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#which wasn't very long but it probably felt very long for the mother who had a screaming child covered in window color deer inside her car

multifandomimagin3s · 1 year

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Realising they accidentally hurt you while making out - 141 + König

Requested by Anon

some angst, fluff, mentions of sexual themes but nothing explicit.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Gentle isn't really in his vocabulary - he's six feet of pure muscle and strength and while he tries to make a conscious effort to reign himself in, he can sometimes get a bit carried away in the moment.

For him to be physically intimate with you on any level, you'd have to be close to him; in this scenario, you'd have worked your way into his heart.

Doesn't like being vulnerable, point-blank.

But once he realises that he'd hurt you, someone he cares so deeply for, he feels guilty. Beyond guilty.

Notices the bruising on your wrists from his solid grip, when he'd been holding them above your head during a passionate kiss, and feels his stomach drop.

Even as you insist to him that you're okay, he'd be distant.

With all of his past experiences - with his Father, his Mother, and his childhood as a whole - he internally and solemnly swore that he would never lay a finger on you or hurt you, in any way.

And now? He feels like he's done just that.

Would probably take him a while to get out of that headspace - you knew that trying to push him wouldn't help but still checked up on him; which in turn made him feel more guilty, you were so kind to him and deep down he felt like he didn't deserve such kindness.

You would be cooking a meal for the both of you, when he would wrap his arms around your waist from behind, wordlessly pressing his head into the crook of your neck.

"'m sorry." He was apologising not just for the bruises, but for everything - he had been hiding himself away, and the lack of intimacy was borderline painful for the both of you.

You turned around in his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling you to him in a hug. He stiffened, before his arms tightened around you slightly, as if he was making sure that you were still here with him.

You were, and you silently promised that you weren't going anywhere.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny is your typical 'class clown' - he's charismatic in such a way that you can't help but laugh along with him, and his energy just makes him fun to be around.

The only time he really gets serious is when he's working but even then he's always one to crack jokes with the Team - namely, with Ghost (who 9/10 pretends to be annoyed at the Sergeant, rather than admitting he enjoys his company).

He always misses you so much when he's deployed - to be honest even if you were also in the military, if you both got sent on different missions or were even apart for a day, he'd still feel like he hadn't seen you in forever.

So when he does see you again, he's very passionate in showing you just how much he missed you.

It wasn't until you winced from how hard he was gripping onto your hip during a make-out session that he pulled away, panicked eyes searching your form for the source of the pain.

His eyes fell onto the slightly discoloured blotches on your hip, and he instantly frowned, scooping you into a hug.

"Aw I'm so sorry, Darlin', I didnae realise I was hurtin' ye."

The make-out session was completely abandoned, as he rubbed your hip gently, kissing your forehead.

Makes mental notes to keep his strength reigned in in future, and feels absolutely awful when he sees the finger-shaped bruises forming on your skin :(

Definitely would turn up with a bouquet of flowers for you, orders your favourite food and dotes on you for days after it - no matter how much you may protest, he's going to treat you the best he can.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Another guy who's very passionate when he's been away from you for a long period of time.

He misses you more than you'll ever know - he even carries a little photo of you in the pocket of his tactical vest.

Can get a bit excitable when making out, picking you up under your thighs, pushing you against the wall - a little bit too forcefully.

He notices your breath hitching and it takes him a second to realise that it wasn't sexual, but he had in fact accidentally knocked the back of your head against the wall with the momentum.

Immediately places you down on the bed, apologies continuously flowing out of his mouth as he pulls you to his chest, cradling your head.

It didn't hurt that much, more of a dull ache, but in his eyes he might as well have fractured your skull.

Like Soap, he dotes on you for ages after it, promising that in future he'll be more careful with his strength.

Captain John Price

He's been in the military for a long time so he likes to think that he has a good awareness of his strength, and is always mindful around you.

He doesn't treat you like you're fragile, but he's never rough with you - unless you ask, that is.

I reckon that he's incredibly good at reading people, so if he noticed even a slight hint of discomfort or pain on your features during a make-out session, he'd immediately stop and ask if you were alright.

If you voiced your discomfort or pain, he'd feel guilty for hurting you in the first place, hands delicately massaging any sore spots.

He treats you like royalty anyways, but after this? He'd practically on bended knee, would do anything you asked.

Wouldn't ask to continue with your make-out session, waiting for you to be comfortable first; he'd never want to make you feel pressured or uncomfortable with him.

All in all, he's very mature about it, apologising profusely - your happiness and safety is paramount to him.

König

König is always hyper aware of his sheer size and strength - he knows he's big and strong, it's what makes him so good at his job in the first place.

It's also why he's always so cautious around you, he practically treats you like you're made of glass.

Even if you're in the military or part of KorTac, he's still going to be hesitant to spar with you for fear of hurting you in the process.

If he hurt you while making out, he'd honestly want to curl up in a ball and cry.

Doesn't matter if it's a tiny bruise or a scrape, he's going to completely shut down; it'd be like how he was when you initially met him, the closed-off mercenary who doesn't speak to anyone and keeps to himself.

He tries to make it clear that he's not angry at you - quite the opposite, he's livid with himself for not being able to control his own strength.

Like Ghost, it would take him a while to come around - but you would have to make the first move.

He would be sitting on your shared bed, head in his hands as he licks his wounds, inwardly cursing himself; his sniper hood would be back on, as if he was trying to hide himself away from the world.

Coming to stand between his legs, you'd gently place your hand over his, encouraging him to lift his head up to look at you.

"It's okay, I'm alright."

He said nothing, hands coming to rest on your hips, as he pressed his forehead to your stomach. You encircled your arms around his broad shoulders and his tentatively wrapped around your waist.

He'd eventually come around but it would take a lot of convincing to get him out of the mindset that he was going to end up hurting you again.

Poor guy just loves you so much :(

#simon riley #soap mactavish #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #konig #simon riley x reader #soap mactavish x reader #captain price x reader #captain john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #konig x reader #cod #call of duty #multifandomimagin3s

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mvth3r · 1 month

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you and daryl are incredibly similar. sometimes that isn’t a good thing.

CW: 18+ MDNI

A/N: herbalist reader is one of my favorite pairings for daryl, i’ll probably end up writing more of them specifically. anyways, this is for the anxious (me) over thinkers (also me)!

you and daryl hadn’t been together very long. months starving on the road had brought you closer, him hunting constantly to feed the group and you analyzing and collecting every edible leaf and berry right alongside.

the hunter and the herbalist. terms like “girlfriend” and “boyfriend” seemed a bit childish to both of you, given that you weren’t teenagers anymore, but you were partners through and through. to some, you were an unlikely pair, but your group understood the many ways you intersected.

you’d grown up damn near just as rough as he did, with an abusive mother and a father who drank himself to death trying to cope. it’d been a lonely childhood, and you spent most of it outdoors, falling in love with nature.

your similarities made your relationship strong and laid the foundation for understanding each another, but sometimes it made for a worse situation, like now.

you and daryl laid next to each other on your cot, pressed together from the lack of space. it wasn't uncomfortable, but the charged awkwardness that had lingered between the two of you recently soured the air.

you couldn't see daryl's face, but you knew from the irregular rise and fall of his chest that he wasn't asleep. the cell was dark save from the strip of moonlight peeking around the sides of the privacy sheet.

you sighed silently, only your shoulders moving with the expression, but it didn’t go unnoticed.

daryl pulled away from you, leaning as far out of your embrace as he could without falling off the bed.

“what?” he mumbled, voice gruff. you could hear his confusion, and it made you wince.

“nothing, just,” you paused. for a moment, you considered letting it go. he would come to you when he was ready. or he wouldn’t if he truly hadn’t enjoyed it. or if he wasn’t really interested in sex. but would that mean he hadn’t really wanted to do it with you? or that he had, god forbid, felt pressured?

no, you steeled your resolve, you would not let this overthinking and anxiety overtake you anymore. it was just a question. you could ask a question.

you pushed yourself up onto your elbow and, reaching over daryl, flicked on the oil lamp that sat on your makeshift nightstand. you blinked as your vision adjusted, finally bringing daryl into view.

staring just below his eyes, you blurted out your ailment, not wanting to allow yourself time to bow out.

“did you not like having sex with me? when we did a few weeks ago,” you kept your voice low, though you were sure most everyone was asleep.

daryl had already been frowning, but it deepened at your words, “what’re you talkin’ about?”

and out came the word vomit.

“well i just mean that, y’know, we haven’t had sex again since that first time, which was great. i really enjoyed myself, and i thought you did too, but then you never mentioned it and you never tried to do it again, and i’m thinking maybe you just aren’t into sex? which is fine! but then it’s also not, because that would mean i either forced you or you felt like you had to have sex with me, which isn’t cool, and—“

daryl cut you off with a hand over your mouth and you opened your eyes at the interruption, never even realizing you had closed them during your rambling.

meeting daryl’s eyes, you saw shock and amusement melting the confusion right off his expression. a blush was starting to bloom across his cheeks.

“i didn’t mean to leave ya hanging,” he said, “I guess i was in my own head too. thought ya would come to me when ya was ready.”

“when i was ready…” you trailed off, dumbfounded.

all that overthinking, just for you both to be in the same place.

“ain’t wanna force ya or nothin’,” he clarified at your expression.

you stared at him in shock for a moment, and then you were moving, surging up from the cot and swinging your leg over to straddle his waist. your hands settled on his deliciously firm shoulders for balance.

daryl’s hands roamed over your hips, slipping underneath your his loose sleep shirt to press into your skin. his head bowed to lay against your neck, whispering, “i always want ya, babe,” as his lips peppered kisses up your throat and over the soft curve of your jaw.

you could feel him getting hard beneath you where he was pressed against the thin cotton of your panties. you started getting wet in response, hoping, albeit naively, that he wouldn’t be able to feel it.

daryl’s hands tightened on your hips, encouraging you to grind down against him and you followed his lead easily. a moan bubbled out of your mouth unbidden at the feeling. you weren’t going to last long, not with the pressure just right and just where you needed. it had been too long.

your man, just as needy as you, was in the same position. his head rested back against the wall, lips parted on a moan of his own as he controlled your pace, rolling your hips down again and again against his.

you felt your orgasm starting in your belly and you slumped forward, hips stuttering as you rode it out. the fabric of daryl’s shirt muffled your whimper.

stuck in his shirt as you were, you couldn’t see daryl’s face when he came, instead feeling him shudder and his hips jerking sporadically once, twice, and then stilling all together. he hissed out his release, hands tightening like a vice around your hips before he let you go.

you hid your smile against his shirt.

later, after you and daryl had changed into different bottoms and laid back down on the cot, you drifted easily into sleep for the first time in weeks, your mind quieted.

being so well sated was a bonus, though, and, by the quiet snores daryl was making, tucked against your chest, you figured he would agree.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #twd imagine

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lineli225 · 1 month

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Tomura Shigaraki 's abuse and neglect under All for One

I've decided to make this post due to the fact AFO's abuse towards Tomura is often ignored and even denied, so I'll be bringing a collection of scenes that prove he was being severally neglected during the 15 years he lived with AFO

1- Malnourishment and Underweight

At the beginning of the story Tomura used to be very skinny, his spine visible, very accentuated collar bones.

We can't see if his ribcages are exposed too since he's always dressed, but we can tell he is abnormally skinny and thin.

Some theorize AFO's purposefully keeps him in this state so he's more weak and frail similar to Yoichi. Or so it adds to his tiredness and numbness.

He's also been shown randomly struggling before (it could've been the aftershock of Stain attack, i don't know)

2- Lack of hygiene

He literally lives in pure filth, trash bags, old soda cans, paper, boxes, packages of food that seems ordered other than homemade, it lingers all over his floor, he is clearly a hoarder

It's completely different of the kept and clean bar, and now before you say "That's Tomura's responsibility, he's an adult he should clean it himself!" just think for a minute, if you had a son, that you see as your heir, and bets on their future so much,If you truly cared about them and saw they felt into a hoarder mindset, wouldn't you at least help?

Why not even Kurogiri cleans if Tomura was being cared by him? This clearly is intentional neglect, specially to keep his mood constantly down.

3 - His teeth

Tomura canonically has crooked teeth (compare his teeth to the other's in the jump festa art), cavities or at least what looks like plaques or dirt all over his teeth.

For someone raised by someone as filthy rich as AFO, he should've had access to dental care

4- Shaggy hair

His hair looks un-brushed, shaggy and dirty, which had no reason for before MVA when he became homeless, so why even at the start? How long has he taken a bath or a shower?

Look at the blatant difference in this scene after he showered at the PLF mansion

5- Unkept, ragged and broken nails

despite his hands also being very skinny, his nails are also all rough and broken Now, I know Tomura isn't a kid to have someone cut his nails for him, but this implies he was never teached how to take care for himself.

Besides of course his clear symptoms of depression and suicidal idealism, which, are very obvious, All for One IS neglecting Tomura by keeping him in that state /knowing/ he isn't being capable of taking care of himself.

6- His bedroom

First of all: No windows

Second, notice how empty it used to be, he had nothing but a bed and a desk, but right as he committed his first murder he started to receive toys, AFO is lovebombing and manipulating him to kill more

7- The obvious neglect to his pain

Notice how every time Tomura panics or is even wounded, he is just ignored and left on the floor bleeding out, puking or writhing.

Which uh- it isn't normal to watch your kid writhe in the floor while smiling and monologuing

8- 24/7 Surveillance and lack of privacy

There are cameras everywhere, AFO spends most of the time watching Tomura, even in his own bedroom, and even talks to him, Tomura probably hasn't had any privacy ever since he was 5

Which is a sign of abuse and control

His entire childhood from 5 to 20 is often relatable for people who grew in cult like environments, and homeschooled children who grew under controlling parents, despite the abuse not being as "obvious" since AFO never directly physically hurt him, the neglect and psychological torture is still there, that and more all the manipulation, gaslighting and grooming (think of Mother Gothel from Tangled as an example of this type of abuser)

By the way, talking about it

9- Gaslighting

"but wasn't /you/ who desired my power?"

The entire body possession plot is a clear evidence AFO never saw Tomura as anything other than a toy to play with, the same way he saw Yoichi, but so many people say the possession was a retcon because "early afo cleared saw him as his heir, he even said it's all for him!"

Well, argue with the literal "he's the next me", while he is.... weirdly caressing the screen while he watches his kid with no privacy- 100% creep behavior

10- AFO's bizzare behavior towards Tomura

The way All for One's hands are often shown caressing him or encasing him somehow, which yeah, it's part of the symbology of Tomura's character (hands that can both hurt and save)

But knowing AFO represents /hurt/ and, you know, i'ts kinda weird to caress the kid you kidnaped off the streets like that-

Cuz yes! Picking kids from the street even if they are orphan is illegal!! You should take them to a police station instead :D

Tomura was KIDNAPED by AFO, not saved.

11- Proof Tomura doesn't /feel/ saved

During his fight against Bakugou, when he sees him being helped, besides being "broken" he starts to spiral on "why no one saved me even before i was broken?"

The visual including the granny that ignored him on the streets

AFO broke him.

He recurrently thinks back to when he was on the streets, even though he was already traumatized, and had already killed his family, he still had /hope/ he ADMITS he believes he could've been different if it wasn't for AFO

If AFO had truly saved him,he wouldn't think like this

12- AFO gifting Tomura the corpses of his family to intentionally keep him nauseated, uncomfortable and traumatized, so he never heals

Besides their weird placements- On a kid. the gangster's hands being in his chest...

13-AFO's intentional desire for Tomura's discomfort

If this entire thread didn't make it obvious already, All for One benefits of Tomura's tiredness, ill feelings, nausea, depression and suicidal mindset, and over all physical and psychological discomfort

This ensures he's submissive to his manipulations and orders, keep him feeling hatred and anger due to constant overwhelming feelings and makes it harder for him to think of why AFO does all of it at all.

I could go even deeper than this about it, but i've reached thread limit and am lazy, so I hope you enjoyed this thread!

Thank you for reading

#shigaraki tomura #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki #deku #izuku midoriya #all for one #afo #mha manga

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xo-cod · 6 months

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fluff w simon <33 :') so obsessed w him, lmk if you'd like this w the others 🤍

cw: mentions of his abusive past, babies. also probably ooc/rushed LMAO 🫣

simon riley ♡ who swore to himself that love simply wasn't meant to be in his life after the traumatic past he had to bear now grew to enjoy baking with you, frowning and tutting playfully when your fingers hover over the chocolate chips and placing them on top of the fridge when you keep eating them all. he sighs after a few minutes and gives them back to you, your pout too cute to resist but you make up for it with kisses. they taste sweeter to him anyway <33

simon riley ♡ who worked to the bone as an escape from his personal life, finds himself becoming anxious when he's delayed and suddenly working overtime. he has to try to resist the temptation to become frustrated since he was the second in command and and this was technically the job he had signed up for but the fact that you're waiting for him at home is enough for him to risk everything run straight into your arms. he tries to reign in his impatience but it's hard when every precious minute that ticks by, he could be bundled up in your arms and watching a movie together. he doesn't care which one, so long as it makes you happy. and when he finally does rush back home, the very first thing he does is take you in his arms, ripping away his balaclava to kiss your sleepy face with such tenderness it warms your whole body <33

simon riley ♡ who used to spend the nights alone in his bed, hating to go to sleep because he wouldn't have any restful dreams now looked forwards to the snuggles you'd give him curled up in the bed. needing your body weight on him as if a weighted blanket to help him and keep him calm throughout the night. it's the way your body molds so perfectly to his, your hands interlaced, he can overcome anything like this. such a love wasn't allowed especially in his dangerous line of work. admittedly it was difficult finding the line between work and pleasure. it was hard at first to find the line between simon and ghost but you gave him patience and understanding. something he wasn't used to, something he didn't even think he deserved. you were the first to actually listen and understand his situation. the first to be sympathetic and knowing at how delicate the line had to be. he didn't like lying to you but you never put him in that position to ever do so. his dreams are much sweeter with you now <33

simon riley ♡ who walked around the base with a blank stare, stoic expression now breaks into a small smile whenever he sees you near. there's a lightness around him, the team have noticed. many a times has soap and gaz teased him when he's leaning against his chair risking a slap to the head when they catch the lieutenant deep in thought with crinkled eyes and a soft smile hidden under his mask. he doesn't have the energy to hide it anymore. he rolls his eyes when they make comments but he knows deep down they're true. he's happier with you, he's become better with you. you've got him wrapped your pretty lil finger and don't he know it <33

simon riley ♡ who grew to hate the world around him slowly learnt there was light even in darkness. who carried so much trauma, never experiencing the love of a family held back his own emotions when your parents and siblings accepted him with open arms. getting along with your father, complimenting your mom, all the small kids adoring how funny he was. he found himself looking forwards to next family gathering with your family that now considered him as their own, your mom giving him a gentle hug everytime and him biting his tongue to not cry because he can't remember what his own mothers hug had felt like. but it was similar to this warm feeling he got when he hugged your mom. he could only stand there as the warmness creeps through his heart like a ray of sun, that maybe perhaps this world wasn't as cruel as it once was <33

simon riley ♡ who was always fine doing things himself since he didn't have anyone to rely on now had separation anxiety when you were gone too long. he calms himself down, he's a trained sas soldier but when it's been a while and you're not in close contact, he's prone to becoming anxious. he doesn't want to be clingy or unbearable but you're his anchor in this treacherous world. keeping him grounded when his world has tilted on his axis. his calmness when there's trouble and his relief when the hardships are there. suddenly all the boring and menial tasks such as cooking and shopping are so much fun with you as you both playfully argue over what to buy. he always picks you up a treat no matter what, you're just his love <33

simon riley ♡ who thought his world ended when his mother and tommy died found renewed comfort in a new world waiting for him with you, teary eyed at the end of the aisle. trying to hold back the tears because you look like an angel, an angel he didn't even know if he deserved to have. you always reassure him but as you walk closer and closer, he just wants to take you in his arms and never let you go. the second your hands touch his, a shiver of delight runs through his body and calms his mind. you were his and he was yours, certainly no doubt about it. the years may not have been kind to him but you were a beacon of light throughout it all, this time you were his knight in shining armour. you saved him, even when he didn't realise it <33

and finally, simon riley ♡ who thought it would be him alone in this world now had you and a baby girl. his eyes shining with tears, kissing your forehead as he looks to small little baby sleeping in his huge arms. she was so incredibly small, barely even taking space in one arm. god he was so emotional, the walls that he spent years building around his guarded heart all but melted and crumbled into so many pieces. he looked at you with adoration while you slept in the hospital bed, looking back in his arms and noting all the similarities she bore between the two of you. how he noticed she even shared the same dimple placement just like his mother did, how her eyes crinkled in the same place tommy's did. she was so beautiful, all the parts of his past that he thought he'd lost forever lived on with her. simon sniffled softly, his eyes shining under the hospital lights while his thumb caressed her small forehead gently. he cradled her close to his chest, his heartbeat a soothing lullaby for his little one. his family before may have been snatched cruelly from his fingers but here he made an oath to protect you and his baby until his very last breath.

finally thanking the universe for his rock and now, his baby <33

#simon riley #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader fluff #simon riley x you

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saccharineomens · 1 month

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i've been poking at this too long to care how visually appealing it is anymore. My headcanons for the main characters' sexualities, based on canon information! (has no bearing on ships.) Canon speculation below the cut.

marcille (bi): fascinated by romance and loves romance. we only see her show explicit interest in a male (fictional character (General Halleus from the book series she loves)), but i don't think she's fully straight.

falin (aro? ace? lesbian? genderqueer?): falin's only interest in relationships in canon is 'she considered accepting shuro's proposal because she was afraid nobody else would want her, but felt it'd be unfair to him because she had no feelings for him'. i consider whether she's aroace or a lesbian or maybe bi/pan, and she also seems like she might have some genderqueer feelings, based on some of her discomfort with her body and wearing certain types of femme clothing. (Also the fact that she‘s part male dragon.) Since she ends the story going on a journey for herself, it feels like she'll finally get the chance to figure out what she wants.

laios (pan, demi): he hasn't shown explicit interest in men, but similar to marcille, i don't feel he's fully straight. He’s aesthetically attracted to monsters, at the very least, so gender probably doesn’t factor in for him. romance/sex just don’t seem to be much of a high priority to him in general, but he did think his ex-fiance was cute and didn't seem uncomfortable with the idea of marriage (just seemed unhappy with being trapped in his hometown), so i feel like demisexuality fits him well.

