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stormhearty · 3 months

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Death's Magic

Note: This is an idea that I’ve had for awhile, though the original idea had a merge with the World of Harry Potter, I thought it might have been better and easier to just keep it in the world of ACOTAR but change up a few things. please do forgive if I have some wrong information, I have only read up to ACOWAR. This scene is based on chapter 58-59 of A Court of Mist and Fury when Velaris was attacked by the Attor-like creatures. Also, I wrote this in Notion and decided to put it in Word to see how long it was — it was 5+ pages and I was like wow.

Summary: When the truth of your powers is revealed to your bonded mates, Eris and Rhysand, and your Court, histories are exposed, insecurities are talked about. But you know… all you know despite the navigating that your mates will always be with you.

Word Count: 3k

Triggers: death, fighting, insecurities

Parings: Eris x Death!Reader x Rhysand (feat. Night Court characters)

“You will never know how that child’s feels…” Armen growled, silver eyes glowing as she glared at the two lords that held her lady. Eyes shifted from the two males, that was bonded to the female that was at the center of everything, those silver eyes shifted from pure anger to something softer — something that was rarely seen with the ancient being. Eris brought you closer to his arms, as he watched Rhysand’s hand gently caress your brows, the two of them hoping you’d wake up to explain what had happened in the span of twenty-four hours.

It had been a long day for everyone in that room — the attack on Velaris by the Attor by Hybern, shook everyone to their core. None of them thought that the King would be able to break through the shields that surrounded the city; however, he did and almost plunged their home into destruction. Cassian and Azriel were barely able to winnow to the city on time to try to defend it. Mor had been away on official business while Armen was with Varian at the Autumn Court with Eris to try to convince Eris’ father to fight against Hybern. Velaris’ High Lord was on a search, attempting to find Myriam and Drakon to help with the looming threat that is Hybern. It had left the city vulnerable, the King believing it was an easy attempt to wipe out its growing enemy without its High Lord and protectors. However, it was futile, unaware of the shadow and darkness that lingered there — that you had stayed behind to quietly protect the city.

When you had been introduced by Armen to the Inner Circle, you were a person of mysterious origin — the Inner Circle very wary about you, for a very good reason. The only reason why you were able to stay in Valeris was because of Armen. She was able to find you a place to stay in the outskirts of the city, accompanying you to every Inner Circle meeting and staying by your side while you had adjusted to your new life. Whenever Rhysand had inquired about you — your history, your origin, you in general, Armen had become over-protective — silencing the Night Court Lord with just a glare.

“Her past is something I cannot share. She has her own darkness, that she has to hide to live with us in the light. Do not inquire anymore than you should. She is loyal, that is the only thing you should know about her,” was the only thing that Armen would ever share.

You had accompanied him and the Inner Circle — as the substitute of Armen when the ancient being was busy or reluctant of accompanying the group to another Court. You had been nothing but a whisp of shadow during those times, similar to Azriel, hiding within the shadows, watching over those who lived in the light.

One day when you had accompanied Rhysand to the Autumn Court to visit its High Lord. Another attempt to convince the Vanserra Lord to rally against Hybern. When the two of you had stepped into the massive throne room, you were greeted by the eldest Vanserra son. The three of you looked at one another before you felt a snap against your chest.

You pressed a gloved hand against your chest, it was an unusual feeling for you; however, you watched as the High Lord and the High Lord heir collapse onto their knees, feeling on how strong that snap was against their chest.

Brows furrowed as you watched them in confusion — their panting, and their equal amount of confusion as they looked at each other before turning to you, violet and amber eyes staring at you. Silence surrounded the three of you, and a heartbeat later, the two of them stood up, slowly surrounding you. Tilting your head up to look at the two, confusion still evident in your features, “… Are you two alright?” you voiced.

Apparently you had no idea what had just transpired, and the only thing that had to be said was, “… You are our mate…”

It had been a long, winding road for Eris and Rhysand to accept that they shared a mate. It was difficult… you rarely opened up to either of them, it was a slow tedious thing, and Eris was rarely available to grow the mating bond with you. The three of you had to meet in secret to ensure the safety of this bond. The bond had made both males over protective and Rhysand understood why Armen was so, over you. Both of them could feel the obscurity on your side of the bond, them understand that you had no idea what it had meant to be in a Cauldron-blessed bond. It took a lot on both their end to figure you out, open you up to the point you trusted them, and in turn, trust you.

By the time Rhysand had winnowed to the House of Wind where the Attor had been successful in infiltrating, the High Lord had found you — your delicate stature fighting against the Attor. Magic fighting against magic, anything that Attor tried to use against you would bounce off the glimmering shield of darkness that surrounds you. Rhysand watched you, your movement swift and smooth, much like the creature you fought; as if you were the wind itself, you were shadow itself. He felt the air move around him, feeling his brothers and the rest of the Inner Court arriving, watching the scene fold in front of them. Rhysand watched as Armen arrive with Varian in toe, eyes widening slightly as he saw Eris arrive along with them. Eris moved, fighting against the wind that swirled around the throne room towards the High Lord of Night Court, towards his mate. Eris placed a hand on Rhysand’s shoulder, a movement of support as they locked eyes for a moment before looking back at the fight — back to the third of their mating bond — towards you.

All of them watched as a slender hand reached above, magic pulsating around them as another wind of glimmer and darkness wafted through the air — growing wider and bigger. Rhysand watched as that shield surrounded not only him but his family and soon his whole home. Eyes looking out the window to see a swarm of Attor-like creatures, flying towards the open balcony, attempt to enter the House of Wind, only to be stopped by the barrier. The magic preventing the destruction of his home.

A high shrill scream returned his attention to the action, Rhysand’s body entering into fight mode. Violet eyes looked back at fight, watching as your figure was enshroud by a shadow, one that grew large until it was large enough to reach the ceiling of the throne room. Cloaked in black robes, hood drawn over its head — a creature much like the Attor itself, much like the Suriel, something similar to the Bone Carver in the Prison, to the Weaver in the Middle — but they knew that this creature was nothing like the previous, it was something darker… something more powerful. They watched as the shadow extended its hand, a hand — nothing but bone and tendon exposed, pointing its long bony finger towards the Attor, who had knelt on its knees, bony prominences pressed against the marble floor — panting, blood and sweat clinging onto its cloak as if it was apart of it. When that bony finger touched the top of its head, another scream tore from the Attor’s throat, its body disintegrating into nothing but ash.

The air stilled, and the shadow faded away, leaving your figure in its wake. Time seemed to pause as they watch you tilt your head slightly before turning their direction. When your eyes — dark as the night sky, dark as black locked eyes with him before drifting to Eris’ by his side. You had given them a soft smile, eyes squinting into crescents their names nothing but a whisper against your lips before you body collapsed onto the floor.

Eris was the first one to come out of the stupor, his body immediately running towards yours. He skidded onto his knees as he heaved your body into his arms, a hand against your cheek to try to wake you up. Rhysand was hot on his heels, kneeling on the other side of your figure, sharp talons against you mind, trying to probe through the darkness that had shrouded your mind.

That is where it landed you now. The Inner Court at the Townhouse, your body still in Eris’ arms as both High Lords tried to interrogate the ancient being to tell why you had not woken up. Armen did not tell them anything, her stubbornness tenfold when it came to you; but it was hesitant now, knowing that the males that held you would stop at anything to ensure your safety.

A heartbeat of silence surrounded the room before Armen sighed.

“I pray the Mother would forgive me…” she muttered before she steeled herself against the stares of her family, “(Y/N)… is a God Made into a High Fae. When I had escaped the Prison, she was standing outside, an empty shell. I didn’t know what kind of God she was but she was lost as I and, that, immediately made us stick to each other. I had adapted faster to this world that she did, and so I kept her hidden while I became part of this world — part of your Court. I looked, looked into books, looked into the past, talked with the Gods of Old in the Prison to find out what she was…”

Eyes looked from Rhysand and Eris, to your form that was resting soundly in their arms.

“… She is Death itself. Death reincarnate. The Bone Carver, the Attor, the Suriel all made in her likeness… or what she used to be. The reason why she couldn’t… assimilate easily as I do was because she was never even part of this world originally. And so when that bond snapped between the three of you, I was surprised.”

Rhysand and Eris glanced at each other, remembering that moment when it was revealed to Armen that they were your mates. The surprise and hesitance in her features — it all made sense. You were a God and they were Cauldron-bound to you. You were as old, even older than Prythian itself. And yet you were mated to the two of them.

Armen shrugged, another sigh escaped her lips. Varian wrapped an arm around her shoulders, comforting her, “She was like a child, lost in this world. She didn’t know of her powers, it sometimes leaked out of her… You all have seen it.”

And they have, the flittering of shadows and darkness. Everyone had thought originally it was from Azriel — lights flickering when you were angry, shadows and night seeped out of your fingertips when you were training with Cassian. And all unknown to you.

“She has been trying to figure out herself, figure out her powers… She doesn’t know how to use it to her full conscious. Both of us have tried to rein in her powers, make it fully under her control.”

“… So what happened earlier?” Azriel questioned from his position in the corner of the room, his tone tight, “That thing that she had summoned that disintegrated the Attor.” The shadowsinger wasn’t mad, he was more frustrated than anything — they were your family, and yet you hid this part of you from them.

Another shrug from Armen, “I’ve tried to read… read anything concerning her. That thing I am unsure of. All I could think of —”

“The Grim…”

Eyes snapped towards your form, Eris and Rhysand looked down at you as you started to awaken. Apparently, you knew what they were talking about.

“It’s called the Grim…” you opened your eyes, your eye color back to normal — not the black color they had seen after the battle, but your own, ‘…A servant of Death itself.”

“(Y/N), Darling…” Rhysand breathed, as he kneeled in front of you as Eris shifted your form in his arms so that Rhysand could hold your cheeks, assessing you, ensuring you were unharmed. While Eris pressed his lips against the crown of your head, muttering, “Thank the Mother…”

A small smile tugged at your lips, feeling the bond tugged at both ends from your mates, eyes fluttering close as you let a wave of assurance down the bond. It had taken awhile for you to get used to using it to give comfort to both males, and longer for you to accept any sort of feeling from their end.

Once hands were off of you, Eris helped you to sit on the couch, large hands from both of your mates steadying you as you looked back at Armen. Your eyes staring into her silver ones, unvoiced betrayal in your look — Armen had promised to never let anyone know of what you were — and yet here she was, exposing your history. She let out a whimper, her way of apologizing to you before Varian wrapped her in his arms.

