#they witnessed true horror of seeing this move back to back | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovverletters · 16 days

Note

I've been scrolling through your blog, you've got some pretty cute stuff. I loved the serial killer piece. Food for thought, just a little treat- yandere hacker. Serially online genius who falls in love with a small time content creator, and would go on revenge streaks to try and "protect" His darling from trolls

ERROR404˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

A/N : i miss 707. have some yan hacker instead.

T/W : yandere theme, mentions of doxxing, mentions of harassment, invasion of personal information

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

" Thanks for the 20 dollar donation 'L3M0NP1E' !! "

[name] thanked the donor with a grateful smile. Being a smaller content creator, receiving donation is quite a rare feat especially with the small size of audience they currently have.

They had only begun making content a few months ago out of boredom under the name of [alias name]. It started with them posting videos of gameplay commentary video, that by a stroke of luck gained traction.

Viewers find their awkward and bizarre commentary that's paired by theirㅡ admittedly horribleㅡ skills in video gaming entertaining and stucked around for more.

[name] was grateful of their supportive and positive followings, they've heard countless horror stories of small content creators being harassed by trolls due to lack of moderation.

They're thankful of the fact that they have yet to encounter any and hope that it'll stay that way.

" Chat, should I go in that room? I feel like if I do, the killer would corner me like a bully asking for my lunch money " [name] turned to read their live chat to seek for the viewer's opinion.

" I see plenty of 'Yes', if I die here it's on you okay~ " They snorted before moving their character to enter the sketchy room only to be killed by the killer the moment they step foot inside of it.

" What did I say, chat?! Like a fucking loser I not only got my lunch money stolen but I was also given a wedgies by that motherfucker! " They hysterically laughed as the chat goes crazy.

It took them a moment to settle down from their fit of laughter and resumed the game. As they were playing through it and talking to the viewers, they noticed a familiar name popping up on the fast paced chat.

edgelord404 : hello. I had a business to attend to earlier, what did I missed?

A smile bloomed on [name]'s feature seeing the message in their chat. This particular viewerㅡ edgelord404ㅡ was one of their viewer they recognized from their early days when the view count barely cracked a hundred on their postings.

" edgelord404 hey! welcome to the stream, we're trying to break into this old granny's bank account and steal her retirement funds "

" Not in real life of course. Don't be silly! " They clarified by emphasizing their words.

edgelord404 : sounds illegal.

edgelord404 : I can help. I got experiences.

[name] began wheezing from how much they laughed. True to their username, edgelord404 loves to spout the most edgy and emo things. They have to admit, it did lights up their days from edgelord404 attempt at humor.

As they were about to respond to edgelord404's comments, they noticed the chat being flooded by less than pleasant comments. They immediately recognized it as to be the work of internet trolls trying to get a rise out of the creator they're harassing.

Before they could attempt at defusing the situation, all of the comments instantly disappeared. [name] and their viewers were confused but the latter assumed that [alias name] got everything under controlled and thought nothing of it.

peachesandcrem : what just happened💀

edgelord404 : you were saying?

" Uhㅡ yeah. Anyways as I was sayingㅡ "

That was odd. Huh.

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Saehoon leaned back against his chair, a satisfied smirk on his face. He watches [alias name], his favourite content creator playing a random game they had interest in.

The stream went along smoothly until a minor turbulence appeared but nothing that he couldn't deal with. Although, he isn't entirely done with the trolls who had invaded his beloved's chat and tried to cause a ruckus.

He had encountered [alias name]'s page a few months ago, right when they had just started with zero following. Saehoon decided to watch them to kill some time but didn't anticipated for him to fall for them instantly.

It could've been the fact that he was the only one watching them failed at the same obstacle over and over againㅡ that it felt intimate. Their bizarre humour and commentary only adds up to their charms that made him fall even deeper.

It didn't take quite a while for Saehoon to dig up information behind the content creator whom had captivated him. Being a genius hacker himself, it is something he was used to doing on a dailyㅡ for work purposes obviously.

Within a few clicks, he has the entirety of [alias name]'s information in his palm. Such as their real name, [name]. Their location, acquaintances, friends, family, their backgrounds and even more.

" [name] .. " Saehoon uttered their name once he obtained their information. It sounded perfect, the way it rolls on his tongueㅡ they were perfect for him.

As time passes, he noticed them slowly gaining popularity and he couldn't help but feel proud of how much they had grown. Admittedly, he was somewhat responsible for pushing out their contents by messing with the algorithm.

Though, he would never take credit for their success of course, he just aided them and the rest is purely their hardwork.

Although he isn't keen on sharing [name] with others, he'd comfort himself with the thought that only he knows such intimate knowledge of [name] that none of their other viewers or fans knows.

Another annoyance that came with [name]'s success is the incessant waves of trolling that comes with it. Normally, he wouldn't care but if it involves his beloved [name]? they best count their lucky stars that he only leaked their doxxes online and not done worse.

Saehoon believed that [name] should invest in some moderator but he's aware that they couldn't afford to pay them. Perhaps he should offered himself someday, that way he could not only openly protects [name] from internet trollsㅡ he could also be closer to them.

Speaking of trolls, he contemplate on what he should do as a revenge for their pathetic attempt at harassing [name]. He'd leaked their personal information as usual of course but he's feeling quite spiteful today, perhaps he should dig up their embarassing past and posted it onlineㅡ or he could post a selfie of theirs that had never been seen before on a forum board.

They'll pay the price of crossing path with [name] and in turn him as well.

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

#tw: yandere #yandere #yandere oc #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #gender neutral reader #yandere male #yandere headcanons

557 notes · View notes

ssahotchnerr · 10 months

Note

Hii!! Can you do hotch x reader where hotch is all grumpy and reader is the complete opposite but he is all soft and cute towards the reader

perspectives

wc; 1.2k cw; bau!reader, angst, hurt to comfort, no established relationship but <3

aaron had never been a fan of car rides.

long car rides, to be exact. heading to the bau was never an issue, same with running around town, errands, taking jack to soccer. but a journey more than an hour? nearly unacceptable.

the luxury of traveling via the jet throughout the years definitely didn't help. and while numerous rides exceeded well over that hour time frame, at least that didn't compare to a car ride's length to the destination. that ideology was more manageable, easier to accept. and besides, he wasn't the one who was flying the plane.

so whenever it was necessary to make the trek to the state prison for interviews, about two hours away from quantico, it was displeasing. it was irritating. but it had to be done and complaining wasn't in his vocabulary.

the changing point, however, was you.

the first time you accompanied him, you had newly been added to the unit- still wide-eyed with innocence, not subjected to the horrors just yet, nervous yet excited jitters making you squirm in your seat.

he envied you in that aspect- being able to see the world in a lighter view. so maybe when you asked if you could turn on the radio, he didn't hesitate to comply.

and upon your second ride together, he flicked the radio on as soon as the engine started.

perhaps that gave you the confidence you were waiting for - finding an open, more inviting atmosphere to speak your mind.

"you know, you frown more in the car."

your words surprised him, "what?"

"it's true." you were relaxed in your seat, looking out the window and admiring the scenery passing by. "sometimes i wonder if you can even see past the windshield with how much your eyebrows are drawn over your eyes."

his lips fell into a line, but amusement bubbled within his chest. "i can see perfectly fine."

you laughed, and in that moment, aaron realized just how badly he needed that to grace his ears. "i would hope so. we haven't crashed yet."

aaron chuckled softly, his eyes returning to the road ahead.

"so, car rides huh?" not only was your wit quick, but so was your ability to read him like a book.

he huffed out a breath through his nose. "hate 'em."

"haven't you heard, it's not about the destination, but the journey?"

"our journey leads us to a high security establishment containing the worst of the worst." aaron deadpanned.

"sure." you shrugged, turning back towards the window. "but maybe it's all about perspective."

and maybe you were right.

as time moved forward, you became his frequent passenger. when the opportunity arose to take a drive, anywhere in that matter, you were always the first to volunteer.

it became routine- aaron tuning the radio to your favorite station upon the engine's ignition. his once silent rides were now accompanied by music, small talk followed and ultimately turned into full blown conversations. work related or not.

and suddenly aaron preferred the car to the jet, enjoying your presence and lightness you suddenly indulged him in. you were rather talented in elaborating, your intuition seemingly limitless. the conversations you fabricated were both amusing and constructive, and the two of you could partake in such for hours. you were easy to talk to, kind and open, not the one to be judgmental. and throughout, you looked at him in a way that made him feel so vulnerable it was frightening, but extremely safe. he could open up about the depths of his mind and you would still look at him the same way. in addition, he couldn't remember the last time he actually had the urge to open up. willingly.

sure, he could sit with you on the jet (and notably, he did) and get the same exchange, but he preferred the peace and stillness of just the two of you. you, him, and the open road.

and maybe more importantly, you made him feel like himself again.

while it was bound to happen, aaron dreaded when the job would take it's toll on you.

aaron often admired your level-headedness, your ability to remain objective and to not dwell on the darkness as many agents do; the all consuming abyss. your bubbly personality coincided with seeing the good in all things, despite all circumstances.

no wonder you got along so well with garcia.

you maintained your sense of strength, for so long, aaron feared how hard it would hit you; the realization darkness would never cease it's attempts to triumph light. and that same darkness would attempt to overcome you, no matter how much light you offered.

manageable. if he couldn't protect you from the inevitable (although, he would if he could - in less than a heartbeat), he could at least make it manageable.

slowly and surely, your inner sparkle was dimming. and he wouldn't dare allow your light to diminish.

an interview at the virginia reformatory arose, and something about this unsub had riled you up to the extreme- aaron's never seen so much fiery behind your eyes. but despite your hatred, you had insisted on going- your vigor all too similar to one he knew well.

"his guy," you seethed, buckling your seatbelt rather forcefully. "is sick. what he's done-"

"i know."

"they didn't deserve it hotch." aaron nearly flinched at the use of his name, he's gotten used to hearing aaron from you. "why do we have to drive all this way, to get stupid answers from a stupid, vile ass clown who doesn't want to speak to us to begin with? we're going to get nothing out of it. nothing."

"i see you've been hanging around dave too much." aaron commented, hoping to lighten the mood.

but your attitude didn't falter, not like it would've previously. "why do we have to go? driving all the way out there is pointless."

aaron shrugged, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. "i don't mind the drive."

you snorted a laugh, your comment flying out of your mouth. "since when?"

"since someone," aaron's eyes found yours. "changed my perspective."

"yeah, well," you slouched in your seat, mumbling under your breath. "what do i know."

"a lot more than you give yourself credit for." his answer was simple, true.

"c'mon."

"i'm serious. yeah, this sucks. it's going to be an unpleasant afternoon. but..." he paused for emphasis, bringing a sense of playfulness. "the journey."

another scoff came from you. "and what could possibly come from that."

"you never know." before aaron could overthink himself out of it, his hand reached over the center console, finding yours naturally- as if it were it's rightful place to be. where it belonged.

your hand was just as soft as he expected, somehow more, even. he gave it a squeeze, and it immediately brought a bit of light back into you. your shoulders dropped, warmth returned to your face, looking at him in a sense of awe, almost.

unknowingly to each other, both of you felt it. where aaron's touch met yours, every part of him was aflame.

"the journey." he repeated. "that's the whole point, isn't it? you never know what, or who, will be the outcome."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x you #criminal minds imagine

2K notes · View notes

stellar-skyy · 2 months

Text

WITH YOU— Wanderer x reader.

i. SUMMARY: Wanderer wakes up by his lover's side. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: References to Wanderer's backstory. iii. NOTES: Fluff, established relationship, gn!reader, they/them pronouns used, 1.1k words. iv. A/N: Written for @ecrin-de-litterature's Kiss (don't tell) event! My matchup was @iceunhie!! Mhie!!! I hope you enjoy!! I'm sorry if this is ooc I am so unused to writing Wanderer ;-;

Every morning Wanderer wakes, he stares.

He can’t help it, truly. He’s always been an early riser, ever since he was a youth. Back then, when he rose from the pile of blankets on the floor he called a bed, it was always well before the other person occupying the house. The young boy—his brother, his family—was the opposite, and would rest until the sun slipped through the cracks under the door and right into his eyes. By then, Wanderer would have returned with a heaping of Lavender melons for breakfast, and they'd enjoy the morning together.

Even with the Fatui, who all woke before the crack of dawn to begin their duties, he was the first to get up. He was lucky enough to witness the horrors of the Knave before she’d drunk a cup of coffee, and the amusement of seeing sleep-deprived new recruits who hadn’t adjusted to the early schedule quite yet.

And now, when the place he lived was no longer empty, and he no longer needed to sleep lightly for fear of a knife to his throat, he still found himself waking with the sun.

The moment dawn began to break, he was already stirring. Within moments of blinking himself awake, he moves to seek out the warm presence by his side, pausing for a moment to watch them as they slept.

His eyes trace every inch of their face, until it was burned into his mind. Every detail; the slope of their nose, the delicate curl of their lashes, each mark on their skin. It would never fail to astound him, just how irrevocably human they were: from the veins tracing spiderwebs across their wrists to the slow thrum of their heartbeat.

He observes carefully, as each inhale of their breath brought their chest up and down. Their lips were just barely parted to let air through. He imagines them curling into that delightfully familiar smile, the one that sent shivers down his spine even after dozens upon dozens of times he’s witnessed it.

That smile could melt him, in a way no other human could. They were the exception to so many rules in his life, breaking past his resentment towards humanity and worming their way into where his heart would be, if he had one.

They were just so undeniably, disgustingly kind.

How else could he describe them, when they were the one to see him with all his sharp edges and still have enough patience to fall in love with him? What other words could he say, when they look upon him every day, knowing the horrors of his past and still having enough faith to believe he can become something good?

Kindness was a stranger to him. Cruel words, and ugly sneers were far more commonly thrown his way. They were a familiarity; a comfortable sort of pain, something easy to swallow.

That’s what no one tells you about being hated: eventually, it feels safe. Eventually there comes a point where you crave their fear, their disgust, like it’s the only thing keeping yourself whole. That’s when they say your name like it’s a curse, and you feel lucky to hear it at all.

‘Love’ is something else entirely. For the longest, love was a burden; love was what left you abandoned on the steps of the Shakkei Pavilion, or exiled from the only place you've ever called home.

But… he loved them. Gods, he loved them. And they loved him too, if the words they told him sleepily before they fell asleep were true. Love was terrifying; it was a feeling so human that he couldn’t possibly know how to handle it.

They began to shift in their sleep, face scrunching up minutely, before their eyes cracked open.

“You staring?” They say, their words slightly slurred with sleep.

Of course. “Of course not. I was just watching how you drool in your sleep. It looked so pathetic that I found myself in awe.”

“Mhm,” They yawn. “Tell me again how much you hate me.”

He hesitated, letting his mask crack for just a moment. “I don’t hate you.”

In terms of love confessions, it was pretty pathetic.

“Ever the romantic, aren’t you? I—” Another yawn cuts through whatever more they were going to say. They hum gently, shuffling closer to rest a head against his shoulder.

If he had a heart, it would be pounding. “Tch. Clingy, aren’t you?”