About his succubus: He was very noticeably not stopped in his tracks by it like Chilchuck and Marcille, but that could possibly be because it just….looked exactly like Marcille, not an obvious fantasy. He started blushing and stammering heavily when it turned into a monster, which like….this boy is definitely a furry/monsterfucker, if anything, but that doesn’t speak on his attraction to actual humans.

I think it speaks for something that the succubi are able to literally read minds and craft the perfect fantasy for their specific target. And for Laios, it wasn’t just “his friend Marcille”. It was a version of his friend Marcille that wasn’t grossed out by monsters, didn’t think he was weird for wanting to be one, and was able to turn Laios into one. It was a Marcille who understood him at his deepest level that made him become a blushing, stammering mess to rival Chilchuck. Which is why I think he’s Demi, and needs a strong emotional connection with someone before he finds them attractive.

kabru (pan): his special interest is people, and he's bold enough with his sexuality to kiss rin despite not being in a relationship with her. so being pan/bi feels appropriate.

chilchuck (bi): he has a wife, and they were childhood friends, so he's definitely allo. but his comments and behavior towards senshi makes me suspect he might be bi, and just never considered the possibility due to being in a committed relationship.

senshi (gay, ace): this is 90% off of vibes. he keeps to himself in the dungeon and doesn't seem to have any need for social company, he's a complete hermit. Being ace makes sense to me, but so would him just having a low social drive. His succubus was 'a woman he hadn't seen since he was a child', but his journal implies it wasn't a romantic/sexual attraction.

namari (bi/lesbian): she is at the very least attracted to women, given her behavior with kiki, but she does make a point to say that kaka is also attractive to her, and her friends at the bar tease her about Kaka being her “new” boyfriend (implying previous boyfriends).

shuro: the token straight (in love with falin, asked her to marry him). i love you shuro <3 (but i can also see him being into men. there's no evidence to the contrary)

izutsumi: aroace. literally no question. her succubus is her mother.

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sempersirens · 3 months

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the fig tree | rotten

pairing: therapist!joel x f!reader

warnings: 18+ mdni. discussion of heavy and potentially triggering topics such as sa, self-harm, infertility, various mental illnesses, self-hatred and drug use. these topics are only mentioned and do not occur in real-time.

chapter summary: a twenty-something, seemingly lost cause, meets her match in the form of psychotherapist: dr. joel miller.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

updates: @sempersirenswrites

series masterlist

Maybe it was time to accept you were never as good as you'd always thought you'd been.

For four long years, you had spent most of your waking hours dissecting epic poetry and papyrology.

Still, the most your degree had done for you was rouse a satisfying disappointment from your mother’s side of the family when they realised you weren’t actually going to be that kind of doctor.

Not to say such in a self-deprecation; you hardly suffered from any semblance of an imposter syndrome. Your mother used to frequently remind you that you were far too vain to not believe in yourself.

It was more of a philosophical framework. Platonic realism. Knowing your muted beauty could earn you a free drink from below-average men who felt their trousers tighten when you addressed them through your eyelashes.

But it wasn't an obvious enough beauty for the attention of the men you imagined exchanging bodily fluids with between stops on the underground.

Besides, you had been a student of Classical Studies; a degree that doesn’t require the intellectual strain of learning Latin or Ancient Greek. The inclusive way for people like you, having attended a run-down state-funded school, to get a glimpse into the Bullingdon boys' and grammar schoolgirls’ fallback plans.

It wasn't even that you disliked Classics; you'd borderline gotten off on reading plays written by men about wicked women; but that was because the brilliant women were always the wicked ones.

You particularly enjoyed the assumptions men made about the female condition – how women were too wet, too porous; couldn’t keep their wombs from wandering. And assumptions they were. No Greek physician ever sliced a woman from chin to cunt to confirm their hypotheses. Although, ancient men hadn't been all too familiar with the insides of a woman anyway.

Sometimes, you thought you would quite simply die if you were reduced to only understanding people through your assumptions of them.

It was just that you could never stop thinking about what people thought. It was all you could ever think about. You wanted to peel people's skulls apart and scream at their horribly grey frontal lobe:

Are you ok? Have I done something to upset you? Do you still love me? Do I look like someone that has been raped? Do you think that girl we just walked past has a firmer ass than me? Do you like my new bangs?

For a short period of time, you'd been desperate to know how your therapist felt and thought of you. There is a sick irony in baring your bones to a stranger in the reclined chair opposite you who never even takes off their cardigan.

You needed to know if your traumas made him sad, or if he saw things that made him think of you outside of your sessions. You supposed he both pitied and admired you in a twisted, surrogate-daughter kind of way.

Then again, he probably wouldn’t have been a very good therapist did he not pity his clients.

At one point you thought you might be in love with him.

You'd met weekly in his high-ceiling office on a busy street. It was a romantic setting to unload twenty-four years of trauma to a kind man wearing a knitted cardigan. The sun would peak through clouds and shine onto the both of you through two large windows, between which sat a Japanese peace lily.

You soon realised he was just the first man to let you speak uninterrupted.

You spoke at him mostly, finishing observations that had been years in the making with “Does that make sense?” Even though you knew it made sense. You were certain, actually, that everything you had articulated came from somewhere deeper inside of you than any man could reach. You just couldn't leave it hanging there like an exposed nerve.

Maybe it was because he didn't speak much that you liked him. Sometimes he would offer anecdotes or remedies for PTSD-induced panic attacks that you both knew you would never use.

In most sessions, you had simply basked in the divinity of being listened to. You wondered if this was how devout Catholics like your grandmother felt at confession, or perhaps it was how all of your ex-boyfriends had felt.

You weren't even particularly attracted to him. He had been ten years older than you, and when your sessions first began, you'd been casually fucking someone a year older than him – but he didn't need to know that.

There were a lot of things you'd decided he didn't need to know. Like the fact you snorted cocaine until your nose bled, sliced into your thighs a couple of evenings a week, and let men use your body to masturbate as a feeble attempt to reclaim your sexuality - as if it had ever been anyone's for the taking.

Had he known the dirtier parts of your life, you feared he would have crossed out the word victim in his black Moleskin notebook and replaced it with bystander.

Maybe he would think you were a pathological liar and diagnose you with a personality disorder. This was something you'd been warned about by the first friend you had made at university.

“My mother is a therapist, you know. Don’t tell them you cut yourself or that you’ve told anyone you cut yourself – they’ll diagnose you with BPD.”

“But I’ve told you.”

“Trust me. They’ll put you on an SSRI and you’ll never be able to orgasm again.”

You were freshly eighteen and had never had a real orgasm anyway, but this terrified you enough to reel in your catalogue of symptoms for the GP appointment you had scheduled later that day.

In the end, you'd buckled and sobbed as the doctor sat adjacent to you. You didn’t mention the self-harming or the suicidal thoughts, but did tell her that you didn’t know where to go from here.

She'd slid a leaflet from the university's self-help website across the table before pushing her chair back and motioning toward the door.

“Call 999 if things get worse," she had said. "But let’s just hope it doesn’t get to that point. A&E is very overwhelmed at the moment.”

So you got on with it. Boats against the current, or whatever. You made the hurt so small and buried it so deep within you and swore you'd never let anyone get close enough to pick at the stray thread to your undoing.

And for a little while it worked. You became what you knew you should be; you presented your face for fucking and never let the door slam on your way out.

These days, you'd felt as though you were slowly becoming rotten.

It started on the surface; a bizarre case of adult acne that no dermatologist could diagnose for love nor money. Blood tests, topical steroids, antibiotics, potentially-baby-deforming drugs. You tried them all to little avail. In the end, it was simply the passing of time that had rid you of the rot.

Next, it had been your womb. Decomposing from the inside out. Your body had made the decision for you that goodness couldn't form in your guts.

The final straw had, embarrassingly, been your heart.

You hated to say it aloud. So much so that you hadn't. But it had been a quiet promise of yours; one you'd kept quietly close to your chest - that your suffering would never turn you ugly.

But here you were, alone and swearing at the wind, the rage beneath your skin growing like a tumour.

You hated it.

You hated yourself.

You hated that you were angry but had never been taught how to be angry, because anger wasn't a pretty emotion; it was one that should be starved and kept in the corner of your wardrobe to rot like black mould.

So here you stood: before a Victorian townhouse with your scarf furiously fighting the wind, droplets of rain threatening your freshly straightened hair, scanning various names scrawled on the building's buzzer.

S. PHYSIOTHERAPY

A & R SOLICITORS

J. MILLER PSYCHOTHERAPY

You bit the inside of your cheek and ducked further into the doorway, pressing the buzzer for the last option.

A voice had answered quicker than you'd anticipated, soon followed by a harsh buzz of the intercom.

"Come on up."

Dr. Miller's office was on the third floor.

You huffed, struggling with the combination of the stairs and attempting to wrangle your wet coat from your back. Amidst your struggle, you hear a door open somewhere above you, followed by a couple of soft and slow footsteps.

Your chin instinctively lifted toward the source of the noise, feet carrying you round and round the spiral staircase.

Light poured around his silhouette from the window behind him. It was ridiculous, actually. The sight was almost holy.

Neither of you spoke as you made your way up toward him. You felt as though you were on your knees beneath him, transfixed in supplication.

The sleeves of his blue cotton shirt were haphazardly pushed up just before his elbows, arms outstretched and fingers wrapped around the wooden bannister.

You were supposed to be actually trying with this one, not fantasising about the ways the veins in his arms probably bulged with his hand around your throat.

After being politely let go by your previous therapist, you'd promised yourself that the colleague he'd recommended to you, Dr. Miller, would be the one to fix you for good.

"Hello." He nodded, not quite managing a smile.

He reached a hand toward you, which you shook with the little strength left in your body.

"Hello." You tried your best to imitate his stoic cadence, your hand still tightly in his.

You let him break the handshake first, playing a petulant, one-sided game to see how quick he would be to scare.

"After you." He gestured to the room behind him. "Take a seat wherever you feel most comfortable."

"If there is any cowboy paraphernalia in that room I am not paying for this session."

"Excuse me?" His eyebrows knitted together, no sign of humour registering on his face.

"Your accent - it was a joke. I mean, I paid already anyway." You fumbled your words awkwardly. "Jokes are always much funnier when you explain them."

He cocked his head slightly. Hesitant to embarrass yourself further, you saw yourself into his office.

The room was dim for a space endowed with Victorian-style floor-to-ceiling windows. It felt like you could get lost in it, hide away, tuck yourself into a corner and be lost for days.

"I have your notes from Dr. Hughes." He said.

"Anything juicy?" You asked, still surveying the room.

You couldn't put your finger on the specifics of his scent, but it was familiar; like passing a man in the street wearing the same aftershave as your father, or a boyfriend you hadn't seen for years.

"I'd like to figure that out myself."

You'd eventually settled on the armchair positioned opposite his own.

You had briefly wondered if this was a test, that he would be psychoanalysing whether you chose the armchair or the adjacent sofa.

Maybe you'd failed already.

For the majority of the session, you'd gone through the necessary motions of admin, confidentiality, and what you eventually wanted to get out of therapy.

"I don't have the ability to fix you, y'know that right?" His question had caught you off guard.

"I know that." You'd replied meekly.

"It's just, I don't know what kind of promises Dr. Hughes made you. We trained together, you see. He had always been more, how do I put this, hopeful than I am."

"Oh wow. Forty minutes into our first session and you're already hopeless?" You were only partly joking.

"I'm a big believer in transparency, and I can see you were meeting on and off for a few years. I'm just intrigued as to what your end goal here is."

You bit down on your cheek, swallowing the ember of rage that was burning in your throat.

"Do you think I do this for fun? Carve out an hour a week to relive my deepest, darkest traumas?"

"Not at all. I just find it interesting that after almost three years of therapy, you still can't use the word rape. You've referred to it as the thing that happened four times already."

The rot crept up your throat, threatening to pour out of your mouth and fill the room with the ugliness that grew inside of you.

"What is this, some kind of tough love therapy?" You scoffed. Was he trying to get a rise out of you?

"It can be whatever you want it to be."

He was kind of annoying, actually.

The two of you sat in silence, defiantly holding eye contact with one another to see who would be the first to break. And when he finally spoke, it was more of a statement than a question.

"That's time. I'll see you at the same time next week."

"How are you so sure I'll come back?"

He smiled for the first time that afternoon.

"I'm not."

#my fic #the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal characters #tlou hbo #tlou #joel miller fanfic #joel x reader #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedrohub #pedrostories

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sopebubbles · 11 months

Text

Master List

Seven

Synopsis: in a world where alphas, betas, and omegas live along side modern humans as second class citizens, you've fallen through the cracks of a society that wants to take everything wonderful from you. Luckily a timely encounter with the boys just might save your life.

Chapter summary: Hoseok goes into heat and everyone else struggles. I'm honestly not gonna give more away than that.

Warnings: talk of mpreg (thats just gonna come up a lot in this story), like one mention of a penis, we are mostly glossing over hobis heat tbh bc i dont feel like doing smut in this chapter, do alphas have a breeding kink? Or is that just their nature? 🤔 mentions of past abuse, homelessness

WC: 6.7k

If Yoongi had known ahead of time that Hoseok was going into heat, then of course he would not have offered to take someone's eight hour shift in addition to his own. Sometimes the needs to provide and protect really opposed each other. Fucking capitalism. He already hated the idea of it because sixteen hours was way too many to be away from you, especially when sitting across the room from you was a struggle. Yoongi wanted to be next to you, against you, touching your skin. Not in a sexual way. He figured that wasn't a possibility, and maybe wouldn't be for a very long time. That was fine. He had six lovers—well, five if you consider the fact that Yoongi and Namjoon loved each other very much but could never quite work their way around sex with one another. He didn't need that from you. He just needed you. He needed you to need him in a way he had always wanted to be needed, so he figured a little overtime when the opportunity arose would be a good thing to ensure he could provide for you.

Yoongi hadn't grown up with a pack or an alpha. His mother, a beta, claimed his father was an alpha who died before he was born, but Yoongi always thought it was more likely he just left them. He couldn't really blame the guy. Alpha was a big job to fill, at least if you did it right. Not everyone was cut out for it just because they were born an alpha. When he was fourteen, Yoongi's mom joined a pack with a new alpha, and although Yoongi never fully felt part of that pack, he did have a great deal of respect for the pack alpha who took them in and demonstrated what it meant to protect and provide.

After Yoongi had presented as an alpha, he dreamed of being the leader of his own pack, but his attempts to build a pack in his early twenties failed. He quickly learned that a pack wasn't made out of sheer force of will. You needed the right personalities and to work with each other. No amount of leadership could make love where there was none, and Yoongi wanted a pack that was bound by more than just convenience. When he met Jungkook, he found that a pack like that already existed, and if Yoongi had to sacrifice being its leader to be a part of it, he decided he could live with that. He could still be a good alpha even if he wasn't at the top.

Part of being a good alpha meant helping with heats, so it was frustrating not being able to leave work to be there like Jin could. Namjoon and Yoongi were lucky to have rut leave, but most sap employers didn't understand the importance of being available for packmates, so they just had to do the best they could. At least Seokjin and Taehyung could always be there, and Jimin was allowed a few days leave by his shelter for Hoseok's heats. Jungkook, too, would have to do the best he could, but he usually called in at least a couple of sick days to help out.

Yoongi's plan was to check on you first and then check in with the pack before getting a shower to wash off the scents of other people. Most likely he would try to do that before he even approached Hoseok or the omega would go crazy. As soon as he opened the front door, he could tell that his heat was in full effect. Hobi's brown sugar was thick molasses and his moans could be heard easily from upstairs. There wasn't a packmate in sight, which probably meant he was in full all pups in the nest mode. He might not be able to sneak that shower after all. But he still had to check on you.

The door to the first floor bedroom you had occupied for the last five nights was closed. Could you be sleeping through this? Or were you hiding instead? He decided to knock, but received no response. Fear clutched in his stomach. Could the pack have neglected you so much in their efforts to care for Hoseok that you had passed out again? Yoongi turned the knob frantically to get into your room, only for his heart to drop through the floor. All of the soft, fluffy blankets that Hoseok had made into your nest were folded neatly in a stack on the bed. There wasn't a piece of trash or mislaid item in the room. It was empty, and Yoongi didn't need to look for you to know you were gone. He checked the bathroom anyway, just to confirm what he already knew. He dragged both hands through his hair as if he could clear the fog of panic. Where did you go? How long have you been gone?

Maybe protecting is more important than providing.

"Fuck," he muttered just before hearing Hoseok's cry of ecstacy ring through the house. He didn't emerge from the room until a few moments later when he heard clumsy footsteps hurry down the stairs. He could easily recognize that they came from Jimin, so he stepped into the hall.

"Hyung!" Jimin called excitedly. "You're finally home!" The beta walked to the kitchen and began to load his arms up with cold water bottles. "Hobi just took his first knot so you better hurry and get changed before he starts getting super possessive. What's wrong, hyung?"

Yoongi looked away when the younger man looked at his face. "I'll take a shower down here and meet you up there in a minute."

"What about Y/N?"

"She's gone," Yoongi said softly. What was left of Jimin's smile collapsed.

"What?"

"Her room is empty. She's gone," he repeated.

Jimin dumped the bottles in his arms onto the kitchen table and hurried toward the spare room. "No, she was here a couple hours ago." He pushed the door open to check the scene but he found what the alpha said to be true. "Where did she go?"

"I don't know."

"When?"

"I don't know, Jimin." Yoongi felt empty, but he didn't want to blame it on them. He was the one who should have been there watching over you. He was the one who fucked up.

"But Jin told her she could stay. She said she'd think about it," Jimin spoke just as softly as he did.

"I guess she decided not to."

Jimin turned to his alpha looking for answers. "What do we do?"

Yoongi sighed and tried to contain his grief. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to leave the house right now and dig up every instinct of his to hunt you down through this city and bring you back where you belonged. But that would be barbaric and archaic of him, and exactly the opposite of what you needed. You must have left for a reason. It didn't mean they couldn't find you and convince you to come back. You weren't dead. At least you weren't injured, or at least he hoped. But that wasn't the only problem right now. He still had an omega in heat, an omega who he knew—even though he was convinced no one could care as much as he did—would also be worried about you, and disappointed that you were gone.

"I'm going to shower. You go help with Hobi. Don't say anything."

"But–"

"We have to wait for the right time. When he's a little clear headed," Yoongi reasoned.