Silence again filled the room before the shuffling of feet. You had assumed that Rhysand had asked for everyone to leave, leaving you with your two mates. You took a breath, in and out, trying to rein in whatever you were feeling at the moment — you didn’t know what to feel.

Sure, you were exhausted, the fight with the Attor depleted your magic. You had not only protected yourself but the whole of Velaris with your magic. That you could deal with, but not this raw emotion of betrayal from your friend. Deep down, you knew that Armen only did what was necessary, to ease the tension in the room — to try to explain what had happened with you and the Attor hours before — to prove that you belonged there with them. That you were not a threat, that you were not an enemy to the Night Court. You knew that. You would talk to Armen properly later.

No matter how many centuries had passed, you were still figuring out your powers… still figuring out yourself. Today was another thing you’d have to figure out… and you wondered if, now, you have to figure it out yourself.

A tug at the golden string in your chest made you look up, staring at the violet hues of the third of your mate. Rhysand had looked at you were such worry, brows furrowed as he assessed you, a caress of your mental shields from his end. Another tug at that string made you look up at Eris, a similar look of worry sat on his face. You took another breath, one that shuddered through your figure before you reached out, both hands extended, to your mates only to pause in midair.

They were tainted with black, as if your fingertips were necrotized, as if the darkness lingered on you. A frown tugged on your lips, as you assessed them, retracting them slightly as if afraid to touch your mates with such hands. Hands were immediately on your wrist, your right in Rhysand’s and your left in Eris’, as you watched both of them press your hands against their chest, showing that you weren’t going to hurt them.

“…I’m sorry…” you slowly apologized, not even sure of what you were apologizing about. Was it the fact that you withheld your past from them? Or was it just the need to apologize to them.

You heard twin sighs before you felt identical kisses on the top of your head and that alone wrecked your body into another strong shudder, tears lining your eyes. You didn’t want to not tell them about you, you just… you couldn’t. You didn’t even know what you were, you didn’t know the extent of your powers.

“Is that the reason why you never told us? Even after the bond made itself known?” Rhysand asked, as he pulled away to look at you with a raised brow, “That you were Death? That you didn’t know yourself nor your powers?”

All you could do was nod your head, teeth biting into lower lip, as if you were a child being reprimanded, “… I was trying to figure it out,” you started off, fingers bunching at both of their shirts, to try to ground yourself to at the moment, eyes dimming for a moment before returning to the now, “Trying to figure myself out, my powers, to fit into this world. I just felt so…” a shrug lifted your shoulders, “I’m sure Armen told you… I felt lost, out of control. Like I was not here and here at the same time. That my powers had a mind of their own, controlling themselves through me. I just… didn’t know what I was doing.”

Eris and Rhysand always had seen it, how spaced out you were at times. Even with the bond between the three of you, your bond seemed frazzled, and much longer than the one that had connected the two males. They had worked so hard to get to you, to have you be in the moment with them, to be connected to you. And it wasn’t as if you weren’t doing the same, you worked with them… got used to being part of the Court, to be part of something much bigger than yourself — to be part of them. You had opened up to them, slowly but surely. You accepted the bond with much courting from both of the High Lords — many dates, many stolen kisses, many whispers during the night.

But hearing you, sound more vulnerable than you’ve ever been before, even during those moments at night when both Eris and Rhysand had expressed their darkest fears, their worries to you, they had never seen you more powerless.

Fingers slipped from their grip on their shirts, as you brought them back closer to your body, wringing your fingertips as if an attempt to wash off the stained darkness that lingered on your skin, “I also… didn’t want to scare either of you…” you confessed, almost a whisper, “The bond was formed and you two were almost fighting tooth and nail at each other at times —” a chuckle from both of the males made a small smile tug onto your features, “ — All the while ensuring that this bond was going to work. You guys set a lot of your differences aside to…” tears eventually overflowed, “Make sure that I was okay. And yet…”

You felt choked up. They had worked so hard in this bond, and yet… you didn’t even tell them — about who and what you were, you held the truth from them. Insecurities started to build up in you — that you were not meant for this bond, you didn’t deserve to be part of the Night Court… or any other court in that matter… that you weren’t meant to have such amazing mates — High Lords in the matter of a fact.

Your insecurites zip lined through the bond and it smashed towards Rhysand and Eris, and they couldn't help but tear up as well. Eris gently picked you up and back into his lap, strong, secure arms wrapping around your body, letting the bond open wide to provide you comfort and show how much he had loved you. Rhysand mimicked that, showering you with love and attention; reaching out to hold your hands in his.

“Oh sweetheart…” Eris hummed into your hair, pressing kisses on the top of your head, “… You should never be sorry about anything… It had been hard to understand from our side. We wondered on why you withheld such an important piece of yourself away from us; we had thought it was because you never trusted us fully —”

You were about retort up at him, only to have Eris press a kiss on your lips to silence you. He hummed before pulling back to gaze at you.

“— But, now we understand, and we're not going to reprimand you for it. Just know that we love you and, gosh…” a laugh escaped his chest, causing you to blink up at him in surprised, “You would never scare us away, (Y/N)… Not before finding out what you are, and not now, after finding out your Death reincarnate…”

“And…” you heard Rhysand shuffle into his feet before flopping down next to the both of you, taking your form from Eris’ lap and onto his own. Your two mates situated themselves — you on Rhysand’s lap, while your legs laid on Eris’ thighs.

“The thing with your powers… we can figure them out together. We can go to Day Court, ask Helion if they have any books about you and your powers…” he hummed softly, tilting your head up to press a kiss on your lips, “And even if we don't… All three of us will figure it out together..”

You smiled against his lips, nodding your head.

Eris reached over and gently held your chin to tug your lips towards his way, placing his own kiss.

“Can you imagine, Rhys…” The Autumn Heir murmured against your lips, “That our mate is in history books? Her name written for everyone to remember?” He teased, another kiss on your lips.

Rhysand let out a hearty laugh, “Well… she is amazing…”

A soft laugh escaped you as you pulled away from Eris’ lips, one arm wrapped around his shoulder and the other holding Rhysand’s hand that was around your waist.

“Well…” you whispered as you looked at both of them, their eyes shining as they looked at you, “Your names will be right beside mine then… We’ll ask Helion to fix those books…”

Chuckles escaped all three of you, as you remained in their arms, as you basked in the love and care of your two mates.

Even though you are uncertain about the future, the prospect of navigating your powers, you know at least your family and your mates were there to help you every step of the way.

#( .one-shot : death's magic )#acotar x reader #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #rhysand x reader #eris x reader #rhysand x you #eris x you #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fluff #acotar angst

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feelbokkie · 3 months

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Let’s Fall in Love, IRL | Chapter 19

pairing: Jisung x fem reader

genre: smau, crack, angst, fluff, non!idol au, Pen pals to lovers, friend of a friend to lovers

pov: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

warnings: swearing, mention of food and eating, slight depressive talk

summary: When she was a child, L/n Y/n was in a horrible accident that left her face disfigured. After getting bullied relentlessly by her classmates for her appearance, Y/n escaped to the digital world where she meets Felix. Now an adult, Y/n has be come a complete social recluse, only talking to her 4 childhood best friends and roommates and her only friends. When Felix goes AFK one day in the middle of a game, Felix’s roommates decides to step in. Is this the start a new relationship or will Y/n’s crippling social anxiety get in the way?

taglist: CLOSED

word count: 3,197

screenshot count: 1

a/n: series finale is next chapter. brace yourselves.

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Come find me when you wake up

It's a daunting text to wake up to after a long nap. Your one good eye scorched from the brightness of your phone after being in the dark for so long. You're not even sure when you fell asleep. You went into your thinking cave after being stumped on a coding issue from one of your freelance jobs, desperately needing to step away from all screens.

Still adjusting to the light, you keep your eyes closed as you crawl out from under your bed. You stand up as straight as you can, stretching every limb that you can.

Pop

You stand in the middle of your room. You're not even sure if you're actually awake yet. Your body is hot and exhausted. None of anything feels real. When was the last time you left your room other than to use the bathroom or to eat? You're not sure anymore. A couple of days? A week? You never stay out long enough, only to quickly eat your food and get back to work.

After a few more minutes of letting your brain catch up to the rest of your body, you finally wander out of your room. You're not sure what day it is anymore, let alone the time. You're half expecting everyone to be home when you walk into the kitchen. You're almost surprised to find only Chan sitting at the table, peeling an orange.

"Oh, you're finally awake? I was worried that you were going to be out for the rest of the day." He teases when he looks up at you. You shrug in response as you walk past him, going directly to the fridge to get some water.

It's not that you don't want to talk. You're dying to. It's almost like your voice box is missing. It's like when you were little, right after your parents died. You said one sentence before you stopped talking altogether. Where are my parents? After that, you just couldn't find the words for anything. Almost like they were caught in your throat. Like you were living a nightmare.

It makes sense why you stopped talking back then. The shock of your entire life changing in such a short amount of time will do that to you. But why it's happening now doesn't entirely make sense to you. You're shutting down, that much you know and understand but, you hadn't known Jisung all that well before meeting him. You're not sure why you're so affected by everything that happened on your birthday. You should be used to people disappointing you. You just got arrogant after Felix didn't run away screaming.

"Are you hungry?" Chan asks as you walk back to the table with your cup of water.

You shake your head before you take a sip of water. You're not sure when the last time you ate was, was it when Seungmin ate breakfast with you this morning, but you're not hungry. Or at least, you're not starving. Not yet anyway.

"Did you get my text?" Chan slides over the orange he just finished peeling towards you. Without missing a beat, he picks up another orange.

You nod again. You hesitantly pick up the orange and start eating it.

"I really, really need your help with something," He starts softly, pausing for a moment. "But you're going to need to leave the house with me for it."

Badum

You freeze mid-chew on the orange slice that you have in your mouth. Your eyes quickly shift up from the orange in your hand to Chan's eyes. Your body feels like it's vibrating. Like you didn't just eat an orange but a ball of straight caffeine.

You're fine

"I normally wouldn't ask you, especially after everything, but you're the only one I can trust to help me with this. The others...well, let's just say this isn't something that I can trust them to help with."

You slowly start chewing again, almost to the beat of your heart. You haven't left the house since your birthday. Not completely out of fear. There just hasn't been a need to leave. Everything you need is in the house. It's only a bonus that you don't have to worry about your mask falling again.

You squeeze your eyes shut as the image of Jisung's mortified face flashes in your mind.

"It'll be fine. I'll be with you the whole time and Innie can come too." Chan reassures you, almost like he was reading your mind. "Please?"

You play with the remainder of the orange in your hands, passing it back and forth as you think. You know for a fact that Chan would never willingly put you in harm's way. And that he wouldn't be asking you if he didn't have to. He's never been one to push, always so patient with you. Even when he was only a small child himself.