“I don’t see you pulling away.” They weren’t wrong. Absently, he moved to make himself more comfortable, sliding an arm around their waist and resting his chin on top of their head.

“I could hardly leave you alone, could I? Humans must truly be pitiful creatures, craving affection like they’d starve without it. What would you be without me?”

“Well, if I’m so pitiful, I might as well leave,” They huff, moving to detangle from the mess of sheets and limbs.

“No! Don’t go,” He blurts out, jolting forward to catch their wrist before they could move away. They blink at his sudden reaction, and he clears his throat awkwardly. “Not yet.”

“Okay,” they say easily, settling back into the bed. This time, Wanderer foregoes the aloofness and moves straight to lay his head on their chest with one ear pressed to where their heart beats.

“Okay. I won’t leave yet.”

That was what he was told, so many times. Every time in the past he heard it—from his mother, his friend, his brother—it was always a lie, but somehow, somehow he believed them when they said it.

“Don’t go…” He murmurs lowly, soft enough that they can barely catch it.

“I won’t,” they say into his hair, soft as a whisper. “I love you.”

I love you. The words were on the edge of his tongue, so close he could taste their sweetness. They were always there, lingering in the back of his throat like something he could never quite swallow down. They were the background of every moment he spent with them, day and night. They were the aftertaste of the dinner he cooked for them, they were the shape of the stitches he used when he mended their clothing; in every action he takes, three words he can’t bring himself to say.

“You don’t have to tell me you love me back,” They kiss the crown of his head. “I already know.”

But one day he’s going to say it back to them.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

#✒️ — writing #— kiss (don’t tell) !#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin wanderer x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin impact fluff #wanderer fluff #wanderer x gn reader #wanderer x gender neutral reader

215 notes · View notes

hauntedtotem · 4 days

Text

Doppelgangers mimic, it's in their blood, their instincts. They observe and copy, they peak into the lives of the unsuspecting and devour what they can, in every sense of the word.

It's necessary for their survival, to learn every detail of ones features. The better evolved members of their kind learn to perfectly imitate speech patterns and body language as well, leaving nothing out. Perfection is key, and a deep intricate understanding of their prey is what they strive for.

They pride themselves on their ability to reflect humanities ego back at them.

Some understand too well, and look deeper than what's necessary. Their human-counterparts oft hold secrets buried within, secrets they show no one, and yet the doppelgangers that select them seem to enjoy shouting such things out into the world for all to see.

Showing off what they've found, what was previously being hidden away from public eye.

A pilot who's mind races with endless possibilities and visions of death, who's witnessed carnage both of reality and illusion. Behind a stone faced facade and obscuring shades, paranoia clutches the mind and eyes dart nervously towards every shadow. The constant nagging of adrenaline and panic being held trapped behind an un-moving mask. An all consuming mind, seeing danger at every corner, only ever knowing peace while in the emptiness of the skies.

A woman who wills herself to be blind to her harsh reality. Portraying herself with an energetic and bubbly attitude, while miserable inside, refusing to speak of her past. Silencing herself for the sake of her and her daughter. Pretending she doesn't see that her daughter looks nothing like her ex husband, pretending she doesn't see the resemblance to her neighborhood milkman. Staying quiet, eyes and lips sealed shut. Keeping her secret away from even herself.

An uncaring, boring man to the public eye, who secretly relishes in the silent chaos he's caused for numerous marriages. Going about his day, hiding his sadistic smile behind a mundane lifestyle and tired eyes. Knowing the effect he has on unsuspecting and lonely housewives, it does wonders for his ego. He keeps it inside, not showing his twisted delight for home-wrecking.

It goes on, many doppelgangers seeing people's true colors and proudly putting them on display.

A miserable seamstress, a model with an fake smile and endless hunger for fame, a reporter melting under the pressure of his journalism- having to do stories on these monsters day in and day out, exposed to endless horrors.

Many may look at these mimics, call them lazy, say they don't understand what a real human looks like. But they know better than anyone what's in your heart, their depiction more accurate than those only portraying what's on the surface level.

A button is pressed, the curtains fall, and their performance is done as a siren mocks the sound of applause.

#Tnmn #thats not my neighbor #Francis mosses #nacha mikaelys #that's not my neighbor #steven rudboys #Ficlet #Tnmn fanfic #Headcanons #Nacha is divorced but not to francis- he's just a homewrecker #Also Steven has undiagnosed schizophrenia that he can't tell anyone about because he'll be discharged from the military #This started as a shit post and was going to end with peaches guy but I ended up liking it too much

128 notes · View notes

asumofwords · 1 year

Text

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: HELLO, wow. Thank you for all the love as per usual! It makes me giggle and kick my little feet reading your messages ! I know I probably sound like a broken record at this point but this is a DARK FIC, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD READ THE WARNINGS. Please do not expect fluff and romance...

Without further adieu, enjoy <3

51: The Return to Kings Landing

You had walked quickly up to Dragonmont, finding Vermithor before mounting him, brushing his bronze scales as you looked about the island, to commit it to your memory. Footsteps of another had interrupted your gazing, as Aemond rounded a cliff and came to stop, looking at you atop the Bronze Fury.

You could have sworn you saw your husband smirked, but paid no mind to it, commanding the large bronze dragon into the sky to fly back to what you used to call home. Not too long after, the sound of familiar grumble came from behind and your heart had skipped a beat, looking back to see Vhagar and your uncle seated atop.

This time she was not chasing you.

This time she flew with you.

The flight to Kings Landing was not too long of a journey, and you had allowed yourself to silently cry atop the dragon as Dragonstone became smaller, and smaller behind you. It was something you could do alone on your dragon, despite the burning presence of Aemond, who now flew ahead of you.

As King’s Landing came closer, the sun had begun to set, casting a rusty glow across the vast stone structures. Vermithor landed down near the entrance to the Dragon Pit, where Syndor had once waited for you. Letting you slide from his back, your fingers stroked the ropes Jacaerys had put on him before he took off to the skies again, leaving you at the mouth of the cave.

You let your feet carry you through the pit, walking into the Keep alone. Not waiting for Aemond, and wherever he was, to escort you inside.

If this was to be your home, then you would act like it.

Although, it was odd to be back in truth.

To be back in a place where you had not long ago escaped from. To be back where so much had happened. To willingly walk yourself right back into the vipers nest. To where so many horrors had been witnessed and committed in the name of the crown.

In the name of the Targaryen legacy.

And whilst you let yourself walk without purpose, you found your feet had led you somewhere you had always sought solace in times of need.

The Godswood stood tall, and exactly where it had before. Its dark ruby leaves moved gently in the breeze and night began to fall over the realm. Its bark was still rough to the touch as you let your fingers graze over it.

It was the one thing in the Keep that had remained the same.

The one thing that had stayed true.

As you rested your cut palm against the bark, you watched as a small part of coagulated blood pulled away from the skin, causing new blood to flow. The dark, red liquid dripped gently onto the bark of the tree, starkly standing out against the brown of the bark.

You looked at the face of the tree, staring at it as you dug your palm sharply into its surface, feeling the sharp edges of wood dig into the open cut of your hand.

It was grounding, that pain.

Made you focus on one thing, instead of the racing thoughts inside of your head.

Servants walked through the halls and corridors, and passed through the courtyard where you stood. None stopping to greet you, nor stopping to report you. It seemed that they were all aware of the reasoning to your presence, and to your return.

You closed your eyes, praying to the old Gods to hear you. To save you. To take mercy upon you. To forgive you of your sins. Of your wrongdoings.

To protect you from what was to come.

And as you prayed, you felt someones gaze upon you, skin prickling with unease. You ignored it and kept on, lips softly moving as you begged for mercy and forgiveness.

“The God’s won’t hear your prayers.” Came the soft voice of your husband.

You balled your hand by your side into a fist as you were pulled from your prayers, attempting to desperately start again.

Please Gods, let me survive thi-

“Come. I will show you to our chambers.”

Our chambers.

Our.

You let your hand slide from the bark of the tree, taking one last glance at the red leaves above you before you turned to face Aemond. He stood not too far way, in his riding leathers, hands held behind his back and posture stiff. His lips were pulled into a soft smile and it made you nervous.

Why was he smiling at you like that?

What was wrong with him?

You lifted an unsure foot over the roots, and began to walk down the grass towards him, watching as your husbands smile grew wider. The blood on his lips had mostly gone, from flaking away or perhaps the gentle lapping of his own tongue.

Though the blood on his forehead was untouched. It had dried a darker shade, almost a deep brown like the bark of the tree.

His posture was so similar to how he had been at Storm’s End. Leg lazily jutted out with his arms behind his back. That smile you realised, was most likely a smug one.

The cat who got the cream.

The man who finally got the wife he wanted.

“I wish to return to my old chambers.” You spoke, and you watched as Aemond’s head tilted to the side, as he lazily looked you up and down.

“No.” Was all he said before he turned, not waiting for you to follow him.

You stood unmoving as you watched him leave, feet carrying him swiftly across the grass to the cobblestones. You thought of not following him, and returning to your own chambers. But you did not know if it would be locked or guarded, nor did you know of how he would react.

Now was not the time to be a steadfast fool.

And so you let your feet carry you towards him, following the man like a dutiful wife, albeit ten to fifteen paces behind him. Watching his legs work, and his hands that were clutched tightly behind his back. Hands that were now permitted to touch you. Hands that would undoubtedly bring you pain and suffering.

One hand gripped the others wrist, the cut hand on display as dried blood had begun to settle on his palm and finger tips. You watched it flex and tighten, fingers digging into the cut at random as he continued onwards to his wing of the Red Keep.

You wondered if it would be his chambers, or new ones. If you were to return to the chambers you had been in, not so long ago, makeshift dagger in hand as you plunged it into the soft flesh of his shoulder. You wondered if he would disrobe himself before he took you. If you would get to see with your own eyes the damage you had done to him.

Not unlike how he would see the scars he had given to you upon your body. Almost too many to count during such a short period of time. He had truly put his mark on you in every way possible.

Your body.

Your heart.

Your mind.

Every piece of you now belonged to him.

The castle began to darken from the setting sun, and the torches along the corridor served to light the path ahead. Aemond did not pause, nor did he slow down as he approached his chambers.

The chambers you had been in before.

So there was no new chambers for you. Just the haunting memory of the old one. You wondered if it kept him awake at night? Or if he stayed there to serve as a reminder of what you had done to him.

As he approached, a knight pulled open the doors for him, nodding his head to you both. You watched as his silver hair disappeared into the chambers and you slowed your step. You could not make a run for it. You know you couldn’t, but your body wanted to.

Your mind wished for you to run, to escape the inevitable of what was to come.

You knew what was expected of you the moment you entered those chambers. Now that you were man and wife, it needed to be consummated. But this did not mean that despite knowing, that you would ever be ready for it.

You had always thought it would be different.

Perhaps loving and gentle, shared with someone you loved. Perhaps if Aemond hadn’t grown into the man he was now, you would have willingly given it to him. The thought made your heart rise into your throat as you palms began to feel cold and clammy.

Step after step, you slowly moved forward to seal your doom.

When you reached the knight at the door, he waited for you to enter, not looking at you, instead looking over your head as though you weren’t even there. Clearing your throat, you straightened your back and held your head high, before swiftly walking into the dark green chambers.

It was as you had remembered, though this time, brighter. The fire place raged with flames, and candles were lit upon every surface to light the room. Your eyes flitted to the side of the bed, and the passage in which you had snuck through to get him.

It was still there, and he had not blocked, nor barricaded it.

“You wouldn’t be able to leave that way, if that’s what you are thinking of.” His voice called across the room.

Aemond stood to the side, filling two cups full of spiced wine, not even looking at you. He must have sensed or known that your eyes would flit straight there. As his large hands grasped the wine, he made his way towards you, holding a cup out.

It was almost like an offering of peace.

A treaty.

You timidly grasped the wine from him, and he watched you with a hum, before he pulled his goblet up to his lips and sipped deeply, turning to go sit in an armchair by the fire. You stood where you were, in the middle of the room, near a large round table that was surrounded by six chairs. Books sat atop the table, and one in particular caught your eye.

Atop the table, in a pile, was your book.

Faded red cover, golden lettering and all.

How?

“Sit.” Your uncle beckonned, eye not having left the fireplace.

Slowly you walked towards him, before sitting in the chaise opposite, letting your eyes roam over his form.

Aemond sat lazily, and comfortably in his large green armchair. Hand holding the goblet as he sipped, whilst the other rested upon the arm of the chair. It reminded you of the first night he had snuck into your chambers.

“Drink.” He commanded, and you obeyed.

You would not argue with that.

You would surely need wine for what was to come.

Would it be painful? Would he enjoy hurting you? Would you bleed as you had been told you would?

You pulled the goblet up to your lips and emptied it, resting the cup in your lap as your fingers trailer over the rim, waiting for his next command to strip and lay on the bed for him.

To lay spread for him.

To be ready for his brutality.

But he didn’t.

And instead, your husband continued to sip the wine, not talking, nor moving, until his cup was empty too. Once his goblet was dry, and he had sat for many moments more, he turned his face to look at you.

The light from the fire cast a sharp shadow across his face, causing his already pointed features to look more defined. He was hauntingly beautiful you mused.

A shame.

And a waste.

“The King wishes for us to dine with him this evening. To celebrate our union.” Aemond told you, eye roaming to where your hands had stilled at the lip of the cup.

Aegon.

You were to dine with Aegon this evening.

Memories of your last meeting in the dungeon flashed through your mind. His hands on your throat, the feeling of his cock brushing roughly against your sex. Nausea began to roll through your body, and your heart ran a marathon within your chest.

“He will not touch you.”

Aemond’s voice pulled you from the dark memories of your mind. You blinked at him uncertain.

Aegon may not touch you, but Aemond surely would.

And you did not know who would be worse.

For all of Aegon’s devious desires, they were laid bare to the world. He did not hide himself nor his actions. Where as Aemond held his close to him. He did not let anyone know of the man he truly was, nor what he truly desired.

What was worse?

The knowing of such cruelty, or the unknown of what cruelty lies before you.

Aemond watched as you spiralled with your thoughts before he abruptly stood. He stalked towards you, looking down as you clutched harder at the cup in your lap. A large hand came towards you and you could not help but flinch at the movement.

If he noticed you jump, it did not stop him, as he plucked the goblet from your hand, moving to the side of the room, to place both of your empty cups back where the decanter was.

“I will have the maids come and dress you for the evening.”

Aemond swiftly walked across the room, opening the door before exiting, leaving you in the vast emptiness of the space of the chambers that you would now call yours.

Chambers that you would now live and breathe in for Gods knew how long. Chambers that you would eat, and sleep and bathe in. Chambers in which you would share a bed with your husband, and have him put his seed in you.

Chambers where you may begin to swell with a child.

It was all so much, that you found you could not even cry at the thought. You do not know how long you spent sitting where you sat, eyes still on the fire, that when the maids came to pull the heavy riding leathers from your body, and replace them with robes for dinner, you did not resist.

