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throneofsapphics · 6 months

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the ebb and flow of fate part 2

(part one) (part three) (part four) (part five) (epilogue)

Cazriel x f!Reader

Summary: “Harmless” she repeated, an edge to her tone. Still, he sensed fear creeping into her. Good. A part of him thought. If he needed to be the one to put the fear into her for her own safety, he would do it gladly.

Word Count: ~6.3k

Warnings: smut, voyeurism, slight degradation?, light bondage, shadow play, oral (m!receiving), masturbation, nightmares, flashbacks, references to sa, stalking, injury, violence, brief mention of panic attacks, bad handling of trauma

A/N: i’ve rewritten this a ridiculous amount of times and i’m very nervous, I'm planning on about 5 parts!

Cassian shot her a wink the next morning. Thank the Mother only he and Azriel were around, because she turned bright red and nearly fled the room. Only the fantastic muffins in front of her kept her rooted to her seat. Mother knows she’d thought about it all last night, up until the early morning hours, hand between her legs trying to relieve some of that pressure. She had the distinct sensation they knew exactly what was running through her mind.

“Long night?” Azriel asked, mouth indenting at one corner.

“Is that your way of telling me I look like shit?”

Cassian let out a low chuckle and shook his head. Azriel crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair - amusement starting to grow on his stupidly beautiful face. She waited, seeing if they’d say anything else.

“Can you blame us for being … curious?” Cassian asked, sitting next to Azriel, pushing his chair a little too close to be just ‘friendly.’

She spotted Azriel’s arm shift, and a slight inhale from Cassian.

“Mother above,” she muttered and snatched her muffins. If she stayed any longer, she might get a bit too curious. She stalked out of the room, ignoring Cassian’s laugh following her.

She should’ve burnt them - tossed them in the trash or sidra, but each time she ripped the seal, unfolding the crisp parchment with shaky hands. With each one, her guilt at hiding them grew as well. They’d … changed, each one laced with a different threat. Not a threat, she reminded herself. The Night Court’s borders were impenetrable, and he was all the way in Autumn. Some kind of infatuation he would get over. She let out a low hiss as the page sliced the edge of her finger, bringing her finger to her mouth. Work, she had work to do, it would take her mind off this. Gods, she was already running late and if someone found out she bled on a book … thankfully the cut sealed itself within the next few minutes. Her eyes glanced at the clock, she’d have to for-go her usual walk and winnow.

Clotho’s pen floated as words appeared on the paper and she spotted the slight furrow of her brow beneath her hood. Something is bothering you.

“Nothing new.” She fidgeted, shifting on her feet as Clotho gave her an assessing look.

Merrill wants to see you. She didn’t bother hiding her groan, drawing a small smile from the priestess. Best of luck.

Merrill, after grilling her with questions on her latest findings, was surprisingly pleasant. As pleasant as she gets, and even offered her some different manuscripts and books she’d recently found that might interest Rhysand. She made sure to thank her, receiving a small nod in reply. Her feet carried her to the small nook on the fourth floor she’d claimed years ago, books piled up to her chin. A tripping hazard, that’s what she was.

Her mind wandered. A week ago, she’d seen Cassian and Azriel. A week since she’d spotted them that night, and the subtle teasing the following morning. Since then they’d both been gone. It wasn’t uncommon for them to be away for prolonged periods of time. Their absence didn’t exactly feel intentional, but the actions prior to it did. There’s no way Azriel hadn’t already noticed her out in the hallway, even if he was highly distracted by his current activity. She’d, embarrassingly, analyzed every detail of that moment. It was branded into her mind at this point. For research, of course, she reasoned to herself. The only conclusion she could come to, taking into account the next morning as well, is they wanted her to see it. They weren’t surprised, not one bit.

She’d taken her work home with her that night. It was getting to closing hours in the library, and the texts had caught her attention enough she didn’t want to stop. She barely paid any notice as she wandered in, settling down in the small Townhouse library and spreading her papers and books haphazardly over the table. A bit of magic propped two different texts open in front of her, and she put her pen back to the parchment already scribbled with notes. She’d have to transcript those into legible handwriting later.

Moments later, she felt a shift in the air around her - then a cool blade against her next. The scent was familiar, and she went still - all of her muscles freezing in place.

“You’re dead.” A cool voice said - no amusement or mirth present.

“I hate you.” She hissed.

A snort. “No you don’t.” The blade, thankfully left and she whirled around, shoving her chair out behind her, hoping it would hit the asshole. It didn’t, of course. He only leant against the window, one hand returning truth teller to its sheath. She wondered how many people got close to that blade without meeting their death - or a world of pain.

“Nice to see you too.”

His mouth quirked up at the corner. “I should tell Cassian how-”

“No.” She interrupted, “no you shouldn’t.”

He raised a brow. If he told Cassian, she’d be stuck in the training ring for hours tomorrow - up at some ungodly hour and miserable, all before work.

“Don’t tell Cassian what?” She yelped as he emerged from between the shelves. “We had a feeling you’d end up right here.” He teased. An ambush.

She groaned. “Is this your idea of ‘nice to see you’?”

He pretended to think about it, before crossing the room and wrapping his arms around her. Her feet left the floor as he squeezed most of the air out of her, the rest coming out as a wheezing, inelegant, laugh.

When he finally let her down, after spinning her enough times she was dizzy, she barely had enough time to catch her breath before Azriel wrapped her in his arms. She could only think about how good it felt to be with them, to have their arms wrapped around her - bodies pressed against hers. Even if the hug ran a few seconds too long to be purely friendly, she didn’t mind.

He released her, looking down at her with a softened gaze. Not quite a smile, but a definite improvement from him holding a knife to her throat.

“I missed you.” She said, before realizing just how close they were standing. She cleared her throat and took a step back. “How was your … trip?” She asked weakly, shifting her eyes between the two of them.

“Fine.” Azriel answered, just as Cassian said, “Miserable.”

She bit on her bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“And your week?” Azriel asked, and she understood the message - not something up for discussion.

“Boring,” she answered. Not wanting to say I missed you both, or I couldn’t stop thinking about you. She would not act like a pining schoolgirl. To their faces. But, her filter had its limits because she asked; “did you do that on purpose?” and fought her wince at her own words.

Azriel’s eyes flickered and from the corner of her eye she saw Cassian take a few steps towards him. “Do what?”

“You know.” She clenched her jaw. They know exactly what she’s talking about - especially based on Cassian’s grin.

“If you want to know something, you need to use your words.”

A part of her, one she shoved deep deep down, went molten. But, she couldn’t hide the red flush covering her cheeks. “I have work to do,” she said quickly, grabbing her chair and pushing it back towards the desk, hiding her face beneath her hair and doing her best to look like she was actually reading.

She heard a low laugh as they left the room, and only once the footsteps faded did she let her head plunk against the desk. “I’m so screwed,” she whispered.

Two letters arrived today, both written out to her by the ‘same person,’ with slightly different handwriting. She frowned at them, one - courtesy of him was expected. But … she hadn’t heard anything from her friends in weeks. She settled on getting the nasty one out of the way.

Her fist crumpled up the paper as she shoved it deep into the drawer. Another letter, more iterations of the same things written before. No need to make a big deal out of nothing. I’ll find you in this world and the next. A shudder ran down her spine. Harmless, she told herself. A temporary infatuation - something he’ll get over.

Every time she approached the fire, papers clenched tightly in her hands, that damn tattoo would start pricking, sending zips of pain down her chest. She found herself turning back around, shoving them into the back of the drawer - willing herself to forget. If they were out of sight, maybe they’d slip out of her mind - and this would all be over. Part of her realized it might not be that easy.

Slowly, she forced her hands to open the second. A brief recap of her last few weeks, her father apparently trying to set her up for an advantageous marriage. But, she seemed pleased with a few of the suitors - describing them in detail - and a specific one she was fixated on. Another local lord's son. Her lips curved into a smile, good, she deserves something to make her happy. She shuffled through the extensive letter - three gods-damned pages.

When will you visit again? My cousin is eager to see you. Maybe you could explore your relationship more, he’s mentioned he’s written to you a few times. You should answer.

She dropped it like it had burned her. Writing to him? She told her exactly what happened. This one, she found herself able to toss in the fire. Her friendship could burn with it.

“You’re an asshole,” she muttered to Cassian, rubbing out a bruise in her left arm. He snatched her hand away.

“That’ll make it worse.”

“Maybe I like the pain,” she snipped back at him. A glint crossed his eyes, gone as soon as it came. “Besides,” she continued as if she’d never seen it. “You’re a sadist.”

A snort came from Azriel in the corner, leaning back against the wall. Shadows swirled gently around him, he had one knee propped up on the wall behind him - arms crossed over his chest. The flush on her cheeks wasn’t entirely from training, something they didn’t need to know. “If you think he’s a sadist, train with your sister.”

She rolled her eyes, and elbowed Cassian. “Why do you think I stick with him?”