So, slowly, you nod in agreement before you can change your mind.

***

You're thankful for the light snowfall and freezing temperatures. It means most people are at home and not currently out. You're also thankful for the thick hood of your winter coat giving your face full coverage from the crisp winter breeze blowing around. Still, you decided it's better to wear two masks just in case.

"We're almost there," Chan hums as you squeeze his arm tighter.

You're glad he's also hearing a thick coat. With how tightly you're gripping his arm, if he wasn't wearing a thick coat, you definitely would have cut off his circulation. You feel bad about it, clinging to Chan like that, but he doesn't seem to mind.

crunch, crunch

With your left arm tightly wound around Chan's arm and Inuyasha's lead firm in your hand, the three of you walk carefully through the icy path. With your luck, you'll slip on a patch of ice, knocking both your hood and masks off. The whole time while you walked, you've been mentally preparing yourself for going into the store. Chan has been giving you small updates throughout your walk about how close you guys are to your destination.

Eventually, the two of you walk into a small store. Every corner is filled to the brim with different items. Books, trinkets, artwork--Whatever you could think of, it was probably in the store. Your hold on Inuyasha's leash becomes shorter as you now start to worry about breaking something. Or everything. Your eyes wander around the store, trying to figure out what Chan could possibly need from here. None of the items in the store are even remotely his style. It's not even the style of anyone in your family.

"We're here because I have not a single idea of what to get my girlfriend for Christmas, but I know she likes stuff like this," Chan says casually as he starts to browse the aisles. You pause, causing Chan to be yanked back towards you.

"Girlfriend?" You practically shout.

"That's what gets you talking again?" Chan smirks, amused by your reaction. It's the first time he's heard your voice in weeks and honestly, he's a bit relieved. The last time you stopped talking, it was months before anyone heard you utter even a sigh.

"What do you mean girlfriend?" You ask, trying to keep him from changing the subject. You can't even remember the last time Chan was interested in someone. If he was ever interested in someone at any point in his life. He was always so busy taking care of everyone else or working, that you don't think he even had time to develop feelings for another person.

"She's a doctor at my hospital," He pulls his arm out of your iron grip and throws it around your shoulder, urging you to start walking. "We'll have been together for three years next months."

"Three years..." You whisper to yourself as you walk around the store.

"Hey, I know what you're thinking. I didn't tell you guys about her because of my issues, not because of you. I didn't want to bring someone who was going to leave. I'm planning on inviting her over for the holidays."

None of you have ever brought someone over to meet the rest of the family before. You wouldn't have even let Jisung meet everyone as early as you did if you had any say in the matter. All of you are so used to people leaving, you never want to bring someone into your life unless you are certain. That much you understand about Chan's decision not to mention that he has a girlfriend. All of you would have done the same thing. You're not even fully convinced that Changbin is single.

"So," You clear your throat, trying to keep the conversation going. "Unni likes this type of stuff...is she an unnie?"

"She's my nuna, actually," He says sheepishly, his ears and neck becoming violently red. "And yeah, she likes this kind of stuff. She has things like this over her office...and apartment."

"Why are you getting all shy?" You laugh. This is a new side to Chan you've never really seen before. You love it.

Somehow, it's making you more at ease as you two walk around the shop. Like you two are in your own little bubble. Like a normal family. Normal.

"Because I've never talked to any of you about this stuff. It feels weird. I'm supposed to be like...this...fuck, what the word? Responsible role model? Responsible isn't the right word but role model is, I think." He picks up a small jewelry box and looks at it a bit. You're sure he's not actually interested in it. He's just trying to distract himself.

"You're my role model. Not many nineteen-year-olds would drop everything to adopt four teenagers. And work two jobs while attending university at night."

It's been almost ten years since Chan adopted all of you. You still remember it like it was yesterday. The original plan was for Chan to adopt you guys when he turned 20, giving him time to find stable housing and an even more stable job. But then the four of you overheard that the group home would be closing soon. You knew that meant that the four of you would be separated. If you were lucky, maybe two of you would get moved to the same place. Not wanting to take that risk, the four of you, only 15 and 14, decided to run away so you could stay together. With nowhere else to go, all of you found yourselves at Chan's apartment, roughly 3 hours away, in the middle of the night. Somehow, he was able to get temporary custody of you guys while he continued to work on getting a better place so he could officially adopt you.

"Hey, don't make me all emotional." He gently ruffles your hair, careful not to move your bangs. "C'mon, what should I get her?"

"You said you go to her apartment? You can get couple cups. And then like a cute little necklace. Hide it in one of the cups." You suggest, pointing at a pair of mugs with matching stuffed bears on them.

"See, I knew you'd be more helpful than the guys." He unwraps his arm from you and goes to grab the mugs.

***

"You know my girlfriend is an ER doctor but she's really good friends with the chief of cosmetic surgery. I can have her talk to him for you." Chan says, taking a sip of his coffee.

Badum

The two of you are sitting on a bench outside of the restaurant you ordered dinner from, waiting for your food to finish. Snow gently falls around you. Inuyasha is sitting next to the outdoor heater next to you. A few people walk past you, either going into the restaurant or one of the other shops on the street. One of the nearby stores plays Christmas music to add to the atmosphere.

Your head snaps up towards him, heart pounding in your ears. Inuyasha gets up from his spot on the floor, hopping on the bench and resting his cold head in your lap. "How did you..."

"I wasn't snooping around your room," Chan starts, turning his body towards you. "When I came looking for you earlier, I tripped on something in your room and bumped into your desk. It woke up your computer and I guess that was one of the last things you were looking at."

You turn your attention to your lap, your thumbs fiddling with the lid of your hot chocolate. This isn't how you wanted this conversation to go. You were planning to quietly save money and go to all the necessary appointments by yourself. And the day of the surgery, that's when you finally going to tell everyone. When they couldn't try to talk you out of it. You knew they'd worry if you told them about it now. Seungmin would go overboard doing all sorts of research and bombard you with his newly acquired facts. Both Hyunjin and Changbin would try to convince you that you look fine without cosmetic surgery. Hyunjin would probably look up different art pieces to show you the beauty in imperfections while Changbin would try to force you out again. And Chan would try his best to give you some sage advice.

You're certain now, that he didn't need your help picking out a gift for his girlfriend. He wanted to lure you into a false sense of security for one of those lectures now. You thought dads only did that in movies. Maybe that's why he's doing it now. His only frames of reference for a father figure are fictional ones. Except, no movie could have ever prepared him for this. It would be easier for both of you if you were pregnant or something.

"I'm not going to sit here and tell you not to do it." Chan's hand lands on your back, softly moving up and down. "It's your body and you're an adult, you can do whatever you want with it. I may not entirely agree with it, but if this is what you really, truly want then I'll support you. You can get it done at my hospital and I'll help you pay for it. At the end of the day, I just want you to be happy. And if this will make you happy, then I'm all for it."

You're not sure why, if it's the softness in his voice or something else altogether, but you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. You're beyond tired. It's not just the past few weeks that's weighing down on you, it's the past couple of decades. You're tired of being treated differently because of how you look. Of missing out on opportunities out of fear. Fear that's burned so deeply in your psyche, you don't think you'll ever be able to get over it. You're tired of ruining photographs, memories--everything. You wish, just for a moment, everything would stop so you could breathe.

"I j-just want to be n-normal," You choke out through a broken sob.

You want to live a normal life. You want to walk around without having to wear a mask. With your hair up and out of your face, actually feeling the sun kiss your skin and not freeze in fear. You want a life where Inuyasha is just a pet and take him on normal walks without him having to be on alert for you. You want to have friends that you can hang out with in public that aren't embarrassed to be seen with you. You want to go on dates with Jisung and hold hands in public without worrying about people questioning why he's with you. You want to be able to kiss Jisung. You just want to live like everyone else.

"That's probably the most normal thing about you." Chan pulls out a napkin from his pocket and hands it to you.

"Wh...what?" You question as you take the napkin, wiping your tears before the cold freezes them on your face.

"It's rare...to find someone who likes every aspect of themselves. That's probably the one thing every human can agree on: disliking some aspect of themselves. I don't like my nose. Seungmin doesn't like his smile. Hyunjin doesn't like the beauty mark under his eye or the way he sweats. Changbin didn't like how skinny he used to be. That's normal,"

"Yeah but that's different--"

"Then go ahead and fix what you think is wrong with you. That's normal too. But I can promise you, you'll end up finding something else you don't like about yourself. And you can spend the rest of your life fixing all these little 'imperfections' or, you can learn to live with them. Or at the very least, find someone who loves them and teaches you how to embrace them. And you already have the latter."

You sniffle quietly for a bit, trying to understand what Chan is getting at to no avail. "What are you talking about?"

"Han Jisung," He says simply.

You quickly shake your head, leaning back into your seat. "No, you weren't there. You didn't see the look on his face."

"You didn't see the look on his face."

You turn to Chan, raising your eyebrow in confusion. You know for a fact that Chan was nowhere near the aquarium before you called Hyunjin to pick you up.

"He came by the house a few times. I convinced him to stop coming for his safety. Luckily for him, Changbin was at work and I answered the door. If he really was scared of you or disgusted by your face or whatever you imagined, he wouldn't be making the trip to our house as frequently as he was. That idiot is in love with you."

BADUM

"He...told you that?"

"He didn't have to. It's written all over his face. That man is so in love with you, I kinda wanna punch him. But that just might be my overprotective side."

Both of you are quiet for a moment. You're processing everything Chan just dumped on you while he just drinks his coffee. It's not possible, you think. Your own self-image is so extremely warped and damaged from years of torment. He's seen the same thing that everyone else has, there's no way that he's in love with you.

You watch as the waiter from inside the restaurant waves at you and Chan, signaling for you to get your food. Your eyes drop back to your hot chocolate, which is probably more like chocolate milk at this point, as Chan pulls his hand away from your back and stands up.

"The five of us were dealt pretty shitty cards in this life. You got the worst hand, I think, " Chan says, turning back to you. You can see the cloud of air from his breath as he talks, "But god or the universe or whatever is finally delivering karmic retribution starting with Han. At the very least, hear him out before you do anything."

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

Taglist

Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you (either at all or properly)

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tarjapearce · 8 months

Text

Bad Teachings (Pt. 6)

Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

WARNINGS: Strained Relationships, Anxiety, Abusive Parenting, implied emotional breakdown, awkward emotional distress handling, Awkwardness. Tension, comfort. Mild fluff.

Summary: Lost wars can bring the most unexpected of comforts.

