I was just… I still – I am still sorry.”

And with that, he turned back to diaries.

Judging by the position of the sun – which you were never very good at, so your estimations were far from precise – it took less than an hour for Aemond to finish reading. You had passed nearly all the time by surveying his rooms.

His rooms were immaculate, which was no surprise. Everything spotless and precisely arranged. Each tapestry, of which there were few, was hung perfectly. The vases on a table near the hearth were spaced so evenly that you could not imagine how it could have been without a measuring stick. And the books on the many bookshelves were well organised.

But as well as it was kept, it did not feel like Aemond. The tapestries were finely made, but the subjects – one hunting scene, one depiction of the Red Keep, one of the Seven, and one of a dragon that did not look like any of the ones you had heard described – were very standard. The vases were well crafted, but they, too, were plain. Two in varying shades of brown, one brass, and one in a simple pattern of brass and black. Even the bookshelves seemed impersonal. They were filled to the brim with leather and linen tomes, each as pristine as they must have been when they were first bound.

There were no little trinkets, personal items, or anything else that would identify Aemond as the occupant. If not for its position at the heart of the Holdfast or the fact that you could see Aemond’s sword and dagger leaning against a wardrobe in what must be the bedroom, you would think these were guest quarters.

How was he content with living in such an impersonal space?

You had filled the walls of your rooms until you could hardly see the stone, cluttered your tables with crafting supplies and reminders of your home and family, and stuffed so many of the small items you had collected over your lifetime in your shelves that there was hardly room for books. And while Aemond had been fascinated by the decoration within your rooms, he had still chosen not to make his own a home.

Perhaps you could help him fix that.

But before you could start considering how to do so, you looked back to him and immediately became mesmerised. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his eye snapping between the two diaries with dizzying speed, and his lips slightly pursed. It almost seemed as though he was studying rather than simply reading.

He cared about this – very much so. He was almost… desperate.

Did he still think you would ask to be separated from him? After you had read his diary, as he asked? After you returned to him and offered your own? After you had assured him you were not repulsed by what he had written?

Had you really been so cold to him that he could still believe you would run away?

A chill settled over you at the possibility. Perhaps several days ago, you may have accepted his offer to return to your home. Now, the thought of leaving him made you almost nauseous, though you were not entirely sure why. You wrapped your arms around yourself and cast your gaze down to the table surface.

“I’ve finished,” Aemond said merely a moment later. You looked up to see him setting your diary down next to his, then turning the pages of each back to the beginning of your shared story.

You sat up straighter in your chair, first placing your clasped hands on the table, then in your lap, then unclasping them so you could bunch the skirts of your dress in your hands – both to try and calm your nerves and soak up the moisture that had begun to form the moment Aemond spoke again. After you gave him a short nod, he began.

He laid his clasped hands atop the diaries, then separated them to grip the edges of the table on either side of the journals, then finally deciding to keep one hand on his diary while the other picked up his quill pen, which he began to fiddle with restlessly.

“I, um… I should like to start by thanking you for reading this,” he said, his voice less sure than you were used to. He did not meet your gaze, instead looking straight down at the books before him. “And I wish to apologise – again. First, for being so incompetent that this was the only way I could express my feelings, and secondly, for the admittedly humiliating things you read.”

“Aemond,” you interrupted before he could continue. When he looked at you in near panic, you scoffed and shook your head slightly. “If you apologise to me again, I might scream.”

He looked shocked by your words, then nodded gravely. “I did not realise how often I was doing so. I ap… shit, no.” He shut his eye and heaved a great sigh. “I will endeavour to do so less in the future, though I cannot promise I will not have to, on occasion.” The corner of his mouth quirked in the shadow of a smile as he winced slightly. “We both know how often I have cause to.”

“That is acceptable,” you whispered, “thank you.”

Both of you smiled at each other, your gazes locked. The moment lingering a bit longer than it would have with a stranger or even a friend. Then Aemond turned back to the diaries and frowned.

“I don’t quite know…” he trailed off, shaking his head slightly. “Forgive me, but my first reply to your notes was to be an apology for the careless and mean-spirited remarks I made about the merits of embroidery. I don’t know what to say if I am forbidden to apologise.”

You blinked, unsure of what to say. Yet it pleased you greatly that he was taking your request that he stop apologising so seriously.

Aemond did not wait for you to give him an answer, speaking with both urgency and sincerity. “It was thoughtless of me to write what I did. I was exhausted by the day and unhappy with how my grandsire chose to conduct my betrothal and marriage. And admittedly, I know little about the craft, and therefore underestimated it.”

“I am touched by your words,” you whispered, flustered by the intensity with which he regarded you, as if whatever you said next held the power to either destroy him or build him higher. “Perhaps, instead of apologising, you could tell me how you intend to make amends?”

“Of course,” his face lit up when he realised you were not upset with him. “I… I will learn more about embroidery so that I may truly appreciate it. Could… would you be willing to teach me?”

Based on the moment of panic that you saw come over him, you knew your shock at the request was rather poorly concealed. Bashfully, Aemond looked away. “After seeing the beautiful things that you have created – or I assume you have, as they were in your rooms, and depicted your home and interests – I truly wish to understand how they are made.”

Gods, he was serious. He truly wanted you to teach him how to create embroidery! The very idea was so amusing you could not hide your smile. “That is a wonderful solution, Aemond,” you said with all the reassurance you could muster. “I look forward to seeing what beautiful things you will make.”

“Oh, I am certain that compared to you… I mean, your own works, my attempts will seem quite poor. Laughable, even.”

“Well, I have had many years of practice,” you replied, “and a true love of the craft. It gives me an advantage over you. Although having seen you fight, I believe you have great potential as an embroiderer.”

Aemond’s head tilted slightly. “I don’t understand how the two skills correlate.”

“You fight with precision,” you explained, feeling yourself flush at the memory of him in the training yard. “Your movements are controlled and exact. The same skills are required in embroidery.”

“Then perhaps learning embroidery will further improve my fighting skills,” he said, almost jokingly. But any hint of a smile faded quickly, and he ducked his head, looking up at you as he continued. “I… I would like it if you could continue to come and watch me. When I practice. Not every day if you don’t want to, but every few days? Only if it would interest you, of course.”

“It would interest me very much!” you said, probably too quickly. But you had thought about Aemond wielding his sword so many times in the days since you actually saw him, and you were eager to see it again – and more of it. Up close, preferably.

He blushed again, though he reined it in much faster this time and resumed his cool, almost bureaucratic demeanour. “As for your list of books – some I have read, some I have heard of, and others I know nothing about. I would like to sit down with you and discuss them all. We could do that now, if you’d like?”

“I appreciate the thought, but today, I think we have more important things to discuss?” Indeed, you hadn’t anticipated this much discussion. You hadn’t even thought he would want you to remain with him while he read. But here you sat, not in your own rooms, in a carriage on your way home, or – as you had half-hoped for – in a bed.

Every moment you spent with Aemond was another agonising moment you spent not knowing what would happen between you. You were so eager for an answer – a conclusion.

But it was only fair that Aemond be allowed to respond to your comments and questions, so you bit your lip and prepared for more. After all, your husband was quite thorough. That much was clear from his research.

“Indeed we do,” he said as he flipped over a page of his diary. “I would be more than happy to take you to the Grand Sept. The family attend service there instead of the Royal Sept at least once per moon turn, but we can certainly go sooner if you prefer. It wouldn’t have to be for a service. We could just… go.”

“Choose a day,” you said, “and I will be with you.”

“I can’t wait for you to see it,” Aemond said with a smile. “It is truly…”

“Grand?” you offered.

“Yes, it has been named well,” his smile grew wider. “I am beginning to think that I, too, need to create a list of all the times you’ve made me laugh.”

You cocked your head, perplexed. “But… you didn’t laugh.”

“Oh, um…” Aemond looked away and grimaced, tapping his pen against his diary several times. “I don’t, often, laugh. Not aloud, at least.” After a deep inhale, he faced you again. “I assure you though, I felt like laughing! But I will try to do so in future, so it will be easier to know when I am amused.”

“No, Aemond,” you chided softly. “I don’t want you to change yourself for me. Now that I know what you look like when you ‘feel like laughing,” I will be able to recognise it. And, based on how extensive my list was, I believe I will laugh aloud enough for the both of us.”

He flipped to the page where you had made your list – throughout reading his diary, you would often return and add onto it, until it took up most of the page. He stared at it for a long moment, running his fingers over the words as if he could feel them. “I am immensely glad to have made you laugh, for there is nothing I desire more than to see you happy.”

Heat spread over every inch of your skin as you flushed, both from his words and what you were about to say. “There is ‘nothing you desire more?’” You bit your lip as you pointed to his diary. “Some of your later entries suggest otherwise.”

Aemond’s flush quickly grew to match your own. “I… there are things I desire nearly as much, but your happiness remains the greatest of them all.”

You both stayed there for a long moment, blushing and smiling at each other. All the while, you willed your racing heart to calm and your burning skin to cool. But beneath Aemond’s gaze, there was no hope for either. He looked at you with not only a lustful hunger but with admiration, longing, and a kind of reverence that made you at once bashful and confident.

If you stayed that way for much longer, you felt as though you would combust.

“I believe you skipped ahead a few entries,” you said. Even the whisper sounded like a shout in the silence that had descended upon you.

“Indeed I have,” he half-laughed, returning the diary to where he had left off. “My ap… I will begin again in the proper place. Please, inform me if I stray again?”

“I will,” you assured, nearly laughing yourself.

His eye lingered on you for a moment before he actually began again. “I wish I had danced with you all night,” he said, his smile fading as he looked at your next note morosely. “It had been my plan, actually. But as you read, I feared that if I remained so close to you, looking as radiant as you did, I would have done something untoward and inappropriate. Worse, I feared doing something you would not want.”