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not.”

“Have you … heard from your friend recently?”

By some miracle, she managed to keep her reactions neutral - heart rate steady, breaths even. “I got a letter yesterday,” she admitted. “She’s looking at suitors.” Her nose crinkled with the last word.

“An arranged marriage?”

“In a way. She described each of them. In detail.”

Cassian cringed, “I don’t think I want to know.”

She thought of how she ranked them on potential bedroom prowess. “No, you really don’t.”

“Have you … asked Rhys for her to visit?”

Azriel’s question was careful. She knew his shadows were monitoring her every reaction. At her silence, they both went still.

She shook her head. “I’m not ready to see her.” I don’t know if I ever will be. They seemed .. relieved? “Why are you asking?”

He met her gaze, a cool assessing look on his face. “Wanted to know.”

Her teeth dug into her bottom lip, but she left it for now.

Hands brushed against her sides, down her ribs, over the curve of her ass. Soft kisses were pressed to her shoulder and neck. Caged in between two warm bodies.

She woke with a start, and a coil building in her stomach. Dreaming, again. Wrong, this was wrong on so many levels. Water, she needed cold, cold water. She debated the risk of running into them - just like she had before, but as far as she knew the two of them were still on some mission and hadn’t returned. Her feet hit the soft carpet, the full moon shone through her window - casting her room in a beautiful, soft glow. Her lips curved up at the corners.

Lost enough in her thoughts, she didn’t hear the sounds, coming from Cassian’s room this time, until she was nearly at the door. Her footsteps faltered, her body turning - not again, her back was already turned as she heard him.

“If you’re that curious, you might as well come in.” Azriel’s voice was rough as he leaned against the doorframe. Slowly, she turned back around. His chest was bare, a slight sheen of sweat glistening on the muscled planes of his chest and stomach. Hair disheveled, lips puffy, cheeks flushed. She’d never seen him like that before. Great, something else to fuel her dreams.

She must’ve been staring, “see something you like princess?” Cassian’s voice came from behind him, and she blinked, startling back into the present. Azriel’s smug face made her want to wipe it right off him - to march back down to her room and pretend she felt nothing, but then his hand reached out. A clear invitation. LIke a god damned fool, she took it.

He was gentle as he tugged her inside, and she knew she had a doe-eyed look. The face of someone completely in awe and completely out of their depth. His hands gripped her shoulders as he walked her back - not towards the bed. The back of her knees hit a chair, and he pushed her shoulders down. She fell rather inelegantly into it, drawing an almost mocking smile from him. His eyes traveled slowly down her body - pausing on her bare thighs - her nightgown ridden up to an almost indecent level, before flicking back up. The hazel hue burnt into her.

“Can you be good and sit there?”

Her cheeks flushed in humiliation and she nodded.

“Words.” His voice had changed, lower and firmer, a clear demand.

“Y-yes.” She stumbled over the word.

“Yes, what?”

“I can be good.” She squeaked. “And sit here.” He gave her an approving nod.

Azriel fisted a hand in Cassian's hair. Knees hit the ground. Fingers dug in his waistband. Gods, she watched as Cassian’s lips parted, Azriel letting out a low groan.

But, his eyes met hers. ”Is this what you think about at night?” How was he speaking?

”W-what?” She asked with a breathy voice. The way he looked at her … like he could see all the way inside her, see every dirty thought and fantasies she had. Maybe he could. His eyes lingered on her thighs. She pulled her dress down as if it might hide any lingering scent of her arousal.

“Show me.”

“I don’t-”

“Show me.” He repeated, a shadow brushing the back of her neck in a comforting gesture, she could read the other words in his eyes; if you want to.

Damn her. She did. Her hands slipped between her thighs, keeping them closed as much as possible. Shadows tugged at her knees, cool air hit her, hit her bare cunt - she’d worn nothing beneath. He shook his head in an amused away, broken off by a low moan as Cassian’s hand twisted around his base. He still had a hand in the other male’s hair, slowly pushing him up and down.

Her eyes fixed on him - on Cassian, as two fingers brushed up her folds, slowly beginning to explore herself. If they were going to put on a show, so could she.

Azriel, she noticed, quickly lost any restraint and she dug her teeth into her bottom lip. His breathing grew heavier, faster as Cassian moved quicker, cheeks hollowing out as if he wanted to finish, if only to watch her. A different kind of power flooded through her, and she shot a half smirk at Azriel. A few minutes passed - maybe, she wasn’t keeping track, but he’d cursed under his breath, thighs clenching, and Cassian stilled.

She barely noticed as Cassian pulled away, finally caught in her own haze of lust. Something cool brushed against her inner thighs. She yelped, trying to shift but shadows wrapped around her thighs and held her in place. Azriel’s eyes met her own; say the word and it stops. She gave him a small nod, and her hands were pulled away, secured to the sides of the chair. She didn’t bother trying to hide her shaky exhale, or her racing heart. And couldn’t hide the arousal slowly pooling beneath her on the chair. The shadows seemed to solidify as they circled around her clit, inside her, trailing up and down her thighs.

It took barely a minute before she was panting, soft whimpers leaving her mouth as she fought to keep the noise inside. If anything, the two of them looked … amused. No matter how attracted she felt to them, how much she wanted them to touch her, she wasn’t sure if she really could. Not with everything that had happened, everything still … happening. The thought drifted from her mind as the circling sped up, shadows almost vibrating against her.

She couldn’t hide her noises this time, eyes half lidded but fixed on the two of them - how they watched her, as her walls clenched and thighs shook.

Then, it was over - shadows gone and released. She tried to calm her racing heart, to steady her breath.

“Satisfy your curiosity enough?” Cassian asked her, adding “Princess,” as an afterthought. Her legs snapped back together, dress pulled down to cover herself, and cheeks flushed.

Her hands braced the sides of the chair. Fleeing, that was the best solution now. Why had she stayed? Well, she knows exactly why - but gods this was humiliating. A quick nod, and she shoved herself to her feet, having to keep a grip on the chair to stay steady.

“I thought I said to use your words.” Az said, the same firm tone as before, but he had a cruel smile playing on his lips as he turned to Cassian. “Didn’t I?”

A low laugh left the other male. “You did.”

“Seems she’s not capable of listening.” They spoke of her like she wasn’t there, and while his head was turned she started stumbling towards the door, legs still shaking.

“Now you have something to fuel your fantasies,” she said over her shoulder, winking at them with false bravado, not even closing the door behind her. She only breathed once she’d reached the staircase, sitting heavily on the top step to try and get her heart to stop racing. From now on, she’d keep a glass of water in her room at night.

“She liked it.” Cassian commented after the door closed. “We liked it,” he turned to Azriel - who now had an extra flush on his skin.

Still, he rolled his eyes. “Another thing for her to dream about.”

“And us.” Azriel gave a noncommittal hum. “Think she’ll come back?” He leaned back on the bed, propping himself up on his forearms. He wondered if they’d been a bit too much. If they should’ve asked her to stay after, to reassure her somehow. Get her to relax. Mother save him - he wanted to touch her, hold her, do … too many things.

Azriel only shrugged his shoulders before taking his leave, closing the door behind him. He flopped back on his bed, running his hands through his hair and hoping they hadn’t messed up.

Azriel knew he had to find her, and slipped from Cassian’s room as quickly as he could. One of them might be better now, and considering he’d led her right into it - he knew it had to be him. Just to check she’s alright.

Her defenses were down as he snuck up on her, sitting right on the top step. He made his footsteps heavier as he approached, taking a seat next to her - leaving a good foot of space between them.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbled, hands covering her face.

“Why?” Her hands slid up her face, tightening in her hair. “It doesn’t … have to happen again,” he offered when she didn’t reply.

“Right.” She said hoarsely. “A mistake.”

His chest tightened. If that’s how she sees it … “Right.”

The fingers tightly clenching her hair loosened, shoulders folding slightly inwards. Relief.

“I’m … did I push too far?” Azriel felt unusually insecure. She wasn’t just anyone, for gods sake it was his brother’s younger cousin. One of his closest friends' younger sister. More importantly, his friend.

“Nothing I didn’t want,” she finally looked at him. Cheeks still flushed, a half smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. For once, he couldn’t read her. “Consider my curiosity satisfied.” She shot a wink at him. Y/n rose, brushing her dress down, and turned back down the hallway. His eyes tracked her departing figure. Legs no longer shaky, shoulders held high. A string tugged at his chest. Go after her, a part of his subconscious rose, mistake, mistake, mistake another repeated - and he stayed in place.

Something to fuel your fantasies.

When she was out of hearing range, he let out a groan.

Cassian was surprised when Azriel stalked back into his room. Less so when he explained the conversation he had.

“Did she really call it a mistake?” He asked. He knew Az was telling the truth … but that didn’t seem like her.

“She did. And looked relieved when I agreed.” Azriel replied.

