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idksmtms · 3 months

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The Prettiest Trophy - Capitol Elite!Aegon II Targaryen x Games Winner!reader (Hunger Games AU)

Summary: You never thought you would make it out of the hunger games, but now you have another fight ahead of you. What do you do when one of the most powerful citizens of the capitol has chosen you to be his?

Word count: 3.5k

Trigger Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, Dub-con due to power imbalance, coercion too ig (???), some angst (reader talks about survivor’s guilt from the games), p in v s*x, unprotected s*x, oral f receiving, degradation (constantly referring to lesser status of districts), objectification and ownership, (please let me know if I missed any)

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim to own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so.

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

AN: Aaaaa my first fic finally! Didn't mean to make it this long but I got a bit carried away! I hope you enjoy! (Side note: I was imagining his hair as the style in the black and white pic, just with Targaryen white, Side note 2: I def realise the references to the way Gollum talks about the ring, IT WAS ON PURPOSE)

You never thought you would leave the arena. Every second could have been your last and you still didn’t quite believe you had made it out, that you were standing outside the President’s mansion at a lavish party, dressed in silks and jewels. No one told you how to live after the games were over. It had taken you three days just to be able to get out of bed and move around again after leaving the arena. Being at this party? It felt like a betrayal to all the people who had died so you could live. You sipped from the sickly sweet drink that almost seemed to glow in the night, and looked around the garden.

Most people had finally left you alone thankfully, though you could still see eyes turning your way, whispers and conversations pointed toward your presence in the garden. At least no one was trying to force you into a picture like some capitol celebrity anymore.

People in the most lavish costumes customary of the capitol milled about, talking, whispering, cackling like witches in their modified bodies with their modified voices. It was a horror show. The gardens had been decorated with delicate yellow fairy lights strung up in the trees and over poles around the tables. You assumed they wanted to give it a warm and welcoming look with the yellow lighting but it only cast grotesque shadows on the building that was not only the backdrop to this party, but to all your nightmares. There were tables set up with stark white tablecloths draped over them, an area cleared away for a dance floor, and more noise coming from the entrance to the mansion. Avoxes walked around carrying trays of food and drink between their hands, heads bent low, and shame began to rise inside you. What were you doing here? Why were you forced to be here?

There was someone behind you. You didn’t know when you had become so aware of any presence, probably somewhere between fending off humans and wildlife alike in the arena, and you could distinctly feel someone behind you. A slight shadow fell over your shoulders. A small touch rustled the train of your dress. Someone cleared their throat. You turned around, hands quivering, and looked at the man smirking broadly at you. Your first thought, shamefully: was he even real?

His hair was so blond it was white, cut short and combed back so perfectly he could be no less than an aristocrat. He wore a suit of dark grey over a black shirt, one of the less eccentrically dressed people at the party. But his shoes were lavish. Black and shinier than anything you had ever seen, embroidered with gold thread, gold jewellery dangling from the laces and gems stamped into the fabric. Surely this man was of the richest of the rich, because even in the capitol people were wont to have shoes so lavish. You stared at his shoes for a good minute, whole body frozen, when he cleared his throat once more. You looked at his eyes. You couldn’t tell if they were more blue or grey, like ice had formed over a stormy ocean.

“And who might you be?” He asked, mouth still smiling, before he brought his glass up to his lips and took a drink while waiting for your answer.

“You don’t know who I am?” You asked, almost taking a step back. That couldn’t be true. Viewing was mandatory, your face had been plastered across every screen in Panem for weeks, it couldn’t be true that he didn’t know you. And yet… for a moment… it felt so good not to be recognised. You were just some other girl, lost in the crowd at a party, who hadn’t gone through what you had gone through.

“Well, I may know of you, but I don’t know you know you,” his smile had softened and he stepped closer until his elbow lightly brushed yours and you were both looking out at the party.

“I suppose that’s true,” you answered quietly, still watching his face. His skin was almost as dangerously pale as his hair, and sallow, like he was never quite in the best of health. Though you couldn’t deny the truth, he was a handsome man regardless of his slightly ragged appearance.

“Aegon Targaryen the second,” he held out his hand, running his eyes over your face like he hadn’t gathered enough of it the first time, “and you?”

“Y/n L/n,” you breathed out, reaching out an unsteady hand to limply shake his own. He gently clasped your fingers and brought your hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to your knuckles before releasing your hand. It was such an odd sensation, his hot breath brushing over the back of your hand, his fingertips slightly rough - but not enough to suggest any sort of manual labour - clasping the skin of your palm. Your cheeks went hot, the tips of your ears tingling, and you continued staring at this enigma.

“How has the capitol been treating you?” He asked, chugging the rest of his drink and depositing it on the tray of an Avox as they passed by like some well-practised dance. You didn’t want to reply. “Well, I suppose you haven’t had the time to truly enjoy it. At least, not the truly fun bits anyway,” he shrugged, tilting his head and looking at you like it was a particularly amusing thing he just said.

You couldn’t understand this at all. Who was this man? What was this interaction? What did he want with you? Why was he acting so mundane, like this was normal?! None of this was normal.

Noticing the look on your face, Aegon chuckled and reached forward to push some hair over your shoulder. It took everything within you to hold in your shiver.

“Ah, you must be confused about who I am! I shouldn’t have assumed you would understand the name Targaryen. We may be famous in the capitol but who knows what goes on in the districts,” you swallowed hard and nodded, trying not to flinch at the dig. “Our family works in all sorts of sectors, for example, my uncle Daemon is responsible for manufacturing arms for the state, my younger brother Aemond works under the president in some position or other - god knows he never shuts up about it - and my father currently runs the peacekeeper program. Of course I’m expected to step up to that eventually but- I won’t bore you with the details.”

You didn’t really consider that work. You had seen the way your parents toiled in the factory every day, had seen the way every member of your family slowly became a hunchback from their work. But you weren’t going to say anything to him.

“What does your family do?” He asked, and again you almost moved out of surprise. His face seemed so sincere as he watched you, waiting for an answer.

“I’m from District 8, so my parents work the looms,” you answered slowly. You almost sounded condescending, like you were talking to someone who couldn’t quite understand your words, but Aegon understood it was the shock of him speaking to you. After all, it had only been a week since you had left the arena, he understood how difficult it would be to gain your confidence. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. And Aegon was a firm believer that flattery could get you anywhere, especially a girl’s bed. So he decided to change course.

“Do you see that man over there?” He pointed discreetly to a spot just to your right and you shuffled back so you could look over without being noticed. You sipped from your glass as you noticed the man, an older gentleman wearing a full fursuit topped with a lion’s mane going around his head. Even his face had been painted with fur and whiskers to resemble a lion with the body of a human. You nodded to Aegon, turning away from the man. Something about that picture made you uncomfortable in a way you had never been before. “Well, rumour has it that he wears that entire get up, face paint and all mind you, every time he fucks.” You gasped, staring at Aegon with eyes so wide they started to hurt.

“You can’t be serious,” you whispered sharply.

“I am the most serious, dearest. Why would I lie to you?” He smirked, leaning closer once more. He draped his arm over your shoulder and you stiffened for a moment before continuing to listen to his next story.

You were slowly beginning to relax in Aegon’s company as he continued to chatter to you. He no longer asked questions or expected you to speak, just pointed out people in the crowd and made colourful commentary that had you hiding your face in his shoulder and giggling against the fabric of his suit. He gazed at you with sparkling eyes full of mirth and shared his ever-full glass of whatever drink they were serving at the time. You couldn’t help but be charmed. Maybe, just maybe, not everyone in the capitol was as bad as they seemed.

“D’you wanna go somewhere quieter?” He finally asked after completely relieving another stranger of their dignity. You took a moment to catch your breath and looked at him, at the sudden darkening of his eyes and the way his tongue poked out to lick his lips. He watched you like a tiger readying to pounce. You nodded without a second thought. Though he had made the party bearable, anywhere would be better than here. He smiled and reached down, sliding his fingers over your inner wrist, then your palm, then grasping your hand in his own. “Come on.”

Aegon led you into the house and up the stairs, nodding at random people (who sometimes you could barely recognise as people), skilfully dodging attempts at conversation. Up and up the lavish stairs you went before walking down a large hallway and stopping in front of a wall. Aegon pushed at the wall and it gave way, revealing a spiral staircase in the dark that led up into an abyss.

“Um, are you sure you know where you’re going?” You asked, pausing at the entrance to the rather dingy looking chamber.

“There are some perks to having been at the president’s mansion practically since I was born. One of those being secret access to the roof, now come on!” He dragged you into the dark and shut the door behind him, before ushering you up the first steps.

The staircase really wasn’t all that tall. In fact, you could see the top and light bled down from the opening. Your heels clanked against each step and you almost toppled back into Aegon more than once. Then you were at the top. Then you could see the whole Capitol. Oh it was breathtaking! The whole city, laid out before you like a miniature scene to play with. There were lights glimmering in houses and cars on the roads and life! There were signs of life everywhere. Oh you couldn’t believe it. You almost believed you could see to the very edges of Panem.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Aegon asked, and you turned to meet his eyes. Both of you had moved right to the edge of the rooftop so you could look out over the party, and he moved to stand directly behind you. You could feel his chest press into your back. The fabric of his shirt rubbed against the skin of your back and he was a solid pressure behind you, like the comfort of a wall at your back when you slept. “Hm?” He asked again, bending his head down to run his nose up your neck. You shivered, the light graze was just ticklish enough to start a spark inside of you.

“Yes,” you breathed out, clenching your hands on the concrete to stop yourself from leaning back into him. You didn’t know him. You didn’t really know him. You didn’t know him at all.

“You know,” he began slowly, hands going to your shoulders and turning you around to face him. “When I first saw you on the television, the day of the reaping, I knew you would win.” Your breath caught in your throat. Your mouth was so dry. You wished you hadn’t discarded that sweet drink so quickly. “And look at you now,” he leaned in closer, cupping your face to force your eyes to meet his, “you’re the winner, the greatest person in Panem, to come out of the districts anyway.” He gently kissed your right cheek, warm lips on plush skin, and when he pulled away the breeze cooled the hint of saliva he had left behind. “You’re the greatest treasure one could possess, you know?” He kissed your other cheek, firmer this time, like he was trying to leave the imprint of his lips on your skin. “Everyone knows the winner of the Hunger Games, and to say you own them? To parade them on your arm for everyone to see, saying you own the very concept of survival?” He seemed to groan in pleasure, and then everything was moving.

His lips were on yours, slightly wet and forceful. His tongue was delving into your mouth, tasting like sugar, too much sugar, and you wanted to pull back because it was so overwhelming and everything he had just said and and and… and it felt so good too. It was warm, and desperate, like no one had ever been for you before.

A hand moved into your hair and grasped the strands at the back of your head tight, pulling slightly to tilt your head back so you had to look up at him. He was almost leaning over you so your spine bent over the edge of the roof, and the skin of your back scratched against the unpainted concrete. He huffed against your mouth then pulled back, his other hand coming up to trace your mouth with his thumb. You stared into his eyes but he wasn’t looking back at you, not really anyway. He was watching his prize, the reward that no one but him deserved.

You whimpered, a small and pathetic sound that only seemed to make his skin hotter, and he let go of your hair to begin pulling the straps of your dress down your arms. It was a heavy thing, and it felt good to finally be rid of the weight, but you were keenly aware of the cold night and the party in full swing just underneath you. If someone in the garden decided to look up, they would surely see you bent over the edge.

“Wait-” you began to protest, but Aegon was past listening, past caring. He just shoved the dress under your breasts and down your legs, before grabbing your face and bringing your mouth to his own again. His hands travelled over your neck, then caressed your shoulders. He gently pressed the red indents the straps of the dress had left and you sighed into his mouth, leaning onto his chest. Your nipples rubbed against the fabric of his shirt and you gasped into the kiss before moving your chest slightly. The warm little tingles travelled all the way through your torso and you clung to his arms.

Aegon kissed sloppily over your cheeks, your neck, pausing to bite into it until you grunted with pain and pushed at his shoulder. He licked all the way down to your chest, his tongue warm and wet, then the slick trail of spit suddenly cold. Your legs felt unsteady, and you leaned back against the barrier as he began mouthing at your breasts, little circles of warmth formed everywhere he kissed, and then his mouth closed over your nipple and you clenched. It was so… weird. A wet suction formed over your nipple and it seemed to make the inside of your breast spark, your stomach jolt, and the space between your thighs tingle and turn to mush.

“Come on precious,” he mumbled against your skin, “you can be louder,” and he bit the flesh. It really was a live wire attached to your skin, so easy to spark, so easy to create a fire that spread all throughout your body.

Aegon was quicker with the other nipple, licking over it like a dog with a bowl of water, before making his way down to the apex of your thighs. He seemed to be in a hurry with the way he dove his face between your legs. A cry left your lips, loud and shriek-like, at the overwhelming activity. His nose slipped between your lips and pressed to your clit, his tongue out and flat and lapping against the sticky slick that covered the puffy folds that hid your hole. He was ravenous, pressing his face in in in until you stood on your tiptoes and half your weight was balanced against his face. The contours of his face pressed at your hole, his nose rubbed at your clit, and he moved his face back and forth so his tongue could poke inside of you then slip back into his mouth. He began speaking into you, rumbling words you couldn’t understand over the rushing in your head.

“Come on, cum on my face,” he huffed, grabbing your thighs and licking at your clit until it was puffy and swollen. “I wan’ you to cum on my face, give me what I want.” He pressed his tongue inside you. In. Out. He licked your clit. In. Out. He sucked it into his mouth, and your legs shook so much that you would’ve fallen onto the floor if you weren’t practically laying on the barrier already. It was a release. That’s all it could be called. Every muscle clenched then released. Even your mind felt like it had slowly been clenching and now it had been unravelled and was slowly dripping out of your skull.