He would not meet your eye, but still, you spoke. “I admit, had you started ravishing me on the dancefloor, I likely would have reacted poorly,” you said with sombre humour. Aemond didn’t acknowledge it. “But I wanted to dance with you, talk to you. To begin to understand the man with whom I would spend the rest of my life.”

Aemond pursed his lips, his lone eye blinking furiously.

“If you had kissed me then,” you continued, though you doubted it was a good idea, “I would have welcomed it.”

You swore you saw a flash of tears in his eye before hanging his head so low his face was hidden. “I swear to you that, from this moment on, I will dance with you whenever you want,” Aemond whispered, his voice low and crackling with emotion, “wherever we are, and whether we have music to accompany us or simply the rhythm of our own hearts.”

He raised his head to face you, his eye flicking back to the diary once before again fixing on you. “I also swear that you will never again fall asleep without my first wishing you goodnight. Even if we are parted and far from each other, I shall wish it upon the wind and pray that it carries my words to you.”

The vows settled on your heart with more weight and meaning than those he had sworn to you in the Sept. For these were not of words written by a Septon long ago and repeated by countless men and women in their own marriages. These vows were not shared – they were only for you.

It would only be proper for you to swear your own vows in return, but you did not know what to swear. Despite having read his diary, you did not know him so well as he knew you. Guilt threatened to overwhelm you, and you could only say a quiet thanks before signalling for him to continue.

You were silent for a while, offering only small smiles and nods as Aemond promised to not damage his finely made diary any further, told you that your wedding presents were being catalogued in the Royal Vault and would be returned to you soon, and that he had confirmed with Lord Jasper that Coryanne Wylde – his ancestor – was indeed the author of ‘A Caution for Young Girls.”

With each of his explanations, you only gave him half your focus, as the other half was occupied trying to figure out what you could swear to him. Perhaps that you would only ever wear nightclothes he found attractive?

For a moment, you were sure he could read your mind, as the moment after the thought came to you, he turned a page and began, “Your robe – ”

“What about it?” you asked, louder and more defensively than you originally intended.

Aemond stared at you, shocked by the sudden outburst. “I was going to say that I do not, in fact, hate it, I swear.”

“Oh,” you said, sinking slightly into your chair as your cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

“It is a very fine robe, well made and quite beautiful,” he continued, graciously ignoring your current state. “It just… it is so large that I feel as though you are hiding, and I don’t ever want you to hide from me. Or even feel like you must. I never meant to offend something you hold so dear.”

“Oh,” you said again. After correcting your posture to something decidedly more ladylike, you took a deep breath and gave an explanation of your own. “I wasn’t hiding, I promise. But that robe is one of the few things that makes me feel…” you struggled to find the right word. “Safe.”

Aemond’s face blanched, and while his eye hardened, his brow raised in concern. “The Red Keep – and the Holdfast especially – is the safest place in the realm, perhaps the world. No harm will come to you, I swear. I will – ”

You held up a hand to stop him, and despite his furore, he quieted at your command. “That’s not what I mean by ‘safe,’ Aemond.”

“Then I am afraid I don’t understand.”

With a sigh, you looked up at the ceiling, searching for a way to explain the complex feeling. “I don’t mean ‘safe’ in a physical way. I don’t fear that I will be harmed or killed. I mean safe in a… in my heart. Perhaps my soul too.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed, but he said nothing, so you continued. “Since my family has left, I have felt very alone – painfully so. I hardly know anyone here, nor do they know me.” At that, your husband seemed ready to protest, but you did not let him. “From reading your diary, I do believe you know me. Better than I would have ever thought in the short time we have known each other. But even then, I have seen you so little, and spoken to you even less.”

He nodded, “Another failing I must atone for.”

“Well, I suppose I could have approached you myself. But after our wedding night…” Aemond flinched at the reminder but remained silent. “I was confused. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t quite that. And I know some of it is my fault! Please don’t blame yourself entirely. Still, you never spoke to me, not at court or at dinners. You never asked to see me or even escort me back to my rooms after dinner. I thought I had disappointed you, but I could not summon the courage to ask you how.”

“I never meant to abandon you,” Aemond murmured, “I just didn’t want to frighten you further. I was trying to – ”

“I know,” you smiled, inclining your head toward the diaries. “I understand now. But my understanding does not mean that I do not wish we had both made different choices.”

“As you said in your apology,” he said, almost to himself. Silence fell over you as he turned the page and traced his finger over your words again. “The robe is your reminder of home, where you are safe and loved, not scared and dreading the life ahead of you.”

“Yes.”

“And in my idiocy, I took that from you.”

“It was a shared idiocy,” you mused, grateful when Aemond’s tense shoulders dropped at your forgiving tone. “You were very kind to me that day, and yet I took the first opportunity to assume the worst of you.”

“I am afraid I gave you ample cause to assume the worst of me.”

“Maybe so, but I won’t do it anymore,” you felt meek saying the words, like a child promising their parents to stop misbehaving.

But then Aemond smiled, his cheeks tinged with colour again, and under his warm gaze, you felt… safe. “And I will not give you any more cause to.”

You smiled back, holding a girlish giggle, the origin of which was unknown to you.

“That reminds me,” Aemond said with a wicked grin. He tapped your open diary once, twice. “I like it when you scrunch your nose because of the delicious contradiction. Such an unpleasant expression upon the loveliest of faces.”

You pouted, then immediately realised your mistake when his grin grew wider and moved to cover your now-scrunched nose with your hands. Aemond only laughed at your embarrassment. “I cannot decide whether that is a compliment or not,” you said, causing another round of laughter.

“I assure you, it is meant entirely as a compliment,” he assured, still coming down from his amusement. He took a deep breath and then went still. “None could ever insult your appearance, for they could find no faults. And if they did… I would assure they were properly punished.”

Your flush was so great you could feel its heat when you dropped your head into your hands. “I suppose I should ask, how fares the painter who made my miniature?”

Another grin, this one positively lupine. “He has not been harmed, but I doubt he will ever again be commissioned by the noble families. If he does not flee across the Narrow Sea, he will be fortunate to find any amongst the smallfolk who can pay him more than a silver piece for his work..”

Such a severe punishment, just for a painting that had not shown your beauty? You didn’t know whether to be horrified or flattered. Or impressed that he held such influence. Judging by the fluttering feeling that filled your chest, you knew you were flattered more than anything. And the look on Aemond’s face, a look of pure confidence and power, stirred such powerful desire within you that you had to grip the arms of your chair to stop yourself from planting yourself on his lap – precisely as he had written about.

Your hands remained clutched to the chair as Aemond told you that he would be more than happy to study Valyrian history with you, and that he did not pick all the dog roses from the garden, for those he left were promptly collected by the Maesters. He expressed his desire to visit your home, but with the caveat that you would protect him from your brothers. And he assured you that he would not take a vow of silence so that you could hear his voice whenever you wanted.

Finally, he came to your last reply.

He read it again, silently, and slower than you would have liked. Then, he faced you but kept his eye focused on the wall past your shoulder. “I do not know if this is correct,” he said, almost bashfully. “But, I find myself… glad? That you missed me. That you worried for me. I did not know you cared for me that much, or that you cared for me at all.”

“Honestly? Neither did I. Not until that night.” You reached across the table – a short distance which yet felt like the length of the world – and took Aemond’s hand. He gasped, and his hand twitched, but then he sighed in relief. It was almost like the sound he had made when he released his seed within you. The very thought of it made you tighten your grip. “But I do care about you, Aemond... husband.”

To what extent you did not know. But you were very close to finding out.

You did not know how long you stayed there, holding hands and saying nothing. Minutes, perhaps. Or hours. In either case, the sun was still up when Aemond suddenly dropped your hand and stood.

“There is… there is something else I should show you,” he said, stumbling over his words as he had the first few times he actually spoke to you. “If you truly want to know me.”

Though you felt a tinge of apprehension at his vague words and that you could not imagine what else there was for him to show you after giving you his diary. Still, you nodded. “I do – want to know you.”

He stood, his back rigid as he extended a hand toward you. “Come, I will call a wheelhouse to take us.”

“A wheelhouse? Where are we going?”

“To the edge of the Kingswood.” At the look of confusion on your face, he clarified, “It is where Vhagar resides.”

“Vhagar? Your dragon?” You took his hand and let him pull you up, your shock at his request momentarily replaced by the strength you felt in the motion – the same strength that had enraptured you in the training yard.

“Well, she is not my dragon,” he clarified. “It doesn’t work like that. There is no ownership one way or the other. It’s more like… a partnership. I am her rider, and she is my mount.”

It took you a moment to collect your thoughts as Aemond began to lead you – still holding your hand – out of his rooms. He whispered briefly to the first guard you saw, who immediately ran toward the stables. When you were alone, he turned to you. “It… might be cool. Would you like to fetch a cloak from your rooms?”

You did, and you didn’t. While you didn’t want to endure the cold, you couldn’t help but think about what would happen if you felt cold and didn’t have a cloak. Would Aemond offer you his or perhaps invite you to share his?

“Yes,” you answered breathlessly. “I would like that.”

He smiled and led you back to your rooms. So far from his own, yet with him leading you, the distance seemed to pass far faster than when you ran to him earlier that day.

Aemond stopped when you came to your door, lingering for a moment. “Would you… should I come in?” He turned to you with pleading eyes that you could tell he was trying to conceal. “I can remain outside if you wish it.”

He moved to drop your hand, but you held firm. “I would like you to come inside,” you said. “You know better than I what I will need, so I should like your assistance in selecting a cloak.”

Aemond gave you his fish look again, utterly dumbfounded. As if going into your dressing room was somehow more intimate than him fucking you. Fortunately, he regained his composure quickly and bowed his head. “Of course, whatever you wish.”