Cassian tensed next to him, he hoped y/n didn’t think Azriel spoke for the two of them, but realistically he knew she did. “I didn’t think it was one.”

Mistake. Why the hell did she say that? It doesn’t have to happen … Does that mean he would’ve wanted it to? She got no sleep that night, the whole situation playing over and over again in her head. And the conversation after. Did she really want it to happen again?

They’d built a friendship over the years, and she doesn’t want it to come tumbling down over this one incident.

“Mistake,” she muttered to herself - drifting into sleep just before dawn.

She startled as her door flew open. Cassian stood in the doorway - fully dressed in Illyrian leathers and grinning like the cat who caught the canary.

“Noooo,” she groaned, shoving her face back into the pillow.

“Long nights are no excuse.” She flipped him off and he let out a long-suffering sigh - but left. She hummed in content, and rolled back over to sleep.

Sleep didn’t come, and a large bowl of ice cold water soaked her. She let out a screech loud enough he covered his ears. “I’ll kill you,” y/n snarled.

He raised a brow, as if he was daring her. Her eyes rolled. “Get out, I need to change.”

“Nothing I haven’t seen princess.”

“Out,” she pointed to the door, but let out a low laugh.

“I’ll be back in five,” he said over his shoulder.

“Ten.” She countered.

“Seven.”

“Fine.” She glanced at the clock. He would be back in exactly seven minutes, she didn’t doubt that.

At least he seemed to be acting as usual. Azriel, she’d have to see. There was no doubt in her mind he’d reported their conversation back to him. Az was harder to read, but he had his tells.

I’ll see you soon, my heart.

Be careful where you wander.

I’m getting tired of waiting.

Six months of this bullshit, she winced at the nickname - and he had the nerve to write it like a fucking poem. “Deranged,” she muttered, shoving it into the drawer. He couldn’t get to her, she reminded herself. For some reason, she hadn’t burnt them. Every time she went close to the fire, something stopped her. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. Maybe it was time to say something. After the … mistake, a few nights ago - she didn’t know if they would react differently. But, she had reminded herself several times nothing had to be different. Nothing had to change.

“What’s deranged?” An amused voice said from the door. Cassian. She froze, shoving the drawer closed before turning around, leaning back against the desk. His eyes narrowed, he’d clocked every movement on hers. “Keeping secrets?” He raised a brow, striding into her room.

“No,” she answered, a bit too quickly.

“We need to-” she heard Azriel from the doorway. A shadow curled around his shoulders, around his ears, and his shoulders tightened.

“Secrets?” He murmured, following Cassian inside.

“Did I invite you in?” Y/n snapped. Her heart raced, palms starting to sweat. They glanced at each other, before looking back at her.

“Didn’t realize friends need an invitation.” Cassian drawled. Her hands tightened around the desk. Something about the word friends struck her, but she ignored it. “Have a secret lover?” If she didn’t know better, she’d say his voice was a little tight.

“Maybe,” she teased, and both of their eyes flashed. Maybe it wasn’t as much of a mistake as she thought. Then, she thought of how much she was about to ruin, and braced herself. Her chest pricked, their proximity, combined with the proximity of the potential threat making the bargain tug on her. Her hand rubbed slightly at her collarbones, and she realized the mistake too late. “There’s … something I need to tell you. Please don’t be mad.”

A heavy silence filled her room. “What is it?” Cassian’s voice was tight.

“Don’t get angry.” She insisted. More silence. They wouldn’t make that promise. It was too late now to turn back, too late to refuse to tell them.

She turned, heart racing, and slid open the drawer. Her hands shook violently as she gathered the balls of parchment, smoothing each one out as best she could. They waited for her and felt their stares - digging into her back and side like a brand. Footsteps sounded across the room as her hands tightened around the papers, eyes clenched shut. Wordlessly, and without sparing a glance in their direction, she held them out.

Azriel took the papers from her hands, careful not to touch her. Cassian was a step behind.

Azriel’s eyes were scanning the papers, but he kept his on hers. Her pretty eyes passed over him in favor of the exit as she took a step to the side. His wing reflexively flared, ushering her back towards them and blocking her path. In any other situation, he might have laughed but anxiety, guilt, and shame rolled from her in equal waves. They didn’t promise not to get angry, not wanting to make a promise they would break. Still, she was shaking like a leaf and he bumped her shoulder with his wing - in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. Only she retreated back into herself more, shoulders curving inwards. He frowned.

Beside him, Azriel was too still. Confident y/n wouldn’t flee, he looked over his shoulder. He hadn’t missed how she rubbed the bargain tattoo on her chest and a pit grew in his stomach.

Several minutes passed as they read together. Azriel would read one before passing it off to him. Letters dating back to months ago, she’d organized them by date. A faint and unfamiliar male scent lingered. A fiery rage grew inside of him with each one.

As he finished the last letter, Azriel spotted the envelope on the desk and snatched it. Addressed to her, her friends name on the outside, but someone else's signing off at the bottom. He’d kept an eye out for any letters or packages coming in after the incident. His anger was split between her, the male, and himself.

“Did you reply to any of these?” He asked, tilting his head to look at her. She shook her head, avoiding his gaze. A muscle in his jaw clenched. “Look at me.” She blinked and slowly did, her shoulder straightened, chin lifted, but a slight tremor in her hands remained and a few tears pricked the corner of her eyes.

“Why didn’t you say something?” His eyes dropped to the tattoo on her chest, peeking out above her top. ‘Anyone does that to you again, you tell us.’ They never specified when. In his peripheral, Cassian looked ready to throttle her or break something.

“I just did.” She snapped at him, her temper flaring.

“Why didn’t you say anything six fucking months ago?” Cassian finally exploded.

“They were harmless.” Y/n matched his pitch.

“If you really thought they were harmless, why did you keep them?” Azriel added cooly. Cooly, but he was struggling to keep his temper in check.

“I tried to get rid of them.”

“And why couldn’t you?” He asked mildly.

“Because of this,” she waved at her chest. Point made.

“Magic,” he emphasized, “thought they were a threat.”

“No.” A muscle in her jaw clenched. “Magic thought it was something similar. That doesn’t make it a threat.”

Cassian let out a disbelieving laugh. He was inclined to do the same.

She ran her hands through her hair, “Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

“No.” They both answered at the same time.

“We had an agreement.” Cassian added.

“It wasn’t a fair bargain.” She winced after. She did set it up, after all.

“It’s supposed to keep you safe,” Cassian kept arguing with her.

“I can handle myself.” Her eyes were starting to line with tears. Cassian was still angry. He knew that anger - the kind that wouldn’t stop for anything. Wouldn’t stop until he left a path of destruction behind him.

“Really?” Cassian’s brows rose, “Can you? If you can’t recognize a fucking threat?” He was nearly yelling, almost screaming at her.

“Out,” Azriel all but ordered, shoving him out the door. “Cool off.”

Cassian snarled at him, but left without another word.

Azriel fixed her with a look, and she fidgeted - some of the temporary bravado falling away. His delivery wasn’t any gentler, but at least he wasn’t quite bubbling over with rage.

“He’s right. The problem is you don’t fucking think.” Cold, he kept his voice as cold as ice. Let every bit of disappointment, anger, and betrayal sink in.

“What do you mean?” Her entire body seemed to stiffen, expression turning to stone.

His filter disappeared as the words came out. “Why didn’t you leave autumn early?”

Her eyes shuttered closed. “So this is my fault now?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.” It was too late for him to take it back. He couldn’t understand why she didn’t leave. Didn’t take herself out of a dangerous situation.

“You made it pretty fucking clear.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t show Rhys.” He switched angles, he knew the loopholes as well as she did.

“I can’t.” Honesty, finally a bit of truth out of her. Tears finally dripped down her cheeks, her face fell, eyes turning empty as her body seemed to cave in on itself. Azriel could stomach a lot of things, but the broken look in her eyes … he had to turn away and leave, before he gave into the temptation to go hunt that male down, hunt him for causing this. Even though he knew part of it was his fault.

Go back. Go back. His shadows were almost pleading, but he ignored them, only sending one to keep an eye on her. Hopefully keep her from doing anything else stupid. Or at least giving him a warning.

After he was out the door, he realized he’d left the letters behind. He debated turning back to get them … later, he could find those later. Now, he needed to find Cassian.

Her jaw was open as Azriel left the room. Turned his back on her. Maybe she had messed up - but to imply what happened was her fault?

They can’t understand if you don’t tell them, said a soft feminine voice. One she recognized well enough.

“Why do I have to explain my trauma?” She murmured out loud. The priestesses had recommended journaling, but anything written down would be fair game here.

Her eyes spotted the letters still on the table. She could hide them now. Gods, she wanted to be petty like that … but if Azriel genuinely thought he was a threat. A threat to her could put others in danger, and that’s not something she could handle.

A plan formed; find him, give him the letters, get the fuck out of here.

She gathered them, and mustered as much confidence as she could to stride out of the room.