“Fuck, that’s right,” Aegon mumbled as he pulled away, standing to full height and pulling your hips against his own. His hair had fallen forward into his eyes and his mouth and nose glistened in the low light, but he didn’t seem to care one bit. He had leaned over your body again, pressing his face into your neck. The slick on his chin stuck to your skin and squished whenever he moved. He humped into you a few times, grunting and groaning, before hurriedly reaching down and fumbling with his belt and zipper. You could hear the clanking of metal, the rustle of fabric, and then something warm pressing to your thigh.

There was no waiting with Aegon. His body simply didn’t contain the patience for it, and really why would you wait when the prize you had so long coveted lay bare before you, just ripe for the taking? A shift here, a push there, and he caught at your entrance. He finally pulled away from your neck and looked into your eyes. He caressed your cheek, and you could tell all he saw was a trophy he had just won.

Then Aegon pressed into you, and his veins rubbed at your slick insides, pressing against your walls and sliding against your own textured flesh and you were leaning back to moan into the night sky, chest heaving. He kissed your breasts and pushed into you again, his lower stomach pressing your clit. Again, he moved into you and the sparks flashed and you clenched around him, onto him, and he moaned against your ear, hot breath fanning the shell.

“Fuck yes, you’re my precious little thing aren’t you? Huh? You’re my special little prize?” His hips slapped against yours and the sound echoed over the roof. His mouth biting into your neck sent sparks through you. Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and oh god it was too much! You clenched onto him and screamed into his neck, open mouth pressed to the sweaty skin. You clenched and unclenched onto him as waves passed through you, melting your flesh and your bones. It was over too soon yet it lasted too long. He pushed once more, twice more, and you could feel him quiver against you, even as you tried to push him away from the pulsing flesh of your insides. You could feel the spurts inside you, hot and gushing. You felt it trickle out of you, slide down your thighs in warm rivulets and you shuddered.

Aegon still lay on top of you, huffing heavily into your neck. You didn’t know what to do, so you stayed still, waiting for guidance, waiting for the other shoe to fall. He slowly pushed up on his arms so his face hovered above yours, and he smiled a dazed and delirious smile. Was it always there, or had it just appeared, that insanity in his eyes?

“Oh my precious,” he sighed, cupping your cheek, “we have so much ahead.”

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deadgxrlsuperstar · 9 months

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Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki x Wife Fem!Reader Headcanons.

Tags: Established relationship, both are pro hero's, fluff, dash of angst, NSFW later on, Swearing, Praise, M!masturbation, F!masturbation, Cockwarming, Spanking, Mask Kink, Oral (F and M receiving and giving)

SFW:

- Katsuki would be the best and most loyal husband ever fr, any attention he gets from other women or fangirls he immediately shuts down with a simple "fuck off I'm married".

- He definitely cooks for you even though you are capable enough in the kitchen it's always "not as good as my cooking"

- He would keep any pictures of you from magazine or advert shoots in his office because "you look hot babe"

- Katsuki would spoil you with extravagant holidays, gifts, jewellery, clothes etc (even though you can pay for yourself) and he would definitely secretly enjoy taking you shopping and picking out items for you.

- You guys never left the honeymoon phase really, things definitely slowed down after a couple of years due to work but the passion is still there and you both can't keep yours hands to yourselves.

- You both support each other after a failed or particularly devastating mission by cuddling and crying into each other.

- Both your lockscreens are pictures of each other taken during one of your exotic holidays.

- Katsuki and you hates it when the press pry to much into your personal lives with awkward or down right insulting questions.

- You collaborate with Katsuki a lot during sponsorships as either of you don't want to be paired with any other Pro Hero or influencer

- Katsuki VERY occasionally does instagram lives (due to pressure from his team) whenever you come across it you read out any disrespectful comments and completely destroy them with insults.

- The Bakusquad tease you guys at lot in being complete simps for each other.

- Expect a lot of random hugs and kisses from behind you from Katsuki, he loves how he feels as if he is protecting you and how soft you feel in his arms.

- If Katsuki or you are late back from patrol, the other one would stay up late waiting...which means on more than one occasion one of you have come home to the other sleeping on the sofa.

- Katsuki MELTS whenever you laugh at one of his jokes, he feels like a awkward love struck middle school kid inside.

- You both flip of paparazzi together, almost every shot has you guys giving the annoying fucks the finger.

- If anyone flirts with you, Katsuki WILL try and fight them.

- He once came home to find you trying on his hero costume and he got completely flustered at the sight.

- He often has panic attacks about losing you and it often keeps him awake, shaking non stop.

- You often feel like you aren't good enough for him and you have cried to him about "finding someone in your league" and "you deserve a supermodel for a wife instead of me"

NSFW:

- Katsuki often wears his hero mask when fucking you in missionary because he know you go crazy for it.

- He LOVES eating you out and always gets hard while doing it.

- He also loves it when you give him blowjobs and seeing your eyeliner run down your cheeks as you choke on his dick, how he prefers giving than receiving.

- Quickies in His office 100%

- Katsuki loves it when you are on top of him, riding him relentlessly..watching you go up and down on him.

- He enjoys lightly spanking you whenever you bend over and seeing your ass giggle.

- You love it when he grinds against you and get each other off while still clothed and seeing the damp patch on his sweats driving him insane with lust.

- Katsuki likes it when you cockwarm him at work while he is doing paperwork in his office, only to bounce you up and down after a while so you feel good too.

- YALL PRAISE EACHOTHER SO MUCH. he doesn't like degrading you at all because he thinks of you to be above "all the extras"

-Lowkey likes it when you call him a good boy.

- You both have had your fair share of steamy moments in your bathtub.

- He has a tounge peircing ;)

- He won't actually go inside of you until you've came once.

- When you argue it often leads to a make up hatefuck.

- He loves it when you take your time to kiss all over his body, especially his neck, nipples and scars while saying how great and handsome he is.

"He will leave hickeys in somewhat obvious places to remind the rest of the world that he is loyal to only you.

- Loves the feeling of your Thighs pressing against his head.

- KING of after care and foreplay.

- secretly likes it when you tease him with his Hero name Dynamight during sex.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou x fem!reader #x reader #bakugou katsuki #mha #katsuki bakugo #mha bakugou #Spotify

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fanaticsnail · 7 months

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You Kissed the Clown? Part 5

Part 5 is complete! I loved writing the last one so much, especially the bonus section at the end - so I needed more.

Part 4 is back here.

Echoes of seemingly incohesive sentences could be heard reverberating the chasm within the red and white tent housing the Buggy Pirates.

Cabaji could recall some of his favourite one-liners exclaimed through the lips of his captain being: “It’s like you’re willingly sashaying head-first directly into a fucking circular saw!”, “don’t accept a job from that shady asshole. He’s flirting with you! That’s my job,”, “A stiff drink? A stiff drink?!”, or more quietly uttered; “you can wear any pretty dress you want, my queen. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

He simply had not a single clue as to what his Captain was talking about until he finally decided to clue him in.

“Cabaji!” he heard his captain call him, prompting him to spring to his feet and enter the Captain’s quarters. He looked him over, slightly unnerved at the sight that was before him.

Several pages of loose parchment paper were littering the desk of the painted captain, all map locations of a variety of towns. Buggy traced his gloved hands over the loose pages before ushering Cabaji next to him, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and forcing him to look at the pages below.

“What do you make of this?” Buggy asked him, gesturing to the unorganised pages skewed throughout the desk. Cabaji furrowed his brows and looked at the pages before turning his head over to his Captain.

“You’re going to need to fill me in on a couple of steps, Captain,” Cabaji uttered, “you’ve been saying some weird stuff lately and I just want to make sure I have all the information before I answer.”

Buggy groaned, gesturing to his missing ear with a gloved index finger.

“I chucked this on the rubber brat with the straw hat before he left,” he growled at Cabaji.

“I believe you,” Cabaji confirmed with a nod, “and what does that have to do with the paper?”

Buggy threw his head back and released Cabaji from his firm hold on his shoulder.

“Keep up,” Buggy ordered, “my ear is with the brat, right?”

“Right,” Cabaji confirmed again with another nod of his head, following his captain with his eyes.

“Right,” Buggy affirmed him before continuing, “so I’m able to track them, right?”

“Yes, boss,” Cabaji acknowledged his captain and nodding at him to continue his explanation.

Buggy sighed and gestured to the paper displayed atop the table, prompting Cabaji to turn to truly look and decipher the images he was seeing. Many of them were maps of distant towns, which is something he could understand; as his boss was attempting to track his missing body part. Others were family owned jewellery business fliers, articles of critical acclaim thrown among them. Several costume designers for fine women’s clothes were also thrown into the mix, prompting Cabaji to not quite piece together exactly what his boss was looking for.

“You’re going to have to give me something more, Captain,” he uttered while gesturing to the pages, “we’re going to a town to get your ear and the map of the grand line along with it? They’re in a jewellery shop or at a particular seamstress?”

Buggy slumped his body with a loud thump into a chair at the head of the table, slouching his shoulders over.

“Ok, I give up,” Buggy muttered to the floor, his eyes full of a mixture of both sadness and confusion.

“Captain?” Cabaji asked, stepping towards his captain, “just tell me what I’m looking for and I’ll find it for you. Honest.”

Buggy let out a half-hearted laugh which resembled more of a sigh than anything else.

“I want her,” he said into the floor.

“Her?” Cabaji asked him, arching his brow slightly at his captain’s confession.

“Yes, her!” Buggy yelled, bringing his gaze up to meet Cabaji’s, “the her, the only her. The one that-,” Buggy halted his words before he continued to confess to Cabaji.

“The one that,” he exclaimed before lowering his tone just above a whisper, “kissed me.”

Cabaji’s eyes widened slightly and a small smile came to his face. His boss has a crush, and felt comfortable enough with him to share his dirty little secret.

“You wanna know who she is,” Cabaji said with a sly smile and a slight nod of his head.

“Yes,” Buggy hissed out angrily from between his teeth. Cabaji hummed and nodded again, turning to the pages.

“And what have you got so far?” Cabaji asked, picking up two pieces of paper containing family businesses within the East Blue. As soon as those words were asked, it was like he opened the flood-gates to his bosses inner thoughts.

“She’s intelligent,” he said, rising to his feet from his prior sitting position, “really intelligent. A tinkerer in her family’s jewellery business. She makes treasure, Cabaji. And she’s so witty.”

Cabaji was slightly taken aback by his boss’s exclamation but was curious enough to want to hear the rest of what he had to say.

“Her dad runs the show,” he said, hurrying over to the pages and collecting a few samples from within the greater pile, “but she travels with him for negotiation. Her latest was making some jewel axe-head for ol’ Axe-Hand.”

He thrust some pages at Cabaji of ship logs between ports within the East Blue.

“Is that all?” Cabaji asked, almost desperate for a little more gossip from his boss. Buggy had a wide sinister grin plaster on his face.

“She’s educated,” he continued, “she studied languages, novels, poetry. Hell; she sings.”

Cabaji chuckled a little at the last comment, knowing Buggy had been in the market for someone of your talents in the few months prior.

“Anything else?” Cabaji asked, looking down at the pages before looking back up to his Captain.

Buggy wiggled his eyebrows at his subordinate in slight suggestion before kicking his feet slightly like a child.

“She loves me, Cabaji,” he uttered before hiding his face in his hands, “she loves me! Can you believe it?”

“What do you mean, she loves you?” Cabaji asked, slightly alarmed at the thought that someone would be spouting lies in the hopes of destroying his captain’s confidence, “what happened?”

“She confessed to herself in the bathroom,” he said nonchalantly, arching his brow up and gazing at the backs of his glove adorning hands with a smug smile.

“And that was enough for you to-,” Cabaji began before being cut off by his captain.

“Shut the fuck up for a minute,” Buggy hushed him hurriedly, bringing his right hand over the place that was missing his ear and listening intently before declaring, “that one.”

He pointed to a piece of paper in Cabaji’s hands. Cabaji looked at it before presenting it to him.

“The one with fifteen children?” Cabaji confirmed with him, passing it successfully to his boss, “the one that’s wife passed away four years ago?”

“That’s her,” he whispered almost lovingly, bringing up the page to his eyeline. He smoothed over the article depicting a variety of compliments to your father’s skill as a craftsman of fine tinkering abilities, cradling what appeared to be the youngest child in his arms. He fixed his gaze at the fifteen children, focussing on a woman standing proudly, leaning her elbow on her fathers shoulder while cradling a smaller child at her feet: “there she is. There’s my girl,” he cooed at the page.

Cabaji searched through some other pages containing the title of your family’s business and scouring the words to find some semblance of your first name. He sifted through the pages, trailing them back to front to search for any mention of who you could be while Buggy continued to fix his eyes on your photograph.

“She’s beautiful,” Cabaji heard Buggy whisper, “she deserves the prettiest dresses and to be twirled like the queen she truly is.”

Cabaji smirked slightly to himself, knowing how completely smitten his Captain is with a woman he has absolutely no inkling as to her even her name. He couldn’t recall them having any type of conversation while the Strawhat crew were here, which continued to puzzle Cabaji as to how his Captain fell so hard for this woman.

Suddenly, Buggy dropped the page he was holding and stared off blankly at the wall.

“What is it boss?” Cabaji asked him.

“Oh no,” he began, walking over to the map of Syrup-village splayed on one of the draws in his room, “oh no, no, no, no, no, no, no.”

“What is it? What’s happened?” Cabaji asked again, standing up and alert at his boss’s sudden outburst. Cabaji walked over and looked at the map Buggy was holding.

“The butler,” Buggy whispered before turning to face Cabaji, “it’s always the fucking butler.”

“The Butler?” Cabaji asked him, prompting Buggy to reach toward another article with a young, blonde woman standing beside a tall, dark-haired individual wearing a suit and circular spectacles.

“She’s going to die,” Buggy whispered, “she’s going to die if I don’t do something.”