Nor did you resist when the familiar gaze of your now husband watched on as they stripped you. Nor did you resist when he crowded you so suddenly, hand on the small of your back, as he moved to lead you out of your chambers towards the dining room you had all dined in before.

It was not until you were halfway there did you come back to yourself.

It was not until your feet had begun to feel heavy, and the scarring on your side began to feel tight, did you realise you stood in the corridor, with Aemond standing beside you, eye half lidded as he looked at you.

It was not until then you realised you had stopped walking, and noticed your surroundings.

“Zaldristos.” Aemond uttered, as he looked down at you.

That was what broke the spell.

You swallowed thickly and looked down at yourself.

You wore a deep red dress, almost the colour of your combined blood. It was tight, but not too tight, the sleeves were soft, and upon each wrist were embroidered dragons.

One the left side, a black dragon, embroidered scales shimmering in the light of the torches.

One the right, a green dragon.

A dress you had not seen before.

As you looked at the gown, Aemond hummed, moving forward again, neither touching you nor waiting for you to follow. You were left to trail behind him towards the familiar wooden doors, with their soft rounded tops.

He waited at the entrance for you, as the two knights held each side, only when you stood beside him did the doors open, and the room was revealed to you.

It had changed.

There were no familiar curtains or tapestry on the walls. The table had been replaced and the chairs reupholstered. The room had no sigils of the House Targaryen, and instead were replaced with gaudy green tapestry, and symbols of the Seven Faith.

What was left of the small reminder of home was now gone.

Alicent had been busy.

“Prince Aemond Targaryen, and his Lady Wife, the Princess Y/n Velaryon.” Came the low timber of Ser Criston Cole.

Lady Wife.

His.

It felt so strange.

Your eyes settled to the table.

Aegon sat where your Grandsire once had.

It was wrong.

Unnatural.

To see the seat where Viserys had sat, and laughed, and smiled with vigour, to now be replaced with someone who sneered, and drank, and whored, was blasphemous.

The conquerors crown sat heavily atop his wavy hair, and deep green robes were upon his person. On his right sat his mother, the Dowager Queen Alicent, and his left, Ser Otto Hightower.

Further along the table sat Lord Larys Strong.

And as you looked at him, you could scarcely see any resemblance to his brother, Ser Harwin Strong. You wondered what he thought of Aemond slaying his entire House?

But he was most likely just as vicious, having become the Master of Whispers to the Queen, and now your uncle, the King. His face held an odd look to it. He had sad brown eyes, and was built thinly.

A lean man with no strength of his body, only his mind.

A dangerous man indeed.

You had heard and only witnessed once yourself that the man had a clubbed foot. Perhaps his family gave him grievances like yours had to Aemond.

Perhaps he was relived to be rid of them.

Lord Jasper Wilde, and a familiar blond head of Lord Tyland Lannister sat at the table, watching you silently as you walked up the few small stairs to the table.

You were in the presence of the Kings Small Council.

They had all been invited to witness the proof of your union, and proof of your despair.

“There they are!” Came the sickening boom of Aegon’s voice as he roughly pushed himself up to stand, palms opening out widely as he smiled smugly at you.

“The newly weds! Congratulations on your union brother,” Aegon kept his eyes on you as he spoke, “And welcome back to the Keep, Princess. You left without so much as a goodbye last time you were here.”

He was goading you.

As you reached the level ground, Aemond stepped forth and pulled a chair back for you, looking at you expectantly to sit in it. You hesitated, before coming forth and sitting in the chair as he pulled out his own and seated himself.

Alicent’s watchful gaze did not leave yours.

Her face was unreadable, but the same sour, downturned lips you had gotten used to as a child was ever present. You felt the gaze of everyone at the table upon you. You held your fingers in your lap, digging your nails into the cut of your palm, which was now bandaged from the maids.

You had not even felt them do it.

“Apologies that I could not make it to witness such a beautiful union. But now we can celebrate together.” The Usurper King continued, clapping his hands loudly together.

You did not take your eyes from Alicent, keeping your gaze locked on her as he spoke.

This is what you have done.

You started this.

Your only solace was knowing that you had taken one of her sons, the way she had taken Lucerys from you and your mother.

You heard the giggle of Aegon as his hands clapped together again in excitement.

“I don’t think I’ve heard my niece be so quiet before. Have you broken her already, Aemond?”

You grit your teeth, and pushed your finger deeper into your palm, feeling the bandages wet, and still, you kept your eye on the woman who started it all.

Aemond simply hummed, before acknowledging his mother who sat opposite him.

“Don't tell me she has snatched your voice too, brother? One minute in her cunt and already you’ve gone soft.” Aegon snickered.

“Aegon.” Came the warning voice of Otto Hightower.

The energy at the table was so tense, that even the guards and knights stationed about the room shifted uncomfortably on their feet.

“It is good to have you back in King's Landing,” Otto began, “I am sure that you and Aemond shall settle in together in no time.” He gave you a warm smile, and it made you more uncomfortable than Aegon’s comments.

Aegon let out a high pitched laugh though his nose, before clicking his fingers out beside his head. The noise and movement made you stiffen.

Alicent witnessed the reaction.

And soon the table was being filled with foods and more wine, your own goblet being filled, which you snatched from the table and emptied rapidly. Aegon watching, smile widening.

As the Usurper King sat back in his large chair and drank from his cup, he kept his eyes on you as he told you of plans for the treaty and how it would work. Insisting that the North would surely love to have your mother as their Queen, which the both of you knew; they wouldn’t.

In fact, it seemed that everyone at the table knew.

Just as you had expected.

When your plate was filled with foods, you found that you had no appetite for it, instead turning to your cup, which you drank from heavily, having it refilled by the cup bearers more than thrice.

And before long, conversation flittered around the table stiffly about the union, and expectation for children, much to Aegon’s delight, and your disgust. And so you let yourself retreat back into your mind, letting their words become a distant hum as you stared at Alicent, drinking from your cup.

The Dowager Queen did not sit still as you stared at her. Her eyes would meet yours and flit away to look at the three Lords at the table and her sons, before she would gaze back at you, finding that you had not moved her from your sights.

“Tell me brother, have you bed her yet?” Aegon’s voice pulled you from your numb haze.

No reply came.

“Do you remember how it is done? I’d be happy to show you.” He snickered, and the Lannister let out an uneasy laugh.

Alicent growled Aegon’s name again and Otto began to speak before Aegon interrupted him.

“We should hold a bedding ceremony, to ensure that the deed is done properly. I can talk you through it.”

You let your gaze leave Alicent for the first time, and turned your head to look at your husband beside you, who sat straight in his chair, hands bunched in balls by his side.

His jaw was tight and tensed, and his brow was furrowed.

“Come now brother, surely you have not forgotten what I showed you on your thirteenth name day.” Aegon laughed, pulling his goblet up to his lips.

You watched as Aemond’s mouth pulled into a sneer.

“The King is merely joking with you, My Prince. We are all in good spirits for this union.” Otto tried, and failed to cover for the King.

“You heard the old bat, we are all in good spirits! You are finally wed to the one woman who had given you any attention at all. Sure, she is a bastard-“

“Watch your tongue.” You sneered at the King, resolve disappearing.

“So she speaks!” Aegon declared proudly to the table, looking at the Lords as they all smiled unsurely, “Finally. There is my niece who I know and love. Though I fear if you are able to speak, perhaps my brother did not fuc-“

Aemond shot up from his seat at the table, fists tight on the wood near his plate as he stared down at his hands. You looked up at your husband who breathed deeply, knuckles white as he fisted them.

“Aem, brother.” Aegon mock cooed, “You know I am only teasing. Come,” He looked across the table, picking up his goblet, “Lets raise our cups to this fine union!”

The Lord’s and the Dowager Queen picked up their cups, holding them towards you both.

You kept your gaze on Aemond, whose head slowly turned to you to meet your eyes, his violet orb half lidded and scowl upon his lips. He looked full of rage, just barely controlled beneath the surface of his bristling posture.

Your hand came up on its own, to reach out to touch him, to calm him, but as soon as your hand moved, you found that Aemond looked down at in in disgust before he seated himself, no longer looking at you, instead stiffly grabbing his goblet before him.

You mirrored his action, trying to push down your budding fear and anxiety, now that Aegon and riled him up.

He had done it on purpose.

“To my brother, may she warm your heart and your cock, and may you make me a grand-uncle soon enough.” He smirked, before turning his gaze on you, “And to my wonderful niece, may you warm his bed, and birth his heirs, and feel the warmth of his love.”

“Hear, Hear!” Came the confident voice of Tyland Lannister, followed by everyone else, seemingly ignoring his crude remarks.

Or perhaps, they had gotten used to it by now.

He was their King, whether they liked it or not.

Neither you nor Aemond spoke, but drank deeply from your cups, before placing them down.

A beat passed before Aemond spoke.

“Excuse us,” His voice cut across the table, stilling the King in his excitement, “I wish to spend time with my wife.”

Your husband stood from his seat, moving to stand beside yours waiting. He did not hold out his hand, nor offer to assist you in any way, simply stood and expected you to follow as he bid the table a good night, bowing stiffly to his brother, anger rolling from him in waves.

Standing you stared once more at Alicent, before turning on your heel to follow Aemond out of the dining hall, and back to your shared chambers. You did not spare a glance to Aegon, nor the other Lord’s, nor did you spare a glance at your husbands face.

You let Aemond lead you to the chambers, his strides quick and purposeful, until finally you reached the room, and you were inside, and the door behind you was shut softly with a thud by the knights.

And then you were alone, with your husband Aemond, on the night of your wedding.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

@izzicle @ej-shitchats @may-machin @alegria1580 @witchy-jadda @videovampire @inkdelicious @queteimporta39 @virtualsweetsqueen @fo-cus @auratiqs @feyres-fireheart @queenofshinigamis @asoiafwh8re @teasandcrumpets @shesjustanothergeek @grungegrrrl@queenofsarcazm @marihoneywk @curlszx88 @virgogaia @loser-keiji @asoiafwh8re @whore-of-many-hot-men @vipervixxen @theonewiththeimaginaryboyfriends @watercolorskyy @lavendervisions @mazmack666 @chokefrog @orangejump-suit @nik2blog @serrhaewinin @ohemgeewhat @winxschester @cryptidsrcool @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @celestedonut @bloodyvelvet777 @iamapersonthatsalive @av-sos @yentroucnagol @sanzu-s @opheliaas-stuff @bellameshipper @maviee @persephonerinyes @neytiri-09 @ensnaredinwonderland @xbluegracex @sotragedynut @nattieot7 @shesawaywiththefairies-blog @coffedraven @prettycutebunny @celestedonut @the-jess-life @ssulfurr @out-of-life @madislayyy @crazylokonugget

Bold is who I cannot tag!

471 notes · View notes

superprincesspea · 18 days

Text

Courted by the Dragon

Chapter 14 - Secrets and Sapphires

Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.