Her senses took her down the hall, down a set of stairs, to a smaller office, not used frequently. Did they meet here frequently? She shoved the very inappropriate thought out of her mind.

Sure enough, they were liplocked when she entered. Surprisingly, they burst apart as she flung the door open, letting it bang against the opposite wall. Maybe they mistook her for someone else. She only tossed the papers at him, letting them flutter to the floor in front of him.

“Here’s your evidence,” she put as much venom into her voice as she could, and pivoted to leave. Plan almost finished. They were out of her hands now, out of sight and maybe out of mind. At least she was halfway there.

Azriel re-appeared in front of her, using his shadows to move through the small space. She startled, stumbling backwards - her back hit the desk and she braced her hands on it.

“Don’t leave Velaris.” Every word was laced with a threat and warning.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’ll drop you off in the House of Wind if I have to.”

Every muscle in her body went stiff.

Fifteen years old, her first attempt to leave Hewn City. A door closed. Locks slamming on the outside. Wards trapping her in. Suffocating, she couldn’t breathe - not even the windows would open. She grabbed at her hair, pulling angrily against it - like the pain might bring her back down to earth. “No no no no,” she ran to the door, trying the lock again.

“Get it together,” a voice snapped her out of her reverie. Cassian was in her face. A small bit of worry showed in his eyes, but overshadowed by his anger. She flinched, shrinking back into herself.

He blinked, and took a step back. She was shaking, why was she shaking? Get it together, she repeated his words to herself, and managed to straighten her shoulders.

“Fine. I’ll play by your rules.” For now, went unsaid. Cassian’s brow furrowed. Probably confused by how easily she gave in. “But,” she fixed Azriel with a pointed stare, “don’t think I've forgiven you.”

He let her shove past him, stalking out the door.

“What did you do?” She heard Cassian.

“Nothing. She’s overreacting.”

Part three. Get the fuck out of here. She had to do that, or she might say something she really regrets.

They stayed well out of each other's paths.

Technically, the library was open from dawn till dusk. She took every advantage of it, throwing herself into work and convincing Mor to train after dinner or haunting one of her friends' doorsteps if she wasn’t available. Her sister didn’t question it. Half of her expected the small tattoo to start pricking at her, but it hadn’t. Maybe the intention behind it was not to hide inside the house. Either way, she wouldn’t question it. By some miracle, she’d managed to avoid both of them - although they were in Velaris. A strong shield around her room kept sounds out and in while she was sleeping. Pride kept her from asking if they were staying somewhere else.

“Will you train me?” She’d asked Mor later that day.

She shot her a surprised look. “I thought Cassian did.”

“I need a break from him.”

Mor looked contemplative. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she gave an exasperated sigh.

“I thought you’d never ask.” The wicked glint in her eye made y/n think she might regret this.

Her efforts lasted for two weeks.

She was pinned against a brick wall, one arm against her throat, cutting off her windpipe. Another hand lifted her dress, “I know you like playing hard to get,” a voice whispered in her ear, teeth biting at her neck …

The scene changed, a gentle hand brushed against her cheek, lips grazed against hers - before she was shoved back. She couldn’t see, everything was hazy but the voice was clear as day; “I don’t want anything to do with you.” Azriel. “We don’t want anything to do with you.” Cassian.

Her body lurched forward and she clutched her hand to her mouth. Not as bad as last time. Her hand reached for her nightstand, grabbing the glass of water she always kept there. Moving on muscle memory, she brought it to her lips, waiting for the cool liquid to slide down her throat.

Empty. Her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose. Was it worth wandering downstairs? Her stomach churned again and she flung herself out of bed, not bothering to put on shoes as she stumbled for the doorway, clutching her glass to her chest like a child with a doll.

A small fae light grew from her palm to hover above her, guiding her down, down, down towards the kitchen. Twisting the tap, water filled her glass to the brim. The cold liquid slid down her throat, soothing the burning. Two chugged glasses later, she filled it again to take it downstairs. The door hinges creaked behind her, and she spun around - water sloshing over the sides of the glass, dripping down her bare thigh. She couldn’t move.

Cassian stood in the door, wings tucked in tight, still in his leathers - hair tousled as if he’d just flown in. The first time she’d seen him in two weeks. His eyes tracked the water dripping down her thigh, before darting back up to hold her gaze, his expression unreadable, his hand white-knuckling the doorknob. Twelve soft chimes of the clock. Midnight. He turned, closing the door behind him with a soft snick. Something in her chest cleaved. Wood dug into her back as she slid to the floor.

#cazriel x y/n #cazriel x reader #cazriel #cassian x azriel x reader #azriel x reader x cassian #azriel x y/n #azriel x reader #cassian x y/n #cassian x reader #acotar smut #acotar fanfic #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #cassian acotar #acotar x reader

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l00nat00na · 16 days

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Would love to feel like i am wanted by my pals i would love to feel like people i care about still want me around and enjoy talking to me but it just constantly feels like i am a bother i am getting left behind and i don’t !!! Love that!!!!

#and the worst thing is i knoooow its not true #but my brain is so shit like all i do is work and come home rinse repeat i dont have time for anything anymore #and i just feel like such a burden #i used to feel so surrounded by people but now it feels like everyone has gone and moved on without me #i dunno i’m just tired and sad #if ur my pal and u read this its NOT your fault i feel this way #manuscript page found

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la-pheacienne · 2 months

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Mystery of "Night begins to descend upon Grantaire" solved (continuing this post)

@everyonewasabird @pilferingapples So because I am insane and couldn't sleep I went through hundreds of pages of the manuscript on Gallica and finally found the text and it's CANON. What Grantaire said with an "indescribable sweetness" was not "let me sleep here", it was "you know I believe in you" (tu sais que je crois en toi) but Hugo wrote it on the margin of the page and so faintly I almost missed it but thankfully I spent 1 hour scanning every centimeter of this page because I'm nuts.

Also if anyone wonders (no one) Grantaire said "you'll see" only once, not twice as some translations show, and here is the proof:

Two remarks:

At first the "you know I believe in you" seemed random to me, because I was not used to it (since my version doesn't have it). Then I realized that ACTUALLY it has to be there. When Enjolras says "you're incapable of believing, of thinking, of wanting, of living and of dying" he's referring to two things Grantaire said : that he believes in him, and that he's willing to die there, for him. "Believing", and "dying" are the beginning and the end of his phrase. He's wrong in both, as we know. Grantaire is capable of believing (in Enjolras) and of dying in the barricade. The text has a perfect harmony this way.

What is driving me absolutely crazy is that Hugo added probably the two most meaningful exchanges E x R had on the margin as an afterthought, as a correction, and I'm talking about "you know I believe in you" and "you'll see". Like he wrote the draft and then was like, that's mid. I'm not going for mid, let me throw a phrase there to give it an extra oomph that will make tumblr girlies lose their minds and their sleep 200 years later. You don't get it, he was working for us. First incident of fanservice recorded in the history of human kind - and the editors MISSED IT. CRIMINAL BEHAVIOR

#lm 4.12.3 #les miserables #the brick #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #victor hugo #i mean of course it wasn't fanservice it had an actual thematic significance and was essential for their arc etc etc BUT ALSO #he must have known the effect these words would have on people

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colubrina · 10 months

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what does querying mean

Ah! OK. I forget that normal people don't know what this process entails.

So, if you want to be "trad" published (which basically means the kind of published that gets your book into bookstores) you will probably need a literary agent. Some small presses do not require that writers submit books for consideration through an agent, but pretty much every book you've ever heard of went through both a literary agent and a publisher that requires authors use them. So, how do you get a literary agent? You send a very specialized letter called a 'query letter', often with the first few pages of your novel, for them to read and decide if they want to 'represent' it, which means try to sell it for you in exchange for a 15% commission. The query letter I used for the 6th book I queried was this...

Dear [agent],

NO GOOD WITCHES is a 90,000-word YA speculative that will appeal to readers of A Deadly Education and Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes. It’s a ‘girl goes evil and gets shit done while awe-stuck boy holds her purse so she can do the murders’ kind of book with popular tropes including found family, female friendship, dark academia, morally grey characters, power corrupts, and a romance where the boy is bad but the girl is worse (you could save him, I could make him worse; we are not the same).

Seventeen-year-old Calla watches the witch burnings on television along with everyone else in the United States. Witches can move things with their minds. They know what people are thinking. They’re terrifying, and dangerous, and the shows are a nationwide reminder that witches will not be tolerated. Her friends have never suspected Calla is one, and she needs to keep it that way. But when she answers a question before it’s asked in a history class, her future goes up in flames. She can read minds. She’s evil. Game over.

Caught and terrified, Calla is surprised when she isn’t dragged to a pyre, but to a hospital where she’s poked and prodded to find out how powerful she is. Turns out, good witches—compliant witches—don’t get sent to the stake. They get trained in hidden schools and sharpened into weapons. Their ability to manipulate matter powers the electrical plants and their mindreading gets used by the diplomatic corp. Calla doesn’t feel like getting burned alive, so she learns everything she can.