“What do you mean?” Cabaji asked him, prompting him to further clarify.

“The butler that’s been flirting with my girl this whole time,” Buggy went on, thrusting the page he was holding at Cabaji, “he’s going to kill her.”

Cabaji brought his attention to the new piece of paper that Buggy unceremoniously thrust his way and looked at the darker haired individual on the page.

“That’s Captain Kuro of the Black-Cat Pirates,” Cabaji exclaimed with a small amount of shock, “isn’t he meant to be dead?”

“Oh he’s going to be if he touches a single fucking hair on my queen’s head, that’s for sure,” Buggy spat in a threatening tone.

Buggy turned around again suddenly, alerted to something approaching off into the distance.

“Here or there, boss?” Cabaji asked him, referring to his current state of alarm. Buggy creased his brows and focussed his ears on the several sounds emitting in the area.

“Here,” he said, opening his eyes and turning towards the entrance to the large tent, “something’s here.”

------------------------------

After retiring to the guest quarters of the large mansion, you began pacing the entrance way of the room. Nami had retired to her bed after changing into some sleep clothes, whereas Luffy and Zoro immediately decided to go on a quest to find more food and booze with your new associate, Usopp.

When Nami questioned you as to why you hadn’t changed and gotten ready for bed; you immediately confessed to unintentionally loaning your skills as a tinkerer to the unnerving butler, Klahadore. She was surprised at your admission, prodding slightly as to whether you truly were accepting a job or something else, which had you groaning and hung your head in your hands.

“It’s not like that,” you argued with your orange-haired associate, “he freaks me out!”

“And you’d never go for someone unnerving, right?” she quipped back with a small, knowing smirk.

You shot her a slight glare, but before you could say anything in response; a small tap appeared at the door. You turned to face the unopened gateway and acknowledged the source of the noise.

“Goodnight, Nami,” you said before opening the door to reveal the suit-clad butler you were just speaking about.

“Are you ready, Miss Tinkerer?” he asked you while craning his elbow out towards you. You accepted his elbow and laced your arm within his for him to guide you into the workspace he had created for you.

“I am, Mister Klahadore,” you replied with a small smile. He led you through the corridor and down the steps, stopping slightly at the entrance to the cellar before readjusting his glasses with the palm of his hand and continuing to lead you to the workshop.

Sure enough, there was a heavily lit workspace with all of the items you had half-heartedly asked for hours prior; including what you assume was a strong drink for you to enjoy while you worked. You walked over to the workbench and allowed a warm smile to grace it’s way over your face as you ghosted your fingers slightly over the finely kept tools. You quirked your head to the side and pursed your lips as you claimed a multi-purpose tool in the palm of your hand.

“You can keep that, once you’re done of course,” you heard Klahadore offer you, continuing to keep up his proper posture in the work space. You smiled at him and looked back down to the tool, testing it’s weight in your hands.

“And where is the piece I’ll be working on, sir?” you asked him, returning your gaze to the shifty butler who began circling you to seemingly slowly assess your reaction.

“Before I hand them over to you,” he began in a low tone, “I must ask you keep this matter purely confidential. Strictly for our eyes and ears only.”

You kept your gaze on his, weighing up the danger you potentially placed yourself in and knowing he could absolutely kill you if you spurted a wrong answer.

“Confidentiality is not my specialty, Klahadore,” you responded, keeping your tone monotonous, “however, some discretion can be arranged; under dire circumstances.”

He hummed in response, a small smirk beginning to twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“Know this, tinkerer,” he seemingly purred at you, “once I hand this over, I will be completely exposed to you. You will know everything, understand?”

You held your chin high and narrowed your eyes at him; “you’re giving me one final out, am I correct in my assumptions?”

He nodded slightly before readjusting his glasses up his nose and fixing them in place with the palm of his hand. You placed the small multi-tool back down on the workbench before you.

“I am not afraid of a challenge,” you twitched your eyebrow slightly and made your way over to his body and extended your hands out to his, awaiting to receive your chosen task.

“So it would seem,” he allowed an unsettling smile to overcome his face. He reached behind his back and presented two black gloves to you, placing them within your outstretched hands. You furrowed your brows and bore your eyes onto the material of them, noticing small fixtures at the tips of the fingers.

“Claws?” you asked him, turning your gaze back to meet Klahadore’s. His expression held an unnerving intensity as he continued to fix his attention on your eyes. You chose to not engage or acknowledge his unnerving countenance, as you were priorly instructed by your father in life and death situations.

“Where are the blades?” you asked him, bringing your right hand to the tips of the gloved fingers.

“No longer attached,” he stated, looking down at the material he gave to you. You arched your brow and brought your attention back to his.

“And what would you have me do, Klahadore?” you asked him.

“Reattach them,” he replied with a smug, tight-lipped smile.

Part 6

#buggy the clown x reader #one piece #buggy x you #one piece live action #buggy #buggy fic #captain buggy #creative writing #opla #opla buggy

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flowerandblood · 8 months

Text

The Pearl and the Sapphire (2)

[ modern! • Aemond x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sexual tension, anxiety, angst ]

[description: As a representative of a large family-owned gemstone business, Aemond is attending a major jewellery event where jewellery makers from all over the world are exhibiting. One of them is the Baratheon family. Aemond is tasked with focusing on attracting new customers, but his attention is diverted by the youngest daughter of the eminent maker Borros Baratheon. Slow burn, bitchy, possessive and obsessive Aemond, lots of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request + my sweet @valeskafics)]

A story which is an alternative universe of The Impossbile Choice taking place in modern times. The characters are all the same as in the main series, however, for obvious reasons they will behave differently and experience things differently from medieval times. You can read this without having to delve into the main series.

Series moodboard: Aemond & Miss Baratheon

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

Working on costumes for their family's show at Crystal EXPO was the only thing that kept her from sinking into her grief and sadness after Cregan told her he felt he wasn't ready for a serious relationship yet. Although they had been together officially for several months, he had apparently realised that he was still attracted to other women and didn't want to deny himself from adventures with them.

Cregan was a handsome, warm and open men, constantly making her laugh. She met him when he came to their house to pick up an order for his father's jewellery shop and stayed for dinner with them. They immediately caught a great connection, found each other on Facebook and frequently wrote to one another.

She experienced her first time with him.

He was affectionate and gentle, took his time and gave her a huge sense of comfort, for which she was grateful. Before he even entered her he brought her to orgasm with his tongue, wanting to make sure she was definitely well moistened, and then with slow, gentle movements he took her on her bed in her bedroom, kissing her face tenderly.

Cregan was always frank and direct; she felt safe with him. However, she could see that at some point something was off, that something was wrong. One day she plucked up the courage to finally ask him what was going on and that's when he told her.

"There is a woman in my work. There is chemistry between us, but I would never hurt you or humiliate you with betrayal. However, the way I feel when I look at her has made me realise that I don't think I'm suited to a relationship with one person." He said and covered his face with his hands, his voice breaking as if he was about to cry.

She felt a tightness in her throat and stomach as she looked at him, sitting next to him on the couch, her hands clenched into fists on her lap.

"I'm so sorry. I like and appreciate you so much, I'm so comfortable with you. But…but I think I'd rather end this before I hurt you, you deserve better. Forgive me." He said and broke into sobs.

She stroked his back, feeling strange with the fact that she was the one who had to comfort him. She swallowed with difficulty tears that ran down her face.

He begged her to remain friends, to keep writing to each other, to keep in touch, but she said she needed a break and that she understood him. That she was grateful to him for telling her before he did anything bad.

Still, she felt pain at the thought that she wasn't enough.

She wasn't enough for him to want only her.

She didn't show in front of him how badly she had broken down so as not to further deepen his remorse, however, as soon as he left she called Royce and started sobbing into the receiver. Royce had finished work at his father's workshop early to come to her and spent the night in her room, just sleeping next to her and stroking her head.

He couldn't put his feelings into words, but he was always there for her when she needed him.

When she suggested to her father that their show this year would be themed and that she would sew outfits in which they would present their jewellery pieces he was delighted and kissed her forehead, teasing her skin with his rough beard. Her sisters were also thrilled that they would be able to perform in beautiful costumes at such a prestigious festival tailor-made especially for them.

Thinking about the show, planning everything and sewing filled her days between college classes making her feel better and better.

Once every few days she would get a message from Cregan telling her about his day, each time announcing at the end that he hoped she was doing well and that he was thinking about her constantly. On the one hand, she was glad that he hadn't forgotten her; on the other hand, she found it even harder to understand why they had broken up in the first place.

Months flew through her fingers and she didn't even know when there was only a week left until the whole event. Everyone was excited and had gone there early to prepare their stand. Royce poked her on the shoulder as they arranged the ruby necklaces made by their father on display.

"Have some fun. Pick out some rich snob and spend a nice time with him." He said, and she looked at him with pity.

"I don't think that would make me feel any better." She said amused, a wide smile on her face.

If it had only been about the adventure, breaking up with Cregan wouldn't have hurt her so much.

Before the show itself, she began to feel stressed. She and her sister looked beautiful, on the backstage she was still tweaking their hairstyles and tightening their gowns to make them look their best. Cassandra looked at herself in the mirror, turning with satisfaction.

"Great job, sister. I look like Marie Antoinette!"

Filled with euphoria and adrenaline, she remembered little of it when she and Royce stepped out into the middle, the lights directed at them so that she couldn't see the faces of those sitting around her. Her older brother's presence and smile gave her courage, she just looked at him to avoid distraction.

They knew the dance routines by heart and both had an excellent sense of rhythm, so dancing with him was a pleasure. She was frightened when she turned around during one of the moves and a blue glow flashed before her eyes.

What was that?

She turned again, falling into Royce's embrace, and they continued on for a while until finally the music ended and they moved into their final position. There was thunderous applause all around them. Royce took her hand and pressed it to his lips, placing a respectful kiss on her skin.

"I think you sold us perfectly, sister." He said amused, and she laughed lightly at his words, stepping closer to the audience with him to bow.

"We'll see about that yet, I'm curious…" She said and froze, seeing out of the corner of her eye a men looking at her with a look as if he wanted to kill her, in his left eye socket a large, sparkling sapphire.

Who is this?

She pressed her lips together, unsure of what to do, and blinked, reminding herself that she'd broken off in the middle of a sentence.

"…I'm curious if our father liked it." She said smiling again, bowing along with him, her brother's only response was "I'm sure he did."

She breathed a sigh of relief afterwards, when they returned backstage her sisters hugged her saying that it was a great experience and that they should do something similar next year.

She was glad that although they didn't always agree, this time she had the support of her whole family. Her father approached her in tears of emotion, saying that his works of art had never looked more beautiful and the audience was delighted.

For the first time since her split with Cregan, she felt happiness and warmth filling her body.

She and Royce decided to stay in their costumes at the banquet, wanting to draw attention to their father and their products. Borros thought this was an excellent idea and they entered the hall as a trio.

Indeed, they were surrounded by various celebrities congratulating them on their idea and workmanship, asking who was responsible for their attires and expressing admiration when her father boasted that his own daughter had sewn them.

"This is my greatest jewel." He said curtly. She felt embarrassed and looked away, feeling her cheeks burning.

She cast a glance around the hall and spotted from afar the man who had been watching her so demonically during her dance. He was looking at her again, but in the lamplight he looked less dark than she had originally thought.

He was tall, his light hair slicked back, dressed in a black turtleneck, jacket and trousers that perfectly emphasised how well built he was. His artificial sapphire eye sparkled, his scar stretching across the entire left half of his face aroused her curiosity.

She thought he was very brave and clever creating an asset out of his wound and smiled in his direction, wanting to show him that his appearance did not scare her at all.

She saw him tighten his lips and avert his gaze immediately, taking a greedy sip of alcohol from his glass, a mature woman in a long, tight gold dress was saying something to him, but he did not seem to be listening to her.

She wondered if they were together, but the age difference between them was striking.

Perhaps it was his mother?

When she finally pulled off all the layers of her gown in the evening and changed into a Tshirt she breathed a sigh of relief, feeling lighter. She got lots of messages on Instagram from people who found her after the show.

Once she had written them back she remembered the man she had seen during the dance and his disturbing fake sapphire eye. She asked her father at dinner if he knew who he was, and when he found out it was someone without an eye he said it was definitely Viserys Targaryen's son.

She knew that her father had turned down an offer from his grandfather to be their exclusive supplier. Her father, however, did not want to hear about it.

"They want to lock us in their golden cage, fill us with their paperwork and make us dependent. I'd rather be independent and pay more for the stones than let them put a collar on me." He told them then furiously, and none of them had the courage to contradict him.

She involuntarily typed the name "Targaryen" into a google search to read a little more.

She knew that Viserys Targaryen was his father and one of the main directors of the company, but who was Aemond? She clicked on that suggestion and immediately knew she had hit on it. The first thing that popped up was a newspaper article, so she opened it right away.

She felt an unpleasant tightness in her stomach reading it all. She thought that if she read such things about herself in newspapers she would be horrified and heartbroken. The realisation that their own employees were reporting them to the press to make a bit of money on the side seemed horrible to her, let alone trying to maintain any privacy.

She thought she was not surprised to see no satisfaction or joy on his face, as he had no reason to be happy. He looked as if he was prepared to take a hit from either side, but only now did she understand why.

She thought she felt sorry for him.

The title 'One-eyed heir to a fortune' seemed cruel and mocking to her, as if the absence of his eye was the only thing that defined him as a man. She remembered the sapphire he wore and felt a kind of pride in the fact that he had turned his weakness into strength.

She thought she would like to get to know him.

To see what kind of man he was.

The opportunity came the next day. She was just choosing her tea at breakfast when she heard someone stand down beside her and place his cup under the coffee machine. She glanced involuntarily to the side and saw that Aemond Targaryen in the flesh was again looking at her as if he wanted to murder her. Her lips twitched in amusement, a smile appeared on her face.