Masterlist

~~~

Maris’ anger had not diminished in your absence, and she was certainly glad of the thunderous scolding you received from your father.

His finger pointing, his voice booming so loudly you imagine half the keep can hear it.

Stupid, careless, girl.

He was right, you had been careless. You’d lost yourself in Aemond’s company and what could be more careless than that?

Except, that wasn’t why he was angry. You'd gone missing for hours and your mothers' cheeks were still stained with tears.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and you mean it, “I won’t let it happen again.”

“You shouldn’t even let her join us in the hall tonight!” Maris pipes in when the shouting has dwindled down to a halt, her eyes narrowed and vengeful.

But her attempt at siding with your father is soon thwarted because Borros Baratheon doles out the punishments, not his daughters, and a fresh wave of anger washes over him.

“Quiet girl!” he snaps, before returning his attention back to you, his voice booming again, “you’ll get changed and you’ll do it quickly or so help me!”

You don't need to be told twice, and rush to your room, pulling a yellow gown from your armoire before thinking better of it.

Maris already thought you were trying to steal Aemond and, in her mind, yellow was the colour to do it in. So, you reach for the sapphire blue, making tonight its third outing of the summer and perhaps its final one too.

You’re still fiddling with the tiny buttons when Cassandra sneaks into your room with a pitying look.

She sits patiently on the bed, waiting for you to finish before picking up your brush and nudging you onto the stool next to your vanity.

“We can’t have you looking like this,” she says, her voice cheerful as she gently pulls the brush through all the knots which had formed in the rain.

Trying not to wince each time she hits a snag, you sit quietly, miserably , worrying the skirt of your dress and wishing your father had forced you to stay behind.

You're still shaken from the way his voice had boomed in your ears, and you’d rather curl up in a ball and cry, instead of facing an evening of polite conversation and Maris’ seemingly endless supply of anger.

“She’ll get over it,” Cassandra says, and you know she’s right but that doesn’t make it any easier. If you could skip forward to a place where Maris didn’t hate you, you would, but there was no quick fix, only time.

“And...” she begins, waiting for you to meet her eye in the mirror, “ I think we both know she never had a chance.”

Heart suddenly in your throat, you look at your hands, hoping to hide any of the thoughts which may have escaped onto your face.

But Cassandra doesn’t need any confirmation of what she already knows to be true.

“I do not believe I’ve ever seen Prince Aemond look at Maris the way he looks at you,” she says, and you stiffen, it was exactly what the Queen had said at the tourney.

“If you knew why , you would be ashamed to have me as your sister.”

You look up from your hands just in time to see Cassandra’s eyes widen with horror, the brush stopping its progress.

“Do not tell me you have given him your virtue?”

“No! ” you say quickly, surprised by her suggestion.

Though, for one brief moment, you can’t help but imagine what that would be like.

High Valyrian rolling from his tongue, long fingers wrapping around your waist instead of books. Would his kiss be gentle, hesitant even? Just a soft, momentary press of lips to test your willing.

Or would it be certain? Urgent? Would he push you up against the bookcases, hard and feverish, his lips devouring yours before finding the racing pulse at your neck, his hands moving from your waist, hitching up the skirts of your dress and-

Clearing your throat, you banish the thought away, but not quickly enough. Your cheeks are more than a little flushed when you admit, “I met him before we came to court.”

“Where ?”

“On the beach below the keep.”

She laughs, her brow knitted with confusion, “why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Because I was alone… and I was…” you hold your tongue, could you really tell her the truth?

“I was swimming ,” you whisper, and it feels both cathartic and terrifying at the same time.

Cassandra’s fingers fall from your hair altogether and you dare not look at her in the mirror. Instead, you turn to meet her, face to face, your heart pounding harder than before, your palms slick with sickening nerves.

Yet, instead of shame you find anger, an emotion which barely ever registers on her face, and her voice is low, tense .

“Did he hurt you?” she demands in a hushed whisper which is no less powerful than your fathers bellowing.

“No ,” you gasp, knowing precisely what she is thinking as you reach to touch her arm and reassure her, “he only looked, but he has teased me about it all summer.”

She laughs then, relieved , her hands returning to your hair. “No wonder he looks at you like that .”

“Like what?”

“Like he is constantly on the brink of kissing you.”

Your cheeks flush yet again, but Cassandra’s tone hardens, scolding you. “You know you really should have told me this months ago. And Maris. How could she ever stand a chance when Prince Aemond had already fallen in love with you?”

“He loves tormenting me, nothing more.”

“If you say so,” Cassandra teases before shaking her head, “I still cannot believe you thought you could keep this a secret. Heavens, you can be so wilful sometimes.”

“But you’ll promise not to tell anyone?” you say, desperately, and by ‘anyone’, you mean Maris.

“We are sisters, your secrets are mine to keep, not to share,” she reassures, sliding the last pin into your hair and you relax, turning on the stool to hug her tightly.

It was strange, but despite all your torment, you hadn’t realised just how much you’d needed such comfort until her arms were wrapping around your shoulders and she was kissing the top of your head.

It was no secret that you and Cassandra had never been as close as you and Maris, who were like partners in crime compared to your perfect, angelic, older sister. But her embrace is so steadfast, that it seems impossible to imagine you could have any better friend or sister than her.

“You know...” she starts, as you pull away from the embrace, “we never did get to the bottom of who sent us these gowns...”

You look down at your dress, the sapphire bodice glimmering with gems, and she was right. After trying to thank Tyland Lannister, you hadn’t really wanted to think who could have bought them. Or why.

“Helaena told me that when Aemond lost his eye, they offered to replace it with gold,” she pauses for dramatic effect, “he chose a sapphire instead.”

“A sapphire?” you choke, picturing the way it might glitter beneath the patch across his eye. So beautiful, so radiant. Just like your gown.

Then you think of the times you’d wore the dress in front of him and feel as though you might be sick. From nerves, from anger, from the sheer audacity of the knowing smiles you’d seen on his face each time.

Were you really wearing something he’d picked out?

You didn’t want to believe it, but who else could afford such a thing?

Who else would choose this exact shade of sapphire blue?

Hurrying towards your armoire, you reach for the yellow gown once again but it's too late. Your father's voice is booming into your room and it's time to leave, whether you’re ready or not.

Cursing the entire situation, you trail behind your family all the way to the hall, wondering how long it would take them to notice if you decided to slip away. If you hadn’t gone missing this afternoon, you would chance it, but you’re not sure you can withstand any more of your father's anger.

Instead, you think, so what if Aemond chose your dress? It didn’t mean anything .

Except, you can’t even hold that lie in your brain for more than a moment before it falls apart. Because it did mean something. Everything he’d done meant something .

He’d met you on the beach in spring and thought of you often enough to invite you here for summer, to choose the books on your nightstand, and purchase the most beautiful gown you’d ever seen, for no other purpose than to see you standing in a room wearing the exact shade of his eye.

Yet, the same man who’d done all those things, had also stolen more than one look at your naked body, threatened all your suitors, toyed with Maris, told everyone you couldn’t dance, embarrassed you in front of his mother, and killed Ser Glover in cold blood.

He was impulsive, arrogant and completely ignorant to anyone’s feelings but his own. You still hated him, a few hours in the library couldn’t change that.

You could only pray that he would not be in the hall tonight because hating him and facing him were too very different things.

Yet there he was. Across the room. A dark line of fine black leather, his eye meeting with yours, holding all your attention before it slowly sinks to your dress.

The slightest twitch of a smile quivers at his lips, and you know, beyond any doubt, that he was the mysterious secret admirer who’d sent three gowns to the Baratheon sisters. One pink, one lilac and one sapphire blue.

You swallow hard and he begins to move, abandoning the people he was in conversation with, his usual cocky gait carrying him quickly across the room and, more importantly, directly towards you.

He’s already made it halfway before you jump into action.

Seven hells!

What was he thinking?

He was Aemond Targaryen. When he walked, people watched.

Maris watched.

He couldn’t just walk right up to you like this. He wasn’t the kind of man who walked right up to anyone- unless he was threatening them.

Breaking away from your family, you skirt around the edge of the room, and he changes direction. Another smile twitching at his lips, as though he’s enjoying the chase. But you’re not going far, just far enough so Maris cannot see past the crowds.

You wait for Aemond by a thick stone column and, when he’s close enough, you push him behind it, so you can be hidden from all the prying eyes that might be watching.

“We can find more privacy than this if you wish to have me alone, issa jorrāelagon,” he says, a devilish smirk now filling his cheeks entirely.

You sigh sharply, “that is the last thing I want!”

“Are you certain?” his gaze scrapes down, to where the tips of your fingers are still pressed against his chest, “then why are you pinning me against a wall?”

Embarrassed , you snatch your hands away, knotting them behind your back, your heart thumping as he laughs, enjoying every ounce of your torment as per usual.

Then you let out an exasperated sigh, wondering, yet again, how you’d spent so many hours with this man.

“You cannot just walk right up to me in front of the entire room,” you warn and, though a small frown creases into his brow, amusement still holds sway over his face.

“How else am I to ask you to dance?”

“You cannot!” you exclaim tartly, appalled to think that was what he was planning on doing. “You cannot even speak to me in front of them. I forbid it .”

“You forbid your prince?”

“Yes , Maris hates me enough as it is and, if you consider yourself my friend , you will do no more harm between us.”

At that, you try to leave, feeling you have already spent far too long with the most conspicuous man in the room, but his hand slides to your waist, holding you still.

“Do you consider yourself my friend?” he asks, and you cannot think of anything more dangerous than friendship with a dragon, but you’d say anything to placate him.

“We can be friends if you stay away from me.”

He snorts, “that's a strange recipe for friendship, would you not say?”

“Not if the friendship is already strange,” you retort before pulling away from his grasp and heading straight towards your family, only to be intercepted by Lord Boremund before you can even make it five paces.

“Little cousin,” he says, taking your hand, “please allow me the honour of your first dance this evening.”

You accept, glad to be away from Maris for as long as possible and surprised when Ser Robin asks for your next dance, then Lord Thorne for your third.

It seemed Aemond had not only allowed Tyland Lannister to resume the pursuit of your hand, but half of court too. Yet, like Tyland Lannister, it only made these men seem both spineless and fickle.

Were they all afraid of a dragon?

So, instead of feeling pleased to be dancing with them, you find yourself feeling increasingly annoyed, and you’re not the only one.

Throughout every turn you make around the floor, you see Aemond pacing the edges like a caged animal and three dances is all it takes before he breaks.

He strides fast, unconcerned by the movement swirling to avoid him, and you watch his every step with both heart pounding surprise and gut-wrenching exasperation, as he sweeps into Lord Thorne’s place and steals your hand without a single word to the other man.

“What are you doing?” You hiss under your breath, extremely conscious of the scene he is creating.

“It seems I cannot be your friend, ” he retorts, but you hardly hear him, you’re too busy looking around. Pleased to see that people are not pointing or staring, and the dance is continuing as though nothing is amiss.

It’s only Lord Thorne who looks out of place, his cheeks flushed with anger, his steps faltering as he tries to move around the other couples.

At this point, you think it might actually draw more attention if you stop dancing, but that doesn’t mean you have to be happy about the situation. You’re so mad at Aemond, you could stamp on his stupid foot.

“You could have at least waited for the next dance,” you scold, knowing you would have rejected his offer, if he had actually asked.

“I want all your dances, including this one,” he says, leading you into a turn and when you’re facing him again, you glare, ensuring he knows that, despite your current actions, you’re still very much annoyed.

“And you think nothing of what I want?” you say. It was not half an hour since you’d told him not to speak with you, let alone dance with you. Yet here you were, in his arms.

“Would you rather dance with them instead of me ?”

Words stick on your tongue, and you're glad for another turn, so you can think of an answer, because you can’t exactly tell him ‘no’ .

You wouldn’t rather dance with them.

Lord Boremund was your cousin, Ser Robin was far too tall, and Lord Thorne was perfectly fine and perfectly handsome, except his touch did not set your skin ablaze as Aemond’s did.

You face him again, and you must say something, so you think of propriety and all the rules which had been drummed into your head since you were old enough to walk. “As an unmarried lady, I shall not be obliged to give special treatment to anyone, even his grace.”

“Then marry me.”

What?

You’re so surprised, you can’t help but laugh, your mind spinning, your cheeks heating beyond reason. “ Be serious, ” you say, almost choking on the words as they splutter from your lips.

“I am,” he replies with a low voice, and he isn’t joking. He’s waiting, wanting, but you cannot possibly give him the answer he craves.

You cannot even speak as he draws you in, holding you far closer than any man should in a room full of people. One hand on your lower back, the other brushing the length of your arm before he curls his fingers into yours.

If there had been butterflies in the library, there are dragons now. Hatching carelessly in the pit of your stomach. Hot and dangerous, long wings reaching to the very tips of your toes until you feel flimsy in his sturdy embrace.

You open your mouth, but there are no words, and what’s left is far worse than any words could ever be. You hate the sound which pants breathlessly from your lips, soft, submissive , welcoming his advances wholeheartedly.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you were enjoying this. But you’re not. You don’t want him. Not as a friend, not as a husband.

Yet your eyes still graze his lips, and you find yourself wondering, for the second time in a single evening, what it would be like to be kissed by him.

"Marry me, Lady Baratheon,” he says again, and you both miss a step in the dance, almost colliding with another couple, before you regain control of your senses and wedge your free hand between your chest and his.

Gods. You cannot meet his eye.

“You do not dance well enough for me to condemn myself to marriage,” you whisper, your voice strained, before you force another laugh to break the tension.

If he’s disappointed, he doesn’t show it, his tone is still light, playful even. “Is it marriage you disapprove of, or your prince?”

You breathe out another shaky breath, but your voice is a little stronger when you say, “I do not disapprove of marriage. ” Only dragons.

Aemond’s huff of amusement is light, meant only for your ears, and you’re grateful when the dance requires you to break from his arms and weave between the other partners.

Inhaling a lung full of air, you’re certain not to let him reel you in again. Instead, you hold yourself rigid, your palm pressed against his chest to prevent any further encroachment into the battlements you’re trying desperately to defend.

“Now behave yourself or I shall be forced to return to my room, for yet another evening,” you warn, daring to meet his eye.

“Good ,” he smiles triumphantly, seeming to enjoy the way you’re struggling to hold him at bay, “I shall meet you there.”

“With the guard outside the door?” you say hotly, imagining the look on Ser Maurin’s face if Aemond tried to waltz into your room without a chaperone.

He leans in harder, forcing your arm to cave against his strength, “I shall climb in through the window.”

When you turn again, you jab his rib, not too hard but hard enough to make him wince and remind him how difficult climbing would be with such an injury, “I think not , and in any case, I shall bolt it to be certain.”

He chuckles and, though you’re not looking at him, you can picture just how smug his smile must be as he says, “you imagine a bolt across a window could stop me?”

“No ,” you glance back to meet his eye, “but I’d hope his grace would not force himself into someone’s company if they had asked him to stop .”

The music finishes before he can reply, and all the other couples break away with bows and curtsies to find someone new.

But not you and Aemond. Aemond wants all your dances, and he does not relinquish control of your hand despite your efforts. He holds it tight, possessive, and you can feel as people begin to stare.

“I shall scream if you do not let me go this instant,” you hiss under your breath, trying to remain composed.

His jaw tightens, frustration seeming to cling to every muscle in his body just as he loosens his grip, sliding his hand behind his back so his stance is as formal as it is unyielding.

When you turn to leave, you notice Maris who’s been staring at the whole scene with daggers instead of eyes.

“If you truly care about me at all,” you begin, purposely avoiding his gaze, “you will ask someone else to dance this instant or I fear Maris will never forgive me.”

Aemond snorts, “when you are here and she is in Storms End, it will not matter what she thinks.”

“It matters to me!” you say, a little too loudly, but you’re so painfully annoyed with him that you can hardly be expected to contain your temper, “not that you seem to think of anything but your own selfish desires.”

When you walk away, you feel him step to follow before he hesitates and turns on his heel to walk in the opposite direction.

Not that you dare to look back or feel any relief that he has not followed you, you’re too anxious for that.

Instead, you make it to where your sisters are standing with Belis, and Maris laughs as she says, “it seems Prince Aemond is pitying all the wallflowers with a dance this evening.”

Then you do look at him and, just as you’d asked, he’s escorting another to the floor. Lady Staunten, who’d not danced all summer and seemed more terrified than pleased to be in his company.

“Shall we take a turn of the room?” Cassandra offers with a warm smile and you’re grateful for another opportunity to leave Maris’ bad mood behind.

“Did you ask him about the dress?” she says, when you are far enough away from the others and, quite honestly, you’d forgotten about the dress altogether.

But you don’t say that, or anything, you’re too distracted, craning your neck to watch Aemond as he moves methodically across the floor, as though the dance holds no joy, only steps.

Did he really just ask you to marry him?

It was such a surprise, it felt like you could have imagined the whole thing. In fact, you wish you had imagined it. Then you wouldn’t have to think about it, and you were quite certain you could think of little else.

It wasn’t every day a man asked you such a question- o r ever. But you couldn’t be entirely sure of Aemond’s motives. Did he truly want marriage and all that it entailed, or was it just another hot-headed impulse?

Though you suppose none of that really mattered, since there were no circumstances in which you would agree to be his wife. Even if he wasn’t the most arrogant man in the world, he was still a Targaryen, and they were a strange family with even stranger proclivities.

Yet, by the time you’ve walked an entire circle of the room, he’s asking another wallflower to dance, and you feel the unmistakable claw of envy, scratching at your skin.

You turn away, wanting to forget about him but there was really no forgetting Aemond Targaryen.

There wasn’t even safety in the bosom of your family. There was Alicent, talking to your mother with a coy smile and, for one heart stopping moment, you wonder if she knows . If they both know.

Because marriage would not be a choice if your mother was involved. There would be no question about it, you’d be given to the crown without a single thought for your wishes, and that would be that .

“Ah, Lady Baratheon,” Alicent says, noticing the way you’re lingering in her periphery.

You curtsy politely, heart pounding as she waves her hand to beckon you closer.

“We were just discussing how pleasant it would be to enjoy the last days of summer with a picnic in the Kingswood. Do you ride?”

“Yes ." You even enjoyed it under usual circumstances.

"Good,” she laughs, the curls in her hair bouncing with the movement, “there is not much room in the wheelhouse for so many ladies and the fresh air will give you vigour.”

You start, thinking your mother might have something to say about the suggestion but she’s nodding along with the Queen. “You mean for me to ride all the way to the Kingswood?” you confirm, thinking it an unlikely ask for a high borne lady.

“I’m sure one of the men will keep you company,” Alicent says as though it's the most natural thing in the world. But what she means is, Aemond will keep you company .

Without thinking, you turn to look at him, annoyed that you cannot seem to retain autonomy over your own gaze, which seems intent to seek him out despite your wishes.

When you turn back to look at Alicent, her smile reminds you so much of her son that you almost tell her to hell with the Kingswood and to hell with Aemond. But you’re sure your mother would have some choice words if you humiliated her in front of the Queen.

So, you return her smile, thanking The Seven that Alicent has no idea her son just asked you to marry him. But she’s expecting it, you can see it on her face.

What had Aemond said in the library?

That she would finally think he was consenting to giving her a grandchild. Well, you aren’t consenting. As far as you were concerned, you had two older sisters and it was only proper that they should marry first.