Including how she—and her new witch friends—can burn the system down rather than let powerful men exploit their magic.

By the time she’s done, there won’t be a single good witch left.

I was mentored in both the Pitch Wars and Author Mentor Match programs, and I was previously represented but my agent and I have amicably parted ways and this manuscript has never been on submission. I live in Connecticut with cats, my family, and some unhappy plants. I am not a witch.

Thank you,

Collie

I sent 69 versions of this query out, 2 of which were referrals (meaning a current client of the agent recommended me)

17 times the agent ghosted my query.

43 times the agent rejected at the query stage

7 times the agent requested more materials. (This is about a 10% request rate and is not great but not terrible either.)

2 times the agent ghosted the requested materials

3 times the agent rejected the additional materials

Once the agent offered me what's called a "revise and resubmit" where she sent some detailed edits I could do and then she would reconsider whether she wanted to rep it. I disagreed pretty strenuously with one of her suggestions (she wanted me to cut the romance) and so I didn't pursue it.

The whole process is tedious and unfun and pretty much necessary if you want your book to be in, say, Barnes and Noble. I do not enjoy it. I am going to do it for the seventh time starting this fall. Maybe I'll do a 'querying diary' the way I do a log of what I've written. That would be fun.

Ask me anything about querying. I am a bona fide expert on this.

#querying #500

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slayingfiction · 1 year

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Questions to ask your alpha/beta readers

I thought I would put together a master list of all the questions to ask your alpha and beta reader to help you improve your story.

You can choose to ask questions every chapter, every few chapters or after the whole book. This list of questions will be more generic and all encompassing for you to tailor to your needs.

Reminder: Beta readers typically receive a completed and polished version of your story. They give feedback on any last improvements based on the reader’s perspective. Alpha readers read your story or manuscript before it’s completed, usually a rough draft. Alpha readers are best if they also have some writing experience to give reader and writer feedback.

Choose some of the following questions to ask your readers:

Start:

When did you first feel the story was truly starting?

Do you like how the story started? If not, why?

Do you find characters were introduced slow enough to learn them all?

Did you find settings, different languages, and cultural differences were introduced slowly enough to not be confusing or overwhelming?

Were there any moments you found yourself going back over old exposition just to understand what was happening?

When, if at all, did you find yourself being pulled into the book?

Did the first sentence grab your attention?

Did the first few pages draw you into the story?

Did you find the opening paragraph/page interesting enough to continue reading?

Characters:

What do you like about the MC? What don’t you like? Can you name at least one relatable trait between yourself and the MC?

How did you feel about the character(s)��s growth from the start to finish of the story? Did you find there was enough? Was it believable?

Are the MC’s motivations and goals clear and strong enough?

Did you feel the MC’s fears, hopes, excitement, passions, etc.?

Did you get confused between the characters?

Were the characters believable?

Are there any characters you wish were more interesting? Why and how?

Do you feel each supporting character had their own motivations and contributed to the plot?

Are there any characters that seem cliché, underdeveloped, or stereotypical? If so, why?

Were the character relationships believable?

Did the romantic relationships build naturally, or did it feel forced?

Are there any character names that were too difficult to read or sounded too similar to others?

Were there any parts where the characters seemed to be acting out of character?

Who was your favorite character?

Which character, if any, did you wish was more present?

Which character do you care for the least?

What are your thoughts/feelings on the MC’s character arc?

Do you feel like the antagonists and/or villain is just as fleshed out and relatable as the MC?

If you had to remove one character, who would it be, and why?

Which character would you like to meet, and why?

Did you hope or dread any character relationships?

Are there any characters you found annoying and frustrating?

What are your general thoughts and feelings about the MC or supporting characters?

Which character did you find least developed?

Plot:

Which moments in the book did you find the most suspenseful?

Were there any moments in the book you found boring, lagging, or uneventful and unnecessary?

Did you find the pacing to suit the story well? Are there any areas you found moved too fast or too slow?

Was there ever a time you felt like you weren’t excited or intrigued enough to want to continue?

Did you find any plot holes? Any discrepancies in timeline, characters, descriptions, or other details?

Were there any scenes you found did not further the plot at all?

Are there any scenes or events you found to be too long or too short?

Did you find all explanations and revelations came out naturally and at appropriate times?

What was your favourite scene in the book? Why?

What was your least favourite scene in the book? Why?

Are there any chapters you found lacked conflict?

Did the action scenes make sense as you read them? Did you understand how they came to that action scene (or did they feel random)?

Where there any moments or scenes that made you feel emotional? Happy, sad, cringy and disgusted, etc.

Do you find the plot moved logically and naturally between scenes and chapters?

Are there any moments you felt detached or pulled out of the story? When and why?

Are there any events or scenes you found confusing? Either what was happening or how the characters came to that point?

Where you surprised by the plot twist?

Settings:

Which setting in the book was the clearest for you to visualize? Which do you remember the best?

Did you find the setting interesting, with vivid and real description?

Were there any scenes you thought lacked description?

Were there any moments you thought there was too much exposition, or not enough?

Did you find there were moments you didn’t know where the characters were unless stated?

Do you find the culture and historical events are realistic and add depth to the story?

Is there any exposition you found unnecessary? Are there any moments you wish you had more exposition?

Did all technology and science, or magic, make sense or seem believable?

Was there ever too much or too little description?

Dialogue:

Did you find that each character had their own personal voice when speaking?

Are there times where you couldn’t figure out who was talking solely based on how they spoke?

Is there any dialogue that sounded unnatural?

Could you see what the characters were doing and where they were while talking?

Was there any dialogue that seemed to not fit well with the story?

Was there any dialogue that you thought had too much exposition or explanation?

Did you find the dialogue kept your interest?

Ending:

Did you find the ending to be satisfying and emotionally fulfilling?

Are there any questions you had left after the story ended? (Mostly for stand-alone)

What did you hate most about the ending?

Did you find the ending believable?

Did you feel the tension building to the climax?

Was the climax worth the read, or did it feel weak?

Do you feel the ending came on naturally, or did it feel forced or rushed?

Did the book feel too short or too long?

General:

Were there parts where you found yourself skimming?

Which parts of the story did you find it easy to put the book down?

At what moment did you decide you wanted to finish the book? (If not DNF)

What are some of your favourite lines/quotes from the book?

Do you have any predictions for what you think will come next? (Good for chapters or end of book)

Is there something you hope will happen?

Is there anything you hoped would happen and was sad when it didn’t?

Did you find the map and glossary helpful? Is there anything you think would be beneficial to add, such as terms or names?

Are there any moments or scenes you found ethically and socially problematic and unacceptable.

Were there any moments in the story that made you stop and think?

Were you able to identify the story themes? Did you find the themes well developed throughout the story?

Did you think about the story when you weren’t reading it? If so, what were your thoughts?

Were there times during the story where you felt description was told instead of shown?

Does this book make you feel the same as other books in the genre when reading?

Is there anything you really enjoy from this genre that you found lacking in this story?

Did you find the story kept your attention with enough action, conflict, intrigue, and tension?

Do you find the story or writing style like other books you have read?

Are there any moments you found confusing, irritating, annoying or frustrating?

Are there any moments in the story you thought, “this could/would never happen”?

Did you have any questions after reading the book?

What are your general thoughts and feelings about the story?

Is there anything you wish there was more or less of?

What do you think were the best/ strongest aspects of this book?

What do you think were the worst/ weakest aspects of this books?

How would you describe this book to a friend?

Would you recommend this story to someone?

How likely/ eager are you to read the next book in the series?

Chapter specific

On a scale from 1-5, how much did you enjoy this chapter?

On a scale from 1-5, how eager are you to read the next chapter?

What predictions do you have for the next chapter?

What do you hope will happen next?

Please keeping in mind: Don't let another writer tell you what to change or how they would write it. You are the writer, and any changes are your decision. This feedback is only to give you an idea on which areas to improve.

*Alpha and Beta readers should be readers in the same genre that you write. People who mostly read mystery will not be good a/b readers for a romance novelist, or any mismatch. If you write romance, find a/b readers who love to read romance. Otherwise, any advice they give may not be as valuable or useful as you hope.*

If you have other questions you think would be useful to ask your readers, message me or add them in the comments so our list is comprehensive.

Happy Writing!

#writing community #writing advice #beta reader #alpha reader #writing reference #long post #creative writing #tumblr writers #writing tips #writer #female writers #wip stuff #writblr #fiction #writing process

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elaratyrell · 7 months

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Misery {Annie Wilkes! Aemond Targaryen x Author! Reader}

*All images found on Pinterest*

Warnings: Dark! Aemond, stalking, language, mentions of murder Smut- oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), female orgasm

*Divider from Firefly Graphics*

Synopsis: You find yourself near death after being the victim of a car accident in a snow storm while working on the latest instalment in your bestselling Misery series. The man who found you, your self declared number one fan, seems innocent enough, but his dark past, and even darker intentions, soon become clear

With a sigh of slight relief, you placed the final page on top of the pile beside you, tying a rubber band around it and placing it in a blue leather case.