He opened the door and allowed you to lead him inside, past the couch where he had given you flowers, past the bedchamber where you had lain together, and into your dressing room. When you turned back to him, he was looking around as if he were just led into a room full of grand tapestries and works of art rather than clothes and shoes.

“What is it, Aemond?” you asked, suddenly worried that he may have seen something that offended him.

“It is just…” he laughed lightly before looking back to you, “I didn’t think anyone could actually fill their dressing room – especially not one this large.”

Though he smiled, you were yet filled with worry. “I promise I am not vain!” you pled, holding his hand to your chest. “My mother believes that a lady should always… and since I was to marry a prince, she – ”

You were silenced when Aemond pressed a kiss to your joined hands. “You have married a prince, and he does not think you vain, I swear. Actually, he is rather excited to see how beautiful you look in each and every item here.”

For a moment, you strongly considered leading him into the bedroom and leaving Vhagar for another day. But you had other plans for how you wanted that reunion to go. So, you reluctantly dropped his hand and pointed to the room’s far corner. “The cloaks are over there.”

Being a royal bride and one of only two daughters of a wealthy house meant that your trousseau was extraordinary. As such, you had more than a dozen cloaks, at least one for every colour of the rainbow.

Aemond went first to a black cloak – your warmest. While its wool was sparsely decorated, it was lined with the exquisite striped fur of a shadowcat. But after running his fingers once through the fur, Aemond pushed it aside.

He went next to a red cloak, intricately embroidered with gold and black dragonscale patterns (although the designs were somewhat abstract). It had been specially made when the match was announced, to honour the colours and sigil of your new house. But it, too, was rejected.

The green cloak – the one of dark emerald, not the light sage – was considered as well, longer than the other two. It was made from rich velvet and decorated with pearls. But Aemond let it behind, as well.

After quickly sorting through the next seven, he, at last, stopped to examine another. This one was made from a gentle pink jacquard, the pattern difficult to spot from a distance but absolutely lovely when near. The inside was lined with a light layer of undyed wool, and the edges with a thin strip of sable fur.

It was your favourite.

And it was the one Aemond chose.

“Wear this one,” he whispered as he brought it to you, holding it as though it was the most precious thing he’d ever held. “It suits you… very well.”

The flush on his cheeks gave you a rush of confidence, enough that you lifted your hair and turned around. Looking at Aemond over your shoulder, you dropped your eyes to the floor in a show of shyness. “Will you put it on me?”

Aemond’s gaze never left the skin of your exposed neck as he approached and laid the cloak over you with the gentlest whisper of a touch. He was close enough that you could hear his breathing quicken and feel the heat roiling off him. After the excessive amount of time he spent assuring that the cloak fell correctly, he finally stepped in front of you to fasten the front.

He tried, so very hard, to not look at your face as he did. But you caught every time his eye looked up at you – your eyes, your cheeks, your lips.

Kiss me, you willed silently, not yet brave enough to ask for it aloud.

The wish went unfulfilled. Once he had fastened the twin brooches of your cloak, Aemond smoothed it over once more, then offered you his hand. “The wheelhouse will be waiting for us,” he said.

You took his hand and let him lead you away.

The journey to the edge of the Kingswood passed quickly, the time filled with idle conversation about the city as you raced past it. You had questions about every statue, alleyway, and building; for the most part, Aemond had answers. The city’s history was inexorably tied to House Targaryen, and so he had taken it upon himself to learn everything there was to know about it.

It was enough to soothe your fears about meeting the largest dragon in the world. Until that is, you passed through the city gates, and the Kingswood appeared on the horizon.

“Why does Vhagar live in the forest?” you asked, peering through the curtains of the wheelhouse. “Why does she not live in the Dragonpit with the others?”

Aemond raised his brows proudly, “She has grown so large that she can no longer fit in the Dragonpit.”

The very idea was at once awesome and terrifying. You had seen the Dragonpit in the distance from your windows at the Red Keep and some dragons flying around it. That Vhagar could not even fit inside…

“So Maegor did not build it large enough? Even when he rode Balerion?”

“Well,” Aemond shrugged. “She could fit in the Dragonpit if it was necessary. But it would not be comfortable. It would stifle her. I do not want that.”

Just as he did not want you to be alone and trapped in the castle – enough that he would set you free of it if you asked. “You care for her very much, then?”

“I do, yes,” he answered, his eyes becoming contemplative while his lips still curled in a smile. “She is… I have told you that the relationship between dragon and rider is like a partnership, yes?”

“You have, yes.”

“It means that there must be understanding between the pair,” he explained. “Common ground, or even a shared soul. I know it may seem illogical or insane, but Vhagar understands me. She cannot speak it, but I know that she does. For most of my life, it has felt like she is the only one…” he trailed off as his eye came to rest once more upon you.

Until you, you could hear the words as well as if he had shouted them. Rather than a pit of fear, it created a warmth within you. Aemond understood you, and you were beginning to feel as if you understood him as well.

“Then I very much look forward to meeting her,” you replied. It was the truth, though you still possessed a healthy tinge of fear at meeting a dragon said to be now larger than Balerion had been during the conquest.

Aemond lifted the curtain from his window and looked back at you with an eager grin. “You will not have to wait much longer, my dear. We have arrived.”

When the porter opened the wheelhouse door, Aemond lept out. But you remained frozen in your seat. Had he not realised what he had just said?

“My dear.”

It has been said with such ease as though it was something he called you often. But that was the first time. Those two simple words had struck you like a thunderbolt and left you feeling as though you had run the distance from the castle for how fast your heart was racing.

After a moment, Aemond reappeared at the door, his arm extended to you. “Come,” he bade. “There is no reason to fear. She will not hurt you.”

You almost laughed at his misinterpretation of your state, but not wanting to explain the truth of it, you merely stood and took his arm. “Forgive me, but meeting a dragon is not an experience granted to many.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” he said, squeezing your arm and pulling you closer to him. “There never has been.”

“None of that now,” you begged. “That is all behind us. Let us just enjoy our new present.” You turned away from him, ending any argument he may have put forward.

You were expecting to be greeted by the sight of the great Vhagar, but all that was before you was the forest’s edge. A clearing of sorts, where the ground was tamped thoroughly flat, and nearly all the trees were missing their tips.

“Where is she?” you asked, surprised to find yourself disappointed that she was not there.

Aemond gently dropped your arm and stepped forward. “She must be off hunting. I will call her.” He walked to the edge of the clearing, then raised his hand to his lips and whistled louder than you had ever imagined a person could. “Vhagar! Māzīs va nykēlā !”

The forest fell silent once more, but he did not move to call again.

“Was that Valyrian?” You moved closer to him, but not all the way into the clearing. “The words you just said. ”

He turned back to you with an amused smile. “It was. It means ‘Come to me.’ That is how I call her back when she is away.”

You came even closer to him, your curiosity getting the better of you, until he was only a step ahead. “And she can hear you? Even if she is all the way across the Kingswood?”

“She can hear me if she is near enough,” he said as he held out his hand for you to take, “but the calling is more than just words. She can sense that I want her to come to me, even if she can’t hear me.”

“That is – ”

You were cut off by the loudest sound you had ever heard. A roar which seemed to shake the very foundation of the earth and the thunderous pounding of wings. Gods, how large were her wings to make such a sound?

Without realising it, you had thrown yourself into Aemond’s arms. Your face was pressed to his chest while your hands gripped the leather of his coat. He did not laugh or push you away. Of course he didn’t. He only wrapped his arms around you and whispered soothing reassurances.

It was so warm in his arms, and with the music of his calm, steady voice, you could have easily fallen asleep then and there.

That is, if the wingbeats weren’t coming nearer.

As the sound of them grew overwhelming, then stopped, you allowed Aemond to turn you to face none other than Vhagar, Queen of All Dragons.

She was enormous.

Her body filled the clearing entirely, her tail snaking through the trees beyond until the end of it – some 100 feet away- wrapped around the broad trunk of a great oak. You followed the tail up, over aged green scales that climbed higher and higher until you were looking at a torso taller than the two-story cottage your grandmother lived in. And though her wings were tucked in to allow her to fit in the clearing, you could easily guess that they measured even longer than her body when extended.

Even her head was so large that you had to turn your neck up to see her eyes – bright orange eyes that glowed like a roaring fire as they looked down upon you. Her lip curled as she rumbled a low growl, revealing teeth as long as your forearm, and you stepped back into Aemond’s chest.

“Lykirī, Vhagar,” he commanded, wrapping one arm protectively around your waist. “Dohaeras.” You could feel his hair shift against your back as he turned his head to look at you. “Ziry ñuhon ābrazȳrys issa.”

Vhagar ended her growl but continued baring her teeth as she tilted her head to better examine you. After a moment, she narrowed her eyes at Aemond.

“Ziry sepār nyke izūgilen issa daor,” he said with a distinctly reassuring tone. “Nyke jorrāelan zirȳla. Olvie nyke jorrāelan zirȳla.”

Finally, the dragon hid her terrifying teeth and, with a huff of steam from her nostrils, extended her neck to come closer to you.

“Aemond…” you whispered, near cowering as Vhagar came close enough for you to smell the brimstone on her breath.

“It’s alright,” he replied. His lithe fingers began to trace lines up and down your sides. Whether it was as a distraction or a comfort, you did not know. “She just wants to get your scent, so she can know you better.”

You tried to calm yourself, not wanting Vhagar to smell your fear – if that was something a dragon could smell. When she finally brought her snout almost to touching you before sniffing, each inhale sucking all the heat out of the air around you. After a moment, she withdrew slightly and made a noise that, had you not been merely thankful she hadn’t eaten you, you would have described it as a purr.