"Good morning." She said softly, curious to see if he would answer her, dropping a bag of Earl Grey into her mug.

"Good morning." He replied after a moment, lowly, languidly, with some kind of tension, pressing the button for a double espresso in a reluctant manner, the machine rattled and liquid began to pour out of it.

She pressed her lips together, not knowing if she should say something or if he felt like talking. She poured two teaspoons of sugar into her cup, waiting for his machine to free up so she could pour herself some water, and glanced at him again.

She swallowed loudly when she saw that his gaze had moved from her mug to her face again, looking at her as if he wanted to say something but couldn't.

She lowered her head, tightening her lips, not wanting to offend him, amused that for some reason she had apparently also piqued his interest, which he had been unable to verbally articulate in any way.

She saw that at her gesture he tensed all over and with a swift movement grabbed his cup, apparently wanting to leave. Her heart pounded harder and she looked behind him.

"Your sapphire eye. It's beautiful." She said, and only when it came out of her mouth did she realise how pathetic it sounded.

She wanted to use it to say how much she appreciated his bravery, but it sounded like she, like everyone else, was only paying attention to that one thing about his whole person.

She felt ashamed.

She placed her cup under the vending machine he was using, stepping closer, feeling her heart pounding hard. He didn't walk away, he stood looking at her, his gaze almost burning her.

"Who made these for you?" She added, pressing the button that caused hot water to start pouring into her mug. He was silent for a moment, but didn't move from his place.

"The Hightowers." He replied coolly and she looked at him again, his gaze full of tension, dark and indifferent, there was a vast, black void. She swallowed loudly at the thought, lowering her gaze and nodded.

"The jewellery you were wearing at the show. Will it be possible to see it up close?" He asked uncertainly, with difficulty, and she looked at him surprised, not expecting him to say anything else.

"Yes, of course. At our stand, they will be on display along with other works of my father and brother worn yesterday by me and my sisters." She said softly, and he furrowed his brow, as if something she said had puzzled him.

They both flinched and moved away with their mugs when a man apparently also wanting to make himself a coffee stopped behind them.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, his gaze still fixed on her, piercing and disturbing, making her shiver.

Why was he looking at her like that?

"See you later." She said lightly, and he merely nodded.

She moved towards the table where her family were sitting, feeling that her legs were as soft as cotton wool, her heart pounding in her chest like mad, her cheeks were all red from the effort that this exchange of words had turned out to be for her.

She glanced from the corner of her eye at the table where he was sitting, saw that he had said something to the woman sitting opposite him, the same one she had taken for his mother, his expression one of displeasure.

They were arguing about something.

She shuddered when she saw him get up suddenly and move to the exit, leaving the woman alone. She swallowed loudly when the woman turned her gaze on her, as if accusing her of something, and then took her things and left as well. She lowered her gaze to her tea and began to think hard.

What if they weren't family or co-workers?

She felt a squeeze in her heart at the thought of Cregan. She involuntarily grabbed her phone lying on the table and unlocked it only to see two new messages from him.

She pressed her lips together, feeling the pain, not knowing what to do. She knew that he wanted to continue their friendship, that in his own way he still loved her, but she felt tears under her eyelids.

She thought maybe it would have been better if he had left her alone, instead of tearing her wound over and over again whenever she thought it had had time to heal. She swallowed quietly and wrote him back quickly.

She locked and muted her phone, then set it aside so that she wasn't looking at the display. Royce looked at her anxiously, but didn't want to broach the subject in front of his father.

After they broke up Cregan was his number one enemy.

She managed to distract herself from her gloomy thoughts when they started working on the stand, they were attracting more interest than ever. Their show had been a huge success and she felt a burst of pride.

They had several ancillary rooms with illuminated tables. On one of them she laid out the jewellery she had worn the day before and other items in which sapphires had been used, to show them to Targaryen when he arrived, as promised.

After a couple of hours, when she had just finished talking to a customer, Royce approached her and grunted, a clear embarrassment on his face.

"Listen… young Targaryen wanted to talk to our father, but he said he didn't want to see him. He came with his grandfather. I don't know what to tell them, they just came here. Will you talk to him somehow? You have a talent for diplomatic refusal." He said, scratching his chin, and she laughed under her breath.

"I'll listen to what he has to say and then politely refuse him. If he say anything interesting, I'll pass it on to my father myself, maybe then he'll take it better." She said lightly and her brother nodded, patting her on the back and said he would replace her.

She stepped out from behind the counter and that's when she spotted him, standing in front of one of their shop windows, watching her vigilantly from the side.

"Come with me." She said softly and heard him move behind her with an unhurried step.

She led him into the dark room she had prepared for him earlier and made him realise that whatever he had to say to her father, he would have to pass it on to her first.

He looked at her from across the room like a predator, frowning his eyebrows, clearly not expecting this turn of events. She could see that he was thinking about something strenuously, saw his tongue involuntarily hit the inside wall of his cheek.

"We'll talk on my terms." He said coolly, and she tensed all over feeling that he was not happy with what he had just heard. She thought he was going to tell her that he wouldn't talk about business and such big contracts with a child.

"Tonight at 7 p.m. You, me, wine and a hotel restaurant."

She felt her lips part involuntarily, her heart stopping for a moment. She blinked, wanting to see something in his face that would tell her he was joking.

What?

She swallowed loudly feeling that she hadn't answered for too long, his gaze grew darker, he turned his face to the side, tightening his lips, impatient.

"I… yes, of course." She choked out finally, not knowing what else she could say. He looked at her again then.

"Mmm." It came out of his throat like a murmur, his lips curving for a second into what she could call a smirk of satisfaction. He turned and left without saying goodbye, closing the door behind him.

She was tired and sleepy after a full day on the stand; however, she also felt a strong rush of adrenaline at the thought that she was about to meet him. She opened the wardrobe in her hotel room, scratching her head, wondering strenuously what she should wear.

This wasn't a date, was it?

It was official meeting, but she wasn't prepared for such an occasion.

In the end her choice was a black suede fitted knee-length dress with a white collar and long sleeves, deciding it was the most elegant thing she had.

She decided to leave the blue ribbon in her hair, not wanting to look like she was going to a funeral, and took her pastel blue clutch bag with her, throwing her phone into it, not looking from the morning to see if she had received any messages.

She was afraid to look in there.

She walked down the stairs to the ground floor, heading for the hotel restaurant. She had no idea why but felt her legs shaking with stress. She turned up five minutes early and was pleased to find that he wasn't late either.

He was sitting at a two-person table arranged at the very end of the room, gazing out the window, his hand outstretched on the table moving restlessly. He was dressed in a black leather jacket, black Tshirt and black trousers.

She felt ashamed that she had dressed like a girl for the end of the school year, but it was too late to go back to change into something more lightweight. When she stopped in front of him he flinched suddenly and looked at her as if frightened. He stood up and they both looked at each other uncertainly, not knowing how they should greet each other.

She thought that she certainly couldn't embrace him, however, as a woman, she had to offer something else. She held out her hand to him and he swallowed loudly before shaking it, his hand was large and warm. She sat down opposite him, putting her clutch bag aside, smiling at him, trying to hide how stressed she was. She saw his gaze escape to the side, raised his hand and nodded towards the waiter.

After a moment a young men, not much older than her, approached them asking what they wanted to order. She was silent for a moment and then saw that Targaryen was looking at her expectantly, clearly wanting to hear what she wanted to drink. She leaned quickly over the card and glanced at him uncertainly.

"Red semi-sweet wine?" She asked more than stated, and he nodded.

"We'll have the whole bottle, please." He added, and she swallowed loudly, wondering how long this conversation was going to be and why.

Was he trying to tire her out and muddle her so that she would eventually succumb and accept his terms on behalf of her father?

She twisted uneasily in her seat at the thought, sensing that he was watching her closely and feeling like he could see her cheeks burning.

"Why did your father refuse to speak to me in person?" He asked abruptly. She looked up at him and grunted quietly, rubbing her palms against her knees in an attempt to calm herself.

She had no intention of lying to him.

"My father doesn't want to tie himself to you for a monopoly on supplies. He wants a free hand in this." She said, looking bravely into his face. His gaze was so intense that she felt a tightening in her pit. He tapped his finger on the table top involuntarily, as if he was thinking about something.

"It's a condition for such good prices. We can change them, but then the prices will also go up." He said coolly, and she pressed her lips together.

"That's why in his opinion it doesn't make sense. Why should he engage with you if at the end of the day you will offer him the same prices as the others, and you will be more demanding and restrict him more?" She asked and shuddered as the waiter placed a glass in front of her and then in front of him.

She fell silent as she waited patiently for the boy to pour them some wine and smiled as she saw his hands tremble, she thought he had worked here for a short time. She shuddered and moved away when a few drops fell on the tablecloth right next to her clutch bag, Targaryen gave him a warning look.

"I'm very, very sorry." The boy said, and she and he reached for a napkin, but she was quicker and applied it quickly to the stain, looking at him with a smile.

"Nothing happened, thank you very much." She said softly. He nodded and apologised a few more times before walking away, taking the dirty handkerchief from her.

She glanced at her companion, he was sitting leaning casually against the back of the chair watching her closely with the same gaze she had seen on their show.

"What do you mean by 'restricted'?" He alluded to her earlier statement as if something about it frustrated him. She swallowed loudly at the thought, wondering how to explain it to him so as not to offend him.

"My father values freedom of action. Also the choice of materials to work with. He now works with who he wants and decides for himself what is best for him. He fears that your company, with lawyers deliberating over every comma in the contract, will arrange it so as to influence his decisions as much as possible." She said finally, saw that he furrowed his brow at her words.

"You think we're going to try to trick your father?" He asked with a note of irritation, and she threw him an impatient look.

"Can I trust you?" She asked suddenly and saw that he froze, his lips slightly parted. He clenched his jaw and began to play with his fingers extended on the armrest.

Silence.

"What do you mean?" He asked cautiously, she could feel her heart pounding. She sighed quietly, not taking her eyes off him.

"I mean exactly what I asked. Can I trust you?" She repeated, looking at him pleadingly, simply wanting to hear that he meant well and understood what she was saying. His lips twitched impassively.

"No."

She looked at him and blinked rapidly, unable to believe he had said that.

No?

So what was the point of this conversation?

"You can't trust me, just as I can't trust you. You will protect your father's interests and I will protect mine. There is no friendship in business or holding hands in the sunset light." He said dryly and lowly, looking at her as if he thought she was out of her mind.

She furrowed her brow, feeling humiliation spread across her face, felt a burning sensation under her eyelids, but did not allow herself to show anything more.

"I didn't know that to trust someone you had to be able to be friends and hold hands. I thought it was enough to be a decent human being." She said in pain and for the first time she saw something twitch in his face, as if an electric current had passed through him, his hand clenched into a fist.

She reached for her glass and took a deep sip from it, feeling the dryness in her throat, her heart pounding like mad. She saw him turn his face away, running his hand over his chin, impatient, apparently trying to calm himself down internally. He, too, took his glass and took a deep sip from it, setting it down with a loud clink of glass.

"I'm not a decent person." He said finally, and she felt a tightening in her throat, as if he had slapped her.

Why did she feel around him like she did around Cregan when he broke up with her?

"Nevertheless, I have with me the terms and conditions of our company written down on paper, without paragraphs written in small print. You can look them over and determine whether you want to pass them on to your father or not." He said a little softer, biting his lower lip.

"We can't be together, I'm not ready, I want to have some fun. But we can be friends, I want to know what's going on with you, I miss you."

She felt tears running down her cheeks in embarrassment, her lower lip trembling involuntarily at the same feeling of humiliation.

She saw his healthy eye widen in shock, his lips parted. He swallowed loudly, looking at her in disbelief, and wanted to say something clearly, but they both flinched when her phone began to vibrate in her clutch bag.

She wiped her cheeks quickly, wondering what she had actually been doing, and with a trembling hand opened her purse, thinking it was her father or Royce looking for her. She felt a tightening in her stomach and turned pale when she saw that she had four new messages from Cregan and three missed calls from him, including one incoming.

The phone vibrated in her hand and she didn't know what to do, so she dismissed the call, slipping it quickly back into her bag. Targaryen looked at her as if he thought she was about to faint.

"… Are you all right?" He choked out finally, clearly horrified by her condition.

"No." She mumbled at the same time bursting out laughing, making an essentially pathetic mixture of it, grabbing the bottle standing next to her and pouring herself a full glass of wine, struggling to hold back the tears that were once again pushing their way into her eyes.

She drew in a loud breath and took a large sip, setting the glass down, looking at her hands, trying to calm herself.

She saw that he moved uncomfortably in his seat, swallowing loudly, his fingers rubbing together quickly in a sign of his anxiety. She looked at him surprised when, after a long moment, he suddenly leaned forward, took a bottle of wine from her side of the table and poured himself a full glass, as did she.

For a while they sat and drank in silence.

She felt embarrassment at the thought that she had taken it out on him for what Cregan was doing to her.

Whoever Aemond Targaryen was at least he did not lie and tried to be honest when she accused him of false intentions towards her father.

He had said nothing for which she had any right to condemn him.

She swallowed quietly at the thought and looked at him.

"I'm sorry. Thank you for your honesty. Can I have these documents?" She asked in a slightly hoarse voice.

He looked at her for a moment surprised, then nodded and reached for the folder lying next to him on the windowsill. He leaned towards her handing it to her.

She took it from him and saw that he had placed his elbows on the table, remained bent over, being closer to her. She smelled the scent of his perfume and aftershave, a pleasant, intense, masculine smell that made her head spin.

"Go over it calmly. You don't have to rush. My grandfather really cares about this and is willing to wait and read your version of the agreement if you want to present us with one." He said in a slightly softer, calmer tone, and she smiled gratefully at him and nodded.