Another book finished to hopefully join the others on the bestsellers list.

You had written twelve other books, to be exact, and had now finished your first completed draft for the thirteenth.

The cursed number.

The unlucky number.

The number of misfortune.

But for you it was a blessing.

For years you had dedicated your life to the running series of books centred around a character called Misery. You'd published your first book at eighteen, becoming the new face of the romance genre. And as you had grown up, your books had matured as well, becoming darker, bordering on the thriller genre as well as still centering on the romantic aspect. It was a bold move, but seemed to pay off, as it had made you even more popular than before.

Yet, after dedicating your life to one character for an entire decade now, you knew you had to move on, take another path in a new series you were going to write. You knew some of your fans would be disappointed that this would be the last entry in the Misery series, but it had to be done.

It felt like a relief to you, that you could finally move on with your life. And you felt as though it were almost a weight being lifted off your shoulders as finished your usual celebration of a single cigarette and champagne. You rose to your feet to take the manuscript to your car with the rest of your belongings, departing from a small log cabin called Winterfell Lodge you always rented out when working on your latest novel. It was always calming to get some time away from the chaos of the city.

You pulled your coat around you tighter, the snow flurry thickening around you as you loaded your bags into the trunk of your car. Usually, you wouldn't drive in weather like this, especially as it seemed as though a snow storm was fast approaching, but you needed to get back to the city as fast as possible.

Quickly shooting your agent a message to let you know you had finished the initial draft and were on your way to get back to the city, you started the car and drove away from Winterfell Lodge.

You squinted slightly as the snowfall grew thicker still, trying to see the curve in the road as the wipers speed couldn't keep up with the snow that was now covering the road. You slowed your speed, maintaining control of your car, humming along to the song playing on the radio.

Maybe you should have waited for tomorrow.

It was already late in the afternoon, and the clouds darkened the sky.

You turned on your car's headlights, a small sign reading 'Curved road, next thirteen miles'.

You hit the curve no problem, turning the wheel with perfect control, keeping a steady speed as you continued turning the wheel, but suddenly one of the wheels skidded, followed by another as the car span erratically out of control.

And all you remembered was the car spinning of the road, followed by it slamming into a tree, doing a one hundred and eighty degree flip, landing on it's hood.

And then as you fell into the darkness, you heard the harsh sound of the radio static and the howling winds, and felt the blood trickling down the side of your face.

Followed by nothing. Only darkness.

When you awoke, you felt numb.

You skin was paler, and clammy with a feverish sweat that sent a slight tremble through you. You couldn't lift any of your limbs. They felt weighted down. You didn't even want to try and lift your head.

"You're awake."

The voice was male. It sounded calm, well spoken. Soothing, almost.

Approaching footsteps to your bedside soon brought the owner of the voice into your vision.

He looked around your age, maybe two or three years younger, around twenty five or six, perhaps. He had long silver hair tied half up, a strong jaw and a tall, well defined figure. One of his eyes was a vivid blue, like a sapphire, the other a cloudy white, a long scar running from his brow down to his cheek. Resting on the bridge of his nose was a pair of black rimmed glasses. He was dressed in a dark blue sweater, the white collar of his shirt peaking up above its neckline, and a pair of black trousers.

Your saviour was very handsome, indeed.

"W-where... where a-am-"

"Shush," He interrupted you, placing the back of his cool hand against your forehead, frowning slightly at the heat radiating on your skin from the fever. "We're just between Storm's End and Winterfell. You've been here two days. I was concerned that you were not going to pull through. I'm thankful to say that I think you will recover. You'll be okay. Thank the gods you'll be okay." He shot you a slightly relieved smile. "Oh, how foolish of me. My name is Aemond Targaryen, and I'm your-"

"Number one fan?" You murmured, your eyes fluttering closed from a split second before opening again to see him shooting you a rather bashful smile, his cheeks dusted with pink.

"That- that's right," He murmured. "I-I am also a doctor, fortunately enough." He added, gesturing to where you were connected to a drip before outstretching his hand and opening his palm to reveal two pills. "You need to take these for the pain," He said softly, lifting your head slightly to bring the pills to your lips and swallow them, his fingertips lingering slightly against your lips.

Aemond propped up the pillows slightly, resting your head back down. Giving you a better view of your room, you noted you appeared to be in a rather old cottage or farmhouse. Your room was rather charming; wood panelled walls, a large fireplace opposite the bed. From the window, you saw a view of the mountains.

"Shouldn't I be in hospital?" You mumbled.

"The blizzard was too strong. I didn't want to risk trying to get you there. I couldn't even call, the phone lines are down and I don't own a mobile, I'm afraid. I doubt you could even get signal out here with the weather like this."

"Thank you for saving me," You murmured, you eyes aching with fatigue.

"You are more than welcome. Now, you should get some rest. You nearly lost your life." He replied, stepping back. "I'll be back to check on your when your meds run out," Was the last thing he said before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him.

Your fever past after a few days in Aemond's care, but you were still incredibly weak. But Aemond promised you that things would get better.

"It's not going to hurt forever, I promise you."

"Will I be able to walk?" You asked.

"Of course. And your arm will be fine, too. Your shoulder was rather badly dislocated, but I managed to pop it back in there. But I must say, I am rather proud of what I managed to do with your legs, especially considering what I had around the house. In fact I don't think there's a doctor in the whole of Westeros that could do a better job."

And with a flourish of blankets, he made your legs visible to you for the first time.

From the knees down, you believed you resembled a mummy. Steel rods that seemed to be remains of aluminium crutches were used as splints with taping circled around them. From the knees up, your thighs were swollen and horribly bruised.

Upon seeing your slightly horrified expression, Aemond hastily added. "It is not nearly as bad as it looks considering the severity of your injuries. You have a compound fracture of the tibia in both legs, and the fibula in the left leg is fractured too. I could hear the bones moving, so it's best for your legs to remain immobile. And as soon as the roads open, I'll take you to a hospital. In the meantime, you've got a lot of recovering to do, and I consider it an honour that you'll do it in my home." He gave you a kind smile, once again leaving you to get some more rest until he had to administer your next round of painkillers.

And soon enough Aemond's visits to your room became more frequent and for longer periods of time. He didn't just stay to gave you your meds, but also to reassure you that the sweeling to your cheek would go down, and how you were still beautiful, and how much he adored your books.

"It was quite a miracle that you found me," You said one evening after Aemond had fed you your dinner. He let out a small, slightly nervous chuckle in response, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Actually, it wasn't a miracle at all. I... as I... in a way... I was following you."

"Fo-following me?" You stammered out.

"Well it isn't exactly a secret that you were staying at Winterfell Lodge, you know, considering that I am your number one fan, but some nights I found myself driving there, sitting outside and just looking at the light in your cabin, knowing you were most likely creating another Misery masterpiece. I'd try to imagine what the world's greatest writer was creating." He replied, his voice light and airy, as though it was the most simple explanation.

"Can you say that last part again? I didn't quite hear..." You murmured, trying to brush off the fact he practically stalked you. Aemond just shot you a small smile in response.

"The world's greatest writer." He repeated before continuing. "Anyway, the other afternoon, when I was on my way home, there you were leaving the lodge. I must say I was curious as to why an intelligent woman such as yourself would go for a drive with a storm such as that approaching."

"I... didn't know there was going to be a storm like that..."

"Well, luckily I did," He replied. "And, it was lucky for me too. Because you're alive, and now you can write more incredible books. I've read absolutely everything you've written. I enjoyed your three standalone novels at the start of your career immensely, but the Misery series... I must say that they are my absolute favourite. I-I know them all by heart, all twelve of them. I love them, they helped me through my darkest times... through any obstacle I've faced in my life, I've managed to find solace with Misery.

You couldn't helped but feel touched by the way he spoke so fondly of your work, how he constantly sang your praises whenever he got the chance. The man was socially awkward it seemed, and perhaps rather shy at times, but he was still surprisingly charming.

"You're too kind..."

"And you're too brilliant," He replied. "You must be to create such a wonderful character like Misery." As he spoke, he traced a finger down your cheek. The swelling was gone, and the bruise was fading. He cleared his throat, hastily pulling his hand away and rising to your feet. "I'll um... just wash these dishes up." He said, seeming rather embarrassed all of a sudden. "I'm sure the road will be open soon, which means the phone lines will be back up in no time. But until they are, I'll kept trying so you can phone your agent."

He stopped when he reached the doorway, turning away from you, his hand hovering over the door knob.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Oh goodness no. I-I was just wondering if I could ask you a favour."