Hope you like ✨

Pt. 7

Feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated 💕

Feel like this song is perfect for the chapter:

------

Fingers were about to type a reply but stopped. What use would be?

Ignoring him seemed the best option, your head had wasted enough energy in his antics, your brain had gone kaput when trying do decipher him. This is what you've gotten in return. You looked around, your little world. It couldn't be unbothered with external things, it was your fortress. The only place you allowed yourself to be you.

Annoyingly fixated into get a knitting technique right, collector of nail polishes, silly socks with passive self deprecating messages embroidered on them, face masks and beauty products; lingerie that was too pretty to not have even though, you'd flaunt it to none but yourself, a whole file in your phone of you in boudoir looking pictures was the proof.

A sucker for tragic romances, an avid exotic food consumer, and by exotic you'd mean the middle eastern all you can eat buffet located a couple blocks away your building.

Fan of feminine looking shoes but wouldn't turn down a camping day, and get muddy even, get imperfect. Humanly flawed instead of presenting yourself to the world as an 'expensive doll' as Hobie had called you.

Of course you liked to dress up, but to do it every single day had turned into a task, like any other adult thing around you.

A sigh of yours merely filled in the place before going to sleep. You wouldn't go to Miguel’s, a trip to knowing a new place was far more interesting than dealing with whatever was bothering him. A bit of regret for offering previous help cocooned into your head.

----

The biological clock in you, got you used to wake up at 7, made you to rose from bed, put some of that new international blend coffee you had bought yesterday to simmer; then you'd move to clean up the little mess in the kitchen you had done last night: a plate, a fork and a strawberry printed glass.

You then organized your toiletries in the bathroom, and began a strict yet short skincare routine. Washing face, moisturizing, and sun blocking. Then you went to the closet, something you had promised yourself to always organize once you had the time.

You went for a pair of palazzos, a ruffled skirt and some pointy flats, but changed your mind last minute, and rather picked a brown jacket, black joggers, sneakers and a turtleneck shirt. Comfy for a day of walking around in a cool day.

At eight you had eaten breakfast, and if it wasn't for the door knocking, you could've washed the dishes again and probably take a shower. Momma standing in the doorway screamed a whole new plan. Hide or run.

"M-Mom."

"Hey baby." She hugged your surprised form and made herself at home. You held her purse as you closed the door.

"I-I was gonna call you yesterday but some stuffs just showed up and I forgot." The words rushing out of your mouth.

She cleared her throat and you snapped to put the purse next to her.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"A bit of coffee would be great"

Nodding you went to the kitchen, a tight and uncomfortable knot coiled tightly in your stomach, anxiety was just warming up.

"I see you're still having a hard time adjusting to this new... place." She observed as her eyes toured the livingroom. Your college books although lined up in the corner, still were in the floor along some other items. Like a small potted cactus and a collection of old DVDs.

" Oh... Im... just busy. That's all." You offered the cup of coffe, she took a sip and scrunched her nose. You just stood there, at lost on what to actually say. It was rare when they paid you a visit in college, and even then their stay were only a couple of hours.

"Too strong." She hummed in disapproval and your eyes casted away .

Here we go...

"You have some... interesting neighbors. Just saw a young man that I'm sure that wouldn't pass an airport check up for the many piercings in his face."

Your expression faltered at her sneering, a bit of frown in your eyebrows.

"He's a good person."

"I didn't say he wasn't darling, a little bit more of... normalcy wouldn't hurt him."

Your eyes darted away from her, your face now solemn.

"Uhm, I don't wanna sound rude but-"

"You have somewhere to go?"

"Yes. I... I actually do."

"Oh? Didn't know you had gotten yourself some real friends "

Your lips pursed, trying to keep her comments at bay.

"I'm working on it."

"I'm sure. I mean, pen pals don't actually count since you can't hang around-"

"Mom."

She sighed and pushed the cup away. Your cue to retrieve it, like the coffee had offended her greatly.

"A little visit at home wouldn't bad for you, you know? We miss you."

We sounded pretty much a one sided word. You put the cup on the sink, not truly wanting to engage into her game.

"I promise to visit as soon as I can." The flatness in your tone could be tasted miles away

"That's what you said two months ago, sweetie."

"I wasn't having as much free time as you think I am, mom. There was this new campaign... and I was ontop of it." you back still facing her.

The fortress shook.

"Ah, honey. I know your job is frustrating and quite busy, but a little hello mom, I'm fine. Can I stay for weekend?, wouldn't harm you. Just look at you, it's okay to be an stress eater, but you have to keep your mouth in check."

The stab was dug deeper. Your fortress was now crumbling.

"You know I worry about you, right?

What a fucked up way to show it.

You just nodded, dread creeping up your face as she pushed a strand of hair behind your pierced ear. You flinched, it was still tender.

"What is that?"

"Nothing. Just something stupid-"

She cupped your cheeks softly and you froze, she took a long and dispraising look at it as she sighed.

"Jesus, it's just a stupid piercing! Don't worry about it."

You pried yourself away from her touch, like her hands had burnt you.

She frowned

"Anyone with a respectable reputation in your workplace could see you not fit-"

"Not fit for what, mom?" Your fingers pinched your nose bridge. Anger simmering below the surface.

"You are meeting important people, honey. You can't go around looking like that. You must look-"

"Perfect." You nearly seethed the word, "I know."

You poured the coffee on the sink. She just watched you for a second. Your hands scrubbing the lipstick stain off the cup furiously she was surprised that the thing didn't break in your hands. She just sighed and grabbed her purse.

"If you want, I could help you getting this place-"

"I'll take care of it." voice firmer than you had intended to.

Her eyes remained on you for a bit too long and then she nodded.

"Call us, okay?" You opened the door for her, eyes refusing to meet her.

"Love you, cupcake"

"I know."

The words bitter tasting in your tongue as they rolled off. The door closed and your fortress was in shambles.

Your mouth exhaled a shaky and almost whimpering breath. You needed to escape, your little world had been compromised and you weren't sure to stand the emotional chaos that was left. Everything you had built was now on the floor, just like your overall mood.

Normalcy? Stress eater? Perfect? You were sure none of those applied to you.

The battlefield had alot of your hurt and blood sprawled all over it, your face was still smeared by a forceful and imposing touch that was devoid of kindness as the knife she had plunged remained deep in your chest.

You didn't know exactly where this attitude and perfectionism had came, but ever since you had turned into a certain age, she'd give little comments here and there that would eventually lead you to your current state. Fucked up, yet moisturized. God, you couldn't wait to be home again and cry your hearts contempt.

Laughing almost bitterly at the realization that you now had to schedule your emotions accordingly. At least you still felt something. And right now, you just wanted to go back to bed and cry, the battle hadn't reached your safest spot, something you were grateful for.

Heart pounded miles per hour, chest constricting and head spinning made you support at the kitchen's sink. Pain pricked your eyes, but a still rational part of you grounded you with a deep exhale. You showered and got ready. Filled in your portable mug with coffee and left.

You had bought a little blt sandwich in the way, you parked and blinked away the stubborn tears that refused to leave without being shed. Patting a bit too rough your cheeks you took the mug, secured the car and went up the elevator.

Nervousness too preoccupied with it's own business to show up, a subtle anger had taken over. Miguel's doorbell was rang.

You looked at your phone's clock. 10 am.

The door opened and you were met with a surprised then a mild furrowing glance. His mouth went ajar but quickly shut it. The words he intended saying, died before anything as he studied your face. Nose a bit red from the previous sniffling.

"Come in." He'd mumbled and you entered, making your way to your work spot as last time. To your surprise his place looked a mess. Some clothes sprawled on his couch, a couple of dirty dishes on his sink, Curtains drawn in, place felt heavy and fusty.

"Go to the living room."

"Same as last time?"

"Pretty much, Yeah." He'd notice the metallic coffee flask on your hands. There was no coffee for him this time.

"You hungry?"

"Already had breakfast. Thanks." You went to the living room and began working. You were avoiding his stare as much as you could, any contact really.

He sat on the couch as you were already organizing files. A million questions popped up in his mind. Why had you stopped messaging him? You seemed unbothered by that, but rather hassled by something else.

Your pouty lips, set in a neutral line, eyes way too gone in a place he couldn't get permission to access just yet, your movements smooth yet void of the remarks you'd do of his work. There was no information sharing, no feedback. No praising from your end. Just silence.

He exhaled and focused on his share of files. You were usually the one that started the little conversations between the both, but after those two weeks of silence from your end, he would expect you asking him the why's and the like. And not that he'd remain silent. He had a valid excuse.

He'd be jumbled up in a room with a new working team as you were messaging him, all of them made noise, noise as in irrelevant ideas and complaining about the new upcoming project but none really offered solutions. He had been annoyed, greatly. His anger was misdirected and now he was neck deep in this predicament.

"Are you angry?" The question itself was stupid, he knew much, but it was the only sort of conclusion his million dollar brain could come up with.

"No." A half truth, "I just happen to have my own problems too." Snappy. He raised an eyebrow to you, genuine confusion on it.

"Besides, I'm just rolling with what you said"

What he had said? The only interaction you had was the text... Oh. Realization hit him like a gloved slap on his face. He went on your message log and reviewed the conversation again.

—That pretty much sums it up

I see—

Fuck. You had taken his words at heart and had just left him be. An apology, that's what you needed, so maybe the heavy and dementor-like aura that irradiated from you would dissipate. What had happened? Cause anything that would make you come here, instead of being somewhere else, had to be grave enough to force yourself in this situation with him.

His belly grumbled after a couple of hours.

"Feeling hungry?" You shook your head

"Got my own lunch, thanks."

Another ammo wasted. His eyebrows knitted together a bit deeper. You were almost done with the first file.

"You should eat."

"I'm not hungry yet." At least you were talking. Barely glancing his way but talking. He ordered some food and finished his file.

He could do it on his own, really, the I need help sort of thing was just a bait to see if you'd still be around. These two weeks had been draining and antsy for him. At first he thought nothing of you, maybe you got busy as well. But as the silence kept stretching, things just spiraled between concern and vexation for him.

Concern because it was usually you the one that most, if not always started the little conversations between the both. They weren't precisely both ways, he also noted, mostly of him replying to whatever random question you'd pop him. But engaging completely, it was only when you were face to face, and even so, he'd still keep you on the surface.

And then, the vexation of the sudden realization of you growing tired of him, for real this time, had sent him reeling into over thinking when the answer you gave him was pretty simple.

I'm just rolling with what you said.

And still everything he had to do was to text back. Yet he didn't.