~~~

Thank you for reading!

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #romance #female reader #enemies to lovers #aemond targaryen x oc #prince aemond #slow burn

147 notes · View notes

soulessjourney · 6 months

Text

Stranger In The Shadows (Part 2)

Paring: Azriel x Reader (Rhysand's sister)

Word count: 2.2k

Summary: It's been almost two years since Y/N disappeared without a trace during one of her missions. Now, she suddenly reappears just outside of Velaris with no memory and a strange darkness enveloping her mind. What secrets does she now hold after her mysterious disappearance? What lies within that abyss of darkness that consumes her?

Warnings: mentions of violence, abuse, blood, injuries, angst, mentions of vomiting

Darkness enveloped your mind, tormenting you with memories of your screams and the sinister laughter of your captors. Vivid images of fire and knives flashed before your eyes as you pleaded for your life. Their faces remained obscured, almost as if your mind shielded you from seeing their true identities, an attempt to protect you from the horrors you had endured. You sensed something building up within you, as if your body were about to ignite. Distant whispers taunted you, a constant reminder that you now belonged to them. You were no longer in control; your mind and soul had been seized by the monsters who had kept you on the brink of death for two years.

The realization was heart-wrenching. You no longer had authority over your own actions or thoughts. Who were you to become after this? A stranger within your own mind and body, a foreign soul attempting to govern a corrupted and broken vessel. The men standing before you were strangers, their faces blurred and concealed by an ominous, amorphous mass that mimicked an evil presence. "Kill them," it would whisper. "Kill them now." Every part of your being ached, and you struggled to contain your nausea. Your mind felt like a prison, and you no longer had control over yourself.

Two months. Two months had passed since you were taken to the House of Wind, since you had lashed out, expelling the darkness within you. Two months since you heard your mate cry out your name upon finding you in bed. As you gazed at the door, you could discern the shadows of the High Lord and the Shadowsinger moving outside, engaged in hushed conversation. Rhysand had introduced himself as your older brother, and Azriel as your mate. Part of you resented not recognizing your own mate or brother.

Rhysand had considered you too dangerous to be left unattended, especially after you had stopped time itself. The shadows whispered curses in your ears, inciting you to harm the two men outside your door. You detested the condescending tone of those voices as they urged you to inflict pain. Groaning, you leaned over the bed, expelling the food and water you had consumed earlier, the sound growing louder.

The door swung open, and the two males looked at you in horror. There you were, on your hands and knees, retching as a black liquid poured from you. When the sounds ceased, a chilling sensation swept through your body before you collapsed on the ground, pale and drenched in sweat. Rhysand called for Madja as he rushed towards you, only to be halted by a shroud of shadows encircling your body, forming a black curtain. The shadows seemed to calm as Madja entered the room and approached you.

This was unlike anything Madja had ever witnessed. What had happened to you during those two years of captivity? Assisting you back onto the bed, Madja covered you to provide warmth and placed a cool rag on your forehead. She motioned for the two males to move to the other side of the room to confer while keeping an eye on you. "This is unlike anything I have ever seen, and I've witnessed countless things I wish I could forget," Madja remarked. "We need to monitor her closely. I'll analyze the substance and conduct some research to identify it. But what both of you need to determine is what transpired during her absence. Rhysand, work on building trust with her, see if she'll allow you into her mind. Azriel, spend time with her, earn her trust, and encourage her to open up to you. Every word you choose must be carefully considered; you're playing a high-stakes game with her life." Madja then moved to clean up the contents you had vomited before exiting the room.

Rhysand let out a soft sigh, pinched the bridge of his nose, and turned to Azriel. "How are we supposed to gain her trust when she wants to kill us every time we come near her?" he asked, his violet eyes filled with sorrow and despair. This was his little sister, the girl he had promised to protect and for whom he would sacrifice his life. His best friend who knew all his secrets, the one person he had trusted more than anyone else in his life.

Azriel remained silent as he studied you. You looked vastly different from the last time he had seen you. Your cheekbones were more pronounced, and you appeared paler. The honey tan that once graced your skin had vanished, replaced by a milky white complexion that made you appear almost lifeless. His eyes caught something in your hair, and he raised an eyebrow. Stepping closer, he gently moved your hair aside, revealing a white streak that started just above your ears and ran through your long curls. Examining the other side, he noticed a matching streak. What had happened? Your hair had not looked like this earlier. Reflecting on the moment you had been on your hands and knees, retching up that dark substance, something about it felt ominous. What had they done to you during your disappearance? What coursed through your veins and controlled you? Sighing, Azriel stepped away and closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths. "I promise I'll free you from whatever they've done to you," he whispered before leaving the room, with Rhysand following closely behind.

After about a week, Rhysand and Azriel had made little progress in gaining your trust. They sat at a table with the rest of the Inner Circle, with Madja seated across from Rhysand, while the Inner Circle watched her attentively. "After examining the substance Y/N expelled from her body last week, I sensed a familiar quality in the power she possesses, and the substance had a peculiar essence," she explained. The others leaned in, hanging on her every word. "She's connected to the cauldron."

Gasps rippled through the room before Nesta spoke up. "So she's like us? But how is that possible? Her powers now rival Rhysand's, and if she wanted to, she could level the entire Night Court," Nesta said, shifting closer to Cassian, who exchanged a nervous glance with Rhysand. It was true, your powers had grown to the point where they could match Rhysand's, and this fact terrified him. He didn't want to treat his sister as an enemy, but if you remained closed off, they might have no choice.

Madja shook her head and turned her attention to the Archeron sisters. "Not quite. You were created by the cauldron, so you have a connection to it, but she has become the embodiment of the cauldron, meaning she possesses its powers. She can also communicate with it, and it exerts control over her. Now, there is a way to save her, but it would involve essentially pushing her to the brink of death to sever the bond she shares with the cauldron." Madja looked at Azriel. "There are significant risks associated with this process. It could awaken the latent power within her, potentially sparking a war, or we might lose her soul and mind, rendering her incapable of functioning. It's akin to the effects of breaking a mating bond, but even more severe."

Azriel met Madja's gaze as she spoke. He wasn't sure if he could bear the thought of losing you, leaving you as a mere shell of your former self. "Is there a possibility that, if we can't sever the bond, we can help her harness the powers she now possesses and use them to protect the court?" Azriel hated suggesting the idea of exploiting your abilities to safeguard their court, but with powers capable of obliterating an entire court in seconds, it was worth considering to prevent further wars.

"It's difficult to say for certain. However, breaking this bond is crucial because it will ultimately lead to her death. The cauldron is slowly draining the life from her, and it's only a matter of time before she perishes. I need all of you to observe the patterns of her behavior, to recognize when she acts out and when she's at peace with herself. She has started recognizing all of you, but the cauldron will go to great lengths to protect its host." The Inner Circle grimaced at the harsh reality Madja described, but it underscored the urgency of breaking this bond.

For the next several weeks, you noticed an increasing number of visitors, particularly your mate and your brother. They seemed to visit at specific times of the day, coinciding with the moments when the power within you remained dormant, almost as if it were sleeping. But it was far from asleep; it was vigilant, observing everything happening around you and eavesdropping on the conversations taking place. It eagerly sought a weak point within the Night Court to exploit, and it delighted in watching the court unravel as the Inner Circle became more determined to get closer to you.

As you stood at the window, your head began to pulse, and the shadows you held seemed to come alive, almost forming another person beside you. You couldn't help but notice the features it possessed. It was you, taking on the form of you, with those unsettling black pits for eyes. "They're going to separate us. They're afraid of what we are, and they want to sever our connection for good," the figure hissed.

"They want to save my life. We all know my body can't handle the power you gave me. Shouldn't you be relieved that you won't have a host on the brink of death every time you lash out?" you countered, turning your gaze back to the window. It felt surreal to be having a conversation with the shadow beside you, but it was preferable to the constant buzzing in your head.

"You are not weak, girl. In fact, you're quite the opposite. You're strong enough to harness the power we possess, but it's up to you to embrace the power we hold. Only then can we become truly strong," the shadow claimed. You laughed, shaking your head at the words hissed in your direction.

"They believe that breaking our bond will save your life, but in reality, it will kill you. I am a part of you, Y/N. They can try to suppress and separate us, but that task is impossible."

You hummed, crossing your arms and fully facing the figure in front of you. "You want me to harm my family. Why would I give in to you when that's your only desire? I refuse to bring down my brother's court for your amusement. Besides, you're nothing more than a tool, a pawn even, to Beron. Why would you want to be nothing more than an asset to someone who doesn't care about your well-being after he gets what he wants?" you questioned, maintaining your gaze on the shadowed figure. Just as the door began to open, causing the shadows to disperse and hide.

As you glanced towards the door, Azriel walked into the room, wearing a soft smile as he looked at you. The more time you had spent together, the more memories of your relationship came flooding back. It brought you a sense of peace to know that you had someone who loved you more than life itself, but it also made it that much harder to trust him. He was willing to put your life on the line to save the court, and part of you resented him for that. "I heard you talking. Was there someone else here?" he inquired, scanning the room for any signs of an intruder.

Shaking your head, you moved across the room and sat on the bed, picking up a book. "No, just talking to myself. I've had a lot on my mind, and it helps to say it out loud," you replied, offering him a small smile.

"Liar," you silently begged him to say those words, but he surprised you by sitting down beside you instead. "You've seemed happier lately. I got permission from Rhysand to take you out for a walk around Velaris tomorrow. We can get you some new clothes and perhaps some of the sweets you used to enjoy." His words shattered something inside you. Azriel was determined to find the old you within the shadows that consumed you, but you knew you were no longer that person. You had died the moment you merged with the cauldron. Azriel's pursuit of the past you would only lead to disappointment.

You nodded and turned away from him, opening your book. You could feel his gaze burning into your head, and you saw his hand move toward you before he thought better of it. The connection between you two sagged in sadness, yearning for his touch. It was a silent and unspoken longing that hung in the air, a connection strained by distance and emotions left unexpressed.

Perhaps one day, you would find the confidence to yield to his touch and bridge the growing gap between you. Inside, you heard the cauldron's laughter echoing in response to your thoughts. You felt lost, powerless, reduced to a puppet serving Beron and the cauldron's will.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar series #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #acotar #acotar fandom #azriel acotar #azriel fanfiction #azriel x reader #sarah j maas #rhysand #angst #acomaf #acosf #acowar #azriel x you #azriel x y/n

145 notes · View notes

imamotherfuckingstar-lord · 7 months

Text

what he deserves, chapter 5

Sanji x Reader, a bit of Law x Reader

Warnings: angst, one-night stand, not really a love triangle – law and reader are mature about the situation. Some implied smut. WANO SPOILERS. Trauma from child abuse.

a/n: this is the end! possible alt. ending if people want it.

Summary: Witnessing all the suffering Sanji went through on Whole Cake Island, all you want is for him to be truly happy…even if it means not with you. Set after the fight in Wano, you go through the motions of an endless fight and end up in bed with the Hearts Pirates’ Captain to distract yourself from the one thing you want the most – Sanji.

masterlist

“Do you really think Law and I make a nice couple!”

Shocked – Sanji just stared blankly at you, fish still in hand. He didn’t even know what to think or say, so he just smiled. He smiled so brilliantly; you knew if he answered yes, it would crush you into a million jagged pieces. Little jagged pieces that had no chance of ever being put back together – it would be better off to just throw them into a forgotten drawer, where you only ever look for lost things. The kitchen door bumped into your back as it closed and Sanji placed the fish into the freezer, closed it and covered up the barrel of fish. He walked over to the sink and washed off his hands, finally using a kitchen cloth to dry them; he turned to you, hand on the kitchen island.

“I think the two of you make sense – he’s definitely the serious type but I could see you two going for the long haul.”

Fuck you, that’s what you wanted to say but foul language directed at Sanji tasted wrong. Instead, holding your composure, you moved to the opposite side of the island and stared at him. He stared back but quickly withdrew and apologized. “For what?”

“The other night,” he said. “I was insensitive when you were pouring your heart out to me. You have to know I – I didn’t mean anything by it.”

By what? Even if what he had said about Pudding was true, why did he have to say it out loud? Why couldn’t he have kept it to himself? Because in your mind, he was going to marry her, and he did spend time with her – you knew about the cake they made together. How easily it would have been for Pudding to put aside her wicked ways and fall for Sanji. How could see not see the kindness in his eyes and smile? How could she not have fallen in love with him as you have? She’d be a damn fool.

You were a damn fool.

“You remind me of my father, Sanji.”

The statement earned a shameful expression from the cook because he knew how your father was from the stories you’ve recounted to him. During the late-night sessions sitting in the aquarium room; dim lights above the glass filling the room as you exchange horror stories. Sometimes, most times, the two of you would fall asleep on the divan that was up against the glass. Then in the morning, Sanji would make coffee and you would keep him company as he made breakfast for the crew. He had cherished those talks but now it felt like it was all slipping away. He wanted to light a smoke, but it seemed like the wrong move, even if it would have calmed his nerves.

“The two of you share the same charming swagger, romantic notions easily roll of your tongue.” You glanced down at your hands, turning them over to study your palms – permanent faded scars imprinted onto them. Evidence from the lashes your father would give when you took too much of a breath. Staring back at Sanji, you heaved a sigh. “He swore up and down that he loved my mother, I have these tads of memories of that being true. Seeing him shower her with flowers and poems, he was an amazing singer. He’d sing her these longing ballads, dance with her in the middle of the kitchen…but the façade slowly fell…”

Sanji couldn’t move; now at his side, hands clasped against his slacks. He stared at you, heart aching for the child you once were – eyes darting to your hands. He had noticed the scars before and when he had asked, you had changed the subject. Now he realized that your bastard of a father had done that to you; a fire burned through Sanji’s body and if he hadn’t already been dead, he would have hunted him down. Killed him. Torture him with a slow death - a deserving death but he knew, deep down, you would have never allowed it. You were too kind. “You’re a lot like my father, Sanji. All the good parts. So charming and sweet, doting, and silly…”

Your hand moved alongside the kitchen island as you moved around it, stepping right in front of Sanji. He towered over you a little, eyes on you, waiting, heart pounding. He wasn’t sure what to say or if he should say anything at all, but you were so close and all he wanted to do was hold you in his arms. Hold you safe until the world ended and only then would he relax knowing the two of you would go to death together. That’s all he wanted, he knew that now, but fear gripped him still.

“The difference between you and him is that he indulged in the darkness inside him. He allowed himself to become mean, but you don’t have that in you, Sanji. There is not an ounce of darkness inside that heart of yours. Why do I know this? Because we are one of the same – we fear the same things.”

Stunned, he wasn’t sure you really understood the fear that beheld him; nights when he was alone, sleeping in bed, all he could ever think about was turning into a monster. Like his father and brothers. Then after using the raid suit that seemed to awaken…everything his father was hoping for when he was a child. That had scared him so badly he made Zoro promise to kill him if his humanity slipped away. He had to ask the swordsman because he was the only one that would do it – even with all the bickering, there was mutual respect. He knew Zoro would follow through with his code of honor, even if it meant never seeing you again – anything to keep himself for being a monster…of hurting….