"All right. Thank you." She said and squeezed her eyes shut as she heard her phone vibrate again.

She took it out and turned the sound off, putting it back in her purse. She saw that he was looking in that direction, involuntarily running his tongue over his lower lip.

"Someone doesn't understand the word 'no'?" He asked suddenly, and she looked at him surprised, not expecting him to dare ask anything private.

She could see that he too was surprised that the question had escaped his throat and swallowed loudly, waiting to see if she would answer him.

She lowered her gaze, embarrassed, not knowing how she would explain her situation without going into detail.

"In a way." She said finally, grabbing for her glass again, feeling that at the moment the one thing that could calm her down was alcohol.

"Mmm." Came out of his throat, he lowered his gaze for a moment, as if thoughtful. He reached for his glass and also took a sip of wine from it.

"Let's move to my room." He said suddenly, throwing her an intense, anxious look, and she felt a shiver pass through her.

Not a proposal, not a question.

A statement.

What was he planning?

She swallowed loudly.

What if he did something to her?

What if he hurt her?

It seemed to her that he saw all these questions on her face, because he pressed his lips together, playing with his glass in his hand.

"We can think together about what to answer to a man who won't let you alone." He suggested, lifting his gaze to her again, a challenge in his eye.

She swallowed loudly, playing nervously with her fingers resting in her lap, her heart pounding hard like crazy, the alcohol slowly humming in her head.

Have some fun, she heard her brother's voice in her head.

"All right."

_____

Taglist 1

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla @echos-muses @ipostwhtifeel @letmeloveyouuuu @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @tempt-ress @ahristata @menaosama @queenofshinigamis @dark-night-sky-99 @kate-to-the-ki

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luvingspence · 1 year

Text

𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙘’𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙞𝙙

a/n: sorry if this isn’t ur cup of tea <333 also idc if any of this is out of character my little brain says it’s all correct!

♡ i think he’s the secret (not so secret tbh) hopeless romantic of the BAU!! he spent so long alone, none of his relationships have lasted long due to reasons beyond his control, he just longs for love and a love that’s reciprocated fully.

♡ any partner he has would be his everything, especially once it’s become serious and more long term, once that relationship is set in stone he becomes even cuter and a lil bit cheesy <3

♡ weekly date nights!!!! it’s never on a set night because you both know how the BAU can be, but at least once a week, you commit a whole day to spending it with each other

♡ spencer’s a home body so it usually is just staying in, movies, board games, reading, cuddling and talking, although, when you do go out, it’s always to a museum or something of the sort!

♡ oh and imagine those little blind book dates that you can buy at book shops :( that definitely happens at least once or twice!!

♡ constantly whispering little facts in your ears!!!

♡ he’s a guy that likes older things and things that have character! you both definitely go to flea markets, farmers markets, and vintage shops together, even if it’s just for a browse

♡ definitely insecure. he thinks you’ll leave, or that you want to but you feel bad. i imagine he eventually (mostly) gets over this fear once it’s communicated and the relationship blossoms more but he definitely requires reassurance in the early stages :(

♡ but it’s ok he just worries bc he loves you!!!

♡ he finally has someone to spend halloween with :( if you go out with the BAU and they do costumes? you’re 100% matching idc. if you’re staying in?? you probably watch a few movies, a few older ones for spencer, and then your more modern picks!!

♡ and if you celebrate it? christmas too. just wear a matching ugly grandpa christmas sweater with him please.

♡ seeing him in his glasses!! he definitely wears them more at home and you just think he’s such a cutie patootie🥰

♡ teaching him stuff about pop culture!!!! somethings about pop culture, when explained right, i think would really interest spencer! but even if it didn’t, he‘d listen to anything you tell him, like explaining the taylor swift folklore love triangle!

♡ anything you are remotely interested in, he’s learning all about it! he knows what it’s like to feel left out and doesn’t want that for you, so he wants you to be able to talk about the things you enjoy even if it isn’t something he’d typically enjoy :(

♡ also! always! compliments! you!

♡ “you look really pretty😊” “i like that dress!” “well done!!!” “i’m proud of you🙂” “you’re the prettiest ______ in the world”

♡ he’s not great with compliments, giving or receiving, at the start, especially if we’re talking baby spence, but as soon as he realises it’s not overwhelming you or anything, you’ll have to physically shut his mouth to get him to stop

♡ very blushy and easily flustered!!! especially baby spence, older spence becomes smoother and can definitely be the one making you flustered though <3

♡ when it comes to gifts, unless it’s something you have asked for or he knows that you 100% want, he gets you things that are more sentimental or hard to come buy, like a vintage vinyl, engraved jewellery, books, collections of poetry, and anything similar!

♡ affection wise, once he becomes comfortable he’s definitely okay with a kiss on the cheek in public, an arm around your waist or shoulder, a quick hug, sitting close, but everything else is absolutely private (as it should be bc some couples r nasty)

♡ his major flaw i would think is that due to his intelligence, he’s a fixer and thinks he’s right. and when he thinks he’s right, he’s very stubborn. he’d rather fix your issues than listen (until you explicitly communicate that you just want him to listen and nothing else).

♡ i feel that he definitely apologises through cheesy things like flowers! however, if it’s something very serious, poor sensitive spencie definitely cries a little and asks for a hug :(

♡ over big arguments he’s just so scared that you’ll leave him, tell him it’ll be ok and that u still love him :(

♡ all around, he’s the prettiest, nerdiest angel bf ever and i love him

#first thing i’ve wrote in a while i apologise #anyway!! i love my pretty angel bf sm #spencer reid #spencer x reader #kacey talks <3 #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler

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atom-writings · 4 months

Text

hetalia axis & allies (+ canada) xmas headcanons

1.6k words ~ gender neutral headcanons

tw: uhhh christmas obviously. mention of religion and underwear?? uh... i think that's it

a/n: this is my first christmas as a jewish convert so that's been weird. anyway I just wanted something quick, so its mostly a list of gift ideas (:

America

Alfred is SUCH a huge Christmas fan. I mean, canonically he dresses up as Santa, so he goes all out for the entire month of December. He's been working on a huge holiday home display for decades, and it shows.

He plays Santa at his local mall during the weeks leading up to Christmas; and on the night of, he hands out hot cocoa outside his house. It's fun, but it also means he's a little distracted when it comes to you.

What he would get you: Posters of your favourite movies, super comfy pyjamas, expensive figures of characters you like, candy you like but never get for yourself, model planes or Legos for you two to build together, novelty pens, a stupid cowboy costume so you can match <3, those handmade coupons because he 1. Loves you and 2. Forgot about Christmas until yesterday

What he would want: Any video games, Funko Pops, vinyls of music he likes, those big packs of shirts (he is constantly running out of shirts because he rips or irreparably stains them,) Marvel comics, anything with an eagle on it, those mini wacky waving inflatable tube men things, bulk pens and pencils because he also breaks those constantly-

England

Arthur is not big into Christmas and never has been. He'll celebrate with you, but he's not going out when it comes to any aspect. If anything, he finds it a little exhausting getting gifts for everyone

But, he does adore walking around and looking at all the lights. He'll do that a couple times with you in December.

What he would get you: Any novel you’ve mentioned even once, tickets to a concert both of you will enjoy, classy jackets that fit you perfectly, cute keychains, fancy art supplies, fragrances that remind him of you, bags/purses that fit your style, CDs

What he would want: Sewing supplies (thread, new needles, new fabric scissors,) framed photos of the two of you, Doctor Who merch, foreign tea, a book on how to take care of your eyebrows properly (he will not learn otherwise,) slippers, those sarcastic magnets that all millennial women have at least one of, any ridiculous piece of merch with the union jack on it

France

Francis has very mixed feelings about Christmas. On one hand, he hates how consumerist it has become, but on the other hand, nothing makes him happier than seeing the joy the season brings to others.

Plus, he does enjoy giving and receiving presents. The music too? Wonderful. As long as you don't get too stressed out, the holiday should be perfect.

What he would get you: Tons of clothes; stuff that's already your style, and completely new stuff, room decorations (NOT posters,) a reservation at a nice restaurant, bracelets that he made for you, makeup (if you like that kind of thing,) candles that smell like his cologne, CHEESE

What he would want: Fancy fabric, any clothes (he doesn’t care what they are as long as you think they’d look good on him…) paintings or photography, literally ANYTHING creative you’ve made, hair ties (he loses at least 5 a day,) bird stuffed animals, (Basically anything! Francis is not picky)

China

Christmas is a new occurrence for Yao, and he isn't the biggest fan. He'll buy you stuff for it, but he would do that normally. The lights and the music aren't anything special to him either. Basically, he won't celebrate unless you want to.

What he would get you: Elaborate, very expensive jewellery, huge stuff like a car, Chinese cookbooks, traditional clothes that he made specifically to represent you (: luxury handbags (that he got at SUCH a good discount,) tons of weird off-brand merch of your favourite show, probably a nice meal too!

What he would want: Yao is hard to buy for. Soft robes, stuff to help with back pain, face masks, Hello Kitty keychains… reading glasses maybe?

Russia

Although he isn't as excited about Christmas as he is about the New Year, he still loves the holiday. It's a nice excuse to see family, and everyone is just so happy around the season! He's especially excited to celebrate it with you.

He's not the best at giving gifts, but he could be worse. Regardless of whether you like all of it, you're gonna get a lot of stuff.

(Also, he plays Santa for the kids sometimes. It's so cute-)

What he would get you: Random knick-knacks he probably found at a local market, knitted hats and gloves in your favourite colour, a scarf to match his, tickets to go somewhere warm on vacation, stuffed animals! books that made him think of you (usually philosophical or religious novels,) pretty rocks (:

What he would want: SUNFLOWERS! (This works for every occasion,) baked goods, clothes that aren’t 250 years old- new doilies and paintings to decorate his house, pictures of yourself, friendship bracelets, stuffed animals, if you can make a scarf somehow, DO THAT

North Italy

Feliciano cares about Christmas in a more religious way, but he's never mad about getting presents. So, he'll probably spend most of the day in church, but he still did put a lot of effort into getting you stuff you love.

What he would get you: Pajamas & bath robes, shitty romance novels that he wants you to read, weird hand-made knick-knacks, makeup, strange mugs that he found at a thrift store, a painting of you (: probably a pair of his boxers-

What he would want: New paint brushes, novelty pasta shapes, fancy jackets, any art that you’ve made (regardless of quality,) cat stuffed animals, The Ability To Get A Grip, skincare products, shiny garbage (For art purposes, duh,) those handmade coupon things

Germany

Ludwig does not enjoy Christmas particularly. He's terrible at giving gifts but he wants to so desperately that he spends all of winter stressing out about it. Yes, he's excited to see your reaction to his gifts, but at what cost?!

Although he does still like all the decorations at least. Maybe he just likes re-decorating though.

What he would get you: Puzzles you can complete together, soft sweaters, practical stuff you need (like book bags, lens cloths, that kind of thing,) stationery, reservations for private tours at museums you would find interesting, a subscription to whatever silly service you want (:

What he would want: Books about city planning, nerdy card games, a fun lanyard, a new coffee machine, those aroma-therapy diffuser things, household tools like vacuums and stuff (Get him an air fryer. He’s going to be fascinated.) stress balls, pens (He is boring.)

Japan

Kiku really has no particular feelings towards Christmas. If you weren't there, the most he would do was put up a mini tree. He's stressed out by both giving and receiving presents and is only willing to do that kind of thing if you want to.

What he would get you: Electronics, merch of your favourite Sanrio character, books that he thinks you’ll like, stickers, a bento box, comfy sweatpants, cute hairpins, plushies from your favourite media, a bunch of pillows, some obscure Japanese snacks too!

What he would want: Miku figures, posters, video games, manga, general nerdy stuff, history novels (he likes to correct them,) blackout curtains, cute face masks, a Polaroid camera, a guide on socialization (Seriously.) a knit scarf, if you can knit (:

South Italy

Romano desperately wants to care about Jesus more than getting gifts. He's a devout catholic, g*ddamnit! But... he does just really love eating baked goods and getting gifts more than anything. Getting together with family, the music, the lights, he just ADORES the holiday.

What he would get you: Blankets and pillows, your favourite snacks, clothes that are a little more revealing- cruise tickets (if going on wouldn’t be hell for you,) a journal where he wrote down all of the things he loves about you (completely honestly,) religious items, fancy perfumes

What he would want: Paintings from local artists, post-its (so he can finally remember SOMETHING,) anything with the Italian flag on it, stupid bumper stickers, pictures of the other nations that you’ve written insults on, fancy patterned scarves and fabric

Prussia

Like Alfred, Gilbert loves Christmas in a very childish way. He embraces that side of himself during the holidays and he'd love it if you joined him in that. He constantly insists on going out to see the lights, and he just can't get enough of Christmas movies. Even the bad ones (He's a Hallmark girlie.)

What he would get you: A vintage music box, hair dye, DVDs of your favourite movies (just to have,) stationery, random snacks he picked up from a gas station an hour ago, weirdly sentimental jewellery? Vintage journals, pictures of himself

What he would want: Coupons (???) goofy temporary tattoos, metal CDs, tea (he’s weirdly embarrassed about liking tea and doesn’t buy it for himself?) vintage maps that he can frame and hang up, probably like, WD40? DC comics, novelty trophies, Pokemon cards, video games

Canada

More than anything, Matthew loves winter. So, therefore, he loves Christmas! Seeing you smile when you open your gifts, he looks forward to it all season. It seems like the only time of year when everyone else is either as miserable or as happy as he is, so it's his favourite holiday.

Cuddling up in front of the fireplace with hot cocoa, watching some old Christmas movie, its all he wants.

What he would get you: Comfy hoodies, comfy slippers too, hot cocoa packs, big stuff like a new PC or fridge or smth- decorations for your room, face masks, fidget toys, novelty Canadian keychains, figures of your favourite characters, festive sweets (like candy-canes and stuff.)