Jimin nodded sadly, gathering the water bottles into his arms again. "Okay. Don't take too long." Yoongi pursed his lips and nodded. "Hyung, I'm sorry. I really wanted her to stay, too. I wish–"

"Let's discuss it later, Jimin," Yoongi cut him off and gestured toward the stairs for the beta to go. If Jimin got him talking about how much he wanted her there, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from leaving to find you. And as much as he wanted you, this was his pack right now, and he owed it to Hobi to be around. So he went to the shower you had spent yesterday afternoon cleaning and turned on the cold water. He tried his best to push his thoughts of you out of his mind and meditate his scent into something that wasn't too sad as he scrubbed himself clean. He couldn't think about where you might be right now. Where would you even go? Back to that awful shelter? Why couldn't you just stay? Was it something he'd done, or one of the other guys? Were there just too many of them? He could have taken you away, somewhere for just the two of you. No, he'd have to take Jimin, too. Fuck. He shook his head to rid himself of the thought. He needed to think about his pack, not the omega who wasn't his. He let the cold water run steadily over his face for a long time, emptying his head of any thoughts except the feeling of the cold stream. Finally, he shut the water off and shook the water from his hair before he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist.

His hair was still dripping when he arrived at the landing outside the pack's nest room. Through the open door, Yoongi could see Hoseok lying on Namjoon's expansive chest while Jungkook wiped his neck and shoulders with a damp cloth. By the looks of it, Jin's knot had only just deflated, but he still laid behind his lover, talking in a whisper with Jimin while the beta fed him grapes.

Jin looked at Yoongi as he stepped carefully over a squeaky floorboard and into the room. He took in his naked chest and the towel slung low across his hips as the alpha came to the edge of the nest. Yoongi's eyes roamed over the pack omega as if asking a question.

"He just fell asleep," Namjoon answered, stroking his fingers through Hoseok's dark brown hair.

"Did you shower downstairs?" Jin asked. Yoongi nodded. "Was that a good idea?" The pack alpha asked and it almost sounded like a warning.

Yoongi looked at him sharply. "It wasn't a problem." He sat at the edge of the bed and Hoseok began to stir, clearly not deep in sleep.

"Yoongi?" The omega called softly.

Yoongi crawled up to lay himself over Hoseok's lower half, resting his chin on the man's hip. "I'm right here, my love."

"You're home," he mumbled and Yoongi hummed in response. "Bring little pup here. Need everyone in the nest."

Yoongi caressed the skin of Hoseok's side. "I would if I could, my love. But you know that I can't." Hoseok pouted. "She's not our omega. You are."

"Want her to be my omega," Hoseok moaned.

"I know, Hobi. Me, too."

Hoseok turned onto his back and pulled at Yoongi's shoulders to get him closer. "Alpha," he crooned. "Need your knot alpha." Hoseok pushed aside the towel from his hips to reach for his cock.

Yoongi kissed his lips softly. "I know you do, baby. But you know the rules. You can only have Jinnie's knot so you can have his pup," he reminded, brushing hair away from Hoseok's eyes. He looked over at the other alpha, who stared back with dark, intent eyes.

"You can fuck our sweet omega, Yoongi. You just have to use a condom," Jin said.

Yoongi suppressed a sigh. He'd always hated this rule of Jin's ever since it had started a year ago. Sure, they could fuck normally outside of Hobi's heat, but in order to ensure when he got pregnant, the baby would be Jin's, the others always had to use protection.

"I will, if that's what my Hobi wants," Yoongi agreed with a soft kiss to his scent gland. It wasn't that he was unwilling. He would still get to feel Hoseok. He would still cum. But his instincts knew that he wouldn't be able to breed his omega, and it left him feeling deeply unsatisfied every time.

Hoseok moaned, "Need to feel you alpha." So Yoongi took the condom that Jungkook offered.

Seokjin and Yoongi had grown up just as differently as you and Hoseok. Even if Yoongi's situation had never been as grim as yours, he knew what it was like to go without and to feel like an outsider. It was hard to make friends with other Lykos sometimes when the other kids had strict packs or so many siblings they didn't need other playmates. It certainly wasn't any easier to make friends with Saps, who would always treat him as a little different. And constantly moving as his mother did her best to keep them afloat in a world definitely not designed for single mothers never helped to maintain whatever friendships he did happen to make. Finding the pack and living with them for five years was the most stability he had ever known.

Seokjin’s life had been the definition of stability. He was born in the house where three previous generations of his family had lived. People wanted to be associated with him wherever he went—sure it was because of his connections to the most powerful Lykos in the country, but at least he never felt unwanted. His older brothers and sisters had been his playmates, at least until they all presented, and as the youngest he was always doted on. And then there was Hoseok, who had clung to Seokjin first and soon found he would never get away, not that he wanted to.

Jin's family had a long lineage full of stereotypical alphas. Not in brute force like in the days before integration with Saps where physical power was power. But they had learned in the early years to cultivate political power in the public sphere. Nearly every alpha in his family had a position in government, elected or otherwise. Seokjin had only narrowly escaped that career path because he had so many older alpha siblings, and because he managed to convince his mother that having a member of the family who wasn't involved in politics would make their image as a collective a little less power hungry. Deep down he didn't have the ambition. At 20, he already knew that he wanted to do enough to have a happy and comfortable life with the man he loved, and to not have to make the kind of sacrifices other members of his family had to make for power.

At home, the alphas of his pack had been the kind to demand respect and to dole out punishment when it wasn't immediately given. Seokjin had never wanted to be that kind of alpha, one who needed to be obeyed, or who purposely filled his pack with omegas and betas so that he would be on top. Unlike Yoongi, he hadn't aspired to be a pack alpha, only to be Hoseok's alpha. It just so happened that he met several other alphas that they both came to love—and if having more alphas for Hoseok took some of the burden off of him, then that was a bonus.

Jin had never shown such toxic alpha traits until a year ago, and since everyone had tiptoed around the subtle and not-so-subtle changes in his personality, no one knew what had changed. It had been a meeting with his mother, which had taken place at his office so none of the pack knew. It wasn't that his birth pack disapproved of his pack exactly. It was just that none of them could do anything to support the power of the family, so his mother in particular didn't see any reason to be involved with them very often. Only Jin and his husband were ever invited to public events, and for the most part everyone was perfectly happy with the situation. There was only so much limelight to go around and most of his siblings had no problems soaking it up.

That didn't mean his mother was disinterested in his future though. She was especially interested in him having pups. He and Hoseok had been married for nearly a decade now, without a single baby.

"We've just been waiting for things to get settled. It will happen when the time is right," he insisted once again. This conversation occurred at least twice a year.

"Well, settle them. You're the alpha. It's your job to decide when and how things happen for your pack, Seokjin."

"It's not that simple–"

His mother threw her hands in the air. When would her son learn to take some initiative? "Of course it is! You haven't added anyone to your pack in several years. I'd say things are quite settled. You need to have a child. You're not getting any younger, and neither is Hoseok. You have a bloodline to continue."

"Mom," he groaned. "You have half a dozen grandchildren already. Why do you need to pressure me?"

"It's not about quantity. Don't you want to be a father?"

"Of course I do." It was true. He'd always wanted a child with Hobi. That was never in question.

"Listen, Jinnie. Maybe it's time you consider adding another omega to your pack. A female omega might have an easier time conceiving and fewer risks–"

Seokjin pinched the bridge of his nose as he interrupted her. "I don't want another omega, mom! Hoseok is all I want or need."

"I know several lovely young ladies who might be a good fit for you! It doesn't have to be a love match."

"Mom!"

"You have too many alphas anyway. You need to even things out a little. If you brought in another omega it might put the other alphas at ease. Especially Yoongi. He might challenge you less if he had someone else to focus on."

"Mother! Yoongi and I are fine. We don't need someone else."

"Yoongi has the potential to be a pack alpha and I know you know that. He will take it from you if given the chance. You have to do something to assert your dominance in this pack. You need to have a child, and you need to be sure that it's yours."

You left the house so early the public library wasn't even open yet when you arrived. You nodded in acknowledgement at another regular before sitting on the concrete wall out front to wait. The sun was still rising, and the spring air felt cool and damp with dew. Your stomach rumbled. You should have eaten before you left the house.

Don't you think you've taken enough advantage of their kindness?

Yes.

Alpha would be mad if he knew I didn't eat.

He's not your alpha.

The opening of the library's front entrance took you mercifully out of your thoughts. A librarian stepped outside and held the door open, greeting the patrons who had gathered outside like you with a smile as you got to your feet. She was a Sap, but a kind woman you had spoken to on a few occasions. She always treated you and the other Lykos who came into the library with kindness.

"How are you today, Y/N?" The woman, Maria, asked as you approached the open door.

"I'm alright," you smiled politely. "It's still early."

She laughed softly. "Haven't seen you in a bit. Everything okay?" She closed the door after you entered and you waited for her to walk around to her desk before you answered.

"Just been busy. Can I get a guest pass for the computer?"

She typed something on her keyboard before looking at you again. "Did you lose your card?" You nodded in response. "We can get you a new one. I just need to see your ID."

You shook your head and she looked at you curiously. "I have my ID…but I don't live at that address anymore, and I know it's supposed to be current so…I'll wait until I find a new place and get one then." You fidgeted uneasily as you explained, your eyes downcast, so you didn't see her frown and her sympathetic eyes.

"I'm sorry to hear that." She clicked a few things on her computer and handed you a small ticket. "Is there anything else I can help you with today?"

You took the paper and shook your head. "I'll just be looking for jobs. It might take me a while…" you said apologetically.

"Take your time," she smiled encouragingly, and you turned away to find the computer at the back that you preferred.

It was always nicest to be here right when they opened, when it was still quiet. In a couple of hours story time would start and mothers would come in with their children, pulling them close to their sides and away from the homeless Lykos that often spent their time there. For now it was just you and a few others you recognized but had never spoken to. Even before you lost your home, you had been coming here frequently, since you couldn't afford your own internet. You'd come here the second day you arrived in the city and did pretty much exactly what you were doing now. Sometimes it was easier to start over than to try to hold onto what little gains you made.

You entered the code Maria had given you to log onto the computer and opened up the web browser, pulling up a job site you were familiar with. You didn't have any particular job you were searching for. Beggars can't be choosers after all. Instead of searching for job titles, you went straight to the filters, and your palms began to sweat.

Education level required:

You didn't even graduate high school, stupid omega. What job are you even qualified for?

Shut up! That's not my fault!

You chose "not specified" from the dropdown menu and moved on.

Benefits:

Heat/rut leave required: yes no

The cursor hovered over the yes box. You'd never checked it before. Never looked at what kind of jobs might be able to offer you that. Probably not anything you were qualified for. But you clicked it, just to see.

Your search delivered no results. Try adjusting your filters.

You don't need heat leave anyway. Just take your pills like you're supposed to.

But they make me so sick.

That's a small price to pay to not be bred like a Bitch.

…yeah

You clicked the 'x' next to the filtered option and searched again. This time the website populated a list of jobs for you to sort through. Most of them were ones you had seen before. Some of them were ones you had had before. Working in a store was hard because of all the scents. Scent blockers only took you so far. Restaurants and bars were similarly challenging and the hectic environment could be overstimulating. Delivery driver, but you didn't have a car. And to make matters worse, none of these jobs alone would pay enough for you to live by yourself, even the way you were living before.

Should have stayed with alpha. Then I wouldn't have to work.

You think house work isn't working? And what's your compensation? Getting beaten for every mistake, because you always fuck it up and tossed out when they're done with you.

Yoongi wouldn't do that. He was nice.

For now. And what about the others? Jin didn't seem to want you there at all.

He asked!

Only because Hoseok wanted him to and what about when he has a baby? Do you think they'd still want you? Or worse if he can't have a baby then they'll make you do it! You think their kindness comes for free? Nothing is ever free! Remember last time? You thought that pack was kind too. How long did that last before they showed you exactly what you're good for?

Stop it!

"Stop!" You hissed. "Just shut up!"

Everything around you felt suddenly still. You looked up to find several pairs of eyes on you, including Maria's. She walked toward you, and you wanted nothing more than to hide.

"Is everything okay, dear?" She asked softly as she stood by your computer station.

"I'm sorry. I'm fine," you assured her just as quietly, but her eyes told you she didn't buy it. "I have to go." You quickly picked up your bag from the floor beside you and rushed for the exit.

You'd already been over this multiple times since you overheard Jin and Hoseok's conversation yesterday, so why wouldn't the thoughts just stop? You made a decision and it was too late to go back on it so why were they still going round and round? You hadn't heard the first part of their conversation, but you had already known that Hobi was going into heat. Hence you were trying to clean up and help before you were kicked out. You weren't expecting Jin's offer at all, but you assumed between Jimin and Yoongi, and maybe Hoseok too, that they had talked him into at least offering. But he and Hoseok were trying to have a baby, and that wasn't as straightforward a process for everyone as they wanted it to be. And if it didn't work out for Hobi…well you knew about alphas who failed to have pups and how they could treat omegas who were easy, vulnerable targets, like you. So of course you left. You weren't an idiot.

Part of you hoped it would work out for Hoseok though. You might not trust alphas, but he seemed to trust his and to be loved by them. So he deserved to have everything he wanted.

It was hours before you were able to get in to talk to anyone at the True Life shelter. Luckily it was a nice morning once the sun had fully risen, not exactly warm, but warm enough in the hoodie you had stolen from Yoongi. There was a nice park between the library and the shelter, and you spent a few hours there trying to enjoy the sunshine and clear your mind. There wasn't anything else you could do, so you might as well try to find some peace while it lasted.

"You know the rules. If you don't check in, the contents of your locker are forfeit," the woman at the desk reminded you after explaining that all your belongings that you left behind while you were in heat were now gone. "If you're lucky, some of it may still be in the store."

The only thing more insulting than having them take the last of your belongings was having to buy them back at the second hand store the same organization ran around the corner. You stifled your groan. At least Hoseok had washed all your clothes that you had with you. At least now you didn't have to carry all your worldly goods with you.

"You find a place to stay?" The woman asked, loudly smacking the gum that she perpetually chewed. You shook your head. "Got an open bed tonight if you need it."

"Thanks," you mumbled. There was something in the way she looked at you that always made you feel so small.

"You know the deal," she said as she placed a bottle of heat suppressants on the counter in front of you. You pulled your own bottle out of your purse and rattled it in front of her.

"I have plenty."

She quirked an eyebrow as if mentally doing the math and knew something wasn't adding up. "You taking them like you're supposed to?"

You tried to keep your expression neutral as her eyes didn't stray. After several long seconds, you twisted the cap off the bottle and shook one large pill into your hand, shoved it into your mouth and swallowed it dryly.

She looked at you a moment longer while your throat worked to get the vile medicine down. Then she grabbed a bottle of water from the counter behind her. "Well, don't choke on it," she snorted.

After taking a big drink to clear your throat you opened your mouth wide and stuck your tongue out at her. "Happy?"

"Delighted," she deadpanned. "Come back at six."

You nodded and walked out of the building. At least soon enough your stomach would hurt so much you wouldn't feel hungry anymore. There were silver linings all around.

Jimin hasn't been sleeping well. At least not at night. He's been napping with Hobi during the day between sessions, since he's the omega's favorite cuddle buddy at the moment. But whenever the whole pack went to sleep for the night, Jimin found himself lying awake, wondering where you were sleeping. It had been a few days by now, so had you gone back to True Life? Had you tried for somewhere better? He knew most of the shelters were always at capacity. He hoped you weren't sleeping outside. It was too cold for that still and you'd only end up getting sick.

Why didn't you just stay? Was it purely fear? Too many strangers, too many alphas? Or was it something about them, just one of them? Had he upset you so much the other night that you felt you couldn't stay. The afternoon he saw you with Hobi it seemed like you might be getting comfortable.

Jimin sighed and stared holes into the ceiling while his packmates slept. He rolled to his right, where an empty space had been left for Yoongi. Yoongi. Jimin had never seen the alpha quite like that. He knew how protective Yoongi could be, but nothing he'd ever seen compared to how Yoongi looked at you. Alphas don't really court betas in the way that they do omegas, but even when Yoongi and Jimin first started dating it hadn't been nearly as obvious how badly Yoongi wanted him. (He had wanted Jimin almost as badly, but maybe not quite so desperately).

But Jimin also knew everything was different with you. He had been the one to bring you to his alpha after all, and had thrown you into this strange situation. You were an omega for starters and that would always set off an alpha, although it hadn't seemed to affect the others quite as much. Maybe it was Yoongi's affinity for lost people. Maybe it was just the fact that you were so small and in need of protection. All alphas want to protect, but not all omegas need it in the way you do. Hoseok doesn't. But even Jimin felt the urge to cover you from the rest of the world. And he couldn't lie, he sort of loved how small you were, the fact that he was bigger than you. He hadn't gotten the chance and maybe he never would, but it didn't stop him from thinking about what it would be like to hold your small frame, be able to sniff the top of your head like Jungkook always does and feel for once like he could protect someone else.

Jimin was awake when he heard Yoongi come home and it lightened his mind fractionally, knowing that soon the alpha would be next to him, where he needed him. It's hard to mark the passage of time in the dead quiet of night, but Jimin was sure several minutes had passed since he heard any shuffling from downstairs. Carefully, he rolled to the edge of the nest and to his feet. He didn't want to stress Hobi if he woke to two packmates missing from the nest, but he also needed to see Yoongi. Jimin tiptoed over each creaky floorboard of the staircase down to the first floor. The alpha wasn't in the living room or the kitchen, which meant he could only be in one place. Jimin found the man laying on the bed in the spare room, sobbing gently into a comforter that had been part of your nest.

"Yoongi hyung," Jimin breathed as he laid on the bed behind him, pressing himself against the lines of his body. "What are you doing in here hyung? Hm?"

Yoongi took a deep breath and tried to quiet the sobs. If anyone but Jimin had found him like this he would have been humiliated, but nothing ever felt embarrassing with him. "I can't stop looking for her everywhere, Jiminie," he spoke through his tears. "I keep fearing I'll show up at a call, and she'll be the one who's hurt. And I feel relieved and sad all over again every time it isn't her. I just want to know that she's safe."

Jimin wrapped his arm around his chest and squeezed Yoongi closer to him. He laid soft kisses against his neck, but the alpha still struggled to calm himself.

"Earlier tonight we got called to this accident. A girl was hit by a car and she was face down in the road. There was blood everywhere. And for a minute I really thought it was Y/N. But she was a sap girl. Y/N is so small, like a little girl, how is she going to be okay on her own. She needs-" Yoongi broke off in another sob. He hated to be this wrecked, but if he wasn't sad he would have to be angry, and he hated to be angry. He didn't want to be the kind of alpha who acted like everything had to be his way and get upset if it wasn't. That was never Yoongi. He wasn't trying to be petulant. He just couldn't help his grieving. "I don't know what it is, Jimin," he admitted. "I don't know why I'm so attached to her. But I just feel it in my chest. I can't just let her go. I'm sorry."

Jimin laid his head on top of his alpha's and spoke softly next to his ear. "You don't need to apologize, hyung. Not to me or anyone else. Whatever you're going through, I don't think it can be understood rationally. It's just a feeling, and that's something you should listen to. Your instincts are always right."

"Thanks, Jimin," Yoongi sighed, finally calmed from his sobs.

"You're a great alpha. She'd be lucky to have you, like I am." Yoongi found Jimin's hand and laced their fingers, appreciating his words.

"What's going on? Where's Y/N?" Hoseok asked, flipping the light switch and suddenly blinding them. Yoongi sat up, rubbing his puffy eyes against the brightness.

"She's gone, Hobi," he answered hollowly.

"Gone? Gone where?" Hoseok hadn't been out of the nest room for nearly three days. The alphas had been keeping him distracted, keeping him in bed and satisfied and well-fed so he'd never have to leave. Now he looked around the room for any trace of you.

"We don't know," Jimin admitted. He rubbed his hand soothingly up and down Yoongi's back.

Hoseok stared at the two of them, dumbfounded. "When did she leave?"

"A few days ago? I'm not sure exactly when she left but she was gone by the time I got home from work on Wednesday."

Hoseok huffed. How long had they kept it from him? "And today is?"

"Saturday."

"Saturday! Were you planning to tell me?" Hoseok asked.

"I didn't want to spoil your heat. I figured if you were upset you might not be as interested in sex and then Jin…" Yoongi tried to explain.

"Jin what?"

"Nothing. He's just been very touchy about your last few heats, and I didn't want to make him more upset." Yoongi rubbed his hands across his red face.

Hobi swallowed. He knew Yoongi was right but that didn't mean he shouldn't have been told. You'd been on his mind even if he knew you couldn't be in his nest. "Jin's just been stressed," he defended, but neither of the others responded. "Were you planning to sleep in here?"

Yoongi shook his head. "I was planning to shower and then come to bed but I…I just had a rough night at work and I needed a minute."

Hoseok sank onto the bed on his other side, where Yoongi had the comforter pulled partially over his lap. He pushed the alpha's bangs back to look at his red eyes. "Have you been crying?"

Yoongi pulled his face away to hide in his hands. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, throat thick with shame.

"Baby, you don't need to apologize. I was just surprised. I've never seen you cry before. Not in six years."

"You aren't supposed to see me cry."