“To love someone so much you hurt them, that is my fear. I don’t want to become a monster like my father – loved my mother so much he could only damage her. Tell me, Sanji, what is your fear?”

Your fingers shook against the counter, eyes fighting back tears. Emotions weaken your every breath, but you need to hear it out loud. Needed to hear him say it out loud. Tears formed in the man’s eyes, and he let out a deep breath, gathering up the courage but why did it feel so hard? Why were the words lingering in the back of his throat? Why was this harder to say to you? He felt dizzy and God, he needed a smoke but instead he thought of the small child he once was. The pain his family inflicted onto him and how he survived it all because of the two women in his life – his mother and sister. The kindness in their hearts kept him going and allowed him to escape that horrible place. His sister, Reiju, told him he’d find kind people in the world and how right she was – because he did find his kind people, he did find his family.

“I don’t want to become a monster like them.”

A tear fell from his eye, and you reached for his hand, telling him to look at you. He did, eyes shaking as you held his hand tenderly. “The greatest thing that ever came from that family is you – don’t you see that? How can such a lightness like you become a monster? Can’t you understand that? I need you to understand that, please.”

He started to cry, and you moved to him, closing in on the miles of space that seemed to have formed between you for some time now. Without hesitation, he moved down into your arms; falling onto his knees, he buried his head into your stomach. Holding back tears of your own, your fingers ran through his hair as his arms draped around your waist. Soothing his sorrows with each stroke of your fingers, you whispered his name. His head moved back to look up at you, eyes soft, sad. Touching his face, with bated breath, you told him he could never be a monster. “…and if by the grips of hell, you do. I’ll become a monster too and we can go into the darkness together.”

I love you, that’s what you were saying. He knew it in his heart, as he stared up at your melancholic face; you were sad for him, sad for yourself but that was the world, wasn’t it? Oh, God, what a fool he had been! All this time, you were right there in front of him but…that was why he had gone with his family, agreed to the marriage. Keeping his family safe from the family that rejected and neglected him; he wanted to keep Luffy, the others, you, safe. The thought of anything happening to any of you, that had been true fear, but he was an idiot. He should have had faith in Luffy, faith in you from the beginning. It was clear now, the depths you would have gone for him because there was no corner of the world he would not have gone to, to save his family. To save you.

Closing his eyes, he let out a deep breath and stood up; knees heavy, feet firming on the ground and before he could give into nerves – he took your face into his hands and kissed you. It felt like the air shifted; everything that made no sense, suddenly made complete sense. Arms slipped around his shoulders, fingers gliding up his neck into his hair; the small action sent things in motion. Before you could understand, Sanji had you leaned up against the counter, hands down at your waist. His lips captured yours and no amount of strength could pry them away. He groaned into your mouth, and you tugged at the buttons of his slacks – that’s when he paused. Breathless, for the second time of the day, he examined the expression in your eyes, and he asked if you were sure. “This isn’t exactly where I would have wanted…”

“This is perfect,” you murmured, nodding ferociously as he leaned in for a kiss. He laughed, forehead against yours, hands idly at the hem of your blouse. What if someone comes in, he asked, and you grabbed him by the chin. “Let them watch, I don’t care, Sanji. I’ve wanted this for so long, I’ve wanted...you.”

Tears started to well in your eyes and he lightheartedly chuckled, wiping the would be tears from the corner of your eyes. “No more crying today, let me show you how much I love you.”

The last three words left his mouth effortlessly and an aching erupted between the two of you. Mere seconds was all it took for Sanji to push aside everything that was on the kitchen island; his usual tidiness nonexistent as he helped you onto the counter. His limber fingers undoing the green kimono Nami had brought you. The silk felt cool against his skin and when he pulled off the garment, his eyes took in the sight before him – you were on your back, wanting him in all the ways one could want someone. He climbed onto the counter, using his right knee to separate your legs further. He was nervous but it was an exciting nervousness as he drifted down to you. He pulled himself out and you touched his shoulder, looking up at him with such strength, he could feel the fire inside you. It was all for him, and he knew right there, above the flesh of your love – he would live every day knowing he deserved you.

He deserved this, god damnit, he did. And when he finally pushed into you and you withered under him, he knew it would be all fine. If somehow, he did become a monster – he knew you’d be right alongside him, monsters together; and if that wasn’t love, then what was?

…..

The bonfire was warm; the sound of Brook’s violin playing joyful music filled the air. Franky and Usopp were lighting fireworks and you watched as they cheered each other on, clapping and hooraying. Smiling, you leaned back into Sanji’s chest, his arms wrapped around your waist. His fingers were clasped together at your stomach and your hand was on his; his chin resting on your shoulder. Zoro was drinking alongside Jinbei, both lounging on chairs near the fire. Luffy had Otama on his shoulders as she pointed out all the different colors of the fireworks, Nami right by their side. Robin was sitting next to where Sanji and you stood, handing Chopper pieces of candy every so often – the pair enjoying the light show as the others.

“This feels nice.”

Turning your head to look at Sanji, you agreed, kissing him softly on the cheek. “I can’t believe we leave tomorrow…”

“Yeah, and I have a feeling this is just the tip of the iceberg. We’re going to have a hell of ride from here on out.”

He was right; there was so much more left to be explored. So many more people to fight, people to help along with every one’s personal goals – all this leading to Luffy being the King of the Pirates. It wasn’t an if, it was a when and you were ready for the journey, for the fighting and most importantly, for moments like this. Surrounded by the people you loved the most – a family brought together by one young pirate. Sighing, you asked Sanji if he had everything he needed for the next adventure. He knew you meant supplies wise, but he held you tighter, and said all he needed was right in his arms.

“Smooth,” you whispered, and he laughed, moving off your back. He stretched and nodded to someone past the bonfire – a familiar face. It was Law, standing next to Luffy. After the kitchen affair, Sanji and you laid on the counter, tangled and sweaty. He was perched up on his elbow, other hand on your stomach, cigarette finally in his mouth. He made invisible circles onto your skin when he quietly asked about Law and you. “I don’t need details but…”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” you had assured him. “It really was just something that happened, and we both knew it was a one-time thing. It really was just two people lonely for the night.”

He seemed relieved with the answer, but you did mention the vivre card, and after a long moment, Sanji smiled softly. “He’s a powerful friend to have.”

“I’m going to make the second portion of the dinner, go talk to him.” Sanji kissed your forehead, and you held him by the elbow, stopping him from moving away from you. He gave you a perplexed smile but when you said I loved you to him; he beamed. Pulling you to him, he kissed you not once but twice. Laughing against your mouth when you pinched his butt. “You’ll be the death of me, sweetheart. I better go make food before Luffy decides he’s hungry again.”

You parted ways and watched as Sanji left to the cooking station; and when you moved passed Robin and Chopper, you gave each a light pat on the head. Walking over to Luffy, you said hello to Law, and he smiled at you. “I see you two worked things out.”

Nodding, you thanked him. “For being such a good friend to me, I appreciate it.”

Eyeing Luffy, Law nodded for you to follow him; the two of you moved to the side, out of hearing range. He stood at a respectable distance and said he was leaving tonight. “We have some things we need to get to. I heard you guys are leaving tomorrow, Luffy just told me.”

“My captain, loose lips.”

“I’m sure we’ll see each other soon; you Straw Hats have a way of crashing people’s plans…”

Grinning, you smiled proudly. “You mean we have a way of always saving people’s ass’s – that’s what you meant, right?”

Law drew a scowl and you laughed, patting him lightly on the shoulder. You told him to never change, and he finally smiled, telling you the same. Moving to give me a hug, the pirate stepped back, and you laughed, promising no harm would come to him. “Sanji’s not going to kick your ass, you don’t have to be afraid.”

The man grumbled under his breath but returned the gesture; the two of you embraced and you were grateful for him. For being there on a lonely night, for being thoughtful and mature; for being a friend. Giving him a tight squeeze, you smiled up at him and he reminded you of his vivre card. “If you guys ever need help…”

“Even if you don’t want to show it, you’re a kind person, Law.”

Parting ways, you watched as he walked back to his crew; laughing when Bepo attacked him with a hug. Oh, he was definitely a softie for his crew. Feeling a wave of lightness in the air, you turned to your own crew and strode to Nami when she waved you over. She eyed your outfit and gave a thumbs up, pulling you to her side she asked if Law and you bid your goodbyes. “Yeah, we did.”

“Good – I don’t want him sniffing around you now that Sanji and you are together.”

You let out a laugh, hugging her tightly. “You’re such a good friend, Nami.”

The two of you held each other, enjoying the fireworks for a while until you felt a familiar hand on your shoulder. With a cigarette perched between his lips, Sanji asked Nami if he could have some time with you and the navigator smirked. “Just because she’s your girlfriend now doesn’t mean you can hog her time! And while we’re at it, no more…. you know, where we eat!”

Sanji and you flushed with shame, eyeing each other – as if to accuse the other of blabbing. Catching on, Nami rolled her eyes and commented that she heard noises coming from the kitchen. Sanji buried his face in your back, holding you tight against his body. Equally embarrassed, you apologized to Nami.

“Just don’t let it happen again, you’re lucky Robin was standing guard after I heard the noise.” She looked over to you and sneered. “You’re like really loud, by the way. I think we should ask Franky if there’s a way to add another bedroom – none of us should have to deal with that.”

“Please go away,” you begged her, and she howled, walking away with a shake of her head. Mortified, you told Sanji he could never touch you again and he laughed, tugging you firmly against his chest.

“Not a chance.”

Turning around to face him, you slipped both arms around his neck just as the last of the fireworks were set off. Sparks flew up above the sky, the sound of young Otama’s cheers rang in your eyes and when Sanji’s eyes set upon you – fireworks ignited in your heart. His eyes grew soft as his head leaned toward yours and when his lips touched yours; you knew it was all worth it. The suffering the two of you endured, from childhood to now, it all seemed worth it now that you had each other. Sanji’s heart finally felt at ease with you in his arms, he truly was where he belonged. Luffy shouted for everyone to gather, a toast with the best crew ever! Sanji and you kissed once more, hands on each other’s face; his thumb rubbed against your cheek. Brushing strands of hair from his face, your eyes took in the sight before you. A man who was confident, who knew he was deserving of the world and you, the woman who would make sure he’d get everything he wanted. “You’re going to find the All Blue, Sanji. I’ll make damn sure of it.”

The sound of your captain shouting Sanji and you over to where the rest of the crew now stood, brought a beaming smile onto the cook’s face. He gazed upon you with a hopeful glee in his eyes and reached down for your hand. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

As the words danced around Sanji’s heart, hand in hand, you walked over to Luffy and the others; Zoro being quick to make a quip about your new relationship status. Lovesick idiots were his exact words which sent Sanji into a raging fit. Holding him by the waist, you laughed which made Nami shout at you for egging them on. Chopper voiced his concern about Sanji and you being sick, Robin giggled at his cuteness, while Brook asked if seeing your panties was out of the question now – which in turn made Sanji’s fiery directed to him. Luffy shouted for Sanji to stop, that he would burn Brook down to the…bones. Usopp smacked Luffy on the head because the musician was already made of bones. Franky cheered for no one in particular, he just wanted to see a fight, while Jinbei could only laugh at the mess in front of him. After several minutes of this, the arguing turned into soft bickering that involved into laughter and then Sanji’s arm was around your shoulder, everyone’s cup of sake in the air. Smiles all around and in the morning, the Sunny would sail away from Wano. Sanji and you, side by side, would be monsters together, forever.

..........................................................................

tags:

@stuckinthewrongworld @theyluvmesblog

@synchronised-beat @hi3431

@fandomsunited @ghostercy

@yuki190 @bowscale @utakamo

@fire-child-kira @cheshireshiya

@teenyforestfairy @sukilovesyou

@69cocktimusprime @littlemissfiore @kodzuchim

@angeiisa @bitchycoffeepainter69

@secretlife028 @idiot-sanwich02

@abandonedbrat @breens-nick

@bocchi-the-heart @sseleniaa

@depression-247 @sweetgurl1623-blog-blog

@punem699 @themossiestchick @sweetcoldmelancholy

@sanjipudinzinho @baelien-queen

@kodzuchim @kfcmuncha @bloodysweetcat

@angeiisa @gingersnap126126 @amoamista

@sweetchimpeaches @dohkyu @yagurlyve

@simpx4xanimexmen @micaelacantsleep

@meritxellao @armaria

#what he deserves series #sanji x reader #one piece sanji #sanji #law x reader #trafalgar law #op sanji #black leg sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader

157 notes · View notes

domfock · 9 months

Text

Now that we're finally at volume 5, are you guys ready to fucking suffer? Yes? Good, because I have some absolute horrors to share with you guys, and since I had to realize this and live with it, so do you!

Let's start with this page:

Vash is blaming himself for shit Knives has done, right? He puts the responsibility of his brother's actions onto his own shoulders while his own rage mounts, he kept himself going because he had to send Knives to Hell for what he had done.

We saw him say this to Legato,

And we saw him say this to Hoppered, despite his earlier inner confession of being a murderer.

Almost as if this excuse runs on autopilot as a way to cope with the horrors he witnessed and can't remember in July, blaming Knives for everything. This was his mindset before July, and after losing his memory of July, it reset.

This is the last time we see this excuse, however.

As the truth comes back to haunt him, he is faced with the true suffering, and so are we as readers.

Vash IS a murderer, in fact, he killed everyone in July. Knives didn't force him to pull the trigger, Vash made a calculated move, something he could only do if he was aware. He WANTED to kill Knives right then and there, and for the sin of wanting to shoot to kill, Vash's punishment was blowing everyone around them away.

Vash intentionally swapped where his angel arm was growing to trick Knives, made it smaller, possibly in the hopes that it would contain the damage.

After hearing Knives' rant about what humanity has done to him, it probably dawned on Vash that these are Knives' abuse towards him. Vash's goal was to punish Knives for the Big Fall before July, and everything that just happened only enforced that. Vash really did intend to send Knives to Hell there, using his angel arm to kill him and took all of July with him.

Vash will be completely changed after this, having realized that he is just like Knives now, killing thousands in a moment of anger and fear. Knives caused the Big Fall, Vash destroyed July. Vash lost Rem's spirit long ago, his hands are already dirtied by blood.

But wait, it's about to get worse.

Remember this line from Trigun Vol 2?

Knives body couldn't survive the damage done to it from July, even after years of attempted recovery. They're transferring Knives consciousness to another Plant, his data, to make a new body for him, a "copy."

Question is now, is this a data copy or a transfer? Because if it's a copy, then Vash did truly kill his own flesh and blood brother. The new resurrected Knives is both a copy in body and spirit, if that is how one sees it, and leaving the original Knives to experience death.

Vash did not only kill everyone in July, but potentially also his own brother, and with his returned memory he now remembers this.

Anyway, have fun and enjoy, Bookclub!

#trigun #trigun maximum #trigunbookclub

265 notes · View notes

zafirosreverie · 26 days

Text

"Would you go out with me?…I meant romantically" (Lovecraft x F!Reader)/(Poe x F!Reader)

for @stygianoir hope you like it!