What he would want: Anything with a maple leaf (yes, he wants MORE of that,) boring stuff like socks, wood-working tools or like a new snow shovel, fairy lights, DVDs (because he still uses them? Why.) a new phone case, gift cards (HES BORING,) pre-packaged crafts, lotion and cologne that smells like pine

merry christmas if you celebrate! this'll probably be the last full thing I post until 2024, so thanks to all you readers for sticking around this year (: you have no idea how much it means to me. i love yall. and to all a good night or whatever santa said

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evansbby · 4 months

Note

Hello, merry christmas to everyone who celebrate! ✨🤍

My question is how omega steve and rosie spend Christmas this year? What Santa will give to babygirl

and what Steve got Omega and Omega got Steve?

I hope you well 🩷

Awww thank you! Merry Christmas to all who celebrate! ✨✨✨✨

Steve, omega and Rosie spend Christmas at the big Rogers’ mansion with Steve’s parents! It is Rosie’s first Christmas so everyone dotes on her and she has a whole room full of presents! (Seriously, they have a gigantic tree but they couldn’t fit all of Rosie’s presents under it, so in one of the guest bedrooms, all the rest of Rosie’s gifts are stockpiled, filling the room to the brim).

Rosie is the centre of attention as omega and Steve and the grandparents all dote on her and take pictures of all her reactions! She receives a ton of baby toys, picture books, colouring books, dolls, playsets, clothes and more! Rosie is enjoying everything despite her being only about a year old. She even gets a life-sized doll house and a little Barbie car to drive around in! (She’s too small so she just sits inside and looks happy while Steve pushes her).

Omega is very happy to have such a lively Christmas atmosphere as she didn’t grow up with this sort of thing. It makes her emotional to see Rosie get all the love that omega did not get while growing up. She takes a dozen pictures of Rosie on her Polaroid camera (she’s dressed Rosie up in a cute red frock with white patterned leggings for her chubby legs and shiny black shoes!) and she adds them to her scrapbook “Rosie’s first Christmas” 🥹🥹🥹

As for omega’s gifts… well, Steve goes all out. There’s a second guest bedroom that’s stocked full of gifts for her too. Expensive clothes and jewellery, shoes, everything! He even hand paints a portrait of omega and Rosie and frames it and gives it to her and she loves that, she loves how Steve draws her. Steve’s mom gifts omega a solid gold bracelet that is a Rogers’ family heirloom that has been in the family for generations. Steve’s dad gifts her a monogrammed journal with her initials on it and some expensive pens. Omega has never felt so loved 🥹🥹

She gifts Steve a scarf she knitted for him all by herself. It’s become a tradition for her to do that and he loves it and puts it on straight away. She also buys him a new three piece suit because she has good taste and knows what will match his eyes best. She also gives him a special private gift in a special private costume 😌 and Steve loves that too. 🩷🩷🩷🩷🥹🥹🥹🥹

#anon #poyt ask

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teal-fiend · 4 months

Text

The New Hire

An assistant for a wealthy business owner is given the task of hiring a pred to perform at their party

Content: fatal vore, digestion, observer pov

—

The assistant had a party to plan. It was part of their job as a personal assistant to one of the most terrifying people in the world. Although their employer never did anything terribly illegal, the assistant had the feeling that there were dark things happening that even they didn’t know about.

There were dark things that they did know about too. For example, their bosses' borderline obsession with predators.

Their boss had a kind of motif for the unconventional and disturbing. Their company crest was a serpent, which is already a devious animal. Instead of collecting valuable art, like a normal rich person, they purposefully bought forgeries that had been in museums and books for years before they were discovered. They bought houses where tragedies had taken place. And they loved finding old jewellery with no one left willing to inherit it.

Despite, or maybe because they weren’t a predator, the boss effused about preds whenever the opportunity arose. Telling the assistant about famous people who were preds, or business associates who were. However, this was an avenue of themselves that had yet to be truly indulged. In fact, the boss had never hired one before, the assistant suspected they went out of their way to avoid it. Until today.

One of the things the assistant had to organise, was finding a predator to be at the party. This is how the boss phrased it: “I want you to find one who can keep down their prey, who can keep still for several hours. Maybe one who has experience as a figure painting model - I don’t know - I don’t really care, I know this was kind of last minute.”

It was last minute, it was the day-of.

“-But, just as long as you can find a predator who doesn’t have ‘stage fright’ or ‘performance anxiety’, someone moderately professional - that’s really all I need. You will pay them whatever they ask, of course. I know it’s a strange request, but it would really bring something to this party; there’s a few people I want to scare the shit out of, and this'll do it.”

The boss hired them for a reason: the assistant could get anyone, at any time, exactly where the boss wanted them. They had many, many feelers. And it didn’t take them long to get a bite.

One of their scouts had found someone who was free that night, a pred, a masters student, broke and willing to take a sketchy job. But their LinkedIn looked reliable, and they worked at a local theatre. They played the donkey in a modern rendition of MidSummer Nights Dream... A perfect hire, really. They could probably handle some weird shit.

The new hire was picked up and delivered to the event’s location on time (one of the bosses’ cursed apartments, a place where they specifically hosted parties). The assistant took the opportunity to formally debrief them.

“You will be dressed and prepared by our costume designers, and the hair and makeup team; we have a few other performers that you need to match - you’ll meet them soon. Your job after that is to consume the prey provided for you, you only have to eat one, and then you must begin digesting and continue until you are dismissed. The choreographer will guide you on how to compose yourself before you begin the performance.

If you need a break, there’s a discreet button you can press, you will be able to go backstage for a short time, and someone will get you what you need.”

The pred looked overwhelmed, but eager to impress them. They nodded and said something, but the assistant was already busy with someone else.

—

An enclosure was set up for the pred and a couple other performers to be contained in. The rest of them would be serving drinks, or performing other acts in separate areas across the venue.

The enclosure was visible from most angles, almost in the centre of the room, although there was a backdoor that the performers could exit from. Inside was like a small, midas forest, with faberge-like flowers and funguses. It matched the decorations of the rest of the venue, except it was more dense and atmospheric.

The enclosure was inaccessible to the audience, although there was no actual barrier, more of a circumference of props that would be impossible to navigate. The assistant had requested this, so that the view of the performance would not be obstructed.

Soon, the predator emerged, glittering under the moody, dappled lights. They had in contacts that made their eyes a solid, iridescent gold. On their back was a thin cape that looked like butterfly wings. On their head were some kind of horn or antler piece, decorated with primrose blooms. On their arms and legs were a metal lace, with a flowing transparent garment over top.

The curves of their body, especially their now plump abdomen, was lined with the finest paint brush, of intricate, organic patterns. They looked like a bounty, the cornucopia, or a paegan god. Their prey visibly wriggled under their skin, trying in a futile attempt to escape the stomach acids that were just beginning to release. The movements of the meal made a strange optical illusion under the temporary tattoos, it glittered as it shifted in the dim lights.

This was not the same person who came in two hours ago. Frazzled, mousy-haired, rectangle glasses, exceedingly average appearance. The person who the assistant was looking at really wasn’t a person at all. It moved, but it wasn’t a person.

The assistant was impressed, to say the least. They’d have to give credit to the makeup department. Maybe even give them a raise. Maybe.

They’d have to hear what their boss thought about this whole thing. Was it too much? Where was their boss anyway?

The assistant suddenly got a sinking feeling. Had the predator they hired somehow eaten their boss? But no, just then, they appeared behind a crowd of people. Although it was early, it would only get more crowded later on.

The assistant watched their reaction closely. Laughing at some joke, their boss turned to look at the stage. Their eyes went wide, but only for a second before they regained composure and guided their group forward to get a better look at the performance.

---

The assistant stayed close to the predator for most of the night, this was not a time for them to network. And they also made sure two security guards stayed nearby, just in case any guests got carried away and tried to get in the enclosure.

The other reason they stayed by, though, is to gauge reactions of the guests. Their boss couldn’t pay close attention to these things, but if the assistant gathered data, they would be able to tell how successful the idea was.

There were mixed reactions. Some guests gawked like the pred was a zoo animal, trying to get a reaction from them, which thankfully was unsuccessful. The most the pred would do is stare at a party-goer, unspeaking, with their emotionless, ethereal golden eyes. The pred did it once to the assistant, a good, long stare, and it did send a shiver down their spine. It was a primal fear, being spotted by a predator, their belly obviously full of one of your fellow prey. But were they still hungry? Am I next? What was going on behind those eyes…? Even though the assistant of all people knew it was an act, they couldn’t help but endure those thoughts.

Other guests let the assistant know that they thought it was obscene. A predator out in public, digesting a person alive, right in front of everyone? It was frankly unacceptable. And dressing them up didn’t make it any better. The assistant listened to these people sympathetically, but unfortunately for them, this was exactly the reaction that their boss wanted.

The party went on and the pred laid down on a kind of mossy platform that the enclosure featured. They spread across it languidly on their side, belly resting heavily on the moss. They traced gentle patterns on it with a clawed fingertip, tracing the curves of the prey.

With a slightly sickening realisation, the assistant noticed the prey wasn’t struggling any more. They knew this was what happened when one put prey in the stomach of a predator, but they never had seen it happen in real time. They couldn’t help but feel a sense of injustice as the pred lay there smug, satisfied, petting at their engorged belly.

The assistant shook the thought away. It’s what the boss wanted. What the boss wants, the boss gets.

—

It was getting late, many guests had already left. The assistant looked for their employer, who wasn’t hard to find.

“Boss,”

They were wearing all black, like an oil spill.

“You’ve done well today,” they said, “I’m impressed, I’m inspired, I have so many ideas. Everyone was upset about it- it was great. And the predator…” they sighed. “Perfect. Maybe a little over the top with the costuming, but the idea came across perfectly.”

“Thank you.”

“They’re a keeper, don’t you think? I’d love to see them here again. In fact, let’s go over there right now.” The assistant was led back to the main room with the enclosure.

Another sinking feeling. The pred’s stomach was rounder, the curves that the pred had been tracing were faint if not non-existent. And now that the party had died down, the assistant could hear the stomach over the music growling, murmuring, with deep digestive gurgles.

The boss clasped their hands together, “magnificent. Look at how far along they are already - what a brutally efficient stomach you have,” the boss said to the predator.

The boss rarely complimented people. The pred rested a hand on their stomach, maybe self-consciously, and avoided looking at their audience.

“They won’t acknowledge you,” the assistant reminded their boss, “by your request.”

“Oh I know.” the boss waved their hand, “and that is how I want it to be. More mysterious that way. People fear what they don’t understand, you know.”

—

After the party was over and the boss went home and to bed, the assistant still had work to do. Packing down, making sure everyone got paid.

By the time they next saw the predator, they had reverted back to their former selves; wearing the clothes they arrived in, make up washed from their face (except for a faint gold smudge), and their eyes were brown and with pupils again. They looked tired. It was nearly 10am, they had been on location for over 12 hours by this point. Still, when they saw the assistant, they sat up straighter and anxiously waited to hear what they thought.

The assistant looked down at the pred’s bloated stomach. They thought about warning them; They might not want to put up with the bosses’ antics.

They should get out before it is too late.

But then again, the boss wanted this pred, and what the boss wants, the boss gets. The assistant was the last person on the earth who would sabotage that.

So all they said was “well done,” and gave the pred an envelope with ten thousand dollars cash. They would be back.

#v.ore #soft vore #digestion #vore digestion #implied digestion #vore fic #v/ore #tw vore #fatal vore #vore writing #voreblr #v0re #same size vore #vore talk #observer pov

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cozcat · 8 months

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Costuming the Amyrlin, part 2

For the sake of spoiler avoidance, this post is in two parts. Please read part 1 on Siuan's costuming as we've seen onscreen so far before reading this post!

At some point in the show, we are going to be seeing Siuan when she is no longer the Amyrlin, and we are going to see Egwene and Elaida as two very different Amyrlins. They have room to go in some very different directions with their costumes, and thus far, I think Siuan's costumes as Amyrlin really lend themselves to this. So this is my speculation, based on what they've done so far, and the elements of Siuan's costuming as they lend themselves to other characters, and how we can contrast them.

Siuan Sanche after the Tower

If you're reading this post, you're very aware that Siuan's time as Amyrlin is not going to last much longer - very scared, but very excited to see Sophie Okonedo absolutely kill it as we see that contrast between Siuan Sanche the Amyrlin Seat, Siuan the stilled runaway, and Siuan Sedai.

It seems a safe bet that Siuan's costumes after the coup will be a lot simpler and a lot more comfortable, and that'll continue in Salidar, not just as a runaway. Siuan on the run, as well as Siuan in Salidar, is Siuan with actual control and agency over the very simple thing of choosing what to wear. Or, as much control as you can have with little in the way of funds or resources. But I wouldn't be shocked if it's a one-way shift - even once the Tower reunites, Siuan will be in a position to have a lot more control over every element of herself, and sticking her in costumes that she would be more comfortable in is an easy visual cue to support whatever she says and does.

(As an aside: I hope Sharon knows that I'll be finding her for A Conversation if she takes cues from the way the books describe Siuan's costumes in Salidar and Tel'aran'rhiod. There are many things that happen in these books that should remain on the page and never grace our screens and a good chunk of that list pertains to Siuan. But anyway...)

Also: I would love it if we get Siuan with a protective hairstyle once she's out of the Tower. Please.

Elaida as Amyrlin

Elaida is going to be living for this. I have no doubt that Elaida's costumes will make Siuan's seem subdued. But how can that happen when Siuan's are already so ostentatious? Add more stuff. Make it tacky. Siuan's regalia, while ostentatious, is tasteful; Elaida is decidedly not. Elaida seems exactly the type to add gems, to add jewellery, to add colour - she wears a lot of red in the books, and if she continues to do so in the show, it will stand out even more after an Amyrlin whose clothing remained neutral. It's a very sharp visual contrast. Elaida is desperately clinging to power, to prestige, to the illusion of respect - I've no doubt that her costuming will reflect that.