“She likes you,” Aemond said into your ear, pride dripping from each word. “She likes you very much. Would you like to pet her?”

A nervous laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “You want me to pet a dragon? Like she is a dog.”

“She enjoys it, I promise.” He lifted his hand from your side to take yours and guided it to the scales between her nostrils. “This is her favourite place. That’s it. You don’t have to scratch, just stroke her scales – be sure to follow their natural direction. She won’t like it if you tug on them.”

Vhagar continued to purr as you stroked her scales, only making contact with the downward motion. Your smile grew so wide your cheeks ached, and you could not help but laugh. “She’s like an old cat! A very big old cat.”

Aemond laughed with you, again hugging you to him as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Be glad she can’t understand you, for she is a very grumpy big old cat.”

“I feel almost foolish to have been afraid,” you confessed as you ever so slightly bumped your head against his.

“We like to keep people – most people – afraid of the dragons. It makes them a more effective deterrent.” He nuzzled into you and sighed happily. “But I am glad you are not afraid. Would you like to ride her?”

“What?” You froze, looking up at Vhagar’s saddle high above you and the sky even higher still. “I, uh…”

Aemond shushed your frantic attempt to find words. “If you don’t want to, I won’t force you. It is a unique thrill to fly, but I understand it is not for everyone.”

You turned in his arms. “I would like to, eventually. But today, I believe I have already used all my bravery.”

Well, not all of it. But you only just had enough left to get you through your plans for the night, and you were determined to keep it.

“Then we shall return to the Keep,” he said, not a hint of disappointment on his face, “and wait for a day when your bravery has returned. It is approaching sunset, and I will be expected at dinner.”

You nodded, and Aemond said a farewell to Vhagar in Valyrian before leading you back to the wheelhouse. The two of you rode in comfortable silence back to the castle, until he again helped you out.

“I would like to come to dinner with you,” you told him as you walked through the doors of the Red Keep. “And then, after dinner, I would like you to wait an hour and then come to my rooms.”

Aemond blanched, then flushed, then let out a shaky exhale. “Of course,” he breathed, “whatever you want, my dear.”

When Aemond arrived in your chambers after dinner – during which he nearly jumped out of his chair each time you spoke or laid your hand on his thigh – you were sitting at the vanity, finishing with your hair. He puttered around in the solar for a moment before coming into the bedchamber, where he looked first to the bed and, upon not finding you there, began to glance around the rest of the room. When he finally turned your way, you met his eyes through the mirror and gave him an overly innocent grin as he took in your attire.

“I… what…?” His babbling continued for a moment before he quieted. For a long while, he just stared at you with an open mouth and a wide eye. He only composed himself again when you stood and approached him, stopping just before you were in arm’s reach of each other. “What are you wearing?”

“Don’t you like it?” You asked with a mischievous pout, glancing down to survey yourself. “You liked it well enough the first time you saw it.”

It took a moment for your words to sink in. You saw the moment he finally heard your words and immediately began to fumble over a reply. “Of course I like it! I more than like it, I adore it. You must know that I do. I just… why this?”

You took two steps forward, until you were close enough that Aemond had to look down to meet your eyes, and you had to look up to see his. Teasingly, you ran a hand over the neckline of your gown, across each pearl and jewel that adorned it. “I thought since you didn’t like my favourite nightclothes, I needed to find something else to entice you. This seemed a good option.”

Aemond murmured something so softly you couldn’t hear it, even as close as you were.

Another step had you standing chest to chest with your husband. You could feel him struggling to calm his breathing as he looked at you, entirely captivated and at your mercy.

Standing on your tiptoes so you could press your cheek to his, you took a moment to smile at the way his breath caught at the contact, and his hand hovered just above your waist, still unsure if he really could touch you. Then, you whispered gently in his ear, “I know you had plans to take this off me yourself, so I thought I’d give you the chance.”

Without giving him a moment to respond, you took several steps back to allow him the best possible view of your wedding gown.

Your maids had been perplexed when you asked that they retrieve it so you could wear it tonight, but they had not argued. Their only complaint was that it was not possible to replicate the braid from your wedding day in such a short amount of time. So, they simply arranged it as nicely as they could before the deadline you gave them and tucked each of the gold and pearl pins you had worn then back into the braids and curls.

With only a few minor differences, you looked precisely as you did on your wedding night.

But now you weren’t afraid of what Aemond would do. Now, you were eager to find out.

“I, uh…” he wrung his hands together as he stepped forward. “I believe we should begin with your hair.”

“Very well.” You flounced over to the vanity and retook your seat, watching him through the mirror as he cautiously approached.

He lifted a shaky hand and ran his hand slowly over the braids. “How do I begin?”

“Start by removing the pins, then brush out the braids.”

“And how many pins are there?”

“Forty-seven,” you answered smugly.

Aemond’s eyes went wide, “That many?”

“Why do you think it takes women so long to dress in the mornings? And undress at night?”

He laughed slightly, then took one of the pearl-tipped pearls between his fingers and gently pulled it out.

On your wedding day, you had thought the pins inordinately large. But seeing one in Aemond’s hands – his very large hands, they seemed miniscule.

“That’s one,” he said, depositing the pin on the surface of the vanity.

With each pin he removed, he kept count and laid each one in a perfectly straight line. But you could not be too amused by it, for each time you were, his hand would brush your neck, cup your head, or tangle into your hair. It had never felt like this when your maids tended to you.

Aemond was a dragon, and his touch was fire.

Each passing brush of his fingers burned within you, building into a raging fire or desire. By the time he finished, and laid the forty-seventh pin on the table, you were well flushed and practically panting. And as he looked to you for further direction, he could see it all. Your only consolation was that he looked as ragged as you.

“Now comb through the braids with your fingers to separate them,” you instructed. You did have a wide-toothed comb specifically meant for separating braids, but you were certainly not going to pass up the opportunity to have his hands in your hair again.

He reached for the first braid – the largest – and hooked his fingers into its base. “Please, tell me if I hurt you.”

“You won’t. I know it.”

“Your confidence is all I need,” he laughed, and began to pull his hand away. The braid spilt past his fingers with an ease you had rarely been fortunate enough to see before. So did the next, and the next, until your hair was once more free to spill down your back.

“Now I brush it?” Aemond asked, reaching for the silver-backed brush on the vanity.

But you stood before he could reach it, turning to him and pushing him slightly away. “You did well enough with your fingers that brushing is unnecessary. And… I know you are eager.” You had felt the hard evidence of it against your back as he stood behind you.

“I am,” he said, “but there are other things I must do first.” He cupped your face gently, his thumb slowly swiping over your cheekbone. His eye was focused solely on your lips but filled with apprehension. And as you watched the slight pursing of his mouth, the tightening of his jaw, and the slightest furrow of his brow, you were confident that you understood exactly what he was thinking.

Funny, he had been reading your thoughts for so long. Now, it seemed you had finally caught up with him.

“You don’t have to ask,” you whispered. “You may kiss me – I want you to kiss me.”

There was a flash of elated surprise, followed by a moment of anxiety, fueled by his desperate desire that tonight not be like before. The last time he had done this, you had shied away from him, asked that he not do the one thing he had been most desperate to do.

You could read it all on his face as clearly as the words in his diary.

So, you decided to ease his anxieties yourself. Seizing the lapels of his doublet, you pulled him down to you and kissed him.

It was far from perfect. You had been overzealous and pulled him with too much force, causing your teeth to clash together as your lips connected.

Neither of you was deterred. Aemond’s hand wrapped around the back of your neck, holding you steady as he kissed, and kissed, and kissed you.

It was like you were dancing – he led, and you followed. When he pressed forward, you allowed him to do so, leaning back to give him the room he needed while still holding him close. When he softly urged your lips to part with his tongue, you offered no resistance. And when he slid one arm around your waist to pull you flush against him, you ran your hand up his chest and into his hair, tugging slightly as you tried to draw him ever closer.

At that, Aemond moaned.

Instinctively, you pulled back, breaking the kiss. It was probably due to end soon anyways – both of you were panting and out of breath.

“What happened?” he asked, his face flashing between confusion and hurt. “What did I do wrong?”

“You did nothing wrong. I did!” You ran your hand out of his hair and held it up as though he could see the evidence upon it. “I hurt you; I apologise.”

Aemond smiled broadly and pulled you in for another kiss. “You did not hurt me,” he whispered when he pulled back. “I made that sound because I enjoyed it.”

“Oh!”

“I assure you,” he said as he guided your hand back into his hair, “you have my enthusiastic permission to continue.” Then he pulled you back in and kissed you again, and again, and again.

You decided that you very much liked kissing your husband, even when he slipped his tongue into your mouth. It was not the most pleasant of sensations for you but one you were willing to become accustomed to so long as it brought him pleasure.

It would have been very easy to stay like that all night, but you had endured putting this complicated gown on again for a reason – for Aemond.

So, with no minor difficulty, you pulled away from him, smiling when he moved to follow you.

“No, no,” you scolded playfully. “Before we continue, I insist you help me out of my dress.”

“Of course,” he answered, his voice nearly breaking with desperation. “Anything you ask of me, I will do.”

You turned slowly away from him and lifted your hair over one shoulder, exposing the lacing on the back of the gown. “Then I ask that you untie me, husband.”

He said nothing, but you felt him approach. Felt the heat of him just behind you and the ghost of his fingers at the base of your neck. You felt the light pressure as he gripped the white satin ribbon with one hand but not the other…

The other he wound around your waist to pull you closer, so that he could plant a chaste kiss against the side of your neck. You shivered at the sensation – the warmth slowly fading as he pulled back.

“I know we are both impatient,” he murmured against your skin, “but I want to savour this moment. Please, allow me to take my time.”