The fact that you could adapt easily on his words made him both impressed yet again, concerned. You took things at heart. He had to be specific and clear when it came to communicating with you. Great.

You weren't precisely a parrot around him, but the silence you could devote yourself was quite out of your amiable persona. You were snappy, teary eyed, closed off, shut down. You had definitely came here in order to escape from something.

A boyfriend? The thought made him chuckle inwardly, so far what you had told him about yourself quickly erased the idea. Of course he'd listen and pay attention. He just didn't know exactly what to pry from you. He wasn't making an effort in keeping you around either.

Meaning, that he'd always act aloof and detached around people that would eventually leave his life.

Assumptions, really.

He didn't know when that would happen and he was already making sure to severe ties. Coping perhaps? He didn't even know. All that he was certain of was that you weren't yourself and that was partially thanks to him.

His mouth was about to speak when your hand put a strand of hair behind your ear. Three hooped earrings adorning the upper lobe. And by the redness around each pierce, he'd say it was recent. Was this how you faced your problems? Inflicting pain on yourself?

He frowned.

"That's new." Uncertainty just pushed him into a brash mode that eventually would lead him into lash out when cornered. And right now you were leaving him with little options

Your eyes trailed to him, as he gestured over his ear. The piercings. Right.

"Did it yesterday."

"Does it hurts?"

You shook your head as you went for the other file.

"Hobie is a pro at it."

Hobie?

His eyes squinted trying to remember.

The punk guy you had for a neighbor, of course. It was a little too cliché, perhaps.

"Why three and not just one?"

"I wanted to, alright?"

You snapped and he held his hands in defense.

Jesus..

You sighed and shook your head.

"Sorry, just... Nevermind that. Can we focus on working, please?"

A clear I don't wanna talk about it. Or more like I don't wanna talk.

"Sure."

-----

Your phone buzzed as you were transferring the files to him. The name

' Lucio Work' displayed on your screen.

"Excuse me." You stood up from the floor and picked up the call.

From what he could see, you were tense. Arms tightly wrapped around you, like shielding yourself from anything that would hurt you further. Your back turned to him.

"No, it's fine. Really. Will check that up as soon as I get home." Your voice flat, absentminded as you focused on the floor.

"Right. Bye."

A deep sigh.

"I must go."

"It's fine, you finished early anyways."

You stared at him, waiting.

I'm sorry.

His eyes sized you. His lips trapping the apology, and that only made your hands tighten in fist briefly. You picked up your flask and the half eaten sandwich. This time you made sure your tools were with you.

"Guapa..." you felt anything but. You needed air, space even from the suffocating feeling on your chest. And needed it now.

"I-I gotta go." You hands fumbled with your belongings as you rushed to his door. Escaping. Again.

"Wait-"

You were gone. His hands were placed on his waist. There was no apology, but a wider rift between you. He sighed again, for the umpteenth time. He had fucked up.

----

Entering home felt returning to the aftermaths of a lost war. Cold empty space, the drip dropping of the kitchen sink was the only thing that made an effort to acknowledge your arrival. You pulled out the remnants of the BLT and ate just the bacon, discarding the soggy rest.

Your head pounded. Miguel’s eyes popped in your mind. He looked like he had the apology on the tip of his tongue, but pride was bigger than him. Expectations were set incredibly high only to be crushed later. It was the cherry ontop of a messy cake.

You made your way to your bedroom to transform yourself into a more comfy appearance. Hair pulled up in a messy bun as you removed bit by bit your clothes, leaving yourself naked before the mirror.

Flawed.

Your hands explored, prodded and touched your skin. The feeling of unpleasant textures under the pads of your fingertips made you turn away from the reflection. Baggy and comfortable clothes covered them.

Your night ended with the usual meal prep of the week, and of course you finally organizing the closet.

-----

You didn't call your parents. Instead just focused on the screen before you, typing bemused at information you knew by heart. Another brief, another little campaign to create.

Another day, the silence kept stretching on both ends. Your situationship with Miguel certainly offered more questions than answers. Like you had been threading carefully around him, unable to access to a different sort of level With him, it's what he allowed you to see. But you, had also just showed him what you let on.

You were even. And still, you didn't give in. Just shoved the telephone back in your tote bag, without realizing his chat's name appeared as "typing".

Your day went uneventful, unaware of your raging inner turmoil, not that it mattered anyways. The time and world had never stopped over broken hearts or minds, why would they stop now?

Lunch felt stale despite you adding a little vinaigrette to the salad you had packed. It's what you would be eating for the next five days.

You went home around five. The place still in hypothetical shambles from the previous encounter with a boss out of your expertise. You were yet to fix so many things. Some stuffs that would probably still in boxes ever since you moved in.

You changed once more in a humble appearance and pulled out the packaged furniture. Appetite was mess, you had ate, but it set heavily on your stomach.

Bit by bit you started to unpack and pull piece by piece. A little bag of screws and a screwdriver fell out of the rectangular box, along the user manual.

It couldn't be that hard right?

----

Two hours of pure nothing. Your fingertips were sore by the pressure you had applied on the screws, only for it to be assembled in the wrong way. You kicked it away from you. Angry tears just bursted from your eyes.

The user manual crumpled and thrown away somewhere. You curled up in the floor, face hid between your arms and legs.

Why you were so stressed? why you weren't perfect? Why you struggled so much to stand your ground against your mother? Why wasn't Miguel a less complicated guy?

Why? Why why?

You were tired of the whys and the little to no answers they provided you. You dreaded the call your angry mother would do in a couple of weeks after not hearing from you again. You dreaded the campaign not being as successful as your other ones. You dreaded the next rent payment. You dreaded to cry to yourself to sleep again, cause there was none to bask in your misery with, but yourself.

The knowing yet still horrifying conclusion that you were irrelevant in people's lives, didn't help at the hopelessness feeling that was nesting on your chest. You had always been that unremarkable NPC that just minded her business and let life happen around her.

It was sometimes of your wonder what kind of person you would've been if some things would've displayed different for you. Would you still be an expensive doll? Would you still work in a fancy world that the only term that actually applied to it was shallow?

You braced yourself.

Numbness spreading through.

But of course, only for tonight since you had to offer your best smile every day. It was part of the looks.

Your door was knocked.

Caked tears were wiped away the best as you could, as you made your way towards it. A little rustling from the other side. You sniffed and opened the door. Eyes widening at the person behind it. Miguel.

Mahogany eyes seized you, a painful twist in his heart at the sight. You were a complete different person from what he was used to see. Unkempt, wet shirt probably from the tears you had certainly been crying, puffy eyes, swollen lips and nose. A shirt his size probably, hiding the body he had already tasted twice.

Your lip trembling made him swallow.

"May I come in?"

His voice soft. He held a brown paper bag in one hand and his lab coat and ID in the other.

You wiped your eyes before letting him in. His scanned the place. Half assembled furnace thrown hapzardly on the floor, screws and other tools rested in a bag. A few holes on the cardboard packing, like you had stabbed the screwdriver through it. You sat in the further wall, resuming your task of picking up the fallen smaller pieces.

Sidling through the living room, he stopped at the couch. He put his lab coat on it and then pulled the paper bag closer, his feet took him where you were.

"Why are you here, Miguel?"

Your words held no malice but pure curiosity although your voice was deflated.

"Here." He offered you the paper bag. He saw your hands hesitating, not that he blamed you though. But eventually you accepted it. He had to bend over to place it on your hands.

"It's for you." He breathed as his arms rested at his sides.

You pulled a small golden box with a colorful arrange of macarons, colors that matched your color aesthetic. Red, browns, white, blue and of course black. A little piece of paper tucked in the left.

Sorry

The words scribbled by himself. His penmanship was usually hurried and doodle like, something you had noticed from the annotations in the files you had helped him with. But this seemed different, he had taken his time on it. Legible and solid.

He studied your face, so far there was nothing that gave out any sign of hostility. Just pure surprise and of course, sadness.

"Though you'd like it." He cleared his throat, "I... owe you an apology"

Hearing the words from his mouth only made you blink at him, face flushed by the constant burn in your eyes, lower lip quivered, bloodshot eyes, to finally let fat tears roll down. He tensed.

You didn't like it?

His hands fisted and relaxed as you cried, unsure to make a much more personal approach. He pushed a couple of pieces of whatever furnace you were trying to assemble, away from his path and soon, he crouched to finally sit next to you. His frame engulfing the space.

"I'm sorry. All I had to do was to text back, right?"

You nodded through a hiccup. Then wiped your face.

"Here." He offered his handkerchief as he reached for the crumpled user manual.

"Leave that. I'm not doing it." you croaked, trying to find a steady tone in your voice

"It's kind of the same one I have."

Sighing you just shrugged and let him. Your knees supported your arms, as your chin rested in one of them, the other one, was above your head. Like a self comforting gesture.

"I was... in a meeting. A pretty fucking annoying one, when you texted."

Your eyes darted to him, but stared back at the wall. Matching your current mood. Dry and dull.

"I know work is your main priority, I shouldn't pester you either. I wasn't giving you the silent treatment. Felt the opposite really. So I just... stopped reaching out"

His lips gave a weak chuckle, to then disarm what you had done with the furnace. Your words were simple, yet pithy. Miscommunication was the culprit. And he had encouraged it to get this far.

You remained quiet, fixing your glance in the red macaron.

"At first I knew you were busy too. But... then the silence kept going. Kinda reminded me when you suddenly vanished those years ago."

"Im sorry too. Shouldn't have been so... upset and snappy at your own home"

"I caused it." He shrugged

"Partially. I didn't want you to think I was clingy or somehow desperate."

He shook his head with a stifled laugh.

"You're good company too. But guess I just read wrong between lines, like usual. It's... stupid really. My bad for that" you rubbed your temple.

"What are you talking about?"

"I... thought that I was making you uncomfortable or that you were annoyed"

His head shook.

"Trust me, is more like a me problem than anything. But no. It wasn't that"

"The reason I started messaging you really was cause, you're nice to talk to. I mean, sure you take a lot of time, and barely speak, but you aren't... a complete idiot. But then you sent that last text"

You chuckled as he begun assembling the shelf.

"Not the best idea I've had so far." He secured the base.

"May I know what happened before you showed up?"

You stared at him, a bit taken aback that he'd notice such thing.

You groaned and shook your head.

"Mom happened."

His eyebrow quirked but just nodded. Not prying further. You focused on helping him, the little shelf slowly coming to life. A little of your shambled fortress, restored and fortified.

"I hope that piercing your body doesn't turns into a habit"

"Oh?"

"There's better ways to let it out, that's all I'm saying" You chuckled and rolled your eyes.

"Relax, I had wanted to do this ever since I was in college."