"I'm sure it's the least I could do after you've shown me such kindness." You replied, mustering a small smile that made his expression brighten.

"It's just that I noticed in your case there was a new manuscript..." He trailed off, hesitating slightly.

"You want to read it?"

"If it's not too much trouble. I do not mean to intrude."

"I usually only let three people read my new work this early," You replied, making his smile drop slightly. "And that's my editor, my agent... and the person who was kind enough to save me from dying in a car wreck."

"I... thank you," Aemond smiled. "You have no clue as to the gift you've given me and the gratitude I feel to you."

You shot him a smile, but that soon changed into a grimace as you winced from the pain.

Aemond glanced at his watch, hastily placing your empty plate on the bedside table before reaching into his pocket for the painkillers.

"It's like clockwork, the way your pain returns," He murmured, pressing a glass of water to your lips to help you swallow the pills. "The pain will subside soon. It will be okay," He sighed, placing his hand over yours as your expression twisted in discomfort.

"What's the title of your newly finished book?" He asked, trying to take your mind away from the pain.

"I'm not sure yet," You murmured. "I usually come up with the title after the final draft is finished. Perhaps after you read it, you'll have an idea or two."

Aemond's expression brightened again. "I will do my best not to let you down."

Days past, and soon enough Aemond could move you from the bed to a wheelchair. Your arm was healing nicely, as were your legs, despite there still being some time until the latter were properly healed. Aemond never failed to update your over his progress of the manuscript.

"I read chapter one, it was one of your best introductions to a Misery novel I have ever read..."

"Page twenty, I've reached. It's incredible how you can engage with the reader so quickly in the novel..."

"Page thirty, I had to force myself to put it down..."

It wasn't until one day when he came in with your lunch that something seemed a little... off, about Aemond.

"I know I'm only forty pages into the book..." He began in his usual tone. "But... oh I cannot criticise someone like you-"

"It's fine," You replied. "I can take it. Believe me, if I can deal with the critics, I'm sure I can handle whatever my number one fan has to say."

Aemond softly exhaled, keeping his gaze fixed on where he was cutting up your lunch. "It's just..."

"Just what?"

"It is brilliantly written," Aemond admitted. "Although everything you write is brilliant. But... the swearing..."

You raised an eyebrow.

"The... swearing...?"

"Yes, the swearing. There, I said it!"

"It bothers you?"

"It is inappropriate. It has no nobility," He protested, sawing through the food on your plate.

"It is appropriate for the setting and background of the character speaking-"

Aemond stilled, his hands stopping from cutting your food for you. His head lifted to meet your gaze, his expression uncharacteristically cold.

"No. It isn't," He replied firmly, resuming to cutting your food, his gaze still focused on you. "What do you think people say when they go into the grocery shop in town. Give me a carton of those effing eggs and five slices of that bitchly roast chicken?"

You couldn't help but smile at his refrain from using the profanities, but it faltered as the cutting becoming more and more erratic.

"...And in the bank, do I tell Mr Lannister, here's one big bastard of a cheque, give me some of your darn money?"

You let out a nervous chuckle at his rants, but soon enough your ears were greeted by the grating sound of metal against china. He looked down, slamming the plate down on bedside table.

"There! See? Now see what you have made me do! These were my mother's plates! What she left me when she passed! And now, it's all scratched!"

His chest heaved as he closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down. When they reopened, his good eye was full of shame and embarrassment.

"Oh... I'm so sorry... sometimes I can get so worked up I... oh, can you ever forgive me? Here..." He pressed your pills to your lips before picking up the plate, shooting you a rather overly sweet smile.

"I hope you can forgive me. Oh, Y/N... how I adore you. I mean... your mind. Your creativity... that is all I meant."

Several days passed, and Aemond's previous disposition had returned. He didn't lecture you over the choice of language used in the book, but still seemed disapproving nonetheless. He still cooked and fed you your meals, brushed your teeth, gave you your pills, praised you every waking moment he was with you. The phones were still apparently out, but he had assured you it was only a matter of time before they were up and running again. He had even managed to convince you to autograph his limited edition copy of your first Misery novel, promising to cherish it for the rest of his days.

He still gave you regular updates on reading your manuscript. At page 185, he expressed his sadness at being over halfway through. At page 300, he branded it better than perfect, that it was divine. He said it was more beautiful than any tapestry adorning the Red Keep. He had then introduced you to his pet snake, Vhagar, and his cat called... Misery.

And you had found out more about him.

How he had graduated top of his class from medical school, and how his peers and his family were constantly consumed with jealousy from his success. How they would attempt to belittle and mock him for his eye, and how in his lowest moment, his fiancée, Alys, had left him, but you had saved him with releasing your newest Misery novel some weeks later.

He had told you about the neglect from his father, his older brother's alcoholism and his mother's untimely death. He stiffened when he mentioned his eye, but you quickly changed the conversation and didn't bring it up again, not wanting to upset him by bringing up possible past trauma. And you had listened to him, consoled him over the misfortunes of his past, and he had expressed his gratitude in return.

And then he had left you to rest while he returned to finish the manuscript, which he had entitled Misery's Child.

The slam of your bedroom door awoke you from your doze, your eyes fluttering open to reveal Aemond staring down at you, his face ashen and jaw clenched.

He must have finished the book, it seemed.

"You... she cannot be dead," He murmured. "Misery cannot be dead!" He then exclaimed, voice rising. "How... how could you do this to me?"

"Women in that age... it was tragically common for them to die in childbirth, Aemond. I'm sure you know that. But you know, she will still be alive in... in spirit..."

"I do not want her spirit! I WANT HER! AND YOU MURDERED HER!" He yelled.

"I... I didn't kill her..."

"THEN WHO DID?"

"Nobody she... she passed away and..."

"She passed awa- she passed away?! No, Y/N, you did it. You killed her. You murdered my Misery."

He picked up the chair by your beside where he usually sat with you with ease despite it's weight, rising it in the air as if to strike it down on you before turning and throwing it against the wall. It shattered immediately upon impact, breaking into pieces on the floor.

"I... I thought you were good," He murmured, tone suddenly soft. "But you're not good. You're just a dirty, untrustworthy woman. I don't... I don't think I should be near you for a while..."

He walked to the door, and stopped to turn back to you.

"And don't even think about anybody coming for you. Not the doctors, your agent, your editor... I won't call them. I haven't called them and I never will. Nobody knows you're even here. And you better hope nothing ever happens to me... because if it does... you'll die."

After the click in the lock of your door, followed by the slamming of the front door and the revving of Aemond's car as it pulls away from the house, you let out the breath you didn't know you had been holding.

You were slightly shaken from Aemond's outburst, but tried to focus on what needed to be done, shifting to the other side of your bed and reaching out with your arm. It had come out of it's sling several days ago, and was now bandaged in a cast. You managed to grasp ahold of the armrest and pull it towards the best, shifting your body closer to the edge of the bed. Your legs screamed in agony as you manoeuvred yourself onto the wheelchair, but you persisted nonetheless, managing to sit down in the chair and wheel yourself towards the door. Reaching into your hair, you pulled out a hairpin Aemond had leant you, pushing it into the keyhole and soon enough hearing a click. Turning the knob, you pulled open the door and wheeled yourself out of the room, looking down the flight of stairs that blocked your way.

Letting out a deep sigh, you gripped the banister with one hand as you slowly steered yourself to the edge of the staircase.

"What have I got to lose?" You murmured, before wheeling the chair down the stairs.

The chair turned on its side as it crashed down the last step, but you managed to hoist yourself up again. You immediately tried grabbing a phone, but it turned out to be fake. You then discovered the windows bolted shut and both of the front and back doors having a second lock at the top, which you couldn't reach due to not being strong enough to stand just yet.

You wheeled yourself back into the living room, looking at the photographs placed on the drawers against the wall. There was Aemond as a young boy standing with his siblings and mother, his eye unharmed. Another showed him graduating medical school, a proud smile on his face. The third was him with his mother. And the fourth... was you.

He truly wasn't lying when he said he was your biggest fan.

Between the two photographs was a crystal dragon ornament, and beneath that was an emerald scrap book. You lifted the ornament carefully and grabbed the book, opened it.

The beginning seemed fairly normal. More photographs of his childhood and teen years. The was a photograph of him at what seemed to be a formal event with a women you only assumed was Alys. She was dressed in dark green, matching Aemond's tie, and you were sure she was very pretty, but you couldn't see her face due to the black ink scribbled over it, almost cutting through the photo. The next page was work related. More photographs and newspaper clippings of his medical success.

But turning the page was a different story entirely.

The first page contained a page of the newspaper, what seemed to be it's headline emblazoned in large capital letters.

'Doctor Aemond Targaryen arrested for the murder of nephew Lucerys Velaryon'

'Doctor Aemond Targaryen was arrested this morning, accused of the murder of his nephew, Lucerys Velaryon. Targaryen, 20, pleaded not guilty to the death of Velaryon, 16, under the accusation he had simply acted in self defence after his nephew attacked him with a knife and caused the disfigurement of his left eye'

And it only got worse as you read the following pages.