You raised an arm to draw him back to your lips. This kiss was not as hungry as the others. It was soft, sweet, and slow. “Take however long you need, Aemond. I am not going anywhere.”

And take his time he did. With every eyelet he unlaced, he kissed your neck again. As he lowered the sleeves one at a time, he kissed a path from your shoulder to your hands. When he untied your stockings, he rubbed the same soothing circles on your thighs that had once made you desperate for his touch.

Then suddenly, you were only in your shift, the chill of the night air prickling against your skin.

Aemond stood and began to fiddle with the hem of your sleeve. “If you don’t want… If you want to keep this on, I won’t mind.”

“I want this, I promise,” you guided his hand away from the sleeve and down toward the hem, ensuring he came quite close to the space between your thighs. “It’s easier to remove from the bottom.”

He seized the hem and lifted, before pressing his forehead to yours and kissing you again. “I love you. And I ask that you only say it back should you really, truly mean it. With all your heart.”

You knew he wanted to hear it, despite his words. His eye was too pleading, too filled with hope. And though you wanted to say it, just to make him happy, you couldn’t. Not will all your heart, at least. Aemond deserved for it to be true.

So instead, you kissed him, lacing your fingers with his to finally remove the shift and bare yourself to him.

If he minded the diversion, he did not say. In fact, given that you then watched his eye dilate as he looked down at your body, you were fairly confident that he didn’t mind at all. And you were very confident that he loved your breasts, as they were where his gaze always returned to.

“May I…?” he asked breathlessly, his hand floating just above your heart. But at this moment, it was not your heart he wanted, but what lay just beneath it.

Aemond didn’t hesitate to cup your breast in his large hand, covering it completely. Though his touch was warm, your nipples went taut as he slowly massaged one breast, then the other. He tested several different ways of holding them, of applying pressure to them, and even experimented with pinching your peaked nipples – for which you quickly put a limit on how tightly he could do so.

After a moment, he licked his lips and looked up at you for permission. A nod was all he needed to bend down and take your breast into his mouth, laying sloppy kisses all over their surface before rolling his tongue lazily over your nipples.

You had enjoyed all his ministration thus far, but that?

That had your head lolling back as you moaned his name, a moan you were not given the chance to finish before his mouth was again on yours – possessive and wanting.

“Get on the bed,” he panted, a far more passionate entreaty than it had been on your wedding night, and you were far more confident.

You resisted his attempts to pull you closer to the bed, and when he leaned in to try and ply you with more kisses, you countered by nipping the tip of his nose – lightly, but hard enough to get his attention.

“Please,” he begged, ‘please get on the bed.”

“I will, Aemond.” He whined at the breathy way you said his name, tightening his grip on your hips. “First, let me remove your clothes.”

His eye was so dilated you could hardly see any purple and more than half-lidded with lust, but he obeyed, taking a single step away after giving your soft flesh a little squeeze. “Start with the belt, then the doublet, then – ”

“I am fairly confident I can figure out how to remove your clothes,” you teased. Though it soon became clear your confidence was unfounded.

Just undoing the knot on his belt took far longer than you expected. He only laughed when you frustratedly asked why he needed to knot his belt when it already had a perfectly good buckle. Fortunately, the buckles on his doublet were far simpler, though they were small enough to still delay you.

When at last you were able to throw the damned doublet and belt aside, you took your frustrations out on his neck, kissing it with such enthusiasm that you nearly pushed him over. After that display of lust, Aemond was quick to assist you with his shirt and trousers.

The moment he was as bare as you, he tried to pull you onto the bed, but again, you resisted. You had only once seen him nude, but you had not been in the mood to admire his form then. Now, you were mesmerised by the sight before you.

A long neck leading to powerful shoulders, long arms that ended in long fingers, a long, lithe torso with many divots you longed to explore, and long, slender legs corded with muscle. Every single part of him was long. Especially…

“In your diagrams, you only included the female anatomy,” you mused as you approached him, eyes locked on his flushed, hard cock. “I feel I am at a significant disadvantage, since I don’t know – ” You shrieked as Aemond grabbed you by the waist and carried you to the bed, depositing you squarely in the middle before crawling over you and peppering your face with tender kisses.

“Believe me, it is far simpler with men,” he laughed as he descended down your chest. “I doubt you will need any formal instruction.”

Formulating a witty enough response was nearly impossible as he trailed his mouth down and down. Between your breasts, over your stomach, and then –

Then nothing. Aemond sat between your spread legs, lifting your hips to rest slightly on his knees. The grin he flashed was nothing short of pure evil. He held your gaze as he took his thumb briefly into your mouth before bringing it down to that little button at the top of your sex, only long enough to bring you a moment of pleasure before he slipped it further down to part your slick folds.

“Gods,” he sighed, swiping his thumb over your entrance to collect as much fluid as he could before bringing it back to circle your pearl agonisingly slowly. “I’d hoped you’d be wet, but… I never expected this.”

You bucked your hips, trying to get him to go faster, press harder, something. Until now, you had only ever had the briefest tastes of pleasure, but now you craved more. You craved him.

“Please, Aemond!” you squealed as he finally pressed his thumb down harder.

“Give me a moment, my dear,” he said smugly. “I thought it would take longer to get you to this point. I’m having to reassess my plan.”

“Fuck your plan!” you shouted, more helplessly than you intended, judging by Aemond’s answering laugh. “Please, just do something – anything!”

“I am doing something!” he countered, emphasising his point by quickening his movements. “And it looks to me as though you’re enjoying it.”

Damn it, you were. But still, it wasn’t enough. You squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back against the pillow, moaning incoherently.

“Oh, my poor darling,” Aemond cooed, “you really are desperate, aren’t you?”

You felt tears prickle in your eyes as you nodded furiously, only managing to again say “please.”

He slowed his thumb to a stop and crawled back over you, until your faces were level. “Open your eyes, love.” You obeyed, and were rewarded with a soft kiss on your forehead. “Good girl. I’m going to give you more now, but you must promise that if it hurts or if it gets to be too much, you must tell me. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” you squeaked pathetically.

Aemond kissed you one last time before he retook his position between your legs, once more gathering your slick on his pointer finger before slowly – so, so slowly – pushing it inside you. It was a different feeling from his cock; not quite as pleasurable, but the discomfort on entry was far less.

“Is that alright?” he asked, and you nodded. “I’m going to move it now. Please tell me when I’ve found the correct spot.”

You didn’t have a chance to respond before he crooked his finger and found that ‘spot.’ The one he wrote about in his diary, the one that brought nearly the same pleasure as your pearl.

Aemond’s studying has undoubtedly paid off.

Your back arched so dramatically that he had to anchor you to the bed with his free hand on your hip. “There it is,” he crooned, utterly prideful, “do you want me to keep going?” You answered with a slew of yeses that blended into a happy hissing sound, then turned into a loud moan as he inserted another finger into you, crooking it along with the other to massage that magical little spot. “You’re doing so well, my love.”

You were too engulfed in your pleasure that you hardly even noticed the new term of endearment. All you knew was his fingers inside you, stoking a fire that burned brighter, brighter, brighter.

Everything felt hot, and soon a sheen of sweat covered your skin. You took a deep breath, angling your hips almost unconsciously, but in a way that somehow heightened your pleasure enough for your body to shake. There was tension in every muscle, a delightful tension that had you clenching your fists in the sheets and curling your toes to try and relieve. It built and built, focusing on where Aemond was touching you, where his fingers went in and out and pressed and stroked.

It was too much. Your body couldn’t possibly endure this. This was where you had always stopped when you were exploring on your own – this was past that point, and Aemond was only taking you further and further.

“Aemond, please,” you begged. What for, you didn’t know. You didn’t want him to stop, but you were afraid to discover what would happen next.

He sped his movements, watching your face with a heart-stopping intensity in his eye. “Don’t hold it in, love,” he said, splaying his free hand across your stomach. “Give into it, let it go, release.”

The word may well have been a command, for the moment he finished speaking, you let go. Lightning coursed through you, and all your limbs froze and went numb for a moment that felt like it lasted a whole year. The tension dissipated, and all of a sudden you could breathe again, feel again, think again.

“Was that…?”

Aemond’s thumb stroked your belly, the delicate touch making you realise that he had removed his fingers from you and now held them just before his lips. “It was your peak, my love.” Never looking away from you, he took the fingers that were inside you into his mouth, sucking on them as if they were the sweetest candied lemons. “Forgive me, but I think I’d like another.”

It happened so quickly. One moment, he was kneeling between your legs. The next, Aemond had pushed you further up the bed so he could lay on his stomach and drape your legs over his shoulders, his hands holding your rear as he pulled you up until your cunt was pressed to his mouth.

Your hands flew into his hair, simultaneously tugging at it and yet trying to pull him closer. His tongue was surely some kind of miracle. How else would it feel so wonderful as he licked up every drop of moisture between your thighs before pressing into your core?

More miraculous still was his nose, for every time he pushed deeper, it pressed against your pearl, rubbed against it each time he angled his head. He quickly noticed what, exactly, was driving you wild, and took to shaking his head back and forth to make you scream – and scream you did.

“Gods, Aemond, please!” You cried as the delicious tension returned, still crackling with electricity. This was far more intense than his fingers had been, and far faster to take you to that place where you had nearly no control over your own body.

Nearly no control. Some instinct deep within you, which had no purpose but to seek animalistic pleasure, took hold of you. Your hand in his hair tightened so hard he again moaned, sending vibrations through you that nearly pushed you over the edge of your pleasure. But what finally sent you tumbling over was when he allowed you to pull him up until his lips latched around your pearl, and after several long, lingering licks of his tongue, he hummed, and you screamed anew.