"Why now though?"

"Saw the chance, took it." you shrugged

"Quite impulsive"

"It was that or give myself a pixie cut"

His eyes were on you and you sighed

"Of course I am joking."

Not even you were that convinced.

"What about hobbies?

"I have some. Well, started one recently. Knitting is calming. And I've been wandering the city, looking for new places"

"Get me the other bag, please"

Your tears had subsided, your hand gave him the bag full of more screws and little rubber lids to prevent sliding, still, there was a bit of heavy aura hanging in the air.

"Do you have any hobbies, Miguel?"

"I guess"

"Like?."

"Reading. How come you've been wandering the city alone?"

"It's... cathartic. That's what I've been doing these past two weeks. I... I wasn't showing up on Sunday actually, but again... Mother happened."

"Do you wanna talk about that?"

"No."

A way too quick response.

"Maybe... later or in a future." You sighed and watched his hands work.

"Family is complicated" He grunted as he secured the last bits of shelf's final part.

"Loving them is... overrated" His eyes snapped at you, a knowing yet silent nod on his eyes.

He stood and helped you as well, then, pulled the shelf up. It was bigger than you had actually anticipated, at least one thing was out of the way and you wouldn't have to bend over to pick up your books anymore.

You begun organizing them. Your living room was small. A single L couch stuck to the wall, a window on the bottom wall, sparse furniture, a TV stand with no portraits of yourself or any family really, and now the shelf that was being filled in with things. The door at the bottom was your bedroom he supposed.

Compact, yet cozy. It suited you.

He went through some files, pictures of your previous work campaigns on his hands. Quite profesional looking. Of course they had to be, it was your job to create these sort of pieces, a little understanding of why you always looked straight out of a magazine came to him.

A job requirement. And of course you'd accomplish that to a t. Kinda reminded him of your college years. Unremarkable socialité, but good at what you were studying for. The pictures reflected it.

He took another file and saw little Polaroid format printed pictures. It was all the places you had visited so far. The pictures gave him a little glimpse of things you enjoyed. You weren't one for too strict routines, You could adapt, but still would need a little spark to keep yourself grounded.

Wandering the city was like an anchor for you. Tea bars, bakeries, a thrift shop that surely had some characters in it. The liqueur shop. And of course, Hobie's workplace.

He could recognize the bakery's desserts. It was the one he got your macarons from. One was missing from the box. It made his lips curve softly.

"You have talent."

You blinked at him as he went through more folders of pictures.

"Oh... thanks?. I really enjoyed that class"

"You should publish them."

"Can't do that, they're confidential until a campaign is ready to be launched. You aren't supposed to be even looking at them actually. Might open a photography profile though, just for fun." You shrugged as you accommodated your reading books.

"You like it?"

"Yeah. I'm more invested in the knitting though"

"How's that going?"

"I'll get there." your lips mumbled.

You then offered a canned soda.

"I know this place." He pointed at the pictures of the bakery.

"Oh, yeah, they're good." You put the DVDs in a different shelf.

"They have these delicious mini cakes called petit fours. But I stay with Julien's Potions."

"What's that?"

You showed him the pictures of the Tea bar. His eyes scanned the images with mild amuse.

"Is it good?"

"Very. The mango muffin is just heavenly"

"Would you like to go?" He stared at you, voice gentle, just as his face.

You looked up at him with big eyes. A little spark of excitement in them. Finally the heavy aura dissipated.

"Are... Are you sure? I mean, your work is demanding and-"

"After work, guapa. We can go."

"Really? I... don't want you to do this out of... pity or anything. It's fine, really-"

"Im not."

"Promise?"

His eyes softened at your smile.

"Te lo prometo." (Promise)

-----

Taglist:

Apologies if I forgot someone (For some reason Tumblr won't let me tag some of you :<)

@jkthinkstoomuch @queenofroses22 @del-lightfulling @katitakenway @amylasagna @rositabluemoon @lyrasdrawer @plumplumpurin @damhanallagorm @chibiiichann

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #bad teachings #t writes✨#spiderman 2099 x reader #astv miguel #Spotify

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asumofwords · 5 months

Text

Lighthouse - Sailor!Aemond x LighthouseKeeper!Reader - Mini Series 4/4

Summary: You work as a lone Lighthouse keeper on a small island just off the coast. Everyday was the same routine, tending to your duties and the lamp with not much time to spare. But what will happen to your routine when a storm rages across the sea, and a handsome man washes ashore?

Warnings: This fic is 18+. Readers discretion is advised. Warnings will be added in their relevance. She/Her Pronouns. Pining, kiss, angst, anxiety, fingering, smut, pussy eating like a champ, creampie for days, creampie, longing, dirty talk, love, fluff.

Note: Good lord, this is a long one, and also the final chapter! It's sitting at 12k words, so settle in for a hefty piece because I refused to cut it down or into two. Thank you all so much for your love and support of this mini series, I have had so much bloody fun writing it! I hope you enjoy how I have ended it, and hopefully now I can do some one shots for once in my damned life hahaha. Anyway, enjoy!!! <3

Final Chapter: Inevitable Ends, New Beginnings

The first thing that you noticed as you woke was a soreness between your thighs, a dull ache that throbbed with your heart beat, eyes slowly opening to the early morning light.

The room had a light blue glow to it, the sun only just beginning to rise over the sea and lands behind you, casting your little sanctuary in a cerulean tint.

The second thing that you noticed when you awoke that morning was that you were alone.

You turned in the sheets, eyes surveying the room in search for the silver head of hair you had grown accustomed to seeing almost every waking moment, but he was nowhere to be found, though there was evidence of his presence being there.

Bar the small marks on your skin, the smell of him in your sheets, and the soreness between your legs, your clothes that had been strewn on the floor were now neatly folded on your chest at the side of the room, and the lack of breeches and tunic told you that Aemond was already up and dressed.

A moment of anxiety crawled through you.

Had he left you?

But then you remembered that he had no way off of your island, unless of course he swam, which you very much doubted he would be desperate enough to escape you to do that. But then there was the reason for his absence that early morning that began to spiral out of control in your mind.

Had he slipped out of bed? Tiptoeing as quickly and quietly as possible to not stir you from your sleep because he regretted last night, and could not bare to face the shame and embarrassment of seeing you?

Had your moment of weakness tainted his stature in society?

Would he beg that you tell none other?

Not that you knew anyone from where he was from, but still, the inferiority of your birth gnawed at your conscience and creeped through you like the bitter sea winds.

Did he get his fill and was now avoiding you at all costs?

Was he repulsed in himself for laying with you?

Did he wish to pretend that it did not happen?

Was his early departure to find the time and wherewithal in himself to gather strength to not feel ill upon looking at you?

Sure, men of his breeding were sometimes known to lay between any woman’s legs, but it was usually one of equal standing and not at all someone of your status. And if last nights activities were any reference, there was no doubt within your mind that he had in fact lain with women before, once, twice, more, if his skills were any indicator. But perhaps they had been Ladies of his court back home, women of good breeding in high society, and for him to have been with you, well that would be akin to rolling in the mud.

You pulled yourself from bed and dressed yourself nervously, shaking your runaway thoughts, fingers stumbling over your buttons, pulling hastily at the laces of your boots, all too tight for your feet to be comfortable.

When you walked into the living space, you found that the glasses and whiskey had also been put away, no longer on the table where they had been left that evening, and atop the coal stove sat your kettle, steam rising from its nozzle.

Beside the door, your large coat was hung on its hook, and the hook beside it, which had recently held your fathers old coat, given to Aemond to keep him warm on the breezy island, was now bare. At the absence of the coat, you knew that Aemond was to be outside, and decided to go out in search of him.

Perhaps he left early to see what he could salvage of your boat, desperate to rebuild it himself and risk another encounter with the waves in an effort to get away from you. Or perhaps he had-

You walked to the lighthouse, the only place he could possibly be besides the beach that was empty with few planks of wood and what remained of his ship that hadn’t been re-swept out to sea.

Dew covered your boots, kicked up from the soft strands of grass with every step you took. The air was cold, and as you breathed, a cloud of your breath puffed in front of you, white and soft that dissipated before your eyes just as quick as it came.

The large door to the lighthouse creaked open, and then clunked shut behind you, echoing up the spirals of stairs, no doubt alerting him to your presence. You slowly began to make your way up the never ending steps, the only time in your life in which you had dreaded it and found each one to be harder than the last.

Would he run?

Would he scorn you for seducing him? Bewitching him? Tempting him?

Or would he let you down gently? Telling you the dispiriting truth that you both knew; That he was a Lord and you were not of good breeding, and he would have to go and be wed to his advantageous bride that awaited him back home, and that laying with someone like you was a grievous mistake indeed.

Your heart beat in your chest rapidly, gut churning as you picked at the skin at your nails nervously.

When you got to the top of the lighthouse's small landing where the lamp was held, you spun in search of him, spotting the figure of the sailor, bent over the small desk in the corner, quill in hand.

His long hair was pulled back in a loose braid, tied together with a piece of ribbon from one of the bags of food William had delivered to you. You watched as his hand moved swiftly across the page of your log book, pointer and thumb delicately holding the quill as ink pressed into the parchment with a neatness and precision that could have only be attained from proper schooling.

Hearing your approach, Aemond lifted his head to face you. Stray strands of silver hair hung in front of his face, swiftly tucked behind one of his pale ears as he gazed at you.

A small smile pulled at his lips, eyes crinkling in the corners.

All anxiety, all worries, any trepidations about his reaction after your coupling from the evening before were swept out the window when he stood straighter, smile pulling wider at his lips.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” He placed the quill in its holder, leaning down to the book to blow at the ink gently before he took a step toward you, “You needed the rest.”

Be still my beating heart.

You smiled at him shyly, watching as he came closer towards you, hand twitching at his side as though it longed to reach forth and close the gap between you.

But it didn’t.

“You should have woke me.” Your hands clutched each other tightly in front of your skirts, embarrassment licking at your neck. How could you have ever doubted him?

Aemond shook his head at you, “No need. You have already taught me what needed to be done.” He turned to face the table again, picking up the log book to hand to you, “I’ve logged the weather for the morning. Checked the lamp and oil reserves. All is well.”

You took the book from him, watching as his finger reached to graze yours gently, sparks flying up your arm. His writing was neat, swift and soft loops pulling in a slant as he correctly and proficiently logged the winds, skies, seas and temperature. There was not a thing missing, and he had even written note of his predictions of the weather for the rest of the day.

He stepped closer towards you, heat radiating off of him, “Besides, it’s only fair since I spent the night teaching you something new.”