Hoseok scoffed. "That better not be some toxic alpha bullshit, Yoongi." The man reddened further at the admonishment. "You wanted her to be your omega. It makes sense you would be upset. You really felt something for her."

"You're my omega," Yoongi responded.

Hoseok shook his head. "I know that. Doesn't change anything." He ran his fingers into the alpha's hair and pulled his head to rest on his shoulder. "I wanted her to be my omega, too."

Jimin leaned into Yoongi's back. "I can't speak for anyone else, but I wanted her as an omega, too."

Hobi hummed with a thought. "The three of you would've made a cute little pack."

Jimin tilted his head up on Yoongi's shoulder to look at him. "Emphasis on the little."

Jimin pulled away, taking his alpha with him. "You know how to ruin a moment."

"Sorry," Hoseok chuckled. "Will you two please come upstairs? Can't sleep without all my pups in the nest."

You managed to get over your embarrassment to go back to the library a few days later, but finding a job still wasn't any easier. You were tired of losing a job as soon as they found out what you were and just as tired of pretending to be something you weren't. Not that you were ready to embrace your omega, either. But trying to pass for a sap was getting exhausting. You were too small for a Sapien adult. If you could choose you'd rather just give up altogether, but the last time you'd made that choice you'd been lured by comfort into the hands of two bad alphas. So you'd have to keep trying. And you knew there was one person who could help you.

There were two youth shelters in the city, and on Monday when you went to one they told you no one named Jimin worked there. You felt so foolish that you didn't bother trying the other one, but on Tuesday morning you plucked up your courage and walked to the Open Door shelter. When you walked in, there was an omega female at the desk who gave you a kind but instantly regretful smile.

"I'm sorry, hun. All our omega dorms are full today," she informed you.

You stepped forward to lean on the counter, casting a curious look around the place. Teenagers were milling about, coming and going freely, able to spend the days indoors rather than on the streets. Through one door you could hear the sounds of some people playing basketball.

"I'm not here for a bed. I'm looking for someone." You drummed your fingers against the vinyl countertop.

"Sorry, kid. I can't give out the names of people who are staying here."

"No. I'm looking for an employee. His name is Jimin."

Recognition flashed in her eyes. "What's your name, hun?"

"Y/N," you answered quietly.

"Let me go see if he's busy," she told you before she walked through a door behind the desk.

He's busy. At work, dumbass. You shouldn't be bothering him.

He said he could help. Maybe he'll take you home.

You don't have a home.

Alpha is home.

Don't be an idiot.

You moved over to a chair against the wall opposite the desk to wait, anxiously eyeing the door you came in through.

A/n: i am not sorry. However if you would like i scream at me or any of the characters, please feel free to do so in my inbox, comments or reblogs. Your feedback makes me feel alive. 💜 How are we feeling about Jin these days? What about our poor MC? What do you think will happen when she talks to Jimin?

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lauraneedstochill · 1 year

Text

I won’t fall for someone who can’t misbehave

summary: Aemond is betrothed to the sweetest girl in the Seven Kingdoms. She's smiley, soft and kind-hearted. Until she isn't. (or, alternatively: "No one took your side when you were a kid. But I'm doing it now.")

pairing: Aemond Targaryen and F!Reader (her House is not specified) words: 9000 +

warnings: slow (!) burn, attempted harassment, Aemond is in pain 70% of the time (headache and all that) and has no clue how to act around someone he's clearly in love with.

author's note: I'm working on 3 fics at the moment, and it's taking forever to finish (yay for my poor time management skills!), so I whipped up something short(er) for starters. I'm a bit more comfortable with sharing this one because I feel like it's actually more of my style (wow, that sounds kinda pretentious). Rhaenyra is the queen here but I barely mention the blacks (not out of spite, I just thought it wouldn't add anything to the story). also, I don't think women would be allowed to misbehave like that... I don't care ;)

Aemond knew of the preplanned betrothal even though everyone around him was ridiculously mysterious about the subject matter. He's been made aware of the upcoming visit of some noble family, and the preparations were quite extensive. Then he overheard Baela telling Jace that the expected guests will bring their daughter. The middle one. It wasn't very hard for Aemond to put two and two together. His wedding was long overdue, and Alicent was eager for him to make his choice. But he dreaded the mere thought of it.

Aemond's never been very good at courting women, but mostly due to the lack of trying. He's used to them looking at him with fear and suspicion as if he's some kind of wild animal ready to attack at any minute. Getting sidelong glances did hurt him growing up, but with time Aemond learned to benefit from it, using his fearsome image as a shield. No one ever dared to try and break it to see what was underneath. But now he is faced with the inevitable change that's approaching his life at the speed of a storm wave. To him, taking off the eyepatch won't be nearly as excruciating as giving into the vulnerability of letting someone in, opening up to someone. He's never been afraid of much but that? That was terrifying.

The anticipation made Aemond nervous. He knew he should probably ask around and try to gain any information about his soon-to-be wife, but it felt wrong. Not knowing felt even worse. No matter how good of a fighter he was, fighting the uncertainty seemed like a challenge. Aemond spent his nights tossing and turning, wrapped up in blankets as insomnia was clinging to his body. He tried to busy himself with training, but his usual easy victories brought him no satisfaction. He's been winning for so long maybe it was time for him to lose. Except not to his training partners but to a stranger, who in time will get a permanent place in his life.

His rides with Vhagar, which usually brought him peace, now had the opposite effect. The old dragon acted annoyed and disgruntled for no reason, huffing and grumbling at every turn as if she could sense his own frustration. You can’t tame your emotions yet I’m supposed to listen to your commands? Silly boy. If Vhagar could speak, she would probably tell him that, Aemond thought. And he blamed himself even more.

Somewhere in the midst of it all, the headache came back. As usual, it started with a feeling of pounding heaviness in the back of his head, which then spread further: into his temples, forehead and down the hateful scar. Within a couple of days, the pain gets so bad, he has to grit his teeth to keep a straight face, and he's barely able to shove a few bits of food down his throat. But it's a topic he never brings up, it's a humiliating secret that's just between him and his mother. When he lost his eye, for the first month the pain was close to unbearable. The maester kept telling him that it was caused by the healing of skin tissues and assured that the intolerable feeling would go away. It never did. His scar was something he learned to cover up, and the bright red stripe faded slightly with time, but the pain lingered. Aemond opted to think that it only contributed to him becoming more resilient, yet that argument didn't withstand the test of time. The pain receded for some short periods, but then it'd always come back, and he could never get used to that, no matter how hard he tried.

He can only hope it will get better by the time the guests arrive. But the gods seem deaf to his prayers, and the night before the event he doesn't get a wink of sleep. He goes through his day in a daze, skipping the training session to hide in the library instead, although he can't bring himself to focus and read more than a single page. When the time comes for him to walk into the dining hall, it's the last thing he wants to do but he forces himself to go. Festive ornaments, tables laden with the finest dishes, bright-colored clothing of everyone around him blend and blur into each other. He takes deep breaths and counts his steps, gathering all his strength to sit down and not wince at the movement.

All it takes is one look at him for Alicent to understand what's going on.

"Aemond," she approaches him, whispering. "What's wrong? Is it the headache again?"

Aemond doesn't want to admit it, but he lacks the energy to deny it either so he just nods. She gives him a regretful look, gently squeezing his shoulder.

"Should I call for the maester? Maybe he will be able to come up with something to ease the pain."

"I don't think we have time to fuss over me," he declines with a pain-stained voice. "I was under the impression that we're expecting someone to join us today."

Alicent sighs. She knows better than to fight his stubbornness, but she hates how helpless it makes her feel. Aemond hates that feeling, too.

"Please don't tell me you require motivation," Aegon's voice is loud as it is but right now it sounds deafening, and Aemond sharply exhales. His brother flops on a nearby chair, bringing his ignorant attitude with him.

"Undoubtedly you've interacted with women before," he chuckles, completely unaware of Aemond's suffering. "Try not to scare her with your creepy stare, and maybe she won't run away."

Alicent briefly closes her eyes in annoyance. She glances around, making sure not to attract any attention, and then grabs Aegon by the chin, forcing him to look at her.

"Enough with pestering, I need you to behave yourself," her voice is tinged with irritation. "Just for one evening. Can you do that?"

Aegon's body stiffens up, the smug look disappearing from his face.

"As you wish, mother," he mutters, and she lets go of him. Alicent shoots another glance at Aemond before leaving. Aegon gives his brother a side-eye but says nothing.

Aemond is exhausted, anxiety's bubbling in his chest, and he thinks he has a few more minutes to compose himself yet that time passes in the blink of an eye. Before he knows it, the guards at the door make the announcement, and he sees a group of unfamiliar faces. None of them are of his age, though, and for a moment that realization brings him some comfort. But then he notices a female figure in the distance as she's approaching the entrance.

When she walks in, the music goes quiet, and Aemond hears people gasping. It seems like every man in the room has his gaze on her. And she certainly is a sight for sore eyes. She moves with a gracious pace, the silky fabric of her dress flowing downward with every step. It's not too revealing, but it hugs her body in all the right places. Her hair is up, and he can see the waves of her collarbones peaking through. A half-smile is plastered on her face, but she doesn't seem to be nervous. If he was to take a guess, he would've said she was tired. But she won't let it show, keeping her head high and being seemingly unaware of the attention she got. Maybe she's used to it just like he is, Aemond thinks. Although people usually glare at him for a completely different reason.

"Someone is about to get a piece of cake," Aegon elbows him lightly, his voice low.

"Someone needs to shut up," Aemond snarls, earning a laugh from his brother. That catches her attention, and her gaze lands on Aemond. When their eyes meet, her face softens, smile growing wider. He tries his best to force a wan smile in return, but his stomach turns in discomfort. He can already imagine how people will react: a stunning woman like her with a man like him, what a tragedy. That thought stings, his anxiety growing stronger. The headache gets worse, and he tightens his grip on a cup of wine that he hasn't even tasted yet. Aemond can't help but wonder if she knew she would have to marry him. If it does bother her as much as it bothers him.

The members of her family are greeted as guests, with no mention of a possible betrothal. Her name is the only one he catches — and then silently repeats it a few times. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, the sound of it breaking through his clouded mind. She's seated next to him, as expected, and he notes that her dress compliments her eye color. Aemond is thinking of a way to start a conversation, but she beats him to it:

"You gave us such a warm welcome, but I must admit, I'm surprised by the scale of it. I hope it wasn't too much of an inconvenience?"

When her words reach his ears, the buzzing in his head stops, and Aemond turns to Y/N, astonished by his own reaction. It's not the naivety of her question, nor the friendly tone of it. It's just her voice. Melodic and mellow, it feels soothing among the loud noises they're surrounded with.

"I assure you, your family was simply welcomed with the respect you deserve," he answers pensively. His throat is sore, but he can't steel himself to take a sip of wine, afraid that it will make him sick. He wants her to speak again.

Aemond asks about her family, letting Y/N lead the conversation. She's easy to talk to and she gives just the right amount of information before jumping to another topic. At any other time, he would've really enjoyed the flow of it, yet now he is growing weary. The headache is still there, but her voice does bring him some relief. That's until she abruptly stops.

"Are you feeling alright?" she sounds worried, and the same emotion is written on her face. Aemond tries to blink away his exhaustion.

"I apologize if I'm not exactly the best at keeping you company. It's been a long day," he knows he should've come up with a better excuse. He feels like he can hardly function at this point.

She keeps her attention on him for a few more seconds. Then Y/N moves her eyes to the other end of the table, where her family is seated. She makes eye contact with her father and gives him a big yawn. It's obviously and comically fake but it works: her family finds an excuse to leave earlier. Aemond knows that now he also got a chance to escape soon after. He feels a pang of guilt knowing that he's the reason their conversation was cut short, but Y/N doesn't make a big deal out of it.

"We shall continue on the morrow when we are both well rested," she smiles reassuringly at him before leaving.

Aemond seriously doubts that he'll get any rest as his head feels like it's gripped in an iron vise again.

The next morning he drags himself out of bed later than usual, the pain now dull but present nonetheless. He sits with his face in his hands, breathing in and out, until he's almost numb. The almost leaves a sour feeling in his mouth — or maybe it's the nausea, he doesn't know nor does he care. He's been handling this for years, he can survive another day.

Aemond decides that since he is to be wed, he should make an effort for it to work. He thinks about his duty, his mother, about Y/N, who traveled all the way to the King's Landing for a man she's never met before. Aemond thinks of everyone but himself because there's only so much he can do without draining himself completely.

He missed the breakfast already but hopes to find Y/N within the perimeter of the castle and rushes out of the bedroom. He's passing by Helaena's chambers when he hears someone laughing. And it's not his sister. Aemond debates if he can deal with kids right now, but chooses to give it a chance and quietly walks in. Helaena has embroidery in her hands but seems more focused on a sight in front of her, and he follows her gaze. Y/N is sitting on the floor with her back to the door, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera are on either side of her, their cheeks plump and pink, tiny fingers grabbing her dress. She's reading to them, and it's a tale they've heard many times before, yet the kids are listening attentively, occasionally making noises of excitement. Aemond doesn't need to speak gibberish to know that they are fascinated by the melody of her voice and the playful tone she uses to make the story more engaging. He leans on the door frame, his body relaxing at the sound. Jaehaera puts her head on Y/N's shoulder and eagerly turns the page, making her laugh again.

"You are an impatient little thing," Y/N giggles.

"That she is," Helaena agrees, and when Y/N turns to her, she is surprised to see that Aemond joined them.

"Pardon me, I didn't hear you coming in," she stands up in a hurry, both kids are instantly glued to her. "Your sister was kind enough to keep me company."

"I asked her to come by after breakfast, and they haven't left her side ever since," Helaena explains, sounding very pleased.

"Would you mind if I steal this new friend of yours?" Aemond asks while keeping his eye on Y/N, waiting for her reaction. Her face flushes but he sees no indication of discontent. Aemond grudgingly admits to himself that it brings him something akin to joy. But it fades, absorbed by his numbness.

"Make sure to be on time for dinner," his sister nods, calling for the nanny to take the kids.

It takes a little bit of persuasion but eventually Jaehaerys and Jaehaera let Y/N go, and she follows Aemond out of the room. Y/N mentions that Helaena wanted to show her the library, and Aemond agrees to take her there. Along the way, he strikes up a conversation in attempt to compensate for their last one. As she's telling him about her morning, her voice seeps into his mind like honey, and Aemond tries to concentrate to take the right turns and not trip on the stairs.

When they walk into the library, Y/N pauses, looking around in awe. This woman makes men turn around after her, yet she is so easily impressed by the simplest things, Aemond thinks. The prince wonders if she'll ever be impressed by him.

"This is where you study?" she's admiring endless rows of shelves, and Aemond gives her an affirmative "hmm".

"How many of these have you read?"

"Quiet a few," he is modest as ever, and she shoots him a curious look.

"I wonder what are your preferred subjects."

"History and philosophy," he doesn't mean to sound so terse, but whatever interactions with women he's had before, that experience obviously didn't turn him into a lady's man.

"Would you be so kind to share your favorite books with me?" when Y/N glances at him, there's a sparkle in her eyes. It looks like she's actually interested to know more, as if she does want to know him. His immediate response, however, is to distance himself, and he takes a step back.

"I'm afraid there are not enough hours in the day to name them all," Aemond opposes, hands clasped behind his back.

"Please, take pity on me, I need something to help me pass the time," she presses the matter further but does so very gently. "Name just a couple."

He gives into her pleading tone and reluctantly agrees but they don't stop at just a couple. They end up spending the day roaming in the library, lost in the labyrinth of shelves and books. She's never too pushy with her questions, she's making small jokes, she doesn't take offense at his cold demeanor. Behind his mask of feigned indifference, Aemond feels like someone is hammering at his left temple, and the pain echoes through his whole body. But he doesn't dare to leave Y/N hanging for the second day in a row.

The prince is too preoccupied with his internal struggle to notice that she's growing worried about him again, and by the time they come back for dinner, her face expresses an alarming concern.

"I must apologize if I tired you out with my relentless chatting," she says, almost whispering, when they're seated.

"You did not, no need to fret," Aemond states. I must apologize that you are to marry a man who can't curb the pain that's spilling out of him, he thinks.

Food is tasteless in his mouth. Y/N is sitting on his right, and Aemond's body can't adjust to the foreign feeling of someone being in his close proximity. He's so accustomed to being on his own, he doesn't know how to unlearn that.

Throughout the whole dinner, Aemond can feel his mother's gaze on him. Later that evening, when a maid brings him a cup filled with the milk of the poppy, he decides against taking it.

He regrets it the very next day.

When Aemond tries to lift his head off the pillow, he feels like his skull is full of rocks. They're rolling from side to side as the pain rumbles, and for a few minutes he can't hear anything else around him. That's why, when Aemond opens his eye, he's startled at the sight of his mother standing in the doorway.

"I did knock but got no response," she gives him a look that's a mix of concern and suspicion. She suspects that he's unwell again and it concerns her. He wishes she never knew of that burden of his.

Aemond moves up in his bed, clenching his jaw. He knows his mother well enough to realize she must've had a reason for this early visit. Alicent proves him right when she speaks:

"The queen went into labor a couple of hours ago."

He absentmindedly hums, not knowing how to react. His mother continues, with a hint of hesitance:

"There will be a feast when the baby is born. We thought... Rhaenyra and I, we thought it would also make for an occasion to do the announcement. About your betrothal."

Her words come as no surprise to Aemond. It is what's expected of him, it's about his duty and his responsibilities, but this time he doesn't want to think of that. He wants to be left alone, to drown in the layers of blankets, to go back to his short-lived slumber.

"The day Y/N arrived, I asked the queen to postpone the announcement. To give you some time to get to know each other," Alicent takes a few steps towards his bed. "It seems like you're getting along quite well?"

"I could think of no better woman than Y/N," Aemond admits and it is true. What he doesn't say is that he can also think of a dozen other men who would be more deserving of her, more than he is.

Alicent catches the discreet sadness in his words but doesn't know what caused it. She eyes her son with undisguised empathy.

"Her father implied that she is content with the betrothal, too. I thought you'd be happy to know," Alicent gives him a lax smile. "I shall let you go back to sleep," she adds and leaves.

Aemond knows he'll get no sleep now. He repeats the well-known routine of deep breaths with the minimum movements, scraping up the remains of his strength before leaving the room. He goes straight to Y/N's chambers, wondering if his mother visited her, too, and how that visit went.

To his surprise, Y/N is nowhere to be found. A maid informs him that she left the room a few hours ago. He can't find her in the library and she isn't in Helaena's chambers, either. He searches for her in the courtyard and then goes back to roam through the corridors, peering into every room on his way. He's lost in his thoughts until he hears Y/N calling his name. Aemond turns around — and there she is, at the other end of the hall.

"I've been looking for you," she skips towards the prince, beaming. He could never imagine anyone being this happy at the sight of him. She stops when they're only a couple of meters apart, her smile glowing.

"We must've passed each other, because I've been looking for you, too," he confesses. Y/N seems very pleased with herself though he isn't sure why.

"I think the weather calls for a walk," she blithely suggests. "Would you like to accompany me?" — as the words leave her mouth, she reaches out a hand to him. For a moment Aemond's looking at her baffled, and then hesitantly takes Y/N's hand. Her skin is soft, fingers warm, and she intertwines them with his own. That gesture comes so naturally as if they've done it before, yet Aemond clearly hasn't. The feeling of holding someone's hand is unusual to him. But it seems enjoyable.

By the time they get to the garden, Aemond finds that her hand fits perfectly in his. He's blushing profusely. He also notices that his headache receded a little and he can't help but think that Y/N was the reason for that.

"Your mother came to me this morning," she informs him as they are walking hand in hand. "I assume she talked to you, too?"

"She did," Aemond confirms. "Am I right to guess we had the same conversation?"

"Well, mine was about uniting two great Houses," Y/N mimics a man's voice, and Aemond grasps that Otto was there, too. "Your grandfather gave a very convincing speech".

"He had a lot of practice while being the Hand of the King. Maybe he misses having an audience," the prince chuckles and she laughs. Aemond holds a pause and then adds:

"Forgive me if I'm being too blunt but I wonder if the conversation was of unpleasant nature to you."

"It was not," she slows her steps. "I know what's expected of me and I will perform my duty. But if I'm being honest...," she turns to him, and the tenderness of her gaze tugs at his heart. "I am glad that it's you," Aemond feels a flare of an unknown emotion deep in his chest. "We'll make a pretty good team. Wouldn't you agree?"

Aemond lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He looks down at their hands and then back at Y/N.

"It seems so," he tells her, a slight smile in the corner of his lips. There's a moment of comfortable silence as they make a short stop in the shade of the trees.