When you opened your eyes again, Aemond was once more hovering above you, looking at you as though your reddened, sweaty face was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. You were certain that guards would come streaming into the chambers at the sound, swords drawn, but none did. It was still only you and your husband. He seemed entirely content, but when you glanced down at his cock, you found it so flushed that you were sure it hurt.

“I should…” your voice faded as you reached down to touch the heavy length of him. “I don’t know how, but you could show me.”

Aemond smiled softly, his half-lidded eye seeming to glaze over for a moment. “Another time, I would like nothing more. But tonight…” He leaned down to press a slow, lust-filled kiss to your swollen lips and rested his forehead against yours when he finally withdrew. “Please don’t make me wait any longer, my love.”

Eagerly, you nodded. You were absolutely resolved to learn how to pleasure him – with your hands and mouth–. Still, it seemed a daunting task, and your body was aching to find out what Aemond could do once he was inside you.

So, you did not argue as he reached down to align himself with your entrance. But he did not yet push forward. Supporting himself with one arm, he gave you another short kiss and stroked your hair.

“I promise,” he whispered, “it will be better this time.”

You leaned into his touch and shifted your hips to try and draw him closer. When Aemond hesitated again, you looked into his eye and raised a hand to cup his cheek. “I know it will. Now please, I don’t want to wait either.”

Then he buried himself inside you in one powerful thrust.

There was still a slight pinch of uncomfortable pressure at the start, but it did not last long. And compared to the pleasure it brought you, it was entirely inconsequential. You felt full in the most wonderful way, as if you had been missing something your whole life and finally found it. Warm, like he had lit a fire within you that would burn for the rest of your days. Safe, as though nothing could ever harm you again.

You felt right.

During that moment of stillness, where you both adjusted to the feeling of joining, you buried your face in Aemond’s neck. There was nothing but him, his silver hair blocking the rest of the world from view as his scent enveloped you. Perhaps you could just stay like this forever. That was a delightful thought. You nuzzled further into him as you let out a sigh of contentment.

Aemond tensed and whispered your name. “Does it hurt? Did I not prepare you well enough?”

“No,” you replied, still not pulling away. As the desperate need for even more closeness began to well up in your chest, you wrapped the hand that was cupping his cheek around his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin for how tightly you held him. “It just… it feels – you feel amazing. I wish it had always felt like this.”

“It will now,” Aemond replied, turning to place a kiss atop your head. He, too, sought to bring you closer. He brought his hand down to your waist and pulled you up so that your chests met and moved together as you breathed together. “I promise it will always feel this good. Perhaps better, once we practice a little more.”

“Oh yes!” you squeaked, finally dropping your head back to the pillow so you could look at him. “Let’s do lots of practice!”

With a laugh, he raised his brows in mock questioning. “Might I suggest we start now?”

Words escaped you for a moment, and all you could do was nod vigorously, like a child that had just been offered a whole tray of cakes. Your agreement and excitement seemed to delight Aemond, causing him to smile so wide his eyes crinkled. You instantly decided that you wanted to see that smile every day. Every hour. Every minute. For that smile was brighter than the sun itself.

“Put your legs around me, love,” he instructed, curling his hand around your thigh to guide you. Once you were positioned exactly how he wanted you, he pulled himself slightly closer to the headboard and leaned in for one last kiss, stopping just above your lips. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” you breathed against him, “so very ready.”

Aemond stayed in your bed all night, continuing to pleasure you until it was all you could do to keep your eyes open. Then, he stroked your hair while assuring you he was not leaving, which did not calm your panic when he got out of bed. But he soon returned, carrying a carafe of water and a damp towel. He murmured praises in your ear as he cleaned you and then himself, and commanded that you drink at least one full glass of water before you fell asleep.

You obeyed and afterwards fell asleep tucked into his chest. The next morning, you did not remember your last words to your husband before you drifted off, but he certainly did.

“I’m sorry I can’t say I love you,” you’d whispered, only half-awake, “but if you give me some time, I’m sure I can.”

Those words echoed through his mind as he slept, dreaming of a life where he would not have to walk halfway across the castle to reach his separate rooms. Where he could sleep like this, with his arms around you, every night. Where when he told you he loved you, you would respond in kind.

A dream he hoped he could live very soon. But until then, he would give you all the time you needed.

Waking from that dream was nearly a nightmare in itself, until he looked over and saw you still in his arms, still fast asleep. Your hair was a mess, and your nose was scrunched as you dreamed, but he loved every bit of it. He told you as much when you finally awoke.

When you insisted on following him to his rooms so you could attend the morning meal together, he did not protest. He loved watching you look around each chamber, your mind racing as you imagined how you would decorate the blank walls. He loved that, too.

What he did not love was that when you walked into the dining room, hand in hand, Aegon instantly perked up in his chair. His eyes darted between you and Aemond with dizzying speed before he raised his brows and mouthed, “Did she come?”

Aemond only glared at him, but you smiled and nodded, then held up seven fingers.

Begrudgingly, he loved that, too.

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on-leatheredwings · 1 month

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i've found your account only a few days ago but ever since then I've been STUCK here rereading your fanfics, especially ones with damian. i wasn't even a dc fan (heard about some stuf, watched some films and cartoons, but that's it) but now im reading comics since im Obsessed and need more batboys in my life (rip my productivity😔)

Anyway, after Sleepover i'm curious what will Bruce (and maybe even Thalia) think of batboys strange behaviour towards reader. He's smart, so he definitely notices it early on, but how he'll react....

I can see him being weirded out (like he was by Jason's anger issues, before his death), but he also can be an enabler, since Robin (literaly any of them) had a hard life, so if those relationships can help him why not pretend that everything is normal? you'll be safer in a Wayne's Manor anyway

All in all, thanks for a new hyperfixation 💞💞

P.s. About games:

1. Boyfriend to death 1&2 - since you're into yanderes you might want to check this game out. I prefer the second game, but the first is also fun. But beware the trigger warnings!!

2. Long live the Queen - more of a raising sim than dating sim but you still can romance some guys and girls.

,3. Hatoful Boyfriend - mostly a comedy, but there is a yandere.

4. The Royal Trap - it's been a long time since i played it, but it used to be one of my favorites so i'll just mention it.

5. Higurashi - once again not really a romance sim, but its an interesting horror mixed with a slice of life

;A; AWWWW THANK YOU IM SO HAPPY YOU LIKE MY STUFF.... THAT MAKES ONE OF US GIJSDOFAFGHFOJDSD

and yes yes get into DC!!! (girl who hasnt even read a full run since like. injustice)

damn now you got me thinking and excited. incoming spiel

i agree entirely about bruce just knowing how Bad things can get, so to make things simpler, he's like "yes, your darling(s) can stay in the manor, boys. 🙄"

mmm yes..... when it comes to bruce noticing the batboys are yandere, i think it's always sinfully delightful to just have him be reluctantly okay with it. 😈 it's also easier narratively ngl but i also like the idea that the batfam is all just corrupted.

bruce's thoughts are that they (his sons) fight for vengeance and justice but this is where they could use some leeway.... we all need our vice... they fight so hard for gotham, they deserve a little treat (getting rid of your human rights)... it's very "Dad who wants his sons to have happiness even if its not healthy" of him. in fics where bruce is a yandere, well, he's the exact same way so he can't judge. although if that's the case, i like the idea of bruce just being like "yes what we do isn't right. let's not talk about it. just don't kill <3"

still wondering what i like more. a yan!bruce who's self aware what he's doing is wrong but he just refuses to think about it. or a yan!bruce that justifies it all because of his paranoia, Tower of Babel style (if you don't know, that's when it's revealed batman has plans to subdue/kill the justice league just in case they go rogue.)

for the batboys depends on their personality... for damian, he's so resolute in things that i prefer when he just believes 100% what he's doing is okay, if not actually righteous. ^_^

hmmm talia.... I'M STILL UNSURE HOW I PREFER THAT AS WELL... i think talia being a you-arent-good-enough-for-my-son mom is a little cliche but also. she kinda would say that. you'd have to prove your worth somehow but idk how tf darling would do that LOL. in the end, i think talia is just relieved/comforted that her son indeed feels desire and wants love and will continue the family legacy (regardless if youre afab/can biologically have children.)

no THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!!! AND THANKS FOR RECS!!!! heheh yeah ive checked out btd and im not averse to the warnings its more like im not that most of into the designs ngl. fox guy seems cute? AND LMAO FUNNY BC IM ON A HIGURASHI REWATCH (never played it tho)

#yandere batfam #ask

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jeanboyjean · 4 months

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PART 1: First Impressions

a/n: guys doing a chaptered fic is so hard bc u have to plan everything. ive outlined this one + written some of the next parts so this is part 1/10 (I think). see masterlist for synopsis + each part as they get updated. wc: 4.5k MASTERLIST | AO3

A warm breeze tickles your skin as you step onto campus, the atmosphere thick with the restless buzz of first day jitters. The sun is well and truly shining today, clear blue skies with not a cloud in sight. You have to admit, it’s a gorgeous day.

Of course, it hadn’t started out that way. The first thing you had heard in the morning had been the unwelcome sound of your alarm, jolting you awake at the pleasant hour of six o’clock. It had taken all of your willpower to drag yourself out of bed after giving yourself a half hour leeway to snooze. It’d been two months since summer break first started and you really had gotten used to having the free time to laze around and relax, going to bed late at night and waking up whenever you pleased. Now, it’s the first day back at Uni, back to reality and it’s like being splashed by a bucket of ice cold water over your head.