Heat rushed to your face, hands clutching the logbook tightly as you looked away nervously, hearing his soft chuckle before his head dipped, hands coming to grasp the log book from your own, fingers purposefully covering yours, “Do you want to double check my work?” He asked softly.

You shook your head underneath him, stepping back, letting him take the log book from you to place back on the table, “No, I trust you.”

At your words, a softer smile pulled at his lips, before he held his hand out in the direction of the stairs, “Shall we? You’ve not eaten yet.”

“How did you-“

“-You would have seen I was gone and come straight for me. You’re a naturally curious person, and no doubt had a myriad of questions or things to say. I wondered if you would have felt some sort of fear to wake up alone after what we did last night.”

Heat rose in your cheeks again, and you cursed yourself mentally for ever doubting him, for ever doubting yourself, “I thought perhaps you would have made a mistake. You are a Lord, and I-“

“-You are far more than what you believe. I have not met anyone quite like you. Your birth and rank mean nothing to me.” Aemond’s hand reached forward to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, warmth spreading through you at his words.

You couldn’t look at him, casting your gaze down to your hands as your eyes prickled with tears. How could he be so kind to you? How could he be so understanding? So calming?

As your thoughts began to race away from you again, Aemond uttered your name, causing your gaze to raise to his.

“Stay with me. Do not let your mind run away from you.” His seeing eye flicked back and forth across your face, the other unmoving, “Come. Let's eat.”

Aemond had walked with you by your side back to your cottage, and together you ate your breakfast, talking quietly to one another, through the initial shyness that swallowed you, about anything and everything you could to avoid talking about the evening before and what it meant for you, and despite his obvious desire to discuss it, he did not push the conversation and allowed the pace to suit your needs.

And that was how your days passed, not quite dismissing what had happened, nor acknowledging it outright like before, but knowing that it had changed the space between the two of you. The dynamic had changed once again, the way you began to dote on each other changed, or more so, him doting on you more romantically.

For every morning that passed, you would wake to an empty bed to find him in the lighthouse before the sun would rise, logging the weather and checking upon the lamp. Even times where he would stir you from your sleep in the middle of the night as he left to keep an eye on it, or telling you to take rest and go to bed if you had been with the lamp in the late hours.

What was more, was that Aemond no longer slept upon the small couch, and nor did you, the both of you comfortably sharing your bed together in the cold of the night. At first you had been nervous, but Aemond had behaved as though the two of you had slept in a bed together for years, simply telling you that the two of you should retire for the night and sliding beneath the covers, opening the other side for you to crawl in after.

Your initial thought at the behaviour was that he wished to dive between your thighs again, to lick and suckle at the crux of your legs or thrust himself between them, but not once had he pushed for it, or been untoward, in fact, he seemed to open the possibility of a second time to be entirely under your control.

Not that he didn’t touch you, no, he would slide behind you and tuck you beneath his chin, arm wrapped around your middle to keep you close to him, lips pressing featherlike kisses atop your crown when he thought you had fallen asleep, fingers tracing your curves with a featherlight touch during the night.

The shift was not only different for the dynamic between the two of you and your new living arrangements, but different in your own duties. No longer did the work of the island consume your every waking moment and thoughts, for now you had time to sit, to read, to get a good nights rests and spend more time attending to smaller more menial tasks, like repairing clothing that you usually wouldn’t have time to, or cleaning the cottage throughly. You also felt yourself smiling more, laughing more, enjoying life and what Aemond brought to it.

It was simple, nothing extravagant of course, but above all, content. It was in those quiet moments when he would tell you a tale of sailing or more sanitised story of his youth, small smile on his lips, did you realise that you were happy. Happier than you had ever been, and in every hour that passed spent with him, a warmth within grew.

A warmth for him grew.

It wasn’t until you had insisted that Aemond sleep the early morning and for you to tend to the lamp did you realise just how much time had passed.

You were up the lighthouse on the circular gallery that it had outside, leaning against the railings as you looked out at the water, watching as the dark blue waves rocked softly against the cliff below, and even more gently towards shore, which was slowly becoming illuminated with the sun. But that was not all that was illuminated.

There on the rocking waves, was a row boat, off in the distance, making its way towards you.

It was not an unfamiliar boat, nor was it manned by an unfamiliar man.

William was rowing towards your island, reprieve supplies in tow which he delivered on time, every time, but this time you had forgotten what day it was, how much time had passed since he last came, too preoccupied with the new and exciting presence that had landed upon your beach.

With swift steps you made your way down the spiral case and sped to the cottage.

What would William say when he saw Aemond?

Would he be shocked?

Would Aemond be compelled to leave?

Would William send word to Aemond’s family and alert the town, thus speeding up Aemond’s farewell?

You selfishly didn’t want him to leave, and almost wished William had forgotten about you, just this once. And there it was, that ache in your chest once again at the thought of him leaving, at the very real knowledge that he would leave, and that you would be alone once more.

When you entered the cottage, Aemond was seated at the table, cup of steaming tea in his hand with another in front of him at your seat waiting.

Waiting.

He was waiting for you, with fresh tea made.

Your eyes welled with tears before you swallowed them down, a lump in the back of your throat forming. You almost didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to see the excitement light in his eye in knowing that he could go.

That brilliant violet eye, a colour you had never thought to be true on a person until you saw him, a colour in which made your heart fill with warmth and stomach full of flurry, looked up at you, smile at the ready until he saw your anxious demeanour.

Your shifted on your feet back and forth before pulling your coat off to hang at the door awkwardly.

Sensing your anxiety, Aemond straightened in his seat, “What is it?” His smooth timbre crackled in the air, your back facing him as your face crumpled.

You swallowed and steeled yourself as you turned to sit with him at the table, pulling out your chair opposite to him as you sat quietly, grasping the hot mug in your hands.

“Is there another storm coming?” His voice wavered as he asked, lingering fear of storms still clawing painfully in his mind. The visions of the waves, the darkness, the screams of his men, the water entering his lungs, the-

“A man comes.” Your voice pulled him from his memories, fingers tightening on the sides of the mug, “William. He brings my reprieve.”

Aemond’s silver brows pulled into a frown, “You sent word of my presence.”

It wasn’t a question.

It was an accusation.

“No.” You shook your head, and watched as he visibly relaxed, “I wouldn’t have sent word unless you asked. William brings my reprieve every fortnight or so. We have been so busy I,” You gnawed at your lip, “I forgot. I thought we would have had longer, but now I suppose when he comes, you can go with him. Take lodge in his home.” You sipped the hot tea to swallow your nervous rambling, but still it broke forth, “I have a friend, a fellow sailor. Dalton Greyjoy, he could take you close to home, another port, anywhere to help. I don’t have money to pay for your passage, but he likes me well enough to perhaps do me this one favour. Or mayhaps you could offer gold on your arrival, I’m sure-“

“-You wish for me to leave?”

“No. But I know you must.” Your heart clenched in pain, you lowered your gaze to the mug of tea in your hands, watching the steam slowly rise from it, “You have a family waiting for you, worried for you. I do not wish to keep you here knowing that I may be causing you pain, or your family pain in the unknown.”

If you had raised your eyes to meet his, you would have seen Aemond frown lightly, but you didn't, so you hadn’t.

“You do not keep me here, and my family are not of your concern.” A beat, “Nor mine.”

Silence wrapped around the both of you as you refused to meet his gaze.

“When shall he arrive?”

You swallowed, looking at the small clock on the mantel, “Within the hour.”

Aemond nodded in your periphery, chair scraping beneath him as he stood, “Excuse me.”

His footsteps echoed on the stone flooring as he made his way to the door, pulling your fathers coat onto his shoulders before he left, no doubt waiting at the small alcove or beach to watch William arrive.

You stared at the clock for some time, watching as the minutes ticked by, arm moving across its face slowly. But now that he was gone, away from seeing you, you allowed yourself to feel the ache that had crashed inside of you. Tear after tear fell down your cheeks silently as you watched the clock, the heat of the mug that lightly stung your palms, slowly but surely turning cold.

He would leave, and you would be alone.

Alone.

Again.

And he would leave and marry another.

Not you.

It shocked you that the thought of him laying with another, holding another tightly to him, caressing her, kissing her, smiling at her in ways that only you had seen thus far, made your stomach feel as though a knife was twisting itself inside. The lump in your throat sharp as though a dagger had been thrust through flesh and sinew, obstructing you from swallowing or breathing.

It felt as though you were losing him again.

You didn’t know why, you couldn’t reason with it, for you had never known him before, but that day on the beach, as he lay lifeless in the sand, you had lost him.

And then he had come back.

And now he was to leave once more, and no more would he laugh in your small four walls, nor would he wake you with tea, or twist in the sheets beside you.

No more would his hand linger upon yours, or his lips, or-

As another tear fell, the door to the cottage opened, and your hands quickly swiped up the wet tracks left behind on your cheeks. Rapid steps moved into the room as the door clunked behind.

“Your friend has arrived.” Aemond breathed, looking at the redness of your eyes and un-wiped tears on your chin.

You swallowed, that dagger still lodged in place and nodded your head to stand, averting your eyes from his as you brushed down your skirts, “I suppose then I should fare you well.”

All that you could hear was the crackling of the fire and the beat of your heart thundering in your ears. You knew if you looked up at his face, to look into his lilac eye, to gaze upon his soft lips and sharp edges, that you would fall apart.

And so you didn’t, keeping your eyes averted to the corner of the room near the fireplace, wishing for it to be over. Wishing that he had never washed ashore so that you wouldn’t have to bear the heartbreak of him leaving.

Because that’s what it was, you realised in that moment.

Heartbreak.

“I’m afraid I will have to ask for your generosity once more.” Aemond breathed, and you blinked, slowly raising your eyes to meet his. His seeing eye searched your face as he breathed heavily, “I feel I may be succumbing to illness. I am falling- I feel,” He swallowed, “I feel compelled to stay. If you’ll have me. If not for a while longer.” His chest rose and fell visibly beneath the coat, hair cascading over his shoulders like waves of water.

He wished to stay?

Here?

With you?

Aemond blinked at your silence as his shoulders slumped slightly. He shook his head, looking to the floor, “Forgive me. That was too much to ask of you-“

“-No.” You shook your head, “No, not at all. If you,” You swallowed thickly, “If you feel unwell and compelled to stay, who am I to cast out a Lord in need?”

Relief washed over the two of you, and an unspoken air of gratitude floated amongst the space. You fought the urge to smile, to laugh, to jump with joy at the prospect of him staying longer. Of wanting to stay longer, of the thought that perhaps staying here with you was better than the prospect of going home to his family.