I do still expect some continuity with Siuan's costumes, though, at least to start. The papal shapes, with huge swathes of fabric disguising the person underneath; the sheer amount of embroidery and other decoration, a clear display of how much time can be afforded for one garment to be worn by one person. But where Siuan's costumes were neutral, Elaida's will not be. Where Siuan's costumes were subtle (or as subtle as a queen-pope-leader role can allow), Elaida's will not be.

And by making Elaida be so overt in her show of power and resources, it will contrast spectacularly with Egwene in Salidar.

Egwene as Amyrlin

When Egwene is raised, Salidar will have no resources to make her look the Amyrlin in the way that Siuan looked the Amyrlin - they don't have the funds, they don't have the tailors, they don't have the fabric. I'm expecting this to be where the stole of the books to make its appearance - they cannot make Egwene look like she could stand next to a queen, but they can make her recognisable in her role with some strips of fabric.

But also: as I mentioned earlier, the olivey-gold colour that comes when you blend the seven colours of the Ajahs, that bears a striking resemblance to the gold of Siuan's costumes? I can see Egwene wearing that colour, in far simpler clothing. It would be a fairly subtle call-back to Siuan's costumes, dialling down in opposition to the way in which Elaida's will inevitably be dialled up. Egwene's costumes will take the colour, and make the clothing simpler; Elaida's will take the ostentation and the structure, and make it obnoxious.

And when she reunites the Tower, she may not end up in full regalia. Of course, she might, as it would symbolise the reunification, making it feel wholly formal. But I wouldn't be surprised if her regalia is plainer - she was the Amyrlin of a rebel faction, and she did not have the regalia of the position; she does not need it now, because there is no doubt of her role. She does not need to reinforce her position by showing her resources, and given what she has achieved without much at all, a lack of ostentation will lend her more credence than anything else. Egwene as Amyrlin ushers in a new age for the Tower - the vestments may be another thing that she discards with the old ways.

It's still early days - we've yet to see Siuan in season 2, and things may change, depending on the costumes we see her in. (I believe I heard mention of a travelling outfit in this video, and it sounds like it's referring to one we don't see, but I'm not sure.) However, with what they've done so far, I think they've set themselves up spectacularly to show both the change in Siuan over her arc, and the ways in which the Amyrlins that succeed her play their hands in their roles.

#wot #wheel of time #wot book spoilers #the gathering storm #siuan sanche #mywot

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biblioklept-writes · 1 year

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hi. is it possible to do an enemies to lovers between aemond x reader? the reader hates aemond for his arrogance and impulsive behaviour. aemond supposedly "hates" her and is in complete denial. however, he gets jealous when she is performing traditional dancing with one of her male friends because he doesn't know the moves and feels left out. after the dance, he chases her to the gardens after the dance while the reader is wearing her traditional costume and jewelleries. and that was when he finally notices how beautiful the reader is. if you can consider this, that would be great! thanks!

Hey anon! thank you for this prompt <3

I am going Desi!reader with this, hoping that you were desi and came to my blog from this hehe. I feel this prompt suites modern times better than hotd era and I incorporated a tinsy bit of this ask, sorry if thats not what you had in mind!

I was a fool (Modern!Aemond x Reader)

Content: just some jealous Aemond in an arranged marriage type of situation, could be considered fluff

A/N: Ravi is just an OC (if you are familiar with A Good Girl's Guide to Murder then not really)

HOTD Masterlist | Modern!Aemond Masterlist

Sometimes, being a rich heiress was tough.

You enjoyed a luxurious life thanks to your parent's jewellery making and retail, and a luxury hotel chain - they were one of the most famed in all of Westeros, having migrated from the Indian Subcontinent in their youth.

As their eldest daughter and heiress, you were introduced to the Targaryens, a strange family full of scandal, yet they were the wealthiest of the business families in all of Westeros - dealing with luxury vehicles, home decor, skin care and cosmetics line - and they owned some smaller, less expensive brands under elusive names. Surely not all of their business was legal, just like yours.

You had first met Aemond Targaryen at one of your mother's seven star hotel, right by the King's Landing Airport. It was a rather secretive place and paparazzi stayed away, courtesy of the Airport Security Force. You had become accustomed to the bright lights and the shining marble flooring and the high ceilings, non of them piquing your interest as they did when you were a child.

You had heard a lot about him, more than you were willing to admit. You had attended the same university, with him being two years your senior. He was stoic - stayed quiet save for answering the professors. Among the girls, he had a reputation of being inexpressive and condescending, even though he was a pleasure in bed. You and him never had the same crowd - not in university and never outside of it. You had heard he loved cars and partook in numerous F1 races and had a stellar reputation - almost always getting to the podium.

Reputation or not, you did not like him. He was a stuck-up and arrogant man, and you couldn't stand the thought of marrying him even for a profit to your family. Pretending to be in love with this man was tough, even with his god-like beauty.

Aemond has his permanent scowl on his face, even when you are having a very public dinner with his cousin Baela and her fiancé. You and Baela are having a light-hearted conversation on the subject of cosmetics, sharing your preferences and icks. Bonding over the fact that neither of you manage to get a foundation that matches perfectly, you pitch that maybe you should start your own cosmetic line catering to darker skins specifically.

"I'll promote you for free," Baela quips. "It's time we take matters into our own hands, isn't it?"

"That's what I am saying," You chuckle.

Both your companions are sitting in complete silence after exchanging etiquette compelled pleasantries. They quietly pick at their plates, and you pity the Lannister man - Baela's fiancé - for being stuck with your soon to be fiancé, Aemond. You've stopped feeling anything for him quite a while ago, your date.

"Red is really your colour," Baela compliments once the quartet of you is out of the restaurant. "It's hard to keep eyes off of you,"

The two of you walk arm in arm behind your respective dates, feeling pleasant in the cool evening air. "Thank you," you say, pushing your hair away from your eyes. "You're a stunner yourself, Baela."

She stops, and lets the men walk out of earshot before asking, "How does my cousin treat you?" She sounds concerned.

You take both her hands in yours, heart warmed by her concern. "He's fine. We barely talk. That's great," you say. "Otherwise I'd have slapped him by now."

"He's a bit of a... personality," Baela agrees. "If he does anything that bothers you, let me know. I will put a word to his mother."

You chuckle, "Sure," The only reason you've not turned your house upside down is because of this family. They have their quirks, but Baela and her twin Rhaena, Alicent, Helaena and Daeron have been very welcoming of you, making sure that you feel right at home.

As etiquette rules, Aemond waits for you by the passenger side of his Rolls Royce as you walk to it, opening the door for you then going over to the driver's side. He is quiet again, and you start scrolling through your phone, answering any messages that need urgent attention. It's always like this, you barely speak aside from exchanging pleasantries - and honestly, you didn't mind it too much.

It's not like you hadn't tried, you had always tried to make small talk, to get to know him better, but his responses never exceeded one word. How was your day? Average. How are you feeling? Good. And that was on the good days, otherwise, you've only ever heard him hum or snark in response.

He wasn't controlling of what you were doing or who you were with - one could say it was all they asked for in a rich husband who let them do whatever they want. You didn't want that though, you were the eldest daughter of ultra rich immigrant parents, you knew how to get things done your way, and you knew how to keep everyone in line without having to utter a word. But you were also the eldest daughter of immigrant parents, always having to set a pristine example for your little brother and youngest sister, be the perfect daughter, caretaker, student, dancer, performer, the best of your year, raise your siblings while your parents work and do so without any complains to anyone. Expressing your qualms meant a lecture on how ungrateful you were of everything that your parents provided for you and being unable to say something in your defence because then you 'd be talking back like an ungrateful little brat.

This to-be marriage with Aemond was something set up entirely by your mother and his. Your mother couldn't wait to rub it in everyone's face that her beautiful, perfect daughter, her heiress was about to get married to one of the most handsome, and the richest bachelor in all of the continent, who had a stellar record in academics and was an expert in finance, and had no blemishes in his portfolio.

Turning this down would earn you a lifelong worth of taunts and lectures, so arguably this was better than that. Complete silence with a stranger you can trust, but not speak with. A stranger who would soon be your fiancé and put on a show for the tabloids to gossip about to give the reporters their content.

You think he hates you - he doesn't spare you one glance from his good eye - always keeping his sapphire-eyed side to you. Aemond had lost that eye in childhood, back when you were still fascinated by the pristine marble floors of hotels. There had been some accident involving his nephews from his stepsister, and your mother had sent her condolences to Alicent with some jewels. The current sapphire that he wore was the latest gift from your mother for announcing your cold courtship.

It's a few evenings later and you are visiting Aemond's penthouse in the heart of King's Landing to give the paparazzi a show, to give the tabloids something to gossip about the next morning and afternoon, when you are planning to leave.

You quite enjoy the music and the open bar, hating the strong taste of vodka, but not quite getting enough of it. You definitely aren't sober anymore, moving to the fast tempo of the music that you cannot distinguish - you only know that it makes you feel powerful like a divine goddess waiting to unleash her rage.

"Couldn't even wait for me to get back from work before getting drunk?" Aemond says. His voice is deep and it makes you shiver, for you have never heard him speak more than one word. "I wonder what my mother sees in you," he grumbles. "Whatever she does, I don't."

You give him the finger, and close your eyes to get lost in the music again. You really don't care what he thinks of you, but something in his words was straight up insulting.

"No words to say now?" He snarks.

"What is it that you pride yourself in, hm?" You ask, glaring at him.

"I graduated with the top scores in my degree, I am the best finance manager and the best Westerosi F1 driver - " he starts to say, offended. For a moment you wonder if he's drunk too, but the condescending look in his darkened violet eye has you lashing out on him in rage.

"Yeah, big deal racer-boy." You snap your fingers in front of his face, having to look up. "I was also the top scorer in my year - across all majors, I can hack into your finance system and bring it down and you wouldn't even know what happened. I run an NGO, I manage my mother's finances and I know how to stitch, embroider and cook. I can survive if left alone - but you'll start crying for your mother the moment you are left alone with no servants or money to take care of you. If anyone gets to act like a stuck up arrogant little bitch that should be me."

"Oh please, your mother was the one pushing for this marriage because she knows you are incapable of anything," He snaps at you. You are nose to nose, and you want to smack him hard across the face, but you hold back that grudge.

"You know what your beloved mother told me before we started all this?" You challenge. "Do you? DO YOU?" you exhale before saying, "She said that there is no other woman who could possibly put up with this attitude of yours - that she knows you will not be able to survive on your own, you big man-child. Putting a little show on for the reporters doesn't make you a man."

You push him back and take the elevator, yelling a "Fuck you!" before the door closes and hides his comically scandalised face.

Trouble in paradise? It seems the most eligible bachelor in Westeros is free for taking again.

"What is this that the newspapers say," Your mother says, tone chiding. "Why would you leave in the middle of the night?"

"I cannot stand Aemond, mother!" You complain. "I cannot stand him. If Alicent weren't so sweet, I'd never have agreed to this whole thing."

"Sweetie, please. Think it over again." Your mother insists.

"Consider this arrangement over if he doesn't apologise to me." You declare, glaring at your mother with untamed fury. And for once, she is rightfully terrified of your eldest daughter-rage. Your little brother supports you, making your point stronger. He can be a pain in the ass but he can also be helpful in times like these.

There is a gala event on the weekend, and your family friends from Little Kilton are invited. The Singh Family is here, as is your old friend Ravi. You hug him tightly and ask him about his girlfriend and the crimes that they uncovered together. He's giggly talking about his lovely girlfriend Pip, calling him Sarge and other cute names like that.

You want to be normal at that moment - not the daughter of diamond merchant and a luxury hotel chain owner, but a daughter of normal immigrants, with a boyfriend who can love you as Ravi loves his Sarge Pip.

You are quite done with everything, and decide to dress in traditional clothes for the gala, opting for a rather fancy lehenga. You are going to dance tonight, flaunt your classical dancing skills with Ravi as your companion. Your outfits accidentally match with the similar shades of green and silken fabrics - Ravi clicks a selfie and sends it to his girlfriend, who instantly calls and you finally get to see her in her element. You see the way Ravi's eyes light up on seeing her, and a knife twists at your heart - because you'll never have anyone be this happy to see you.

Pip gushes about how pretty you look and how no one will notice Ravi with you in the room, and you share a good laugh at Ravi's pouty look, claiming he looked ravishing.

"Alright, we're there." Ravi says. "I'll call you when I get back, Sarge. Love you."

"Love you." Pip says before they hang up.

"You're so in love it's disgusting." You say, lips twisted in mock disgust. "Put a ring on it already."

"That's the plan," He says with a dreamy smile. "I didn't come over just to see you, did I?"

"Ravi Singh!" You scream with your hand covering your mouth. "Oh my god, you absolute dork in love you can't be for real!"

"I hope she says yes." He sighs.

"Oh, she will." You declare. "I'll help you pick out the ring."

You told Ravi everything about Aemond and your situation with him, and the paparazzi didn't stop clicking pictures as your mom walked with you, with Ravi accompanying you. He's a little nervous, but he hides it well.

Once inside, you spot Alicent and Helaena, and introduce them to Ravi as your childhood friend and they are really welcoming of him. Alicent looks upset over her son's behaviour and apologises on his behalf, but you lie and tell her that's fine. Your mother can break her heart later gently if her son fails to prove himself worthy to you.

You spot Aemond's silver head in the corner of your eye as you walk away from Alicent and Helaena, and grab Ravi's wrist and have him look at your former-soon-to-be fiancé.

"He looks like an elitist snob," Ravi comments.

"You're not wrong," you say.

"I think jealousy would do him some good," Ravi says. "Let's go get changed, I believe our performance is in an hour. Don't you need t0o much time to get changed?"