The morning is a blur as you rush to get ready and leave on time after staying in bed a few minutes too long. This year you’re living with your childhood friend Mikasa again. The two of you had moved together from your hometown of Shiganshina for University two years ago, along with Eren and Armin, the other two in your tight knit friend group. You’ve managed to snag a small two bedroom townhouse close enough to Uni that you’ll be in close proximity to everything you need for the year. Even better, you’re lucky enough that Eren and Armin have managed to sign a lease for another unit right next door. It just feels right that all of you stick together, their presence a slice of home that you hold near and dear to your heart. Unlike you, Mikasa is a morning person. A note on your kitchen bench tells you she's already up at the gym and she'll be home later for dinner. You shake your head and make a face - that could never be you.

You decide to take a detour on your walk to campus and the first thing you do when you leave your place is stop by your favourite coffee shop. There’s just no way to avoid it. You're going to need some caffeine today, something to breathe the life back into you. Honestly, you had been dreading this day since the start of your break, a persistent doomsday countdown always nagging in the back of your head. At this very moment, there’s nothing you want more than to be still in bed, dreaming away the morning with no responsibilities or stress.

You have fifteen minutes until your first class starts by the time you make it to campus. Although the sprawling buildings are a familiar sight, a small knot of dread ties itself in your gut. You always forget how much you associate with a place until you’re back. Now that you're here again, you can't help but relive the past trauma. You pass by a bench you remember you sat on when you got your grades back for that one assignment you spent hours and lost years of your lifespan for, only to be rewarded with a sad B minus. A shiver rolls over your body at the memory - that was not a good day at all. The old faithful library where you’ve spent countless nights staring at your notes, willing the information to absorb into your brain, is ever present in your peripheral vision as you make your way across the great lawn.

Laughter erupts from a group of students sitting on the grass a few metres away from you and tinny pop music blares from a small speaker next to them. Reunions are happening around you, arms being thrown around shoulders and chatter bubbling away as your peers catch up with each other after the weeks apart. Despite the apprehension of being back at Uni, you're also excited to finally reunite with some friends yourself. You glance down at your phone lock screen - five minutes to go. A light breeze rustles your hair as you hurry your pace towards your destination, the science building.

You’re out of breath by the time you make it up the steps and push open the doors to the building. It’s your third year of being a biomedical science student at the University of Mitras and it never ceases to amaze you how large the campus can feel sometimes. There are always moments where you start getting used to the expansive grounds and then you’ll be caught off guard by a towering building with grand architecture and you’re reminded not to take things for granted.

You bring your phone up to your face again to quickly check your room in your timetable. Room 201. A sigh of relief escapes you; you’ve had classes there before. Despite almost having lived in this area of campus for the past couple years with the number of hours you'd spent here, it’s still a maze of corridors and you know from experience it’s not hard at all to find yourself getting lost. You race up the stairs to the second floor and, always a creature of habit, you take your seat in the same spot as you always had - third row, furthest to the left.

Voices chatter away in the room and your fellow students gradually pour in in a steady stream, taking their own seats. You exchange smiles and waves with the faces you recognise. Most of you have shared multiple classes with each other since by this point in your degree, you’re all pretty much on a similar track.

A warm smile, bright as sunshine, greets you across the room and you straighten in your seat, waving enthusiastically. Your friend, Historia, who you had met as lab partners last year hurries over to you. Grinning, she stops short in front of your desk, dropping her bag down on the seat next to you.

“Oh my God! I missed you!” She squeals, arms flinging open wide to capture you in a hug.

You get up and squeeze her tight in a warm hug. “It’s so good to see you again! How was your summer?”

“It was great,” she sighs wistfully. “I wish it wasn’t over yet. How about you?”

She pulls her bag off her shoulder and sets it down on the desk next to yours. Sitting down, she begins pulling her laptop and iPad out of her bag to get ready for class. The two of you jabber away, catching up on the events of the past few months. Every summer since you moved to Mitras, you’ve gone back to your hometown to stay with your parents. Meanwhile, Historia had stayed in Mitras with her girlfriend Ymir and they’ve finally moved in together.

“Ymir let me decorate the whole place,” She giggles. “Even the bedding and couch cushions.”

“I bet it looks amazing,” You say sincerely.

“You should come over and visit! We were thinking of doing a housewarming party now that everyone’s back in town.”

Excited by the idea, you eagerly nod in agreement. A party sounds like a great way to start off the new year. The lecture room looks like it’s finally filled with students and when you look towards the front, you see the short stature of your lecturer Levi Ackermann as he finishes getting set up for class. Silence falls across the room when he gently taps on the microphone, signalling for attention.

“Alright class. This is Biology 310. It’s 9:00 am now so we’re going to get started. Anyone who’s not supposed to be in this class please leave now.”

Levi carries on, outlining the content the course would be covering for the rest of semester. It all sounds pretty standard to you, having been in his classes before, but it's a definite step up in terms of course load. You’re already dreading the amount of study you’re going to need to do to make sure you don’t drown in stress by the time exams roll around. Straightening up, you make sure to pay extra attention when he starts explaining the grading structure, starting with a weekly pop quiz, followed by four tests spread out throughout the term.

“You will be pleased to hear there is no final exam for this course,” Levi’s low, gravelly voice travels across the room.

Your eyebrows raise in surprise and you turn to Historia. No final exam? You mouth at her and she shrugs.

“Instead, you will have a final project that will be comprised of findings from your labs over the next few months and a final presentation. This will be a group project in pairs of my choosing.”

Dread fills your body at his words and you try not to sigh as you slump down in your chair. Group projects have got to be the worst thing ever, a torture form created by the gods of education just in case you weren’t already struggling enough in your academic pursuits. Even better is the fact that you won’t even be able to choose who to partner with. In every piece of collaborative work you’ve ever done, there’s always been that one asshole that refuses to do their part and you’ve always been the one to pick up the slack. 40% of your grade , you hear Levi say and you groan inwardly, already fearing for the worst.

At the podium, Levi presses a button on his laptop and the projector screen lights up with a chart filled with names, grouped together in twos.

“This is who you will be partnered with for the rest of the semester. I don’t want to hear any whinging and moaning about this because I’ve planned everything deliberately. I’m going to call out your names, put your hand up when you hear yours so you know where they are. When I’m done you can move over to sit together.”

He starts listing off the names with haste, barely looking up to confirm the pairings have identified each other before moving on to the next. You’re tense with anticipation as you wait for him to call out your name, eager to find out who you would be working with. Finally, you hear him say your name into the microphone and you perk up.

“... you will be with Jean Kirstein.”

Hand in the air, you turn around searching for his location. Your eyes fall on a man with light brown hair in a shaggy mullet, sitting a few rows behind you in the middle. His eyes meet yours and his hand lifts to give a small wave. You point your finger at yourself then around to him, signalling that you would move back to him.

Quietly, you pack up your things into your bag and wait. When Levi finishes rattling off the names, you push back and scurry over to Jean’s desk, plopping down next to him.

“Hey,” you begin, smiling warmly. You introduce yourself to him, holding out your hand for him to shake.

He just blinks at you blankly before the edges of his lips lift in what honestly looks like a small grimace. “I’m Jean.”

“Nice to meet you, Jean,” you reply, smile a little strained now with his chilly reception. You drop your hand awkwardly and wipe your clammy palms on your thighs. “How exciting that we’re going to be partners, huh?”

Ice runs through your veins when Jean winces at your words, actually groaning out loud. “Yeah, great. We’re partners.”

What the hell? Although his reaction stings a little, you try to shake it off. You're a natural people pleaser and one of your fatal flaws is that you always want to give off a good impression and give people the benefit of the doubt. You clear your throat and reach for your phone. “Guess we’re going to be spending a lot of time together now. How about we swap numbers so we can get in contact with each other?”

Jean gives a small nod and accepts the phone you’re offering to him. As he enters in his digits, you shift in your chair, a little uncomfortable with his cold demeanour.

"So, what’s your major?” You ask, cautiously.

“Biomed.”

“Oh, cool! Me too.”

His eyes flicker up to meet you and he wordlessly hands back your phone.

“You also pre-med?” You ask him.

He just nods in response. Your fingers tap a restless rhythm onto the desk surface, about ready to take flight. The low hum of voices fill the room as your fellow classmates get to know each other and prepare for the upcoming semester. The silence between you and Jean, however, is thick and unrelenting. You wonder what could possibly be his problem. Sure, you’ve seen him in classes before but you've never had the chance to interact. There’s no reason why he should be acting like such a dick towards you. It’s just your luck to be paired with the one person who seems to have something against you. Fuck group projects.

You sneak another glance at Jean sitting next to you. He’s leaning back in his chair, legs extended in front of him between his desk and the seat in front, taking up the walking space as if it belongs to him. He’s tapping away at his laptop keyboard and curiosity gets the better of you as you lean in a little closer to see his screen.

“What are you doing?” You ask, leaning your weight half off your seat as you crane your neck towards him.

At your words, his head snaps to you and your eyes meet. Your breath catches in your throat. Somehow, you’ve ended up face to face with him and up close you feel like you’re really seeing him for the first time. His eyes are locked on yours - amber with flecks of light honey. The world seems to slow for a moment as you stare at him, all of a sudden a deer trapped in headlights. You blink and clear your throat, leaning further away from him until you feel safe enough from the magnetism of his presence.

“Jean?”

He straightens. The faintest hint of pink tinges the tips of his ears. “W-what?”

“I asked you what you’re doing?”

“Oh.” He turns back to his laptop, shifting the screen slightly so it’s easier for you to see. “I was just making an outline for this class … so I know what assignments we have and when they’re due and stuff.”

A quick glance reveals a tidy table with colour coded headings and columns, half filled with empty spaces yet to be filled. You can’t help but feel a little taken aback. True, you don’t know anything about him but from first glance with his worn jeans and scruffy shoes, table empty except for his laptop, no notebooks or stationery in sight, he doesn’t really seem like the organised, neat freak type to you. He must be able to read the surprise on your face because his lips tug down and he lets out a scoff.