"But I shall give you a warning," Y/N says with a mischievous grin. "My siblings take any celebration very seriously. Every single relative of ours will come to the wedding, and most of them won't shy away from enjoying a cup of wine... Or two".

"Can any of them outdrink Aegon?" he jokes, and Y/N bursts into laughter.

Aemond gets carried away by their conversation once again, losing track of time. While she's listing her relatives, adding innocuous remarks about each of them, the prince is enthralled by the warmth that radiates off her. Her presence alone calms the storm of his insecurities, lulling his fears to sleep. She does that so effortlessly, it's almost intimidating. But there's a certain thrill to it, too — the thrill of being close to her, sharing laughs and stories, and Aemond clings to that feeling.

He enjoys the moment while it lasts; until his headache predictably creeps up on him a few hours later. He can't tell if Y/N senses that something is wrong but she's the one to suggest returning to the castle. Aemond gladly accepts it.

On the way back they're greeted by one of the guards who notifies them that the queen gave birth to a girl. Y/N lightly squeezes Aemond's hand.

"Tomorrow is a big day then," — and the prince knows exactly what she means. The fragile bond that they only started to get the hang of will soon become public knowledge. It won't be their secret anymore but rather an over-discussed gossip.

"There is still time for you to plan an escape," Aemond jests half-heartedly.

Y/N looks puzzled for a second, but then shakes her head:

"Only if you're planning one. We are in this together, remember?" her thumb brushes over his. "It's all about teamwork."

Aemond savors the last fleeting minutes of their day. He barely touches the food at dinner, the pain in his head intensifying but he pushes through. When the time comes for them to part, he doesn't want to. That feeling is alien to him and the prince is clueless about its nature. But he knows that with her any misery will be bearable.

When Aemond walks into his chambers, he notices a little jar on the bed table. It's the one that the maester used to bring him the ointments in, and the prince sighs. The maester doesn't grasp the extent of the problem but occasionally would suggest a thing or two to help with the pain. They've tried using cold packs, then the warm ones, tried massaging his temples, then drinking cinnamon tea, then adding some ginger that's known as a remedy for reducing inflammation... Nothing has worked so far.

But he should make an effort.

Aemond barely glances inside the jar and tosses away a piece of paper with the instructions scribbled on it. The prince already knows it all too well: he applies a thick layer of whatever that concoction is on his scar, involuntarily wincing at the cooling sensation. It smells of herbs and feels oily but absorbs into the skin pretty fast.

For some reason, his mind goes back to his mother's words — "I thought you'd be happy to know". Aemond is unsure what happiness means. The happiest day of his life is forever chained with the worst one, smeared with blood and pain that he's been carrying through the years.

But now that he met Y/N, he questions if there's more to life than what he's been through so far.

While he is laying in bed, Aemond wonders if can consider Y/N his friend. If she will ever be more than just a friend to him.

And then, before he knows it, the prince is fast asleep.

He wakes up feeling like a new man. At first, he mistakes that feeling for the remnants of his dreams that he was enveloped with at night. He shakes off his drowsiness and looks at the ceiling, catching a glint of sunlight that seeped through the curtains. That's when Aemond realizes that the pain is gone.

He sits up, bewildered, waiting for any sign of discomfort yet nothing happens. He waits for a couple of minutes — and then for up to thirty, but his head is clear and doesn't ache at all. His eye shifts to the jar on the bed table, and Aemond makes a note to extend his gratitude to the maester later. Suddenly the upcoming festivities don't seem so torturous anymore.

He doesn't get a chance to see Y/N throughout the day as everyone is preparing for the feast. When Aemond walks into the hall of the Iron Throne, he takes in the decorated surroundings. Unlike the last time he was here, now he wants to remember every detail, knowing that this evening would be of great importance.

The room fills with people, but Aemond patiently waits for her alone. He spots Y/N the second she steps in. Her dress is violet, the material bright and luminous, and it puts her into the spotlight yet again since she's the only one wearing that color. As soon as she takes her place at the table next to Aemond, her hand finds his. He's getting used to that way too fast. It's hard not to.

The first round of toasts goes to honor Visenya, the newborn daughter of the Queen. Rhaenyra willingly tolerates the sweet talk, generous with her smiles and appreciation. At some point, when the timing seems right or maybe when her cheeks are already aching, she gives a nod to Alicent, and Aemond knows what it means. As she starts her speech, he ruefully releases Y/N's hand.

But right when they're standing up, with everyone around cheering and staring, Y/N lightly presses her body against his, and Aemond feels how tense her back is. That's when it dawns on him that she's well aware of the attention but she doesn't really like it. Instinctively, he puts his fingers on her waist, his touch respectful and delicate. She breathes out and briefly rests the back of her head against his shoulder. For a moment it feels like it's just the two of them.

That feeling doesn't go away.

Usually, he's not the one to take part in dancing, but he does so for her. Aemond feels out of practice and he can't tell if that's what makes his head spin or if he's getting tipsy from the intimacy of their dance. Her moves are elegant, well-rehearsed, her body follows the rhythm of the music with ease. He doesn't remember when was the last time that silly activity brought him so much elation. Did it ever?

Time flows by in a blur, and they eventually take a pause after going into a fit of giggles at the sight of Lord Velaryon trying to improvise a move and failing, only to amuse his loving wife. Y/N suggests going out for a while and Aemond is keen on following her but then his mother catches up to them, her hand and her gaze are on him in an instant, pulling him away.

"Aemond, you've been dancing," she can't hide her bewilderment, a timid smile on her face.

"Should I not? Seems like a suitable occasion," Aemond chaffs with a tilt of his head.

"It is, indeed," she doesn't let him go just yet, and he discerns the hidden meaning of her words, the apprehension she fails to conceal. Aemond wants to grant her some respite, at least for the rest of the day, so he tells her with plain-spoken sincerity:

"I can assure you, this isn't a cause for your distress."

But then he quickly finds a cause for his when he doesn't see Y/N around. He goes searching for her in the crowd, then leaves the room altogether, coming out into the hallway.

Aemond hears her before he sees her — and she isn't alone. It takes no effort to recognize the second voice, which belongs to no other than Jason Lannister. As the prince rounds the corner, they come into sight, and Aemond has a very bad feeling.

He missed the start of their dialogue, and the look on Y/N's face is unreadable. She's oblivious to Aemond's presence and he decides to watch them. He tells himself that he'll never allow her to get into trouble. There is something very tempting in having a chance to save her from anything; as if he feels the need to prove himself to her. He tries not to entertain that thought.

"... It's not too late to change that, don't you think," Ser Lannister purrs, his tone sickly sweet but arrogant.

"It is. Which I have no regrets about, ser", when Y/N talks to him there's not a hint of friendliness in her voice.

"Your approach may be short-sighted. The proposition of mine wasn't of a frivolous kind," he's circling her, the manner of his movement is borderline predatory.

"I believe you will soon find a lady to welcome your advances but I would very much prefer to drop this conversation," she recapitulates.

Aemond tenses up, feeling like this is the moment for him to step in. Then he looks at Y/N and realizes that something is off. Her face expression changes — but it's not a look of fear. By the rising of her chest, he detects that her breathing sped up, eyes are shooting daggers at the man in front of her. She's looking, for the lack of a better word, positively furious.

But Ser Lannister, apparently, is not very good at reading signs as he comes improperly close to her.

"I can be very persuasive," his fingers fall on her back — and then go lower. "I think you should appreciate the attention while I'm this generous and..."

He doesn't finish his sentence. In about two seconds his face is suddenly slammed into the nearby wall, the hand he put on her is now twisted behind his back. Y/N uses her free hand to push right between his shoulder blades, pressing him into the stony surface.

To say that Aemond is shocked would be an understatement.

Right at this moment, she looks like a different person. This side of her he's not acquainted with but it only adds to her appeal. The change is barely perceptible: she's still maintaining her posture, keeping up the face of a woman who knows her worth. But Aemond catches a flaming spark of defiance that threatens to shutter her restraint. He can sense her anger from far away despite her doing her best to contain it.

"I do not know what kind of attention you are used to, but you're forgetting your manners. Next time you dare lay your hand on me, I will not hesitate to break it," her voice doesn't lose its usual softness, but now has an added layer to it. It sounds sharper, bolder. It sounds like she's not afraid of anything.

Y/N lets Ser Lannister go, taking a few steps back and smoothing her dress. He's frozen at first, but then slowly turns to her.

"You didn't... You did not just do that," there's a visible red mark on his cheek that will undoubtedly turn into a bruise.

"Did what, ser?" her tone is laced with coldness.

The man looks at her in disbelief, his face is a parade of emotions — from shock to annoyance to anger.

"You will not get away with this," he scowls, nettled.

"You're telling me that you're considering letting everyone know you were overpowered by a woman? Sounds hard to believe," Y/N seems unfazed.

His mouth opens and closes a few times before he roars:

"You, insidious wre...!"

This time Aemond is the one to interrupt the man:

"I suggest you watch your tone when speaking to my betrothed," Y/N flinches at his voice, turning to face him, and Aemond slackens his pace a little.

"Shouldn't she watch hers? She's talking to a lord," Ser Lannister exclaims lamely, his arrogance instantly toned down a notch.

"And I see no wrongdoing on her part. Care to explain what got you into this situation?"

"It was a... a simple misunderstanding," his excuse is so pathetic that it makes the prince sneer.

"And what was the matter in question?" Aemond comes closer to the man which makes ser Lannister evidently uncomfortable. He carefully contemplates his next move.

"I only wanted to extend my congratulations on her betrothal," the man fakes a smile. "Mayhaps I expressed myself poorly".

"You should opt to choose your words more wisely next time," Aemond looks down on him. "Perhaps you are needed somewhere else?"

"I shall rejoin the celebration then," ser Lannister eagerly agrees and bows out way too quickly.

Aemond can barely wait for the man to get out of sight before turning to Y/N. Even though the prince witnessed the whole thing, he can't stop himself from asking:

"Did he harm you?"

"He didn't get a chance," she mumbles, avoiding his gaze. She looks so embarrassed, he wants to offer her some comfort but isn't sure how.

"Dare I say we've got enough interactions for one evening?" Aemond tries to lighten the mood yet she only offers him a half-hearted smile.

"I'll escort you to your chambers," the prince suggests, and before she can argue he adds: "I know you can stand up for yourself if needed. But I insist."

Y/N doesn't move an inch.

"...You are not mad at me?" she's looking at him with doe-eyed sincerity, clearly upset. Aemond is mad at himself.

"I'm thinking about cutting his arm off," he says under his breath, but she catches it.

"Aemond, there's no need!" Y/N gasps and he sees a glimpse of a smile on her lips.

"I will have to disagree," he starts but then she grasps his elbow and Aemond's hand — finally — clings to her again.

"I don't want you to get in trouble because of me," Y/N confesses.

"And I don't want you to get hurt," his fingers caress her arm through the lace material. Y/N's cheeks heat up and Aemond finds it adorable.

"I think I... I was the one who did some damage," she complains.

"You must imagine my surprise," Aemond drawls, teasing.

"Oh, Gods," a quiet groan leaves her mouth. "That was not very ladylike of me."

Y/N covers her face with the other hand, her grip on his arm loosening. Aemond dithers before gently brushing her palm away from her face.

"You did the right thing and you have nothing to be ashamed of," he enunciates each word. "He only sets an example of unseemly behavior."

"I'm afraid I wasn't too far off," Y/N remarks, her voice relenting.

"Hmm, you're certainly not to be truffled with," he retorts, earning a faint laugh from her as they start walking, arm in arm.

"May I inquire how did you... master that very handy skill?" Aemond ventures to ask. That image of her — brave and unapologetic in her anger — will be forever engraved in his memory. Aemond is apprehensive about voicing his curiosity, uncertain of her reaction but when she answers:

"My father taught me that," her tone is surprisingly impish.

"And how did you manage to talk him into it?"

"Talking didn't help much, actually," Y/N grins. "And then I broke my brother's nose and my father decided he should find a way to guide my enthusiasm."

"How old were you?"

"Nine," she looks so satisfied with herself, Aemond can't hold back the laugh.

Y/N joins him and they fall into the comfort of each other's company. But then her smile wilts.

"There was a time when I was the youngest child and my siblings... They weren't very nice back then," she blurts out. Aemond feels his heart sinking.

"What did they do?"

"Oh, it wasn't that bad, honestly, they were only teasing. It's just um," she's looking for the right words or maybe for an acceptable explanation, but there isn't any. "It was very tiresome mostly. I could never understand the reason for them being mean."

Aemond is yet to tell her the story of him losing his eye, and the memory pops back into his head in a flash. He knows exactly what she feels, his own sense of helplessness fresh in his memory. And it still stings the same, and Aemond loathes that.

While he revisits the past, unwillingly slowing his pace, Y/N spots the change in his demeanor within seconds. She sees his facial features congealing, his fingers clenching, and she comes to the only conclusion she can make.

"Is it the headache?" her voice is suddenly quiet, and Aemond comes to an abrupt stop. The question catches him off guard, words stuck in his throat and his mouth agape. He doesn't know how to react nor does he understand how could she possibly know that. Y/N is quick to clear up his confusion:

"I noticed not long after we met and then your mother confirmed my suspicions. I am sorry that I didn't ask you directly, I thought... I didn't want to sound intrusive," she explains coyly.

"By asking about my health?" he finds his voice again. "I am to become your husband, you are free to ask such questions."

"We've only known each other for about a day back then. Surely, you're allowed to take more time than that to open up to someone," she kindly points out.

A day. Up until now the only person who's known about his pain was his mother, and for years no one else ever questioned his well-being. And it took her a day to notice that something was wrong.

"Did the ointment help?" she asks hopefully. For a second he thinks he heard her wrong but the shadow of concern on Y/N's face tells him otherwise.

"That was your doing?" he can't hide his amazement, and it elicits a laugh from her, sonorous and dulcet. Aemond likes the sound of it, he really does.

"I've been fortunate to obtain the knowledge required," she informs him.

"And what kind of witchcraft is it?"

"It is not," she playfully elbows him. "It was something my grandfather taught me. He used to have an ache of a similar nature. No one could understand the cause of it, and it only got worse with age. But my grandmother refused to sit idly by and one day she found a way to ease his pain," Y/N has a dreamy expression on her face but it melts into a wistful one. He guesses that both of her grandparents passed away.

"After her death, he wouldn't let anyone help him. It took me months to persuade him and eventually he let me on her secret," her smile is bittersweet. "Then he died, and I never thought the recipe would come in handy ever again."

Aemond hates seeing her wallow in sadness. He puts his palm on top of her hand in an attempt to offer some consolation. If there was a way to free her of that grief, to take at least some of it upon himself, he would've done it in a heartbeat. But his touch is enough to bring back the cheerfulness in her voice.

"I should mention that your maester did help, too, although he was reluctant at first," Y/N reveals.

"And I presume that it also took some convincing?" Aemond thinks of the maester's face that always looks like he is surrounded by imbeciles.

"I shamelessly boosted his ego," she wrinkles her nose. "Told him there was no way anyone would ever be as skilled as he is, and that my attempt was merely a gesture of goodwill."

"But I wasn't just that," Aemond cordially protests.

They already reached her chambers but he doesn't want to let go of her hand. He wants to tell her that meeting her was like taking a breath of fresh air after being held underwater, like finding a source of light in the pitch darkness of the night or feeling the warmth in the dead of winter. Aemond wants her to know that she's been a saving grace for him, but he's somehow at a loss for words, his thoughts jumbling together.

"It was way more than that and I...," never in his life had he gotten this tongue-tied and flustered. Yet she treats him with the same kindness and with no sign of prejudice, listening closely and keeping her eyes on him. Her gaze is disarming enough to make him say the first thing that comes to mind.

"I must admit, you exceeded my expectations," Aemond breathes out.

It immediately feels like the worst, the dullest choice of words possible, and he wants to sink into the ground right this second. But then he sees her natural smile, genuine and bright, blossoming on her face again.

"I am glad to be of service, my prince," she murmurs the last part, and his heart skips a bit.

He didn't register the moment Y/N came a bit closer, but she isn't shying away from shortening the distance. There's something enamoring about her trusting nature but that's not what draws him in. For the first time, he experiences an unfamiliar feeling that tightens his chest, makes his breathing rapid. His gaze slips over her face, down from her radiant eyes to her smile, framed by the lips that look as soft as freshly bloomed flowers. The feeling melts into an urge — he only needs to take a step, to lean his head forward just a bit and...

Aemond inhales deeply. He thinks they are in no rush, he thinks it would've been disrespectful and naive. He's mostly afraid to misread the situation, to scare her away.

But he wants to make his intentions clear. Aemond runs his thumb over her knuckles, brushing them one by one. And then he takes her hand to his lips, planting a kiss on it. He allows himself just this flicker of bravery before straightening up and releasing her hand. When he looks at Y/N, her gaze is directed at him already. It feels like a particular question is hanging in the air; they let it dissolve for now.

"I shall bid you goodnight," her eyes linger on him for a second before she turns away.

As Aemond watches her go, he is certain he wants them to be more than just friends.

Lucerys's name day comes in a about month, and by that time Aemond's routine has changed drastically. It might look the same: he wakes up with the sun, flies with Vhagar, he trains regularly, he spends his free time reading — except now Y/N is a part of his every activity.

She's never nosy or clingy; he's the one seeking her company at all times. She's an early riser, too, and they're always the first ones at the breakfast table: he asks her about her dreams, they make plans, they poke fun at Aegon, who is perpetually sleepy, and Y/N can effortlessly hold any other conversation with his family which only makes him ever so pleased.

She watches him train with genuine curiosity, she never looks away nor flinches, even when he gets too competitive and rough. Her attention is flattering — and it's all on him, and it feels unusual at first, but becomes empowering and he bathes in it.

When he takes her to meet Vhagar, she's terribly nervous. Aemond jokes that meeting his old dragon will pose no challenge after she handled Ser Lannister. It gives Y/N enough confidence to pat Vhagar's snout as the beast observes her calmly. Aemond assures her that the dragon will never go against his wishes. What he wants to say is that Vhagar senses how he feels about her.

They spend evenings in the library, both absorbed in reading but always sitting close by, their arms and shoulders coming into contact more often than not. He sometimes can't help but get distracted which leads to him forgetting about his book, instead secretly watching her, his glance full of adoration.

For a while, he's oblivious to how inseparable they've become until Helaena tells him one day, while Y/N is playing with Jaehaerys and Jaehaera in his sister's chambers. When Helaena mentions it ever so nonchalantly — "You two seem joined at the hip!", it startles him. But that moment doesn't turn into an awkward one — instead, Aemond realizes that he's not scared anymore.

"I will steal her away from time to time," Helaena says, as cheery as ever.

"Bold of you to assume I will let you," he chuckles, his gaze not leaving Y/N.

"I think she’ll have the last word," his sister retorts with a cunning smile.

Aemond doesn't think twice before admitting:

"She will never say no."

"My point exactly."

The Queen plans a great hunt to celebrate her secondborn son, and a feast is being held in no time. Aemond detests those pompous events yet Y/N seems too enthusiastic about the idea, and he begrudgingly agrees to participate. He doesn't want to burden her with his weighted resentment toward Luke but, as usual, she sees right through him. Y/N asks him if he has any reservations about the upcoming celebration, and that's when he decides to tell her. Aemond doesn't want her to pity him nor does he want to upset her so he keeps the story brief: he claimed the dragon, his siblings didn't like it, things escalated way too quickly and they haven't been on good terms ever since.

She heeds his every word, then bluntly asks:

"Must you really go?"

He ponders before answering with a sigh:

"It would be rude not to. I should pay my respect."

"I wish he had the courtesy to do the same for you," she frowns.

"It would be a little too late for an apology," Aemond shrugs even though her caring tone moves him deeply.

"I still think you deserve one," she says like it's the most obvious, logical thing in the world. He wonders how obvious the reddening of his cheeks is.

"I do not wish to dwell in the past when so many great things lay ahead of me," and he only means her. Having a future with her is his greatest blessing.

She bestows him with her softest smile:

"I guess we should make the best out of the situation we are in. Maybe you will have some fun hunting."

Aemond doesn't know what was her definition of fun, but his definitely doesn't involve babysitting Aegon. Yet that's what he ends up doing as they get separated from the group of hunters and his brother gets so drunk, he can barely stay in the saddle. He babbles and whines and Aemond is on the verge of praying for a miracle when the two of them finally stumble upon a boar. The younger prince catches the animal without a struggle.

"Oh, must be good to be a boar. Wild and free!" Aegon grumbles on their way back to the camp.

"I just slit his throat. I doubt you would want to switch places with him."

"I didn't say I want to switch places," he shakes his head so vigorously, he almost falls down. Aemond moves his horse closer, grabbing Aegon by the shoulder to steady him.