"Let's go," You say, grinning. You whisper to your mother, actively avoiding looking at Aemond, not bothering to put up any civility for him. You'll never look at him in the face again if he doesn't apologise for his condescension.

The beat of the classical music hits your veins, and you and Ravi are dancing to the rhythm, going where the music takes you. The whole crowd is silent, entranced by your performance. It's nothing too strenuous, but you manage to impress them. You trust him enough for the couple of lifts that you have, earning a loud applause as you finish your performance with you on one knee on the right of the stage and Ravi in identical position on the left.

You are panting heavily as you get off the stage as the applause slowly quiets down, changing back into your magnificent green lehenga before going out to get some fresh air. The gardens are impeccably maintained, with trimmed bushes and perfectly shaped trees, the clean air replenishing the stale one in your lungs, making you relaxed after the costing performance.

You take a seat on a bench under a tall tree, in relative isolation as you catch your breath.

A scowl curves your beautiful face as you hear the sound of your name in Aemond's quiet, deep voice, wondering what more he could possibly have to say to you.

"What business have you got here?" You bitterly ask.

"You were amazing back there," He attempts.

"I am aware, thank you." You say, still refusing to look at him. "I had a great partner with me."

"Speaking of a partner, who is he?" Aemond asks.

"None of your business anymore," You snap.

"I just want to talk," He tries again.

"There's nothing there to talk," you stop him. "You made it pretty clear that I am not worth your time or attention."

"It was foolish of me to say that." He amends.

"Yet, that is what you thought was the truth." You say, looking ahead at the bushes in front of you.

"I'd have danced if you asked me to," He confesses, changing routes.

"You left no room for questions," You counter. "No self respecting person would ask something of you after only receiving one word or one syllable response for more than a month. And as a self respecting person I don't deem you a fit partner."

"And he is?" Aemond asks, you can hear in his voice - the anger, the strain that he has in his jaw.

"Surely," You tease, voice deadpanned. "Much better than you, definitely."

"What do you want me to do?" Aemond finally caves in, sighing.

"I don't know, maybe your top of the major brain should have the answers," You snap again. Your glare and voice have bite, but you do not give him the satisfaction of facing him. The warmth of his body comes at your side as he takes a seat beside you and lets out a long sigh.

"Look, I know it was foolish of me to say what I did," He started. "I want to ask for your forgiveness."

"You've not given me any reason to trust you," you say. “How can I forgive you if I know nothing about you?"

"We ought to change that then." Aemond decides. "Let me take you out sometime."

"You had all the time in the world to take me out, yet…" you trail off.

"I had been a fool," He sighs, rubbing his face. "A stuck up arrogant little bitch, as you'd rightfully put."

"What changed?" You ask, finally turning to look at him. Aemond's usual scowl is replaced with a soft, pleading crease in his brow. His lilac eye is uncharacteristically soft - you can swear that he has tears in both his eyes - the sapphire one and the intact one. "Please don't tell me you are doing this because your mom asked you to."

"She doesn't know what happened," Aemond confesses, his voice dropping down to a whisper. "I just needed to hear what you told me the other day."

"And?" You prompted.

"I have always thought you to be insanely beautiful," Aemond confesses with a hesitant sigh. "But today you look divine, crafted patiently by the Seven themselves."

"Hmm, go on." You say with a cheeky grin, and Aemond chuckles. This the first time you ever heard him laugh, the first time you have ever seen him smile. He has a pretty smile and his laugh is one of the most pleasing sounds to your ears.

"I was intimidated by you, to be honest." He confesses. You have never heard him sound so vulnerable, exposed, and you realise that you are rather fond of it. "You're this insanely talented, beautiful woman who has her life together with everything sorted and I don't think I have ever learned how to keep up a conversation."

“You big, foolish man,” you press your lips together, inhaling a deep breath. “That degree is of no use, you should return it. How can you manage finance without knowing proper communication?”

“Maybe you can help me with that,” He says with a smile. He has dimples.

“I’d like that,” You nod.

“I’ll pick you up at seven, tomorrow?” He asks.

“Why wait?” you shrug.

#aemond targaryen x reader #ask ans: oneshot #ask: modern!aemond #modern!aemond x reader #aemond x you #modern!aemond #aemond targaryen #modern hotd #hotd fic

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euphraisette · 9 months

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Cosette loves being feminine and adorning herself in dresses and skirts and frilly blouses and cute shoes and doing her hair and makeup and putting bows and ribbons in her hair. She loves embracing this very feminine part of herself because she was so denied it as a young child living with the Thenardiers, they ridiculed her and abused her for any slight inclination she had towards femininity. It's self care for her, all of the primping and self-admiring. But also she sometimes wants to style herself in oversized jeans and Marius's t-shirt and some old converse that she has somewhere in the back of her closet, makeup-less and hair carelessly thrown up into a non-manicured ponytail and not feel like she's losing the part of herself that she fought so hard to regain, not feel like the moment she steps into some leggings and a sweatshirt instead of a skirt and brogues that she'll be ridiculed and admonished and tormented again until she's too self-conscious to ever go back.

Conversely, Eponine would love the opportunity to dress herself up and express her feminine side. She admires all of the dresses and jewellery she sees other girls, especially Cosette, wear; styled with care, ornamenting oneself with love. But she can't afford it, all of her clothes are second-hand (if she's lucky) and she has not the time nor money to purchase the things that she likes, the girly designs of her youth. But what's more, she doesn't feel like she deserves those things. She doesn't feel that she could ever be taken seriously were she to wear a dress or some earrings or some lipstick, as though someone may take one look at her dolled up and just know she's faking, like she's wearing a Halloween costume in April; a pathetic performance of everything she wants to be but can never attain.

But then Eponine and Cosette become friends. They begin swapping clothes, Cosette gives Eponine some old makeup of hers and occasionally does her hair for her. Eponine tells Cosette she looks pretty even when Cosette is wearing Marius's basketball shorts and a sports bra frsh home from the gym, covered in sweat. Cosette lavishes Epoinine with compliments whenever she chooses to borrow a dress, telling her how well it suits her and how she should keep it.

Together, they learn to embrace all of the parts of them that were damaged, and find themselves in each other.

#les mis #hcs #les miserables #les miserables headcanon #les amis #les mis headcanons #cosette #eponine

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colossalcriminal · 1 year

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Goodbye, Apple Pie - s.w

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sam and Y/N aren’t too thrilled when Dean stumbles back into their lives.

Content Warnings: mentions of alcohol, slight swearing. kissing?? Takes place in season one.

“Do we really have to go?”

Despite pouting at his laziness, the corners of Y/N’s mouth tugged upward ever so slightly. “If you really don’t want to go we don't have to, baby.”

He sighed humbly as she straddled his hips, hands flat on his chest. She had almost relieved the feeling of his back against the wall with little support. “You think you’ll be ready in ten?” His answer was expected. Even with the choice he was offered, Sam could never say no to her. Wherever his wife went, he went.

Their mattress was situated on the floor, a slightly uncomfortable situation. She did her best to make it look nice with patterned sheets, but the sight of their duvet touching the floor when the bed was neatly made did irk them both.

“I can be ready in fifteen.” She promised, pressing a chaste, grateful, kiss to his lips before departing back to the bathroom.

They had a bed frame once, with a nice headboard. It probably would’ve lasted them years if Sam's guilt hadn't gotten in the way, and if it wasn’t so easy to sell it for such a hefty number.

A nice sleeping area, most of his savings and skipping some classes to pick up extra shifts at work among other things were worth practically nothing when it came to his girl.

His girl who deserved everything, his girl who should’ve gotten better than a Vegas wedding with only an Elvis impersonator in attendance, his girl who didn’t mind they were absolutely dirt poor.

But, she was also his girl who was tearing up in confusion and glee when he presented her with the prettiest wedding band that matches his.

Sure, a bed frame could’ve given him a few years of good sleep, but Sam knew it was worth it when he saw her face, and he prayed that this piece of jewellery would stick around until he could buy her a bigger one.

By the time they reached, the bar was crowded and the Halloween decorations had made it seem busier, as usual, they’d already been approached by multiple friends in silly costumes.

“I’m so proud of you, and your freakishly good LSAT score.”

He smiled at her. “Have you heard back?”

To him, it was already obvious from her reaction. The way her eyes flickered down to her drink, her grin now sheepish. “It’s your night.”

“So, you did hear back.” There was no escaping. Y/N rummaged through her purse, handing him the torn envelope. “Y/N Winchester,” He murmured the contents of the letter, the sound of their shared last name rolling off his tongue with a slight smirk.

“Congratulations, it is with great pleasure that I offer you admission to the Stanford School of Medicine, class of 2010. Holy shit, you’re going to Stanford Med School.”

Y/N nodded. “I’m going to Stanford Med School.”

A breathy laugh of relief had turned into one of excitement as Sam embraced her, holding her so close to him she lifted off the ground in his grip. “You’re so amazing, you know that?” He told her, settling her down, but she remained firmly in his grasp. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Sam.”

She could hardly sleep, anyway.

Unusual, she slept like a rock, especially after a night of drinking. Sam had indulged a little more than her, just this once, to celebrate their futures.

The thud had brought her to her feet, slipping on one of Sam’s t-shirts, gently padding along the cold floor. Y/N made sure he was asleep before exiting the bedroom to search for the intruder.

It had gone quiet again. Perhaps she imagined it?

No, she had just gotten a peak at him.

It all happened so slowly as she approached the stranger from behind, standing on the tips of her toes to wrap her arm around his neck. He squirmed, his breathing constricted, she took her chance to pin the man to the floor. “Dean?”

She lifted her arm just a little, allowing him to speak. “What are you doing here?” He wheezed, regaining his breath.

“I live here. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Y/N?” The light turned on, and Sam’s sleepiness had worn off quickly when he found his wife on the verge of murdering his estranged brother. “Dean, what are you doing here?”

The pair stood, the former moving toward him as he wrapped a protective arm around her. “I was looking for a beer.” The intruder raised his eyebrow slightly at the couple. “I didn’t know you guys were still together.”

“What are you really doing here?”

Dean pursed his lips at the woman, one he was sure he’d never see again after she ran away. It’d been five years since he last saw her, she was just seventeen, handling a gun like a Texas Ranger. “We gotta talk.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, crossing her arms instead. “The phone?”

“If I’d called, would you have picked up?” An awkward silence. “Listen, Y/N, good seeing you again, but we’ve got to discuss some family business.”

Sam interrupted, his arm not moving from its position around her. “She’s family, Dean.”

“What?”

“Your last name is literally on my driver’s license forever.” Y/N deadpanned.

“You’re married?”

“As of last year.”

“You got married at twenty-one? Are you stupid?”

The younger brother scoffed. “Actually, it’s the best decision I’ve made yet, so whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her.”

It took a second, but Dean nodded. “Dad hasn’t been home in a few days.”

He didn’t seem too bothered by the news. “So, he's working overtime on a Miller-time shift. He'll stumble back sooner or later.”

“Dad's on a hunting trip and he hasn’t been home in a few days. We have to go.”

“Come on, you can’t just break in in, middle of the night, and expect us to hit the road.”

“No, I expected you to hit the road. I didn’t think you’d get hitched to a girl you you’ve been dating since you were sixteen. I need you to help me.”

Y/N groaned. “We get it, Dean, you’re upset we got married. Did you want an invite? Hunters go missing all the time, they’re always fine.”

Dean finally looked her in the eye, and she saw the worry that clouded his features. “Not for this long. Are you going to help me, or not?”

“We’re not. We swore we were done hunting, for good.”

“How much to make you go away?” Dean narrowed his eyes at the cash in her hand. “I’ve only got twenty, but that should get you something.”

His eyebrows raised in slight surprise. “You’re living with twenty dollars in your pocket?”

“Money’s been tight, lately. I’m sure it’s more than what you have, though.”

Nodding in agreement, he got a glimpse of the shiny wedding band on her finger as she leaned against the car. “Whose idea was it? The wedding.”

“His. Vegas, we got blackout drunk after, too. You would’ve enjoyed it.” Y/N sucked in a deep breath. “He wanted you there, Dean, he just didn’t know how to ask.”

Her words didn’t bring much comfort. “Is there anyone else who can help you?”

He wasn’t stupid, he knew what she was insinuating. “Your dad’s not in good shape, last trip got him real bad.”

The features on her didn’t move, her expression was stony. “Where is he?”

“Somewhere in North Carolina, last I checked. Still upset you ran away, I am, too. It would be good to have you on this hunt, like old times.”

“I appreciate that you haven’t asked for much, in the last couple of years. Sam misses you, I know he does, but we’re so happy and safe, I need you to understand that.”

Dean looked down at her, features softening at her teary eyes. “Please, help me, Y/N. Just this once.”

She nodded, blinking. “We have to be back first thing Monday morning. Sam’s got a law school interview. His future is important to him and I, and if you’re a good brother, it’s important to you too.”

“Are you sure you want to go?”

Sam pressed a kiss to her shoulder, his hands sliding down her upper arms as she packed several articles of clothing into a duffle bag. “It’s one trip, that’s it. Just to find dad.”

The girl paused her action. “Do you think he’ll be happy to see us?”

“We didn't run away, babe, we went to college.”

She turned to face him, her hands cradling his face. “One trip.”

“Hey, if anyone’s going to fall back into old habits, it’s you.” He joked, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

Y/N rolled her eyes with a slight smile, giving in to his affections. “We’ll be back by Monday morning, right?”

“Absolutely.”

Sam leaned down, two fingers under her chin as he joined their lips.

“How long are you going to take?” Dean called, his voice growing suspiciously louder before the door to their bedroom swung open. “Shit, my bad.”

“Jesus, fuck, knock!” She parted from her husband to glare at her brother-in-law.

“You guys really sleep on the floor? And I thought I had it bad.”

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