“What? Didn’t think I would be someone to take my studies seriously?”

Huh, the fuck?

You recoil. In an instant your body becomes as rigid as ice while your wide eyes snap to him in shock. “No! Why would you say that?” you question him, completely flabbergasted.

He just shakes his head, the displeased expression remaining on his face. “Whatever.”

You just sit there dumbstruck, completely lost by what’s just happened. Did you miss something? Did you do something? Why does he hate you so much? Possible scenarios race through your mind of potential ways you could have offended him, but nothing sticks. There’s honestly nothing you can think of to warrant this reaction from him.

In your head you try to hype yourself up (It’s just one project - you can do it!) but the unease remains as you slump into your chair and groan internally when you remember that yes it’s one project, but it's worth 40% of your grade. As a pre-med student, you feel the weight of every percent and you’re barely holding on as it is. A memory of your father lecturing you about the importance of your grades flashes in your mind and you wince. If your grades drop even slightly this year it's going to be all over for you. This predicament had the potential to well and truly be the straw that broke the camel’s back.

At the front of the room, you watch as Levi leans forward into the microphone again. Your peers quieten around you when he speaks, his amplified voice booming from the speakers.

“Alright guys. That’s all the time we have for today. First lab’s on Wednesday. Any problems, just email me.”

At that, the tables around you burst in a flurry of movement as you all pack your things and get ready to move to your next classes. You shove your laptop into your tote bag and sling the straps over your shoulder. You’re about to get up when you pause, remembering Jean sitting next to you. Stiffly, you turn towards him and open your mouth, unsure of what to say to him.

“Well … I’ll see you in the lab,” you manage awkwardly.

Jean shoots a quick glance at you and nods once. “Yeah, see you.”

Alright then. You turn away with a grimace. A gut feeling tells you this semester is going to be a real shitshow. As you walk away, you try to conjure up happy thoughts in an effort to erase the dark cloud currently hanging over you. Ahead of you, Historia waves to get your attention as you make your way to the doorway and she waits patiently for you to catch up.

“Bio 320 next?” She asks, linking arms with you and leaning her head onto your shoulder.

“Yup. We’re lucky it’s just down the hall. Let’s go,”

As you start walking, the phantom weight of a pair of eyes on the back of your head urges you to turn around. When you glance over your shoulder, you catch Jean staring at you. From the distance, you can't make out his expression, but he has his head resting in his hand with his arm leaning on his desk. His eyes lock on yours and you can tell there’s no smile on his face. Your legs root to the ground as you both freeze momentarily, eyes wide. He's the first to break, quickly snapping his head away to look down at his phone. You watch the way his hair falls to hang in front of his eyes and his leg bounces restlessly as he feigns interest in whatever is on his screen.

Historia tugs your arm, shaking you from where you stand frozen with your head pointed towards his direction. There’s a slight pinch when she pokes a sharp nail hard into your shoulder. You reach up to rub at the sore spot and shoot her a look.

“Ow, what the hell?” You yelp, glaring daggers at her.

She rolls her eyes and pulls your arm again. It causes you to stumble a little in her direction. “Quit staring and let’s go.”

“I wasn't staring,” you grumble, but your feet finally unroot themselves and you follow her lead towards the next room.

“Yes you were … and I don't blame you. You got so lucky getting paired with Jean Kirstein. He's so smart, you’re going to have such an easy time with this project.” Her eyes light up and there’s a cheeky lift to her lips when she speaks her next words. “Plus he's not bad on the eyes right?”

You make a face at her. “I don't feel very lucky right now. I think the guy has it out for me or something. What’s the point in being smart if you’re a righteous dick”

Historia snickers. A hand comes up to cover her mouth when she sees your disgruntled look but it’s to no avail because she can’t stop giggling. “Trust you to get on his bad side already,” she says between her tittering. “I talked to him last year once in a lab and he seemed really nice.”

You huff and pull away from her, crossing your arms in front of your chest. Great, so it’s personal then. For some reason, this Jean guy must actually genuinely dislike you. Whatever. It doesn't phase you. He can glare as much as he wants and do his best to intimidate you or whatever it is he seems to be trying but it won't matter. At the end of the day, you're here to do the work and get the grades and he can continue being his miserable self if he pleases.

The two of you walk into your next class and take your seats. You sigh as you pull out your laptop again, settling in for another lecture. It's only the first day but you're already counting down the hours until you get to go home.

By the time you get home after your first day, you’re exhausted. It always takes some time for you to adjust to the routine of sitting in hours of classes and labs when you first get back from break. You kick off your shoes and drop your bag down on the floor as you shut the door behind you. The aroma of cooking spices wafts around you, getting stronger and stronger until you see Mikasa standing in the kitchen. A pot filled with a thick liquid bubbles in front of her as she slowly stirs it with a wooden spoon.

“It smells delicious in here,” you tell her enthusiastically, waving your hands towards your nose as you do an exaggerated inhale. “Whatcha making?”

Mikasa looks over her shoulder and smiles. “Japanese curry and rice. Is that okay?”

“Of course! I’ll eat whatever you make, Chef.” You lean next to her and peer into the pot. “That looks good. Need any help?”

She nudges your shoulder and slaps your hand away playfully when you reach for the spoon. She waves her hands, as if shooing away a fly hovering over a plate of food. “No, I’m fine. I’m pretty much done - just need to plate this up.”

You put your hands up in mock surrender and back away. Reaching into the cupboards above you, you grab a couple plates and pass them to Mikasa. She accepts them gratefully and begins scooping enough food to satisfy your appetites.

“How was your day?” You ask her as you both sit and dig in. Steam wafts from the curry, fresh off the stove and you’re careful to not let the hot food burn your mouth. “Mmm, this is really good Mikasa,” you say between mouthfuls.

She smiles. “Thanks. It was okay. Nothing exciting.”

Like you, Mikasa had started off as a science student too, but had soon realised halfway through her first semester that it just wasn’t for her. With her natural talents in athletics and martial arts, she had chosen to change to physical education instead. A part of you always feels a little jealous when you think about how easily she had made the change and stuck to it once she had made up her mind. If only you could change your major too, or drop out altogether. The dark cloud is back as you think back to the day you've had today. Without meaning to, your shoulders slump and you sag a little as you pick at your food. A bit of curry splashes out of your bowl when you scoop a little too forcefully.

Mikasa cocks her head to the side, looking at you with mild concern. “How about you?”

You roll your eyes and groan. “Where do I start … Got to my first class only to be told we have to do a stupid paired project and then of course my partner turns out to be a fucking weirdo who hates me for some reason.”

“Yikes … What do you mean by "hates you”?” She asks, fingers coming up to form air quotes.

“I don’t know!” You exclaim. “I’ve literally never met the guy before but he was acting like I killed his cat or something. I’ve never had someone be so hostile towards me before.”

“Would he be anyone that I know?”

“No, I doubt it. His name’s Jean and he’s a biomed major like me. I don’t think you would have ever met him.”

Mikasa shovels another spoonful into her mouth and hums in thought as she chews. Her eyebrows furrow slightly and her chewing pauses momentarily. “Jean … kind of sounds familiar” she mutters. “But you’re probably right, I doubt I would have met him.”

You shrug and pull a face. There’s a clang of metal as your spoon scrapes the bottom of the bowl. “He’s an asshole that’s for sure,” you grumble.

You finish off the last of your food and sit back, folding your arms over your chest. Across the table, Mikasa scrunches her nose at you as she eats. She’s scolded you in the past for eating too fast but it’s a bad habit picked up from having to fit in feeding yourself between cramming for exams. Her eyes study your sour face with humour as she swallows her mouthful.

“Wanna watch something? I can ask Eren and Armin what they’re up to. Would that cheer you up?”

Despite feeling a little like a child being given a new toy to distract from throwing a tantrum, you can’t help but brighten up a little at her proposal. A smile forms on your face and you nod enthusiastically.

“Yes! Might as well since we have nothing to study yet anyway.”

She claps her hands. “Okay then. Let me send a text to the group. I'm sure they're free.”

new notification in the 3 musketeers + eren

mama mika: where are you guys rn eren 😎: Just got done at the gym. Armin ☀️: How was your first day guys? mama mika: come over? movie marathon Armin ☀️: Oh no bad day? You: im stuck with an asshole all semester :/// i’ll tell you more later You: only a binge session with my faves will save me Eren 😎: K we’ll come. Eren 😎: Do you have food though I'm starving You: yeah mikasa made curry and it's chef's kiss Eren 😎: oh sweeeeet that sounds good Eren 😎: When are you cooking again? You: tomorrow :D why? Eren 😎: Cool. Remind me to eat before I come over tomorrow You: what the hell You: my food is great wtf you would be lucky to eat it Eren 😎: [sent a photo] Eren 😎: Why you lyin you: i hate you so much You: not like i offered anyway 🙄 you have changed the group name to eren hate club Eren 😎: why eren has changed the group name to eren fan club you have changed the group name to eren hate club Armin ☀️: Guys don't fight. We'll be there in 15 You: he started it You: yayyyy :)))) can you bring snacks? Eren 😎: We don’t have any You: :(((( you: wasn't asking u, dickhead Armin ☀️: We’ll grab some on the way! You: :DDD you: ok then see you soon 😘 you: i wanna watch fast and furious

Eren sent a photo of a pot with spaghetti on fire from when you last cooked for the team. It's only happened once in your life but he won't let it go.

Why does jean hate reader so much? 🤔 Surely he’s not someone that would intentionally be a dick for no reason. Stay tuned!!!

taglist: @honeybleed @cptnleviackerman @310802 @milky-aeons

#jean kirstein #attack on titan #jean x reader #jean kirschstein #jean kirstein x reader #aot x reader #✎ . chloe wrote smth

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