H.P. Lovecraft:

He's been here for a long, long time, but he wasn't really interested in humans beyond the occasional sacrifices and tributes. There was nothing the human race could teach him, they didn't bring anything new, not even amusing for him. Until he met you.

He had been with the Guild for a long time, following orders, no matter how bloodthirsty or inhumane (after all, what did he care about the moral laws of a society that would soon disappear like so many others?), simply waiting for his contract to end so he could go back to sleep at the bottom of the ocean. But then you joined the Guild, and everything changed.

You were kind, gentle, a little distracted and radiated a pure and innocent aura, one that inevitably caught his attention. You know what they say, the darkness is always attracted to the light. He tried to approach you, the only important thing humanity had created, he needed to be near you, like a moth to the light, but it wasn't easy, you were just as shy or shyer than Alcott and Poe, which was saying a lot, and Lovecraft could see that his presence made you nervous.

However, he also felt that you weren't afraid of him, you just didn't know how to approach him. So he followed you around like a stray cat, waiting for you to get used to his presence. It wasn't his brightest move, nor the most dignified, but for an evil and ancient god, the prize often mattered more than the means, and you were definitely the prize he had longed for the most in his long, long existence.

Finally, after many months, you gave him the chance to make his move that he had been waiting for. He witnessed Twain's attempts to woo you, and although it bothered him, he had never done anything about it because you didn't really seem interested. Until one afternoon you went to him for help, saying how those flirtations and advances were really bothering you and that you wished the other man would stop. That's when Lovecraft decided to intervene, mark his territory and let the world know that you were the one to whom the eldritch horror would hand over his existence.

Listen, you knew he wasn't one for soft or cheesy talk, he just told you what he thought, direct and without embellishment and you had gotten used to it, you even appreciated his direct way of speaking because then you didn't need to try to read him or find out if the things he told you were true or if he was just being nice (you already knew he had a soft spot for you).

That's why he surprised you when one afternoon, while you sat in your study drawing, with Lovecraft's head in your lap, he opened his eyes suddenly and looked into your soul.

"Would you be my human?" he asked

"Huh?!" You blinked in confusion "I-I...I'm sure John already took that tittle"

Lovecraft frowned, as if the very idea was ridiculous and you were pretty sure he was judging you, even though his face showed no further emotion. You cleared your throat as an idea began to form in your mind, one that you really wanted to be true, but that you didn't dare say out loud.

"I mean-...you already have humans, what about the rest of the Guild? Or the people who still worship you?"

"They're not my humans" he said, as if it was something obvious "they're humans that I tolerate around me"

"You toletare me too?" you smiled a little, even as you felt your face blushing.

"I don't tolerate you. I actively seek your company" he corrected.

"…coming from you, I feel like that's an immense honor" you said sincerely, letting one of your hands caress his hair.

"It is" he replied, closing his eyes again.

You stayed silent for a while, your drawing already forgotten and abandoned while you simply looked at the impassive face of the man in your lap. Just when you thought he had fallen back asleep, you heard a soft whisper that you weren't sure if it was in your mind or he had actually said it.

"Would you be MY human?"

Clear images flashed through your mind, confirming the thought you had earlier. There was no mistaking the intentions of the horror in your arms, and as you timidly whispered a yes, you could feel as if an ancient, inhuman force surrounded you, warm and protective. The pact had been closed.

Edgar Allan Poe:

"Did she say yes again?"

Poe sighed as he sat next to Francis at the bar at the Guild base. It wasn't that they were close, he wasn't even completely sure he liked the man, but he was the only one in the organization who really had any notions of love and romantic relationships, so he was the only one who could help in his attempts to woo you.

The poor man hadn't been able to stop thinking about you from the moment he saw you. After all, you were the only reason he agreed to join the new Guild. After the disaster in Yokohama and Fitzgerald's surprising resurgence, the blonde had contacted his former employees again, in an attempt to regain the original strength of the Guild or even make it stronger.

As expected, some didn't accept. Steinbeck basically gave the man the middle finger, while Mitchell had decided to return home despite her embarrassment at not being able to regain the family's honor, and Montgomery had not even been considered for it. By the time Alcott had gone to look for him, they only had Melville, Twain, and herself on board (and Poe was sure that Herman had simply accepted out of a strange paternal sense toward Fitzgerald).

For a moment he had decided to reject the offer and wash his hands of Guild, but Louisa had asked him to at least just go see the new base, so that Francis would see that she had at least tried. It was a favor as "partners in shyness" that he had not been able to refuse. It was then that he met you.

When he and Louisa had arrived at the base, Fitzgerald had his back to the door, talking animatedly to someone. When he turned around, his eyes lit up at the sight of Poe and he quickly thanked him for coming back. Before Edgar could correct him and say that he was just visiting, Francis introduced you, and then his entire world stopped.

You were small (compared to him), pretty, young, your eyes didn't seem to be able to leave the ground and your cheeks were tinted a healthy and beautiful pink. Poe felt his heart begin to beat faster and he almost feared he had died, because there was no other explanation for being in the presence of such an angel.

"This is Y/N Y/L/N" Francis had said, breaking him out of his reverie "She will share the position of master architect with you."

The man had continued to babble further explanations, but Poe stopped listening again, simply staring at you behind the curtains of hair that hid his eyes. You were clinging to someone's arm, and it wasn't until he was able to regain control of the rest of his senses that Poe realized that you had, in fact, managed to bring two more members of the former Guild with you (although he never had the courage to ask you how the hell you'd contacted Lovecraft, or how you'd convinced Hawthorne to come back (honestly, part of him wasn't sure he wanted to know)).

And the moment you lifted your face a little to give him that smile, that damn shy smile, that had pierced his soul, Poe knew that there was no way in the world he could leave you. Not even Ranpo had been able to convince him to join the agency and abandon the new Guild. He just couldn't bear the thought of never seeing you again.

So he stayed and got to know you better. You two actually worked well together, and when Louisa joined the equation, the new Guild soon became the most influential organization in all of Japan (even the Port mafia had tried to do business with them).

It was easy to see the difference between this Guild and the old one, and for Poe, it was equally easy to discern why. It was you. Despite your shy and socially awkward nature, you were a little ray of sunshine to everyone, you knew how to keep a friendly conversation with anyone (as long as it was only one person, maximum two. Any more than that and you wouldn't talk anymore), help with their problems, you were a good listener and your silent company was always a source of tranquility and calm.

It was no wonder that Lovecraft loved sleeping near you, or that Hawthorne spent his afternoons reading next to you in your office. And for Poe, his favorite time were the nights, those in which you would timidly knock on his door and read his novels, those that he had abandoned in his obsession to defeat Ranpo and that thanks to you he had taken up again.

You had given him back a part of himself that he hadn't even realized he had lost, and because of that, he had decided to face his fears and try to establish a more intimate relationship with you.

The problem was that you just didn't take the hints. Whenever Poe tried to ask you out, you said yes, but then you would ask Louisa to join, so it was clear that you thought of it as a favor he was doing you, as part of the "partners in shyness" club.

Poe, being part of said squad as well, could never say no or correct you, so he ended up accepting the friendly solution. Louisa had apologized to him many times for that, but he knew it wasn't her fault.

"Why don't you write her something?" Francis asked, taking him out of his thoughts "You're a writer after all"

"I already tried, but I don't know how to write romance novels, and I don't think a crime scene is a good setting for a date."

"I meant letters, not a whole novel. Go back to the classics!"

That…that made sense. Edgar actually felt a little silly for not thinking of it sooner, but hey, it was better late than never, right? Days later, on one of the nights you visited him in his office, he asked you to help with something. But instead of the manuscript you had expected, he gave you a letter where he confessed everything he felt for you.

At that moment, you couldn't misunderstand anything, and all the kind invitations he had made to you before came back to your mind. You hid your face in your hands as you felt your cheeks heat up and apologized profusely for being so blind, but Poe quickly assured you that it was okay, he had still enjoyed those outings even if they hadn't been what he had planned.

“So… uhm…” he shifted uncomfortably next to you.

"I'll go out with you…romantically this time" you joked awkwardly and smiled shyly at him.

__________________________

"Oh, it's about time, you two," Mark joked when he saw you walking hand in hand. "Aw, don't blush, now that two of you are dating, you just need to adopt Louisa."

"Mark!"

#reader insert #x reader #imagine #bsd imagines #bsd preferences #bsd x reader #poe x reader #lovecraft x reader #poe bsd #lovecraft bsd #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs imagine #bungo stray dogs

51 notes · View notes

satosugusandwich · 2 months

Text

𝔏𝔢𝔱 𝔐𝔢 𝔖𝔢𝔢 𝔜𝔬𝔲’𝔯𝔢 𝔐𝔢𝔞𝔫…

True Form!Sukuna x Fem!Afab!Reader (This is an AU!!! Sukuna is not a homicidal maniac cannibalistic murderer! I think he’s sexy and my morals say no dick from crazy murderer BUT dick from crazy 😍)

Cw: mentions of violence from previous chapter, body image issues mentioned, sukuna is kinda an asshole

Description: You've been friends with Yuji Itadori for some time now and have seen the best, the worst, and the strange in all your years of knowing him. You've never thought he was one to have any crazy secrets and well... you were wrong. And now the demon bound to Yuji is bound to you too! How fun! Good thing that you aren't stupid and won't fall for a being that by no means should you have ever interacted with! Right? Right...?

*despite this being an aged up version of yuji, there will be no sexual stuff involving him, also the violence is only in the first chapter with a few mentions after that!!! Cross posted on Ao3 under Spicycrunchroll! THERE WILL BE LOTS OF SMUT LATER ON!*

Chapter 1 here (chapters will also get much longer once the plot is moving)

Chapter 2: Pain in the Ass

So now you smell like piss, vape juice, cum, tears, and malicious horror in the front of your best friend's car. Nothing about anything is normal right now and as much as you wanted to know about the monster in the back seat, you were still in shock from almost being trafficked and also knowing that the monster brutally attacked the men that were attacking you. They might have deserved it, but it’s not exactly the most enjoyable experience for you. You looked into the rear view mirror and could see the monster glaring out the window, seemingly bored and watching the lights of the city as Yuji sped to your home.

Yuji broke the silence. “He’s bound to me. Cuz of some family curse. He’s been sealed for a long time, but I reawakened him. You can see him now, right?” The last sentence sounded almost worried.

Your throat ached from sobbing. “Yeah.”

Yuji’s face was pale and drooping. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. I’ll help you when we get home.”

You closed your eyes and another tear spilled. You attempted to shift away from the thoughts of what just happened to you, “Thank you. I’m not going to ask about him too much, right now it’s all a lot to process, but what… is he?”

Sukuna huffed from the back seat, shifting ever so slightly. “I’m a demon. You can ask me.”

“Hey!” Yuji called out. “Don’t talk to her like that after all of what she just went through.”

Sukuna sighed and remained silent, turning his eyes to look at you and fixating on the outline of your face. “I’m no threat to her."

Yuji didn't respond, instead he focused on driving home, not knowing exactly what to say to you. You didn't know what to say either, your mind racing back and forth between the traffickers, the man you went out with, and the demon in the back seat. Even though you wanted to find anything else to talk about, you couldn't help but be curious about him. You tried to eye him through the rearview mirror, looking at his features. If it wasn't for his intimidating and inhuman appearance, you'd think he was pretty hot, and he also looked a lot like Yuji. Much larger than Yuji, and much much larger than Yuji. He has to slump down in his seat and his legs are pressed against the back of your seats, he easily takes up half the space in the back of the car, and on top of that, he's built like a wrestler. You couldn't help but stare at him, taking in the features of the more monstrous side of his face. Sukuna certainly notices your stare, but says nothing of it. Under normal circumstances, he'd tease but he's not exactly interested with upsetting you more. After your stare lingers on him long enough, he meets your eyes in the mirror and you quickly look away, an shiver running up your body. He couldn't help but smirk at your reaction.

When you arrived at your apartment, Yuji insisted on holding onto as you wandered inside together, along with Sukuna following closely behind. You didn't ask about him even when he followed the both of you inside, standing to the side of the living room while you and Yuji wandered to your bathroom. After what felt like a century, you removed your soiled clothes and tossed them directly into the trash, not wanting to wear them ever again. You didn't even care that he saw you strip naked, he didn't even care either, he was more focused on the fact that he's gonna have to find some way to explain what just happened and what that might mean for you. You didn't have an inkling of what he was thinking about or what had even happened to make Sukuna suddenly visible to you and Yuji wasn't very excited to explain it to you.

After showering and sobbing for almost another hour, you finally left the bathroom to get dressed, your eyes avoiding the mirror as you rushed to get dressed, disgusted by your own body. You opened bedroom door and went out to see Yuji who was dead silent on the couch. Sukuna had moved from the door and was now looking through your fridge. He paid no mind to your presence even as you gaped at him rummaging through your food, Yuji noticed your expression and turned to Sukuna.

"Don't just eat her shit!" He sounded exasperated as though he had this conversation before.

Sukuna groaned. "You humans and your decorum. Drives me insane." He shut your fridge but took out sandwich meat and started to eat directly from the packaging.

"Um. You can get bread and cheese." You said, making both of them stop moving. "Did I say something wrong?"

Sukuna started to laugh. "Here the brat was, concerned you'd be upset I'm stealing your food." The mouth on his stomach also stretched into a smile before opening up and he dumped the rest of the lunch meat directly into it, making you gape even wider. "That's enough for now." He stepped out of your kitchen and immediately went to the recliner in the room and sat down, watching your face.

Yuji sighed again and gestured for you to sit down. "Listen, y/n. I have something I need to tell you now. I know you have a lot on your mind, but I don't just wanna tiptoe around." Yuji swallowed, looking down at the floor.

Sukuna seemed to be already annoyed before Yuji even started started talking, groaning dramatically. "Do I need to tell her? Spit it out."

He quickly quipped back, "I'm telling her!"

Sukuna rolled his eyes and sunk back into the recliner which now looks significantly smaller with him seated on it. You shifted your gaze back to Yuji and waited for him to speak. "What is it? Can't be any worse than what we just went through."

"His name is Ryomen Sukuna. Or at least that's the name that was given to him. He's a demonic spirit of the past that became bound to my family a long ass time ago, but after the first person he was bound to died, he was sealed away, but then one day, I was fucking around with some shit that was passed on to me and... well... next thing I knew he was sitting on my bed." He looked to your face for a reaction, but all you could muster was a stare. He took that as a sign to continue. "Sukuna is bound to me and as a result of me asking him to save you, he's bound to you now."

You blinked a few times before speaking. "What? What does that mean?"

Yuji looked to Sukuna then back to you. "Well, for one, you can see him. And now you can interact with him freely. Sukuna can interact with whatever he wants, just not whoever. Because of his bindings to my ancestor, he can only do certain things, like for instance, he can't hurt someone unless given a direct command. And the reason he is bound to you and not the guys he attacked is because of the way he had to save you. You see, the guy who first orchestrated your kidnapping was also bound to a demon and this demon was--"

"A pain in the ass." Sukuna interrupted. "A pitiful excuse of one too. A manipulative bastard that made a vow they regret now." Sukuna had leaned forward, looking at you with all four eyes. "By killing the bastard, I ended up creating a vacant binding and the weakling decided to reflect the binding back onto me. Luckily, the stupid shit didn't know how to do the spell properly so I was able to choose who I had to make a vow with. I don't desire to be commanded around by anyone else and thankfully, you aren't the type to demand others."