'Targaryen trial postponed until December 10.'

Accompanying the headlines were photographs of him standing in front of the courthouse with his lawyer, Larys Strong, a stony expression on his face.

'Targaryen declared innocent by jury, claims he was a victim of a malicious attack.'

'Shamed doctor Aemond Targaryen resigns from King's Landing hospice.'

You slammed the book shut, a sick feeling brewing in your stomach as you hastily placed the book in it's position with the ornament on top.

Wheeling yourself to the stairs, you gripped the banister and you pulled yourself up the stairs. Your arms ached, the muscle burning and sweat beading on your forehead as you persisted, refusing to let go and crash back down to the bottom again.

In time, you reached the top of the stairs, moving the wheelchair as quickly as you could, taking the pin out and moving towards the bed, when a slam of a car door stopped you in your tracks.

Aemond was back.

You knew he would enquire about the now unlocked door, but you could just pass it off by saying you urgently needed to use the bathroom. You also knew that you didn't have enough time to haul yourself back into bed, and so you did what you could, and threw yourself out of the chair and onto the floor, pushing the wheelchair away from you slightly as the front door opened, the rustling of paper bags being put on the table before the creaking of the stairs. There was a slight falter before he twisted the knob and pushed the door open.

He knew it was unlocked.

"What happened?" He asked, voice laced with concern as he hurried over to you, lifting you into his arms and shushing your cry of pain as he placed you down in bed atop the covers. His glasses had been taken off, the brilliant blue of his good eye burning into you.

"I needed the bathroom, but I couldn't get back into bed I... I lost my balance and fell on the floor..." You lied, hoping that you managed to convince him that your story was true.

"You needed to use the bathroom?" He asked, receiving a nod from you in response.

"And you managed to get yourself on and off the toilet alright?"

Another nod.

He slowly nodded in response, and you let out a small sigh of relief, visibly relaxing at him seemingly believing your story.

"And... you managed to get down the stairs and into the living room without hurting yourself after picking your bedroom door lock?" He added, his tone still soft.

A little too soft.

"Aemond... I never..."

"And you managed to somehow drag yourself back upstairs into your room?"

"I... I don't..."

"The dragon ornament on top of my photograph album," He replied. "It was pointing the wrong way."

You opened your mouth to speak, but found yourself at a loss for words, you mouth dry and your blood running cold.

"It's okay," He murmured, running his thumb over your lower lip. "I shouldn't have scared you. I know I did. I frightened you, hm? Well for that I apologise. I will refrain from repeating that behaviour in the future." He added, leaning forward slightly. "You are so incredibly important to me, Y/N. I'm sure you know that. You saw the photograph downstairs..."

You tried to speak again but he quickly shushed you, the finger resting on your lip tracing down your jaw, your neck, across your collarbone. His pupil had dilated, his breath quickening slightly as his hand moved down to your chest, covered by one of his shirts he had given you, framing your body in a pale blue.

"You do not need to speak Y/N," He whispered, leaning closer still, one hand placed the other side of you, caging you against him. "You will only waste your energy..."

As he pressed his lips to yours, you knew you couldn't fight back. You were weaker with him even without your injuries, and with his erratic behaviour, and what you had discovered downstairs...

And so you let him deepen the kiss. You let him part your lips with his tongue. You let his hand wander down from fondling your breast to your waist, pulling the shorts you had on down to your knees.

You let him ever so gently part your legs, pressing a line of kisses along your upper thigh, and then pay the same attention to the other, his lips tracing your flesh that had been swollen with bruises the week before.

Did you even know how long you had been here?

Staring up at the same ceiling, being enclosed in those same four walls day after day had merged the days together.

And if you asked Aemond, would he tell you the truth?

You couldn't trust him, but you needed to stay alive. And if you had any hope of getting out of here alive, you needed to stay on his good side.

And so there you were, legs spread as Aemond lowered himself between them, his moans vibrating against you at your taste, his tongue circling your clit and sending a jolt of pleasure through you that was both pain and pleasure as your legs twitched slightly, a hand tangling in his silver locks.

You resented the way your legs squeezed around his head as he thrust two fingers into you, murmuring against you about how wet with want you were for him. Your body was betraying you, but you couldn't stop the way he was making you feel such pleasure. The mere curling of his fingers against your sweet spot, or the flick of his tongue against your swollen clit caused a string of breathy moans to leave you, and soon you found yourself coming undone. He drew his fingers out of you, replacing them with his tongue as he eagerly lapped at your release.

He sat back, lips glinting with your release. He reached forward, fingers parting your lips so you could taste yourself on him. He let out a satisfactory groan as you sucked on his fingers, allowing them to linger on your lips as he pulled away.

Pressing his lips to yours, he pulled your underwear and shorts back up to rest on your hips.

"I would love to go further with you, but I'll have to wait until you're back to your full strength. It may take some time... but I think I can manage with having your addictive taste on my tongue until I can truly claim you as mine. You'd like that, hm?"

"I..." You let out a deep breath. This man was unhinged. He'd break your ankles with a sledgehammer before letting you leave. You knew that your best chance to survive this, was to play along. Allow Aemond to believe that you were beginning to reciprocate his affections for long enough so he could let down his walls and nurse you back to health so you could escape.

"I would like that..." You murmured, looking away to feign embarrassment.

"It is nothing to be ashamed of, my darling Y/N." Aemond replied, looking at you with such fondness, you wouldn't have believed he was a murderer. He paused for a moment. "This may not be the best time, but I have a surprise for you. In the other guest room."

"Oh... okay..."

"If you want to wait another day, as disappointing as that would be-"

"No, I can see it now," You hastily replied as to not flair that nasty temper up again. He smiled warmly in response, stepping towards you as you reached for the wheelchair, but he instead lifted you into your arms bridal style, walking you away from the chair and towards the bedroom door. Instinctively, you wrapped an arm around the back of his neck, your head resting against his shoulder.

He pushed open the door with his foot, giving you another overly sweet smile as he proudly declared "It's your new studio. I set it up last night. I just needed to get the typewriter and paper, which are downstairs."

"But... w-why..."

"You need a place to work, after all," He interrupted you, placing you down on the desk chair. "All writers need a place to work."

"B-but... what would I write?" You asked.

Aemond smirked at you, walking over to where a trashcan sat in the far corner of the room. The clang as it landed on the floor echoed around the room as he dropped it at your feet, your manuscript discarded in it.

"You want me... to burn my book?" You looked up at him in disbelief.

"I know this may be difficult to you," Aemond nodded, reaching into his back pocket and bringing out a box of matches.

"I... I can't..."

"Yes. You can," Aemond's voice was firm. "You can do this. Do it. Now."

Your hands began to tremble as he pressed the matchbox into them, pouring lighter fluid into the trashcan.

"I know this is the only copy," He continued. "You always only write one copy at first. When you were eighteen, you wrote your first book and you didn't make a single copy. Because you didn't think anybody would take it seriously. But they did. And you kept that tradition because it's a superstition to you, and you don't want to make a copy in fear of it being rejected. I'm trying to help you can't you see that?" His voice was steadily rising as his agitation grew, making the tremble in your hands worsen.

"I just want to help you. Why won't you let me help-"

As he spoke, you hastily lit one of the matches and threw it in the trashcan, the manuscript exploding into flame.

And as Aemond lovingly kissed your forehead, murmuring how proud he was of you for being so strong, all you could do was stare at the flames consuming your work, your own masterpiece.

"Now you can go back to doing what you're great at," Aemond murmured, a hand resting on your shoulder. "You can write a new novel, your greatest achievement ever... Misery's return."

He knelt down by you, a finger hooking beneath your chin, turning your head to meet his gaze. "I know you didn't mean it when you killed her. And now you can make it right. You can even write it in my honour, as a thanks for saving your life and nursing you back to health." He leaned forward so his breath was tickling your ear, his hand now resting on your thigh. "Although there are also other ways you can repay that debt to me."

"And you... you expect me to write something up just like that?" You asked.

"I expect nothing less than a masterpiece from you," He replied reassuringly, pressing another kiss to you, this time on the cheek. "I have the upmost faith in you my darling... I know you won't let me down... and if you do... we'll just have to start again. And again. And again... you won't try to escape, will you?"

"O-of course not. I... wouldn't dream of it."

Aemond hummed in approval. "I know you won't," He whispered, kissing you on the lips before standing up. "No one will come for you. If they do... I won't let them take you. If they try to take you from you, or if you do try to leave..." He said, opening a storage closet and reached inside, brandishing a sledgehammer. "There are other ways of keeping you here... with me... forever..."

Masterlist

#Aemond Targaryen #Aemond Targaryen x reader #Aemond Targaryen imagine #House of the dragon #House of the dragon x reader #House of the dragon imagine #Spooktober

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