"Although switching places with you sounds tempting," he sneers.

"And why would you ever want that?" Aemond raised his brow questioningly.

"You've got yourself a pretty wife-to-be," Aegon chants and whistles.

"Are you asking for me to tie you to that boar? That can be arranged," Aemond deadpans.

" 'tis won't be necessary," Aegon's quick to object. "Whatever she sees in you, those qualities are not in my possession," his frown turns into a grin and he winks at his brother.

Aemond lightly chuckles:

"You'll get no argument from me."

Leaving Y/N is not an easy task for Aemond but coming back to her might be the second-best thing in the entire world. And the first one, obviously, is being with her.

When they return to the camp, he helps Aegon down, impatiently looking around, and as his eye lands on her, his breathing hitches.

She's standing next to the hunting tent, surrounded by a group of ladies, Helaena by her side and they're both laughing as his sister unsuccessfully tries to finish her sentence. Y/N has a violet in her hair, strands of it falling down her shoulders, her smile bright against the fading evening sun. She helps Helaena to articulate whatever she's talking about, the ladies around them cackling.

Aemond admires his betrothed from afar, savoring the moment.

It amuses him that her softness is a choice, that she chooses to be open-minded and kind, even though the world around her is armed to the teeth, and she does know how to fight back. And yet, that's not what motivates her. Instead, she's an image of benevolence and generosity, always understanding and forgiving, hence why people are so naturally drawn to her. And he is no exception.

Aemond gets distracted when a couple of servants approach him and he instructs them to take the boar's carcass away.

"You had a successful hunt, dear prince," when Aemond hears the question, he rolls his eye. Turning around, he sees Tyland Lannister with a smile so forged his face might crack in half.

"As usual," Aemond answers indifferently. "Never took you for a hunter."

"I cannot appreciate cruelty," Lannister forces out. "And I am afraid I will not be able to negotiate my way out of a bear's grip. So I am here merely to control my brother's primal impulses."

The mentioning of Jason makes Aemond cautious.

"Developing some self-control may be beneficial for him," the prince mutters.

Tyland goes blanch white, taking the hint.

"I was wondering if I should address the delicate issue of my brother's sympathy toward your..."

"You should not," Aemond cuts him off. "Would be better to address his manners but it's the thing you must sort out amongst yourselves," with that, he turns away to find Y/N again.

Except she isn't there.

The ladies moved closer to the tent but she and Helaena are the only ones missing. It takes him a second to realize that the women look alarmed, glancing at the tent. Or rather inside of it.

Aemond all but runs there, going over the worst scenarios in his head. When he gets in and sees Y/N in the company of Ser Lannister, he thinks he's never been angrier in his life. If Aemond was a dragon, the lord would've been burned to a pulp as of right now.

Jason keeps his distance and his face expresses nothing but regret yet it looks like it's already too late as Y/N is glaring at him with a sharp glint in her eyes. And in the next moment, she loses her temper.

"...What am I missing exactly?" she asks Jason, her voice unexpectedly loud, and it draws the attention of some nearby men. She doesn't care.

"You've been eager to win me over, but I am yet to find a single reason why would any woman find your company endearing," she takes a step toward the lord and he shrivels under the weight of her words.

"Is it the winery that your servants built for you? Is it your herd of fine horses? You talk so much about your stable, one may think your betrothed is to marry a stallion," her smile is mirthless. Aemond hears a faint groan behind his back and recognizes Tyland's scared tone.

"But what are your accomplishments?" the tent gets deadly quiet as she continues. "Do you consider your persevering courtship to be one of them? Or your harassing of my parents, my relatives and even my maids with your never-ending propositions, no matter how many times were they all rejected? Or mayhaps ambushing me in the hallway counts as an achievement for you?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Aemond sees Helaena and Aegon, both looking stunned. Pretty much everyone around him has the same expression at the sight of Y/N. He, on the other hand, has never been more proud of anyone.

Y/N looks at Jason as if she wants to bore a hole in him, her voice getting lower but harsher.

"You want to know what prince Aemond did? None of the above," Aemond feels his heart freeze at the mention of his name. She is yet to see him but when she speaks, it feels like she's seen enough.

"The man I am about to marry has been nothing but kind, respectful and loving, fulfilling my every wish, granting me the comfort of his company and his loyalty. The man with the sharpest mind and the kindest heart — both of which you're clearly lacking," Y/N casts Jason a disdainful glance. "So from where I am standing, it looks like I'm the luckiest woman in the Seven Kingdoms."

When she feels a hand on her waist, she isn't surprised and welcomes the touch with no hesitation, knowing full well who is standing beside her. She swiftly turns to Aemond, their eyes locking.

"I would like it if we left earlier, my prince."

"As you wish," Aemond wishes he could marry her right now.

Disregarding everyone's attention, he leads her out and asks the coachman to fetch their carriage. When they are away from prying eyes, her confidence wavers a little. It only fuels Aemond's ire.

"Give me just a second," he can't help himself.

Aemond goes back to the tent — and right to the Lannisters, one of them is already scolding the other. Tyland stops his lecturing when he notices Aemond, but the prince doesn't let him make a sound.

"That was the second time your brother couldn't hold his tongue," Aemond ignores Jason and walks up close to the other man. "If you care about his well-being in the slightest, make sure there will be no third time."

"Aemond, let us not make another scene. You must think how that will look like..."

Aemond stares Tyland dead in the eyes and promises:

"I will gut him like a boar. Imagine how that will look like."

Without saying another word, the prince storms off.

Y/N already got into the carriage, fidgeting with the hem of the dress as she falls deep into her thoughts.

"Ser Lannister will not bother you anymore," Aemond says, sitting next to her.

"I sure hope so," she mumbles, looking down at the wrinkled fabric.

"Y/N, whatever he said, you should not let it get to you. I do appreciate the gesture," way more than he cares to admit, "but there's no need to go through the trouble of standing up for me," Aemond barely finishes the sentence when she retorts:

"I will."

She looks at him, her eyes burning with blazing certainty.

"No one took your side when you were a kid. But I'm doing it now," she states as her palm covers his, the touch is as warming as her glance.

Aemond thinks he is the luckiest man in the Seven Kingdoms.

He runs out of luck so fast, he must've jinxed it. They are nearing the castle when the pain on the back of his head stings so unexpectedly, he winces, his eyebrows furrowing. Y/N notices it immediately and insists he should take a rest when they arrive.

"Mayhaps you have some of the ointment left?" she wonders, leading him to his chambers. Aemond rarely allows people to coddle him but he accepts her care freely. He is also aware that the near-miraculous balm that she makes is long gone because he hasn't had a headache in a while.

When Y/N finds out, she looks devastated.

"It must steep for a few hours, I can't make it right away," her enthusiasm brittles. She glances at him in a dither, mulling over something, while he lights the fireplace.

"There is another way that I know of," she slowly suggests. "But you will need to lie down."

"Quite a vulnerable position you want to put me in," Aemond lightheartedly jests but brings himself at her disposal with no second thoughts.

She sits on his bed right next to him, the bend of her hips an inch away from his arm.

"Close your eye," she asks calmly and he obliges.

Aemond senses that Y/N leans over him and he struggles not to hold his breath at the realization of how close she is. Then he feels the tips of her fingers on his face, the touch is so light and gentle, it makes him shiver. The pattern of her movements first contours his face, then goes up to his forehead, then slowly glides onto his temples. She massages them delicately in a circular motion.

"It was probably all the noise that caused this," she presumes.

"Or maybe the fact that the man makes my blood boil," Aemond says, although his anger is completely gone by now.

"He is pissed I didn't choose him," she laughs quietly.

"Choose him?" her words peak his interest. "You had a choice in the matter?"

"My father said he would hate it if I marry someone I didn't like," her thumbs are following the lines of his cheekbones, then run under his chin, then all the way up to his hairline, right next to his ears.

"May I ask what was your decision process?" Aemond selects his words very carefully. What he really wants to ask is why would anyone pick him, out of all people.

"I've heard you claimed the biggest dragon in the world at the age of ten," he can't see her smile but he can hear it. "That was impressive enough."

Aemond takes a peek at her through his lashes:

"That can't be the only thing you've heard."

"I can distinguish valuable information from pointless rumors," she notes imperturbably.

"I bet those rumors included the stories of me being the scariest man in the realm..."

Her fingers cover his mouth and he stumbles.

"I decided I would be the judge of that," Y/N says firmly.

"And what is your verdict?" he can't stop himself from asking, his pulse speeding up.

She doesn't think for a second:

"All the people who were spreading those vile tales clearly have never met you. There isn't a single bad thing I can think of when it comes to you."

Aemond shouldn't take it to heart but that's precisely where it hits, her voice cracking his shield, her eyes telling him she will never regret knowing him, caring for him. He thinks this is what true happiness is — being with someone who will choose you every time.

Her fingers graze over the strip of his eyepatch and she pauses her movement. She isn't breaking eye contact, waiting for his reaction, for his permission or refusal. Aemond gulps, helpless under her gaze, and doesn't stop her.

She picks up the leather strip slowly, as if she wants to give him a chance to change his mind. Aemond watches her, his body still, heart rate booming in his ears. Y/N removes the eyepatch and looks straight at the sapphire that gleams brightly in the warm lighting. And then she smiles.

"What do you see?" he exhales.

"Nothing scary, that's for sure," Y/N's gaze doesn't leave his face, her index finger tracing the scar, barely touching his skin.

"Nothing I don't admire," her voice is a little above a whisper.

"Nothing I wouldn't love."

His heart is beating so fast, it feels caged and ready to jump out at any second. Aemond forgets about the headache as if it never existed. In this state of bliss, he contemplates making a very emotional decision. But she makes one instead.

Y/N lowers her face closer to his and all of a sudden he feels a touch so light, it's almost like a petal brushes over his skin. It's her lips. She kisses his face — his scar — moving tenderly from the high point of his cheek to the area under the sapphire and then right above what's left of his eyelid.

When their eyes meet again, Aemond can only think of one thing.

He surges upward, his lips colliding with hers — she responds in an instant. His chest feels like it's on fire as kissing her is the most overwhelming feeling in the world, but he doesn't want to stop, ever. Her fingers gently slide down to his neck and Aemond uses his arm for support as he sits up without breaking the kiss. He then pulls her closer, one of his hands on her lower back and the other nestled under her jaw.

She softly sighs into his mouth — and it might be his new favorite sound. She tastes like berries, her lips getting more eager, fiery, addictive, and he is dizzy with joy and longing, trying to memorize each second. The pacing of the kiss grows heated and intoxicating as they melt into each other perfectly. They only part when both are out of air, their lips tingling, swollen and craving to continue.

"I must admit," she tries to catch her breath, she can't stop smiling, her hands caressing his face, "you exceeded my expectations."

Aemond laughs, cheerful and carefree, his nose bumping into hers.

"It's all about teamwork, as I've heard," he plants a quick peck on the corner of her mouth — and on the other one. And then they're kissing again, desperately drawn to each other. He's lost in the sound of her voice, in the feeling of her lips on his.

His love for her is all-consuming. Her love for him is healing.

Turns out, letting her in doesn't make him lose. With her by his side, he always feels like a winner.

English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

> the title is a quote from Hozier's song

>> I originally took inspiration from this post that lists the possible consequences of losing an eye. I also can't help but mention the extensive research that @ adderess did, which only adds to that heartbreaking yet very realistic concept.

>>> I have a playlist for Aemond 🎵 I didn't add any music in this fic BUT I've listened to "Mr Sandman" a lot, especially the instrumental version (I didn't mention it earlier in case you don't like listening to music while reading). 💕 my masterlist

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yours-mythically · 5 months

Text

A Bad Day = Comfort from Nat

➤ pairing : natasha romanoff x reader (platonic/romantic), dad!tony stark x daughter!reader (platonic)

➤ summary : (request) Hi! I'm wondering if you could do where reader has had a bad day because Tony got into a fight with them and they break down . Then Natasha walks in on them fumbling with a sharpener blade (already bleeding).

➤ warnings : sh (with blade)

➤ a/n : for my lovely anon who requested this. also ig this can be read as either platonic or romantic but I think platonic fits better, also (2.0) the title is damn lame but I couldn't come up with anything else because I was writing this while skipping school n I was a little unfocused

It wasn't often that you had fights with your dad. But when you did, they could get out of hand sometimes. Besides that, it could also take you two a long time to, somewhat, get along with each other again, both of you having an undeniably large ego. Your mother, Pepper, who you always got along with perfectly fine (you figured it was, because she was a woman and Tony was a man and men are...well...different) had always tried to break the arguements you and your dad had apart. But it didn't always work.

"They're arguing again?" Wanda asked somewhat sadly, nodding into the lab where you and your dad stood, trying to argue each other's points - that being very undistinguishable and hard to hear. It sounded like you two were just yelling insults at each other at this point.

"Yeah. You know, it's kinda sad; considering Y/N's his daughter, but they still argue so often." Clint said, listening to your drama while eating a bunch of grapes he found.

Wanda furrowed her eyebrows and watched as you stormed off, Tony releasing a yell of anger when you were gone.

"What was that about?" Natasha asked, joining Clint and the witch in the living room.

"Probably just another stupid argument." Clint shrugged, eating a few more grapes.

Natasha nodded in understanding, "I'm gonna go check on Y/N. Make sure she's alright." She told the two before leaving them alone once again.

Natasha arrived in front of your room, which actually was right next to hers, and knocked at the door.

"Hey, Y/N, it's Nat. Can I come in for a sec?" She asked waiting for a response. When she didn't get one, she released a long sigh, "Listen, I just wanna talk real quick. Nothing to be scared of; you're not in trouble or anything."

"Leave!" Was the only thing Nat heard, your voice muffled through the door.

"I promise, Y/N, I just want to help." Natasha told you, her voice softening when she realized how much more upset you actually were.

"I don't need help, I'm fine!" You replied.

Natasha released one more sigh, "Okay, I'll leave you alone, alright? But if you need anything - someone to talk to or some comfort - come over to my room or just give me a call, okay?" She waited for another response, but didn't get one so she just left, assuming you were just in a mood.

It was a decision she'd deeply regret later.

It was no more than an hour when the red head decided to try to talk to you again. Once again, she stood in front of your door, but before she had the chance to knock, she was sure she heard someone sobbing. And considering this room belonged to you, she was pretty sure she knew who it was.

"Hey, you okay?" Natasha asked concerned, but all she received was another sob, "I'm gonna come in, alright?"

Natasha didn't have the patience as she did before; she knew that you were feeling incredibly shitty and being very protective of you and wanting to comfort you, she couldn't help but open the door with force.

After ramming against the door a few times, it opened, revealing your messy room that you had clearly... redecorated, when you were in your fit of rage.

When she saw you, Natasha's heart felt as if it was getting squeezed by someone very strong.

You sat on the floor against a wall, knees against your chest and tears falling from your eyes so quickly, it was giving any waterfall a run for their money.

You were sure you looked pathetic.

But Nat didn't think so. She came closer, that frown that has been on her face for about three minutes, still being there.

But it turned into a look of sheer panic when she saw what you were holding. It looked like a tiny, simple piece of metal, but the cuts on your arms revealed that it was more than that. And Nat knew exactly what she saw.

"Y/N, give me the blade. Please," She said, kneeling down in front of you slowly, not wanting to startle you, "Please, Y/N."

You were overcome by emotions and didn't know what to do. Should you give it to her? Would that be the right thing to do?

"Hey, look at me. I know you've had a tough day, hell maybe even a tough week, but you know what? You've been handling it like a champ. I know what happened sucks; a lot. And trust me I don't want you to feel like that. So let me help you, alright?" Natasha pleaded softly, outstretching her hand, "Give me the blade."

You thought about her words before deciding that the right decision was the one where you give Nat the blade. So you did. Your eyes, red and puffy, looked at her for the first time since she entered this room and Nat felt her heart clench once again.

"Come on, let's go clean that. We don't want it to get infected." She said, smiling at you before helping you up.

She told you to sit down on your bed as she went - careful to walk around the mess in your room - and fetched the first aid kit from the bathroom.

"So, you wanna tell me what's been happening?" Natasha asked as she sat down next to you.

You told her about your troubles, explaining every single detail as to why you were feeling the way you did. In the meantime, Natasha began dressing your wounds. She cleaned them carefully, trying to make it as less painful as possible, before she put on some band-aids to keep the wounds clean.

"...and then I had the fight with my dad which just set me over the edge." You explained, coming to an end. Natasha nodded, having listened to everything you had told her.

"It'll get better," She simply said, "I know it doesn't feel like that now, but it will, I promise. And if you ever need someone to get you through this and help you, you can always come to me. I'll be here with open arms. I'll hold you, cuddle you, watch TV with you, go on a walk with you; anything. Hell, I'd even try to make dinner for you."

You chuckled shortly at Nat's last statement, knowing that she isn't particularly gifted when it comes to cooking.

"The point is, I'm here for you. Always."

#marvel #the avengers #natasha romanoff #yours-mythically #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader

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zawadni · 1 year

Text

SHOUTA AIZAWA WAS A GRUMPY DUDE. Be it his resting neutral face or his introverted nature that made him appear in such a manner, the man was just always grumpy-looking. The longer he went on teaching 1A, the more each of them began picking up on it. When they started to really pay attention to him, they marveled at the fact that one can keep the same face for so long.

During the early school hours, they could never see anything else. He always wore the same monotone expression or was just straight-up gloomy.

The main theory was that he simply wasn't a morning person. Everyone and their mothers knew that Aizawa almost never slept; some started to speculate it was some weird quirk that was assigned with the Erasure.

Case in point, his expression never changed. They got so caught up in their conspiracies that some of them were just downright outlandish- though it didn't stop them from creating a pool so they could place their best bets.

It went from a 'maybe he didn't like being around kids so he was always pissed' from Mina down to the possibility of him being an android that was only programmed with one emotion- which was whatever expression was always permeating his face- from Kaminari.

As the school year flew by faster than they had anticipated, they agreed that they would never be subjected to such a sight and that witnessing a comet was probably less rare than this.

And it was like they had almost literally jinxed it.

The following school day, for the very first time since they all started school, Aizawa was actually the first one in the classroom. They had been accustomed to waiting a few minutes every day because he was always late to class and it just didn't start until he felt like showing up to teach them.

Apparently, every one of them noticed because as they filed into the room and sat at their desks, none of them said a single syllable. The sound of their shoes clicking and tapping against the floors was the only sound. One by one, they quickly and quietly sat down; not a single one had the gall to say anything.

Though he wasn't paying attention since whatever was on his phone was more interesting than the fear that was being instilled in them just because he showed up on time. "Just do whatever. Don't be too loud."

And there it was! Mina nailed the bottom of her shoe into Kaminari's calf the second Aizawa turned his eyes away, "Ow! The heck-" She sternly motioned her head toward the front to witness him ever so subtly turning up a smile and looking at his phone.

Just like a line of dominoes standing perfectly, one gets tipped and it's a constant chain reaction. Kaminari gasps before turning around and shoving Kirishima's face off his desk. Kirishima in turn reaches across to slap the back of his palm onto Sero's bicep. And even though Bakugo says up and down he "didn’t care." Sero swiftly crouches down to stretch over and push his shoulder.

Considering they were absolutely not subtle, the rest of their classmates gazed at the interaction between the group of friends before and they all followed suit. It dawned on a few of them that there were probably better things to do, but this was probably going to be the most interesting thing for them for the rest of the year.

He commented on having to go to Mic's room for something, never tearing his eyes from his phone while stalking into the hall and the room erupted into a fit of noise- some confusion and some just pure excitement.

In the midst of the chaos and flurry of kids standing up from their chairs, Jirou lit up like a cartoon light bulb and swung over Kaminari and Mina's legs to get to the wall to try listening in. She knew it was at least morally gray but there was an itching feeling of needing to know building up in the back of her head like a tub filling with water.

“A lot of them have been giving me weird looks lately. You know what the hell’s going on with them?”

“Who knows Sho! Maybe they found out.” He never looked so smug in his life.

“Yes because I’m so sure they know I’m married, Yamada.”

“Oh my gosh.” In succession, three little words got a room full of jittery and rambunctious students calm into a cluster of whispers before quickly dying out. “He’s married!” She all but whispers. If they weren’t loud before, they sure were now.

A heavy, squiggly exclamation point and mark hung from the ceiling whilst they all clamored over one another to rush back to their seating arrangements before Aizawa could saunter back into the room likely due to the deafening noise of themselves.

They knew; their catlike curiosity had been satiated and in those few short minutes, they defied “curiosity killed the cat.” Because maybe it didn’t always kill the cat, maybe the cat's curiosity had greatly been put at ease, all 20 of them.