You didn't say anything in response to him, he's right. If you had the courage to boss anyone around, you wouldn't have slept with all the one pump chumps and found yourself in the situation you did. Yuji, on the other hand, was pissed that he said that to you.

"What the hell? She was literally kidnapped and almost sex trafficked, what the fuck is wrong with you!?" Yuji shouted and Sukuna had no expression.

The demon cocked his head to the side and rested it on his hand. "I didn't say anything hurtful. She's more docile than the other assholes who were in the proximity."

You rose from the couch and Yuji panicked, before he could say anything you reassured him. "He didn't hurt my feelings. Don't worry. I want to go to bed."

Yuji got up to follow. "Do you need me to sleep with you?"

Swallowing a tightness in your throat, you answered. "Could you?"

"Of course!"

Sukuna watched the two of you retreat to your bedroom and couldn't help but wonder why you stopped the conversation so soon. He isn't fond of the situation himself, when he went after the man that kicked you out of his house, he was hoping it'd be a quick return to sender and was beyond angered when he was faced with one of his own. Few demons have the audacity to openly manipulate humans, let alone the pride. He was grateful they weren't a human and was able to get rid of them, but wasn't pleased with the fact that now he has a new "owner". Truthfully, the whole situation left him scowling and exceptionally eager to release his frustrations. The humans that tried to apprehend you were foolish to ally themselves with such a cunt of a demon, but even more foolish to try and steal a human for the sake of a demon's orders. Really, Sukuna leaving one of them without the ability to speak ever again and the other with a few shattered bones was a blessing. The ones that attacked Yuji should be grateful that Itadori was compassionate enough to leave them only with some broken limbs as well. Sukuna's takes no thrill in fighting the weak and barely takes any enjoyment in other's suffering, in fact, compared to most demons, he finds it boring. And here he is, stuck with the most boring people he could have as masters, at least Itadori's ancestor was a fighter himself and sought strength similar to Sukuna. Then again, he reminds himself, at least Itadori and you are stupid enough to be funny.

Sukuna sighed to himself and looked out the window of your apartment, he's going to have an overwhelmingly uneventful life with being bound to both of you. Here he was, so ecstatic to be awoken once again, just to have to watch a shitty college romance between two brats and now watch your pathetic and sad life. At least amp up the drama if he's stuck as a bystander! Well, he wishes for that, but unbeknownst to him is that he already has plenty of drama for himself approaching at high speed now that you're in his life, as he is in yours.

#jjk #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryoumen smut #sukuna #sukuna x reader fluff #yuji itadori #jjk x you

80 notes · View notes

fangirleaconmigo · 2 months

Note

Gerlion oneshot? (If you're feeling it), just wanted to read more of your lovely book!Dandi, maybe the first time he calls geralt 'friend' and how geralt takes it?

"Are you going to eat the whole thing?" Geralt tried to sound casual, but the delicious wafting scent made the effort difficult.

He had been out of money for a few days. There was a job tomorrow, but tomorrow felt like a long way away. His stomach ached.

Dandelion blinked rapidly in horror. "Of course not!" he clasped his chest. "Half is yours. You are my friend, after all. If I have food, you have food."

The troubadour tore the pastry in half, and slid one side across the table to Geralt, muttering indignantly the entire time.

"Honestly, what do you take me for, a man who eats in front of his hungry friends. Some people-"

Geralt shoved the food in his mouth, and spoke as he chewed. "You know I'm a witcher, right?"

Dandelion harrumphed as he stuck a piece of pastry in his mouth. "And I am a poet, Geralt, we all have our credentials. You don't see me lording mine around."

Geralt finished swallowing then sighed. "No, I'm not bragging, I--I'm just," he held his hands up, "-warning you."

"What?" groused Dandelion. "Do you think I'm a bloody unicorn, will you be hunting me? What's your point, Geralt?" He took another bite.

Geralt groaned, irritated. "People say we are abominations!" he said it a little too loud.

Dandelion rolled his eyes. "And Veverka told her friends that I have a small prick. It's not true. Would you like proof?" Dandelion reached for his trousers.

"No! No!" Geralt insisted. "Stop it!"

Dandelion shrugged and stuffed the rest of the pastry in his mouth. "Alright, then I have enough coin left for two glasses of wine. Shall we go?"

Geralt looked up at the sky and gathered his wits. Then he looked back at Dandelion. "With you, I'll go anywhere my friend." Dandelion patted the side of Geralt's face. "That's more like it. Now let's get moving. I bet I can convince the barkeep to give me credit for more booze if I sing."

Geralt stood and swept his hand gallantly. "After you."

And off they went.

#the witcher #the witcher books #geralt of rivia #dandelion #gerlion #descarada writes

59 notes · View notes

hetafice · 3 months

Note

Yesssss yandere hetalia!! Can I request yandere Russia

hey! i’m combining this with another request that asked for ivan with an introverted s/o. hope you enjoy nonetheless.

yandere!russia headcanons :

Ivan is a man who contains innumerable facades. Vulnerability is hard to get from him, which is why he is so taken aback when he meets his darling. Anyone special enough to catch his attention and keep it must have some sort of hold over him -- and he cannot have that.

He would initially try to distance himself from you, and then after realizing that does not work, he would try to exercise as much control over the situation as possible.

He takes an almost managerial role, employing the use of strict guidelines and occasional punishments to gain a semblance of control.

Once he acknowledges his feelings towards you he will sit and machinate ways to get you to reciprocate his feelings. He regards you as an object that he needs to get sooner rather than later. He would understand that it might be difficult to get you to come off your own volition, so he is not entirely against using force to get you to be with him should his attempts at courting fail.

Ivan often finds himself exhibiting certain behaviors not because he wants to, but because he thinks that these behaviors are what a normal person would do. This leads him to think that presenting himself in a certain way would make you feel comfortable around him, or win your romantic favor -- in reality, they end up coming off as stilted and strange.

If he ends up entering a long-term relationship with you, he’ll likely stop putting up airs, leaving you interacting with someone much more stoic and withdrawn.

Contrary to popular opinion, he is not really hotheaded or quick to violence, and will not let his true emotions overtake his carefully curated mask very often. He is a quick thinker and will remain efficient under pressure. However, should you do something to upset him, he will act quickly and decisively. He loves you deeply, but to him, to truly love someone is to try and bring the best out of that person. He will do so by whatever means necessary.

That isn’t to say that he’s always cold though. He’s happy to dote on you should he think the situation calls for it.

Ivan, however, is no stranger to betrayal. Should you try to leave, exhibit suspicious behaviors, attempt to undermine his authority, or oppose him politically -- there will be dire consequences.

Unlike other yanderes, he has no qualms about hurting you. Ivan witnessed extreme horrors during his childhood, and as such is desensitized to most violence. He will not harm you unprovoked, but should you test him, you will find out how cold and cruel he truly can be.

A more introverted partner may actually suit the life he has planned out for them. Once he finds love he is likely to whisk his partner off to the countryside for a time, rarely to be seen in public.

In the event of an extended business trip, he may take you along, depending on the location. Like countless things before you, people will try and use you against him. Because of this, he would never expose you to an enemy. Should he have a trip domestically, or somewhere he deems low risk he will take you with him. If not, you are expected to sit content in your idyllic countryside home until the two of you can bask in each other’s company again.

Ivan is not super controlling, but he does have a set of rules that you are meant to abide by.

He also places importance on appearances, so you would be coached on how to conduct yourself in formal situations so that onlookers would have nothing negative to say about the two of you. That is why he may implement dress codes, or designate certain discussion topics as off-limits.

After sequestering you away in the middle of nowhere, if you perform well enough, he may move back to the city. He can use extreme methods, but he is not a complete monster. On a deep subconscious level, he craves normalcy. So seeing you navigate life around other people but still choosing to come back to him “willingly” may help him feel vaguely fulfilled.

He is the type to allow you to pursue most hobbies, and would not stop you from expressing individuality or possessing a sense of self. He does however want to make sure that you constantly view yourself as not just an individual, but as a part of a unit. With everything you do, there needs to be a consideration of how it’ll affect both of you.

In his more subdued moments, he treasures domesticity and would like to occasionally dote on you. He'll be pleased if you occasionally let him cook for you or pick out your outfits.

On the same token, he wants to feel as though you depend on him. Not enough to where you can’t exist without his constant care, but enough to know you are appreciative of all he does for you, and that you are hesitant to leave him.

If you follow the rules and do not awaken his feelings of intense paranoia, you can live somewhat normally.

#yandere hetalia #hetalia x reader #yandere russia #hws russia #hetalia #requests are still open!#hetalia headcanons #i'm gonna hide this in the tags #but i hate the interpretation of russia as some unhinged madman #like yes he is deeply traumatized but he still has his wits abt him #like to me he is a deeply intelligent man #idgaf the tortured madman troupe is derivative #anyways hope u enjoyed

62 notes · View notes

leftingbadly · 2 months

Text

snow burning. final part | simon "ghost" riley

After a disastrous mission that goes awry, Simon Riley and Lyla come to the agreement of sleeping in each other's beds to ward off the horrors. They are the horrors.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x OFC

pt 3.

Lyla hadn’t made it back to Simon Riley’s bed before she died.

Cold winds shook the grief from the trenches, and the tears fell like dewdrops on the battlefield. Before that, though, at the beginning of her end, there was a laughter, boisterous and loud that had encapsulated her lungs.

She remembers laughing with John MacTavish. Gorgeous, boyish and joyful John MacTavish. A cheeky grin plastered on his face until it wasn’t, until she noticed the screaming look that had overtaken it before she felt the bullet wound that penetrated her abdomen.

Simon was on her moments later. Too little, too late. The man who had shot her grunted and dropped somewhere she couldn’t see. The sky was her vision now, a dark and mischievous canvas, as though there was a thing smiling down at her through the last moments of her life. Lyla felt herself fall, onto the ground, into the arms of the man she loved.

“Stay here, sweetheart. Stay with me–come on. Stay and I’ll make you a wife, yeah? Want that?” Desperate words hung onto desperate hope, fleeting now where before it had been lingering. “Come on, open those gorgeous eyes for me princess.”

She didn’t realise how long he’d been talking for. Calling out to her. But she did pay attention to him now, when he called out to her, when the shock of being shot had left her body. Or maybe it had become her body. Her body that was leaking out now. She could feel the wetness all over her clothes. It was so… uncomfortable. Death was uncomfortable.

And Simon was fraying now. It was a marvellous thing to be a witness to. Even more, to be the reason of. Lyla couldn’t think straight, but she could think about Simon. There were things about him now that she had never truly appreciated before. Maybe, for one, the true blue of his eyes. Love-held, grief-paused, desperate leaking into her own. Onto her own. She realised that it might’ve been his own tears that stained her cheeks wet. She could barely imagine having the energy to cry, so it really must have been his.

A groan left her when Simon Riley lifted her up onto his lap, he was putting pressure against something, somewhere. But she couldn’t tell the difference between the feeling in her fingertips to the feeling in her toes. They both, all of them, everywhere, felt cold and distant. Maybe if she had the strength, she would have asked him where he was touching. Maybe if she had the strength she would have made a joke about this situation.

“Lyla– fucking–!” A gasp left him now, and she was shaken by the shoulders. Her eyes jolted open for a moment, before the heaviness of it all overcame her. A wistful smile encased her lips, and she looked up to the man in front of her, bleary eyed and tired.

“Simon?” Her voice sounded out eventually.

He paused first for a moment, as though there were a million-million things he wanted to say in that moment. He settled on just one. “Yeah?”

“Hello.”

“Hello yourself, princess. You gonna stay awake for me?”

“I’m really tired,” she argued, her hand moving to hold onto his arm. “I don’t think I can.”

“I know you’re tired, but just stay awake okay? Keep looking at me, fuck, don’t stop looking at me.”

“I can do that,” she said. “I like looking at you.”

“Yeah?” He couldn’t help himself when he laughed. “You do? What about me, sweetheart?”

“Just… you. Wish I could see your face though, it’s a pity I never got to see your face.”

Simon hesitated. He knew she was asking, she didn’t need to ask for her to ask. There was a tone in her voice, a hopefulness in her eyes. Those eyes. Damn him, they were going to be the end of him. And maybe if he didn’t think this would be the last time he ever saw life in them, maybe he wouldn’t have hesitated. But he did.

Because if he lifted up that balaclava now, if he pulled back that mask from his face and allowed her to see his face it meant that he was accepting it. Accepting her death. Accepting that she would die and that there would be nothing he could say or do to stop that inevitability. Simon didn’t move. Not to pull the mask from his face, not to stop her when she did.

And he swears that he could have died with her in that moment when she smiled up at him the way she did. Her soft hand glided over the skin of his cheek, and she wondered when the last time was that someone had seen him in this way. Eyes like a victim, trembling like the predator. A weeper’s gaze stared back at her and she wondered, for all the years of his life, when the last time it was that Simon Riley had felt sadness deserved. Death was like that. The death of a loved one was like that. The sort of grief that you were owed by the world, the sort of sadness that was natural to us. Their bodies knew how to handle it, programmed to handle it. The same way they were programmed to handle love, the component of handling that grief came hand in hand.

She held his hand in her hand.

She reached it to her lips and she kissed it. There was something in him that broke then, his body keeling over as he wept over her body. What was it about her that had him like this? Always off his feet, always staring down, heart always too high for him to reach. It floated with her, to her, wherever she was going now.

“You’re so pretty,” her voice murmured. “Why did you hide it for so long?”

“Was scared, princess.”

“I know,” she laughed lightly. “Me too.”

Her hand dropped, but her gaze stayed. “Wasted too much time being angry at each other.”

“I wasn’t angry with you,” he promised.

“You weren’t?” Thin voice a gentle icicle. Wraps around her throat, wraps around her life’s string. There was a death’s gaze now that shadowed her skin, like a cloud, like a shroud.

He shook his head. “Loved you too much for that, princess.”

“Maybe that was why I pushed you so hard, so far away. I’m sorry for that, darling. I shouldn’t have done that. Deserved better.” He lifted her hand for them, kissing it to his pink lips.

“You have all these pretty names for me now. When I’m dying.”

He laughed then. Head bent and smile even more so. Crooked, fading, hard-wrought.

“Don’t close your eyes sweetheart, please,” his grip tightened, but she couldn’t feel it. “Don’t leave me yet. Who’s gonna annoy me if you leave?”

“Please, Lyla, please. Open your eyes for me darling.”

“Come on baby, I’m sorry, open your eyes and we’ll go have a lie down, okay? I’ll hold you just like this. Open your eyes and I’ll never shout again, show you all my scars and ugly sides baby, show you everything. Open your eyes please.”

“Lyla?”

34 notes · View notes