It was like watching them in a pressure cooker, one of them was bound to crack; breaking under the closing weight of that sated curiosity, so maybe curiously did in fact kill the cat. The silence was eerie and the tension was rapidly increasing until it was all that filled the air.

Much to their delight, they carried on about their day without any of them spilling their guts or (weirdly) without any questions from Aizawa about their behavior.

Neither he nor his class spoke a word for the duration of the school day and when it was time for them to leave and retreat to the comfort of their rooms, they collectively let out a sigh of relief they were all holding in.

He lets out a dreadful sigh before sluggishly crawling into the bed next to you, "They freakin’ know."

The giggle you let out made him wipe off the grin that littered his face before turning his face toward you. "And why do you think so?"

"I went out in the hallway and Yamada let it slip that I was married. Jirou must've been listening ‘cause they got really loud and I heard a lot of shuffling before I walked back in."

"That could’ve meant anything Sho'."

"Yeah, but they were all silent for the rest of the day. That doesn't just happen, not with them. And some of them were also being weird for like a month until they stopped like two months ago until it started again today."

You lifted the lower half of your body up from the mattress to sit above him and pull his head into your lap to comb his hair back with your fingers. "If it started again today then you were probably smiling at your phone when we were talking."

He scoffed, "I do not smile."

"Oh, you freakin' liar you definitely do. Ask Yamada, he has videos of it."

"You know, sometimes I think I shouldn't have gotten married to you." He’s clearly kidding.

"Oh, you're so overdramatic, Sho'. You'll be fine. What's the worst that could happen?"

"They're gonna bombard me with questions until they get answers."

You gasped dramatically and threw your right hand over your heart, "Oh no! How dare they ask questions about their teacher. Monsters I say!"

“Oh whatever." He rolled over onto his back and hid his face in his arms.

And you swore you could almost see the faintest of grins.

bnha taglist: @https-true-egoist, @httpghostface

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year

Note

I really love you aemond fics!! The angst always on point, so I have a request you can reject it.

After the birth of thier child who doesn't hold targaryen features, aemond doubts his wife, and his mother doesn't help ease his doubts. He refuses to see her or even be in the same room, which makes the reader falls into depression it wasn't until the babe was few months old and able to open their eyes probably that the violet targaryen eyes are shown. He hears it from her personal maid and then tries to redeem himself after seeing the state she has fallen into, feeling great guilt because of his mistrust to her.

Sorry if it's too long and thank you!

Woof, nonnie, you're going straight for the jugular with this request.

I hope you don't mind, but I've altered this slightly to fit with the headcanons I have for Aemond. Drabble below the gif and cut. This is SFW, but still 18+.

You cried, tears of relief and exhaustion rolling down your cheeks as you fell back into the pillows. Finally able to relax, hours of painful and intensive labour were at an end as the nursemaids worked to remove the afterbirth and wrap your squalling bundle.

Aemond ceased his anxious pacing as the babe was placed into your waiting arms. Striding towards the bed and seating himself on the edge of it, he placed his arms around you protectively, kissing the crown of your head. "You did so well, my love, I'm proud of you."

"Congratulations, Prince and Princess, you have a healthy baby girl." smiled the nursemaid.

You beamed up at your husband, as you cradled your newborn daughter to your chest.

The look of adoration and wonder shone bright in Aemond's violet eye as he gazed down at the infant. "We will call her Alysanne" he whispered.

You smiled, offering a tired "hmmm" in agreement. You eyes were heavy with impending sleep.

"I will let you rest, my love", Aemond said softly, placing a delicate kiss to your temple, "I must tell my mother the wonderful news. Avy jorrāelan." I love you.

Aemond had a spring in his step as he walked the corridors of the Red Keep towards his mother's apartments. He was a father, surely there was nothing that could sully this happy feeling?

Chatter from the courtyard below caused his ears to prickle, and he stopped in his tracks, lingering behind a pillar to mask his presence as he eavesdropped.

"I just can't imagine wanting to couple with...him..." a lady's voice said, full of disgust.

"I know!" the other assented, "Imagine having to look upon that marred face. It would make me sick."

"I shouldn't imagine that princess does look upon him much. Who would want to?"

"Yes, it's highly unlikely the babe is his. A bastard, I reckon."

Aemond had heard enough. Bile rose in his throat, as his heart hammered wildly in his chest. The search for his mother forgotten, he found his legs carrying him back towards your bed chambers.

Insecurity fuelled his actions. You'd never given Aemond any reason to doubt your love or devotion for him. If anything, you were slightly over eager to perform your marital duties and Aemond basked in the attention you rained down upon him.

There was always a niggling doubt in the back of his mind though. "She can do better. She deserves someone whole."

He swept back into the room, regarding you coldly, as he stood at the foot of the bed.

You paused your rocking of your fussing infant and looked up questioningly at your husband.

"Is she mine?" he demanded.

Aemond regretted the words the instant they left his mouth, seeing the hurt expression that crumpled your soft features.

"How can you ask such a thing?!" you gasped, holding Alysanne protectively to your chest, as if to shield her from the insinuation his question carried.

He felt his heart twist urgently in his chest as he struggled to find the words to placate you. "I..."

"Leave us!" you snapped, hot tears scalded the rims of your tired eyes.

Aemond felt as though his very soul was being torn from his body, he reached forward, desperate to comfort you in your fragile state.

"I said leave us!" you all but screamed, tears now flowing hotly down your cheeks. Your daughter wailed in your arms.

Aemond turned, downtrodden, and walked away. "What the fuck have I just done?" he thought to himself.

After a few hours riding on Vhagar, Aemond returned to the Red Keep with a sense of clarity and deep regret.

He slipped quietly into your bedchambers. You were asleep, unsurprisingly. The hour was late and your labours had left you exhausted.

Baby Alysanne lay gurgling in her cradle beside you. As he gazed down at the babe, the pale moonlight reflected the vibrant lilac hue of her doubtless Targaryen eyes. He hated himself for ever questioning her parentage. For questioning your loyalty.

He gingerly reached into the cradle, stroking a gentle hand over his baby daughter. A lone tear tracked its way down his cheek as she grasped his index finger in her little fist.

"ñuha byka zaldrīzes, iksan sīr vaoreznuni", he whispered. My tiny dragon, I am so sorry.

You awoke as the sun was rising, bleary eyed and waiting for the room to swim back into focus. Confused as to why you hadn't been awoken by the cries of your daughter.

The sight that finally met your eyes when you eventually sat up immediately melted your heart, all anger you'd felt for Aemond the previous day dissipated.

He sat slumped in an armchair beside the bed, dozing as Alysanne lay sleeping soundly on his chest. One of his large hands was splayed protectively across her back as she nuzzled into his neck.

You were unable to stop the happy tears that flowed freely and your sniffles startled Aemond from his light slumber.

Slowly and with much care he lifted baby Alysanne from him, placing her back in her cradle and moving to sit beside you on the bed.

"I am so sorry", he whispered, his voice mere moments from cracking, as he pulled you into his arms.

"All is forgiven, my love," you stroked his hair to soothe him, "I know you did not mean it, but why ever did you say it?"

He inhaled a shuddering breath, before pulling away from you and cupping your face as he looked earnestly into your eyes. "I overheard some common folk yesterday saying how awful it must be for you to have to lay with me and I am ashamed to say I let my own thoughts get the better of me."

"Oh, Aemond", you whimpered, "How can you let anyone make you think that? You know there is no one I would rather have as my husband than you. No one I love more."

"I know", he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "And I will never doubt you again."

"Good", you quipped, pressing forward to capture his lips with yours. When you finally broke apart you whispered, "And if you tell me who these common folk were, I will have them fed to Vhagar."

He chuckled drily. "Avy jorrāelan, ñuha nēdenka zaldrīzes." I love you, my fierce dragon.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen x reader

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rottiens · 2 months

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GONER | GOJŌ SATORU

✮ wc. . 2.3K

✮ tags. . angst, fem reader, major character death, manga spoilers. divider creds: cafekitsune.

✮ about. . a sequence of events that begin with you ending your relationship make you reflect on the effect your decisions have on the future.

How long is "forever"? For a child who is left in line at a supermarket while their mother goes back to get something else to put in the cart probably a long time, for someone who is sick it probably feels like an eternity.

For someone to whom you tell for a whole year that you love them, and that you will always be together probably the phrase ceases to carry the same weight as when it was first said, after a few months, one of you may say the words because they sound nice rather than because you really mean it.

Looking back you're not sure you remember it very well. The scene is a blur in your head, just like those old VHS's where you start in one scene and if it wasn't cautiously recorded it ends up jumping to a totally different one. You're not sure exactly what you said or how it sounded, nor what he responded to hearing you say it, you struggle to remember because it's important now.

You can't quote the exact words that came out of your mouth but you have etched in your memory his flushed cheeks, the way the gentle breeze ruffled his hair naturally. Everything felt like slow motion or at least that's how it's saved in your head, you think the detail of his blush was stored so clearly in your memories because you've never seen him so red before.

His face was just like a painter's canvas that had had a big red stain spilled down the center.

"Come on. Let's go home before it rains," Satoru suggests, ignoring the knife you casually plunge into his chest.

You clutch the black bag hanging from your shoulder tightly to your body and avoid his blue eyes at all costs, after all, the oval sunglasses do little to hide them and you don't know if you'd rather he was wearing the blindfold today. You glance down at his high-soled loafers, as shiny and shimmering as the rest of his outfit. You divert your eyes to his briefly to stall for time and refocus on your shoes.

He calls your name, reaches out his hand breaking the infinite distance between you and you pull back adding more space. You think you hear his heart break.

"You can't be serious." His hand returns to his side in submission, his throat rising and falling swallowing saliva. "Are you serious?"

"I want to focus on other things."

"I'm unfocusing you?" Satoru laughs dryly, briefly bringing a hand to his chest pointing to himself before lowering it.

"I'm not sure if we're compatible, I think we're only together because we're both lonely."

His lower lip trembles because what you said was a low blow, it's not fair for you to mention the things he's secretly told you while you were snuggled under the covers of his bed for a situation like this. Concern flashes fleetingly across his face along with a lightning bolt that breaks the sky. The parking lot is practically empty, there are couple of cars scattered around as if it had been put there specifically as part of the scenery, you lose yourself in satoru's porsche behind him, gray as the cotton clouds that suffocate the sky, the flash of the kisses you have shared, the laughter, the secrets that stay stranded in it stick in your chest like a sharp arrow but you quickly disguise it by blinking fast and pretending to smooth out the non-existent wrinkles in your clothing.

The silence is heavy. Satoru stares at you so intently that you think he has forgotten to blink.

Satoru opens his mouth but the sudden torrent of water that flows over your head startles you. Satoru gets wet in seconds which makes you wonder why he doesn't activate his infinity and take refuge in his technique, why he stands next to you as if made of stone, still contemplating you.

"You're tearing me apart!" he shouts through the sound of the rain collapsing against the pavement, the water making his shirt cling to his chest, his white skin glistening through the fabric.

"I'm so sorry."

You need to run from there, the rain is everywhere just like the pain that covers your body from head to toe. You feel it all over, crushing your bones, squeezing your lungs and stealing your breath. You are ready to run and flee by his side, but his long fingers stop you, catch your wrists and pull you to him.

Leaving you no escape he pulls you into a forced kiss full of hunger and resentment, his fingers squeeze your cheeks tightly almost as if he's forcing you to stay close but it doesn't matter if he hadn't, you wouldn't have pulled away anyway. He brushes your tongue with his, you let him taste you one last time as he tastes the trace of the drink you were given at the event you attended only minutes before.

The perfect couple, he strongest next to the best sorceress, everyone was talking about the children they would have together, about the future of both clans and the great family they would form, all without asking you first about how you felt. You immerse yourself in a lot of expectations that you have to live up to when all you want is to survive at the end of the day, with so much pressure from your family and the higher ups it is only logical that the band that keeps your appearance of the perfect woman stretches and torn.

You hate yourself for doing this to him before he leaves on a week long mission away from you but you think it's the perfect time for him to detox from you.

As you pull away to breathe he still holds your cheeks possessively, gazing at you just like the most valuable object on display. You can't know what those pretty eyes that hide a sea in them are saying, but you wouldn't blame him for hating you.

"Let me take you home," he asks in a raspy voice and you shake your head.

You can't be near him alone again, not in his car, not in your apartment.

Then Satoru releases your cheeks and they immediately burn from the absence of his fingers and embarrassment, he takes the longest backward step he can and lets you run away from him, literally and metaphorically.

That was the last time you saw him, after leaving him soaking wet in the rain.

It's not like you were desperate to see him again but you weren't sure that would be the last time you'd see his face either. With everything that happened after that day you purposely decided to avoid him, you took missions as far away from Tokyo as you could, avoided going to school on the days he would be working as a teacher and ran away from every social activity you know he would be involved in… little by little the big strong couple fell apart until people accepted that it wasn't a rumor and that you two were really over.

Then he was called to Shibuya along with the other sorcerers who were available. Conveniently you were in Latin America, too far from home to do anything more than hope that all your friends made it out alive from the massacre that was happening there while all you could do was wait and find a plane ticket as fast as you could. You had your phone taped to your chest all night at the airport and all day until you got off the plane until Yaga personally called you to tell you the details.

Satoru Gojo was locked up in the prison realm, I have a death sentence on my head… You'd be lying if you said you heard anything else after that. The phone rolled free from your hand to the ground, crashing to the concrete of the street in a muffled sound.

On your way back you found Tokyo in a mess. Shibuya seemed to have been crushed by a large black hole that consumed and destroyed everything in its path, that it had been a phenomenon fallen from space would have been easier to deal with than admitting that the monster that had created that was still there, hiding in Itadori's body lurking like a predator ready to strike at the precise moment and you could do nothing but wait for it. Guilt digs into your chest as deep as a knife, you refuse to cry and swallow the pain like a hard pill, you should have been there.

Since then you did everything you could to rescue Satoru as you know he's the only one who can take on a now free Sukuna, you can't do it without his help or a logical plan. And after everything that happened between you you feel you owe it to him, as a silent pact that you must keep your word to.

So this is the first time you see him after that afternoon. He looks different from the last time you saw him, maybe it's your fuzzy memories that didn't store the information correctly but he looks bigger even, his hair has grown and his shoulders are broader.

"I knew you'd be here," he jokes in his usual tone.

Here, away from the show his students prepared to welcome him as the celebrity he is. Your belly was in knots and you didn't want to see him, you weren't ready.

You want to slap him for being the first thing he says after months of not seeing each other, for treating you like the sweet friend you always were to him because you feel you don't deserve it, but instead and against all odds you pounce on him. Your arms wrap around his waist embracing an infinite cold emptiness that then materializes in the warm body of your partner.

You hadn't realized how much you missed him until now, until his fingers melt into your hair massaging your skull and pulling you further into him, until you hear him unabashedly sniff your hair and say between giggles how much he missed the smell of your shampoo, you soak his black t-shirt in your tears while his chest burns. You feel safe, you feel at home, and you realize that everything you did was a mistake.

As you lift your clouded eyes to him, you see everything blurred by the raindrops threatening to overflow like that day yet at the same time, you have never seen so clearly in your life.

I love you so much, I'm so sorry - It's at least what you would have liked to say before he interrupted you, his lips make you weep when they touch your forehead so soft, so delicate, you want to stay here forever, you want to tell him to quit, you don't have to save anyone else, you want to tell him to run away with you, that you're ready to start a family and grow old together but you know what he's going to say. Instead, his words make you keep silent:

"You can tell me all that when I get back, I have a lot to tell you too."

You hit the cold table hard where half of Satoru's body rests and the whole room shudders as your cursed energy emanates from you in great waves.

"You promised you'd come back so get up off that fucking table," you sniffle through your nose without letting a single tear fall. Shoko next to you says your name as low as if she doesn't want to be heard, her fingers squeezing your shoulder feels like she's doing it with pity, like she's comforting you, why is she doing it? Perhaps it's her way of telling you that that's it . "Tell me you can do something." You look her straight in the eyes but she keeps quiet, like everyone else, no one dares to speak or scream, why is everyone acting like this is part of the plan? Why are you the only one sinking into a deep salty sea? "Shoko, fuck!"

She shakes her head. "I'm sorry."

Your knees fail you and you have to lie down on his legs, hiding your face in the white sheet covering what's left of him, your heart dropping to your stomach as something sour and bitter rises up your esophagus.

"Leave me alone." That's all you ask, you don't get up to see if she's heard you over your voice drowned out by the white cloth.

The smell of the hospital and medication, unused gloves and alcohol makes your gut knot, it's all too much. You can barely breathe, your throat burns and it would be so much easier to feel a curse tearing you from the inside out.

"You promised…" you sob again hugging the corpse of the one you recognize today as the love of your life. "I'm so sorry," you mumble with a mouthful of saliva.

When you broke up with satoru you missed him every day, every hour, everything reminded you of him because you didn't just lose a boyfriend, you lost a friend. You missed him but you knew you were going to see him again someday, when the symptoms of grief would subside for both of you, maybe you could even get back the friend you lost because of your relationship but now, missing Satoru is a feeling of anguish that won't go away, because you can't call him anymore, you can't show him the pictures you took in the day, you won't be able to hear his voice again, you won't be able to hold his hand again….. It is a loop of a feeling of emptiness that cannot be filled with anything because he is now gone forever, a black hole that no matter how hard you try to fill it with things and people it will not fill, because nothing and no one will be able to take his place.

And for a person who has lost a loved one who told them that he would be there with them until they grow old, forever is a long time.

notes. . ngl this is really a catharsis for me. i miss a person who is no longer with me irl and what better than to open my heart and let out some of the pain through one of the characters i adore the most <3

thanks for reading! Reblogs are appreciated. And don't forget to spend time with your loved ones and remind them how much you love them whenever you can.

#wr #gojo drabbles #jjk drabbles #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo angst #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru angst

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kasagia · 3 months

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Today marks ONE year of my writing on Tumblr!

And I didn't manage to finish the oneshot for our Aleksander (I'm so sorry :c ), so I wanted to at least share with you a fragment of what I will publish soon.

And thank you for all the comments, hearts and follows (THERE ARE OVER 1111 OF YOU!!!!! I can't believe it!!!!) THANK YOU VERY MUCH! I love you all! 🩵🖤🖤🩵🩵🖤🖤🩵🩵🖤🖤🩵🩵🖤🖤🩵🩵🖤🖤🩵🩵🖤🖤🩵🩵🖤🖤🩵🩵🖤🖤🩵

A fragment from: "His mortal saviour" - coming soon...

The first thing he felt was warmth. The warmth, which wasn't at all in the fold. He shuddered and remembered how the cold had penetrated his body even more the moment the volcra's claws had dug into his face.

Then he felt the softness of the mattress beneath his back instead of the hardness of the sandy, packed soil. Further evidence proving that he was entirely somewhere else was the sound of soft footsteps and humming a few feet away from him.

He opened his eyes hesitantly and hissed, unaccustomed to the light after being unconscious for so long.

He freezes as he feels a hand on his eyes, keeping the sunlight from reaching them. Little. Soft. Alina... a thought comes to him, and he quickly laughs it off. His little sun summoner would probably rather blind him completely with her sun than protect him from more pain.

"Take it easy. You've been badly harmed." A soft female voice breaks the silence and pulls him from his thoughts about the woman who betrayed him and their kind.

He feels a strange rush of fear as he hears a female voice. Aleksander unwillingly recalls the memory of the time when he and his mother were captured by the Drüskelle. He felt like he did now. Helpless.

He was unable to move even a small distance on his own. The only difference was that no one was hanging over him with scalpels and other blades or hurling insults. But he suspected that could change very quickly...

He had to do something. He needed to get out of here somehow, but every slight movement of his muscles was accompanied by a huge wave of searing pain throughout his whole body. And for a brief moment, it occurred to him that maybe destroying the fold wasn't such a bad idea.

"Don't worry. I am not a psychopath, mad, serial killer, or anything. I'm a nurse. I saw you near the fold and took you to my house to heal you. It's a miracle you survived your encounter with the volcra. Usually, no one gets out of the fold. Certainly not on their own." The woman says, slowly removing her hand from his eyes.

He's too dazed by the light, busy taking in his surroundings and seeing her face for the first time, to notice that she's adjusting the bandages on his face and checking his wounds.

But he hisses, feeling the burning pain on his forehead as she rubs some thick, gooey liquid onto him.

"I'm sorry, but I have to. It's an ointment against infection. This should also numb you enough so that you don't feel any pain in your face. How's your back?"

He is too shocked to respond. As he takes a breath, he has a sudden coughing fit. She moves away from him. He hears her quick footsteps as she returns a moment later with a cup of water and a tissue. He spits something black out of his mouth, desperately trying to get some air. She strokes his back gently and leans him more forward, making him spit out all the black goo mixed with his saliva from his throat.

He frowns, staring at the tissue soaked in black liquid.

"Don't worry, it's absolutely normal. Every time they bring a survivor from the fold to the infirmary, something like this happens. The air is different there, and volcra tend to infect their victims. Let's just say it's some kind of poison that comes out of you. That's a good sign. As well as the fact that you woke up. Here." The woman says, taking the tissue from him and throwing it into a nearby trash can. He glances there, seeing that it is half full of black dressings and bandages. He looks back at her as she hands him a glass of water.

"What do you want?" He asks, his voice hoarse from disuse (or screaming in the fold), not taking a sip from the cup you gave him. It could be poisoned or worse.

"I... I don't understand." You say, confused by his hostile attitude.

"What do you want from me?" He repeats it again, and the commanding, demanding tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine.

"Nothing. I'm just helping." You reply with a shrug, which annoys him even more. He laughs mockingly, making you frown.

"Selflessly? To a stranger? Don't make me look like a naive idiot. Tell me right now who you are, what you want, and where we are, and you won't get hurt."

"With all due respect, I doubt you'd be able to raise your hand right now, let alone hold a gun or sword, or hit me, even if you were a soldier of the First Army." He stares at you in surprise, realising that you have no idea who he is, and maybe you really just helped him.

Could a normal person dare to speak back to the Darkling with such courage and anger in her eyes? He didn't think so. But one name comes to his mind... even though he's too hurt to think about her.

"What?" You ask him as he stares at you for a little too long.

"Nothing." He clears his throat and stares warily at the offered water. "Not many people surprise me." He explains, still not believing in your good intentions. You couldn't be so altruistic as to help a strange man who got spat out by the fold. People weren't kind or helpful to the weak, at least never towards him. That's why he always had to be stronger than others. To never become prey again.

"I see that you don't trust many either. If I pour for myself and you water from one jug and drink it first, will you consider doing the same? You need to rehydrate." You say it calmly, completely unfazed by his distrust.

For some reason, this makes him more surly towards you. Maybe this whole act on your part was just to keep his guard down until someone came for him, for example, Shu, Drüskelle, or even Alina's group of heroes. He had to get away from here. As soon as he regained full control over his aching body.

“Try to deceive me, and I will make sure to wipe out your family lineage to the last living generation.” He growls hoarsely, trying to regain at least some semblance of control in this situation.

"It's good that I'm an orphan then." You say, pouring him and yourself a glass of water and showing him that both are empty.

Another orphan... he thinks as you reach both glasses so he can choose which one he wants.

[...]

"You will leave me alone?" He ask. He can't believe that you would really leave him—a strange man you didn't know at all—in your house all alone.

"Do you need a company?" You ask mockingly, using the exact same cold tone of voice he used before. Aleksander decides he liked you much more when you were soft towards him.

"Aren't you afraid I'll rob you and run away?"

"There are only herbs, medicines, and a few books here. I have nothing so valuable that I couldn't get it on the market if you decided to take it. You can look around if you want. Although I wouldn't advise you to get up, your wounds are still fresh and barely sealed, so they don't bleed."

"Are you insane?" He can't help but ask, as you really are going out.

"All the best people are. Try not to die. It would be a waste of medicines and bandages." You say this and smile amusedly as you close the door behind you.

Aleksander blinks, surprised, as he lays in your bed. He tries to understand what has happened here, but he still has a headache and needs to get out of here.

He didn't trust you at all.

So before anyone could come and get him from you, he stood up. His legs are shaky at the beginning, but as he walks around your (tiny) cottage, he regains the ability to walk… maybe not as well as he did, but enough to move.

He looks around, just as you suggested, but he didn't find any proff that would confirm his suspicion. But it doesn't stop him from taking some pills and herbs before he leaves your house. He makes sure to take only a little—enough to get to the village or somewhere where he could find his people.

You were too kind to be robbed.

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nightwolf14292 · 10 days

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Dick Grayson Canon Lore Stuff:

(TW for Batman stuff, like spoilers and mention of injury/death) Hello, I know very little about the canon Batfamily because I can't exactly just read all of the comics (there's way too many, and they're very expensive T-T) so instead I spent like an hour reading the entire Fandom . com entry on Dick Grayson, and this is pretty much my timeline of important events that I got from that (I'm typing this in hopes that it'll help me remember it).

Dick Grayson Canon Lore Stuff:

•From a very young age Dick Grayson was trained as an acrobat, hence his job as a performer in his family's circus act.

•When he was eight years old, he overheard a well known crime boss threaten the circus performers if he wasn't paid by the circus owner. The owner didn't pay him, and that night Dick witnessed his parents high wire snap, leading to both of their deaths. (He felt responsible for not warning them)

•He was put into a juvenile service system, because social services in Gotham were full. In this system he was often beat up by the others, which led to him eventually being put into a Catholic orphanage instead.

•Bruce Wayne adopted him, but Dick didn't want to replace his deceased dad with a 'stuck up' billionaire, plus he felt like Bruce didn't give him enough attention (Probably because Bruce was still dealing with the trauma of his own parents death and didn't like getting attached to people in case he lost them as well), so he snuck out in hopes of solving his parents murder himself.

•He met Batman, also investigating the murder, which led to him finding out that Batman and Bruce Wayne are the same person.

•They find the crime boss, but he 'dies of a heart attack' before he can be arrested.

•Since Bruce saw so much of himself in Dick, he asked the boy if he wanted to become his sidekick and Dick decided to name himself 'Robin' after what his mother used to call him.

•He was trained for six long, hard months before he was allowed to do any real missions, and he had to go through one full night eluding Batman without help before he was allowed to officially become Robin.

•For the first year or so Dick had a lot of fun with his job, and treated it as a fun adventure he and Bruce participated in together.

•That was until he had a fight with Two-Face, in which Batman and the DA were both stuck in nooses. Dick cut the rope around the DA with a Batarang, but Two-Face had crafted a double trap and this made the floor fall out so the DA landed in a pit of water in which he drowned. This was Dick's first time witnessing an on-the-job death which would serve to haunt him for years to come, plus he got himself a beating from Two-Face (Okay but like, wouldn't he have been like 9 or 10 max Jeezums- 😭🖐).

•Bruce temporarily 'fired' Dick, not wanting to see him get hurt any more.

•Dick served as Robin for a while longer, still working with Bruce and also forming his own Titans team.

•When Dick was 17 he got shot in his shoulder by the Joker, which prompted Bruce to officially fire him out of fear for his safety. Dick decided that he didn't need Batman anymore, plus he had some issues with the way Bruce did things, so he moved from Gotham to New York to be more involved with the Titans, and he dropped out of highschool.

•Bruce didn't really like this, and told Dick that if he was no longer going to work with him he would have to retire the Robin title. Dick left Wayne Manor afterwards, and handed over leadership of the Titans to Wondergirl.

•Unsure of himself and what he should do now, yet not wanting to give up crime fighting now that it was such a big part of his life, he went to find Superman. For a brief while Dick stayed with Superman, and Superman told him of a Krypton hero who had been known as Nightwing. Because of this time with Clark, Dick decided to finally become his own hero free of Batman. He named himself Nightwing after the Krypton hero, and made himself a costume based off of something his father once wore back in the circus.

•Now as Nightwing he helped lead the Titans, though his relationship with Starfire was worsening over time.

•Jason's death was a bit of a turning point in his character. Even though originally he hadn't seemed to like Jason (mainly because Jason acted as his replacement, and because of his not so great relationship with Bruce) Dick seemed to grow into a kinder/gentler person after the event.

•A while after this, Dick discovered that the mob boss who had killed his parents was not actually dead but was in a coma instead. Dick went looking for him, but witnessed him being gunned down before he had a chance to do anything for himself. Bruce claimed that he was worried that Dick would seek revenge for his parents death if he knew the truth, so he told the young boy that the mod boss was dead instead. Dick was obviously upset because of this, and his relationship with Bruce stayed strained.

•While he was still serving with the Titans, Tim Drake sought him out and asked him to return to being Robin (Because after Jason's death Bruce was going crazy without a Robin by his side), but Dick refused because of his bad relationship with Bruce and his enjoyment for his current job. He did help Tim become Robin, though.

•A lot of bad things happened with the Titans, people passed, people left, people changed, but Dick fought to stay the heart and center of the team through it all.

•Despite their strained relationship, Dick tried to impulsively marry Starfire, but the ceremony was interrupted, which eventually led to Starfire leaving and returning to her home planet.

•Bruce was brutally injured by Bane, but because his relationship with Dick was so bad and he didn't want to 'force' his son to return, he temporarily gave the Batman title to the not-so-stable Jean Paul Valley, with Tim there to help him out. Jean proved too unstable, however, and Dick returned to Gotham to help Tim deal with him. Dick decided to step away from the Titans to focus on Gotham, and the still healing Bruce asked him to be Batman until he was alright again which Dick agreed to.

•During his time acting as Batman, Dick built a great brotherly relationship with Tim. In addition, Bruce admitted that he hadn't originally asked Dick to act as Batman for him because he didn't want to force him to come back, and the two finally began to fix their relationship.

•Dick pretends to be a villain working under Deathstroke for a while, until Deathstroke betrays him and kills at least 100,000 people with a bomb. Dick tries to find and help any survivors, but is unable to because of the radiation which weighs heavily on his mind. He also proposes to Barbara Gordon around this time.

•Dick recovers and Bruce asks him to join him and his current Robin in rediscovering his roots. Dick is hesitant, but Barbara insists that he helps, and suspends their engagement for the time being.

•Dick returns to the Titan's tower, because there's someone there pretending to be him. Turns out it's the revived Jason Todd!

•While on a case, he gets buried alive by a mysterious voice that tells him he's 'supposed to be dead'. He has a hard time finding work because he's in a cast, and is having some trouble due to his injuries.

•By this point his relationship with both Bruce and Tim have improved dramatically, and he's close with both of them.

•The Titans decide to reform their group.

•Okay I'm gonna try and put this as simply as possible… Bruce was targeted by a group called 'Black Glove', supposedly going insane and running away. Dick doesn't want Tim to have to deal with everything himself, so he returns. He gets kidnapped and drugged by the International Club of Villains and is scheduled for a lobotomy, but gets out of it because Bruce's 'insanity' was made up to expose the Black Glove. Batman fights with Doctor Hurt on a helicopter, but the helicopter explodes. Batman is fine and works with the Justice League, but then is seemingly killed in his confrontation with Darkseid. In his will, Bruce begs Dick not to become Batman. Because of his refusal to become Batman, someone else takes up the job instead, calling himself Batman but using lethal methods that Bruce would never allow. This 'Batman' is actually Jason Todd, who shoots Damian and almost kills Tim with a Batarang. Dick and Jason fight and Dick shoves Jason off of a speeding train, seemingly killing him though Jason says they'll 'Meet again soon'. Dick finally decides to become the official Batman, but refuses to make Tim his Robin because according to him, he sees Tim as his equal and not his sidekick. He instead makes Damian his new Robin, which of course pisses off Tim. Tim, believing Bruce to be alive, takes up Jason's old Red Robin mantle and goes searching for Bruce. Dick moves base because the Batcave reminds him too much of Bruce, and struggles because Damian is constantly reminding and taunting him over the fact that he will never truly be able to replace his father. When he next fights Jason, Jason remarks that if the Lazarus pit could revive him, it could revive Bruce too as he's being arrested.

There's quite a bit of stuff that happens in between here, most notably the death of a young boy called Baby D which influences Dick's future character, but since I've been typing for hours:

Thinking about what Jason said, Dick takes Bruce's body from his grave and takes him to the Lazarus Pit. While it does reanimate the corpse, the revived 'Bruce' is angry and violent. This is because it was never Bruce at all, it was actually a clone of him. This gives Dick, Damian, and Alfred a similar hope to Tim, that Bruce is actually still alive. Tim brings evidence that Bruce is actually lost in time, and after a bit of digging and more evidence finding, they manage to bring Bruce back.

•Dick finally becomes Nightwing again, now with red on his costume which reflects his darker and more grim outlook on life and humanity after his time as Batman.

•Nightwing gets stabbed on a mission.

•He also, on a different mission, momentarily dies but they manage to start his heart again.

•Dick puts down his Nightwing title for a while and becomes a secret agent for Bruce, but the wiki has no info on this.

•Dick goes back to being Nightwing, finally returning to his original black and blue suit instead of the black and red one. He reforms the titans, but after working with them for a bit, but ends up moving back to Blüdhaven soon after.

•Someone is sent to assassinate Dick, and he gets shot in the head. He manages to survive, though he has amnesia and for a brief while becomes 'Ric Grayson' until he gets his memories back. When Ric tries to restore his memories he is kidnapped by the Joker who brainwashes him into believing that he was the Joker's sidekick, though he's eventually rescued and gets his memories back. After this event, he officially rejoins the Batman Family as Nightwing.

•There's no info after this.

Grrrrr I might do this for the other characters but idk because this took forever and I am tired lmao

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shallyouobeyme · 7 months

Text

Wander

Platonic!Yandere Wanderer x Reader (GN)

Summary: It wasn't just his mother who betrayed him fairly early on in his life, it was also his sibling - the only person he had been close to at that point in his life. At least that was what he thought. But once he had changed into the wanderer, some new information came to the light...

! Minors Do Not Interact !

TW: Probably not canon compliant with Wanderer's backstory since I don't have his character (sadly), Lumine is the Traveller in this one, kidnapping, dark content, obsession, kind of dying (but like not really), I do not condone this - this is all fantasy

As the story is told the archon of Inazuma, Goddess of Eternity, created a puppet which later became the feared Fatui Scaramouche - but that story isn't quite complete. One fateful fact that the story omitted was that the 'betrayed' puppet wasn't the Raiden's first attempt. Before him, she had breathed life into her very first puppet, a prototype of sorts, which had many faults from which the archon learnt. With the knowledge gained from them, she successfully created the wanderer and later the puppet she still uses to this day.

After his creation, the wanderer was left in the care of his predecessor as the archon attended to her duties and the two grew close due to their shared nature. In fact, the wanded soon realized that his sibling - as humans would probably call them - meant more to him than anything else in the world and he looked forward to spending eternity together with them and their mother. But Destiny had something else planned for him.

And so the story continued, but it wasn't just his mother who betrayed him, no his sibling stood by her side when he was cast out, ignoring his pleas to come with him, to stay by his side. So all throughout his travels, through joining the Fatui, through trying to achieve Godhood, his anger at those he had considered family stayed constant. He had to admit to himself that somewhere very deep inside of him he still felt a longing to be by his sibling's side and even though he would never admit it, he knew that once he'd become the god he was always meant to be he would give them another chance. A chance to leave behind the woman who had created them to join him, to stand by his side as they were always meant to.

While during his time as a Fatui, the wanderer heard many things about Raiden through the many spies in Inazuma or just general news, he never heard any news about his sibling, not even from the most dedicated spies. And so their fate eluded him which was the reason that after his defeat by Lumine and Nahida, and after he changed into who he was now - the wanderer, looking for a new purpose - he was especially curious when Paimon started talking about Inazuma and local affairs.

Especially when you were mentioned. His sibling. The person who had not left his mind for the entire time he had been gone. And what he heard Paimon say changed everything for him.

"We met up with Ei recently - I hope you don't mind us talking about her, we know you're still bitter about that whole deal - and she brought one of her puppets along. They kind of reminded Paimon of you, they didn't look like the Shogun at all and they had their own personality, just like you. I think Ei said their name was Y/N-" Paimon rambled on, Lumine walking beside them, used to Paimon's constant chattering by now and not needing to pay much attention anymore. Usually at the first mention of his mother, Wanderer would have interrupted her snarkily to stop her talking, but at the slight chance of hearing news of you, he had to let her keep talking, "-They were really, really nice. They even told us about when they were made. Paimon wonders if that's similar to how you were made."

Paimon did not wait for him to respond, instead happily continuing talking the aspect of not being interrupted for once: "What did they say again? Oh, yes, they were also made to hold the Shogun's Gnosis, but they weren't strong enough, Ei said that she gave them consciousness so that they could help care for future Puppets. So they even took care of you, right?" Wanderer didn't bother replying, instead working through the fact he had just heard. His mother had given you consciousness? Somehow he had always assumed you were just like him, that you had gained consciousness when your mother had attempted to place her gnosis in you.

"Oh well, seems like they grew on the shogun because even after they made their successful puppet they kept them around. It's all the better for it though, knowing what would happen when Ei'd leave them behind," Paimon sighed and for the first time, Wanderer intercepted.

"What do you mean? What would happen?"

"You don't know?" Paimon looked at him surprised, she must've expected him to know all about your time before he was made, "Because Ei was the one who gave them life, she also became the source of their life, if they ever leave Ei's surroundings, they'll turn back into a puppet. At least that's what Y/N told us, but they're so nice, I don't think they'd lie."

That changed everything for the Wanderer. If what the little flying Imp was saying was true, then you had never betrayed him. You had no choice. You were bound to your mother, unable to leave even if you wanted to - which you must have. Suddenly his life had a new meaning. He'd free you, so that you'd finally be able to spend eternity by his side, under his protection. You'd finally be siblings again, just like you were always meant to.

Without giving any care for his companions, Wanderer took off in a different direction. More specifically, the direction of Sumeru's harbour. He'd do whatever he had to to get to you, to free you, to save you. He stole a boat - may or may not hurting the owner in the process - and made his way towards his old home, a place he had sworn only to return to once he had become a god, but now there were new priorities in place. He still knew many secret spots surrounding the Archon's home and luckily for him, given his mother's personality, not a lot had changed in the past years.

It was easy for him to secretly make his way into the chambers you and him had shared after your creation - it was only now that he realized that the reason you had shared was that Ei hadn't bothered to give you your own since you were already a failure in her eyes. And what a sight to behold he found there, you were sitting in the window nook you had already loved when he had still lived there, reading a book. You hadn't changed at all, time had not touched you.

As he stepped closer, a shadow was cast over you that made you look up. Your eyes widened, but he saw the happiness in them. Had you missed him as much as he had missed you?

"You're back!" you shouted happily as you jumped up and ran towards him, embracing him in a hug that he gladly reciprocated. Oh, how he'd missed that - but now he'd never have to go without this happiness again. But as quick as the happiness had set in, it diminished when you turned back and looked at him worriedly. "You-You can't be here, Mother will- She can't know you're here, you have to leave."

Anger built up in him - of course, even when he was here to save you, his mother had to make things difficult for him. But he wouldn't let her ruin this, not as long as he had to fight for you.

"She will never find out, we will leave right now and we'll be off this island before she'll be any wiser. Don't worry," he told you to calm you down as he took your hand in his and pulled you with him - he was always the stronger of you (for reasons that were now obvious) so even though you tried to get him to stop, he just pulled you harder.

"We? I can't leave Inazuma, I need to be close to Mother," you tried to reason with him, but he just shook his head and disagreed with you. "She only makes you believe that, you don't need her, I can be your new source of life, we only need each other."

"But that's not how this works-" you tried again, but then there were guards shouting and running after the two of you. But because of your resistance, you were slower than usual - if it kept on like that, they'd catch up to you and you knew that if they were to try to capture your brother, something horrible would happen - either to him or to them - and you couldn't allow that to happen. So, even though you knew that it would mean your end, you took up the pace and ran along with Wanderer.

The two of you quickly arrived at his boat and he hoisted you into it before using his vision to bring quite some distance between the boat and the shore. He didn't notice you sitting on the other side of the boat looking back at the island with a sad kind of desperation. You knew that your life would end any second now, but you didn't mind all that much, after all, you had already extended the span of life you should have had. And now your life would end protecting someone you love, so you could die without any regrets.

"Brother, I want you to know that what will happen now isn't your fault, nor is it Mothers. Please, just be free, live your life in peace, and be happy," you called out to him, causing him to turn to you in confusion. He wanted to ask what you meant, but before the word could leave his lips, your body fell limp. Quickly, he rushed towards you, hoping you had just fallen unconscious, but as he turned your body to lie in his lap, he realized that the worst had come to pass. What he turned wasn't his sibling, it was a puppet of wood and wires. Gone was the animation in your face or the faux skin on your body, instead it was all just wood and paint. A puppet.

As Inazuma disappeared behind the horizon, he found a new reason for his existence. You had asked him to be happy, but how could he ever be happy if you weren't by his side? He'd move Celestia and the abyss if he had to, would make deals with whatever creature was out there and willing to help, if all else failed he would even return to his mother - everything to bring you back...

A/N: Thank you for reading the eleventh entry into my Yandere Writetober - I hope you enjoyed and you may want to comment and reblog, who knows. Tomorrow's word is 'Spicey' so I hope I'll see you again in my notifications

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