His previous words echoed in your head.

Let me stay dead a while longer.

Was this his staying dead a while longer? Avoiding his duties that awaited him when he returned home?

“Will you tell William of my presence?” His voice broke you from your revere.

You blinked.

Would you?

“Did you wish for me to?”

“No.”

You breathed a silent sigh of relief, “Then I shall not tell William of your presence.”

Aemond shifted on his feet, before nodding, “Thank you.”

You gave him a hopeful smile in response.

William arrived not too long after your agreement with Aemond for his extended stay, and hidden presence. You watched on from shore as he pulled his boat up the sand, his warm eyes crinkling at the sight of you.

“Y/n, my girl!” He called out to you, trudging up the sand to you as he pulled you into a tight embrace which you returned heartily, head tucked against his chest.

Ever since your father had passed, William had become a father figure to you, but he had always been like that. Or at least like an uncle, a man who cared and loved you just as much as he did his own. You considered him family, and he considered you one of the same.

“How have you fared? We worried for you with that storm." His hand gripped your shoulder tightly, "Celia was beside herself with worry, pacing about the fire each night. Thought she would have burnt a hole in the floors by the end of it.” He chuckled, pulling away to look you over as you smiled up at him.

“As you can see, I am alive and well. The sea did not swallow me this time round.” You smiled, and turned to help him pull his boat further up the beach to unpack the supplies.

“Not all were so lucky,” William cast a glance to the remaining debris from Aemond’s ship, “Large pieces of hull washed ashore, we worried the ship had run aground atop the lighthouse.” His voice grew morose, “A few men washed up on the beach, but none survived the storm.”

You nodded solemnly, pulling a large bag of flour from the row boat as you lined it up on the grass with the others, “Debris landed here too. The ship sunk just off of the horizon in the thick of the storm. The sea took all.”

William hummed sadly, “Unbelievable storm that, not even Lord Greyjoy had seen a storm so large. Did any find their way here?”

You straightened, heart beginning to race in your chest. You swallowed and carefully thought of your next words, “One. Though he succumbed to waves like the others.”

The lie made you shift uncomfortably. You didn’t want to lie to William, but you didn’t want to go against Aemond’s wishes either.

A large hand grasped your shoulder and tightened softly, “There was nothing you could have done. We saw the lighthouse day and night through the storm and thats how we knew you were safe. Celia dragged me to the beach in the rain to make sure it was on as proof of your wellbeing.”

You nodded, “It would take far more than a storm to stop me or the lamp.”

William chuckled, a crackly laugh that was familiar and warm, “Don’t I know it. Now, are you going to make this old man a drink, or do I have to beg for one.”

You laughed at his words, picking up the sack of flour and other bags of food and supplies, leaving the large crates for him to carry, “Come on then, before the Gods take you.”

After doing multiple trips and talking along the way, the cottage was now filled with supplies and food for the next fortnight. Flour and dried meats and other items were strewn on the counter and in the kitchen, leaning against the walls and shelves, whilst small jars of pickled foods and jams made by Celia were neatly lined in a small crate on the table.

When the two of you had begun to drop the supplies into the cottage, you held your breath, hoping that Aemond had made himself scarce and out of the way as you came in and out. Thankfully, your bedroom door was for once closed, and you assumed Aemond was keeping himself quiet inside.

William sipped at the warm tea you made him as he seated himself in the chair that had become Aemond’s, long stocky legs stretched out in front of him as he rubbed a knee with a hand, working some invisible pain or injury out of it.

“Place looks good,” William commented, eyes roaming across the room, “You’ve been busy.”

You hummed in reply, lifting the mug to your lips.

If only he knew.

But William’s gaze stopped by the door, eyes locked onto something as he wordlessly stared.

Shifting in your seat you turned to face it, stomach dropping.

Beside your empty hook, was the other.

And hung on it, was your fathers old coat.

Aemond’s coat.

Your head turned back to look at William, mouth opening and shutting as you tried to think of an excuse, as you tried to think of a way to explain as to why there was a man’s coat hung on your door when you had supposedly been alone. And as you opened your mouth to explain yourself, to make up some poor take of an excuse, William beat you to it.

“I miss him too.” His voice was lower than it had been before, “Did you keep all his belongings?”

Your heart pounded in your ears, and a pang of grief moved through you.

Your pa.

He thought you had his coat out because you missed him.

And whilst you did miss him, you were thankful that that was what William thought of it, and not that there was a man living with you, currently hiding in your bedroom. Though, that would be a hard thing for William to believe, even if you told him.

You nodded, “It seemed a waste to be rid of them.” You sipped your tea, wondering where this conversation may lead you.

William gave a gruff sigh, “Do you not get lonely here? You’re all on your own. A woman your age should have a companion, someone to talk to at the very least. A cat even.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, “Are you suggesting I marry someone? I have my pigeon, but she’s not very talkative.”

The sea weathered man raised his shoulders, “You’re not getting any younger.” His words irritated you as he continued, “Not that you’re not capable of doing this on your own.” He explained, watching as your eyes narrowed on him, “You’ve proven yourself more than capable for that. I just,” Another sigh, “I know this isn’t what your father wanted for you.”

“Wanted for me?”

“He didn’t want you here, trapped. He wanted you to see the world, to go out and meet someone. He hoped you would settle down, start a family. He did not want to bear the burden of the lighthouse onto you.”

You looked down at the table, “It’s not a burden.”

“I know.” He said, but it didn’t sound as though he believed you, “But how often do you get to do things for yourself?”

You gave him a small smile, “I am perfectly content here, I don’t see why I should have to marry.”

“I’m not saying you have to, I’m merely suggesting the option.”

You hummed, “Well, not many men would like to live this life, nor are they prepared or knowledgable enough for it.”

Except for Aemond.

William laughed, crows feet becoming deeper, “I know you think men are a burden, if not a waste of ones time, but you never know, one may just wash ashore and change your perspective.”

Your breath stilled in your chest.

Did he know?

“What about Greyjoy?” William clicked his fingers, “The Dalton lad.” “His eyes always looks for you when he comes to town. Asks after you; Where you are, who you’re with, what you’re doing. Nice lad.”

“Nice enough.” You shifted uncomfortably, “But his heart belongs to the sea, and he would scarcely be home. What life would I live raising a child with a father who blows in with the tide? Not to mention, he has, shall we say, fleeting affections for others.”

William snorted, “I wouldn’t say his affections for you were fleeting, but aye, he is a man of the sea through and through. And those Greyjoys are known for their whoring.”

You guffawed, “William!”

“What?” He looked at you incredulously, “I speak the Gods honest truth. He wouldn’t be my first choice for you, but Celia-“

“Ahh.” You leant back in your chair, “Has Celia been playing the matchmaker of late?”

The older man grumbled, “When has she not? She tried to suggest Edmund Pyke-“

“-The fish mongers son?”

“Aye.” William shook his head, “Meek young man, too meek for the likes of you. I told Celia you’d eat him alive.”

A huffed chuckle fell from your lips, “Not much to devour. If I remember correctly, he stands half your size. Quiet boy.”

“Indeed. Always a shock when you hear him speak, like a mouse’s fart.” The man teased, draining the rest of his tea in one gulp, “But a man like that is no match for a woman like you. You need someone who can take what you give.” His eyes softened as he looked at you, “I doubt any man would be worthy of you. You are so very much like your mother; kind, soft.” A grin pulled at his lips, "But then you are frustratingly stubborn like your father and argumentative to a fault. And Gods awful at making tea.” He grimaced.

“My tea is perfectly fine, thank you very much. If it is so horrible for you to drink, then perhaps you should make yourself scarce.” You bit the insides of your cheeks to stop yourself from smiling, and William did the same, until finally he burst into a howling laugh, hand on his stomach as his head bent backwards.

“Oh no,” He grinned, standing with a grunt and pop of his knees, “I don’t worry for you marrying a man, I worry for the poor soul who will have to marry you.”

You stood to meet him, “Then you needn’t worry, for I see no husband on the horizon by the name of Greyjoy or Pyke.”

William raised a brow, “Just those names then?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, “Be quiet, you.” You smacked him on the chest lightly, letting him pull you in for a final hug.

Slowly you walked William back to his boat, chatting quietly amongst yourselves as you went to shore, helping him to drag it down the sand to the water, the little vessel swaying in the small waves, the sun slowly beginning to set in the horizon.

“Now you take care of yourself, you hear me? Come to town and visit when the weather is fare. The girls would love to see you.”

You nodded, promising to come soon, hugging him once more on the sand.

William took one final gaze at you, eyes searching your face with an almost unreadable expression to it, “You’ve changed.” He pushed his boat further into the water before sitting to face you, rowers in hands as his boat rocked side to side on the small waves, “You’re lighter. Brighter. Before the storm you were dull, but now…” His voice trailed off in the wind as he rowed himself backwards slowly, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were in love!” He called out, boat moving away from the beach.

“A good thing you know better!” You called out after him, heat rising in your neck and face as your heart began to race in your chest, “Give my love to the girls!” You waved and he nodded, your feet stepping back to avoid a small wave that dragged water up to your boots, “And tell Celia to stop trying to marry me off like a prized mare!”

“I’ll do no such thing!” William yelled back laughing, before finally he was away.

You stood on the beach, watching the man grow smaller and smaller as he made his way back to shore. Your feet had begun to sink into the sand, damp seeping in through the sides before you decided to return back to the cottage.

When you entered, your bedroom door was open, and Aemond was in the kitchen, pumping water in the dry sink to wash the two cups and put them away. As he heard your approach he turned his head toward you, though not fully.

“He seems a decent man.” He stated softly, hands scrubbing the tea from the cups.

You smiled softly, “He is. I grew up with him. Always visiting me and pa whenever he had the chance. And when pa died, he became a father to me.”

Aemond hummed, “He cares a lot about you, as if you’re his own.” Aemond grabbed a cloth and dried the mugs placing them back on the shelf, “It’s good to see decent men being decent fathers.”

You nodded and smiled. You knew from what Aemond had told you that he did not have a good relationship with his father, and you were more than fortunate to not only have one, but two father figures in your life who had been nothing but loving to you.

And whilst you thought of memories of your pa and William, the air in the cottage shifted.

Aemond dried his hands and turned to face you, his posture stiff, face pulled into a hard line, “You didn’t tell me that Dalton was pursuing you. You would let me leave on his ship with him without saying as much?”

There was something in his eye and the way that he spoke that made you shift on your feet nervously.

You began to pull your coat from your shoulders, “Pursuing is an exaggeration.” You lied to yourself, “Dalton has no desire to ask for my hand, nor has he ever expressed any desire. His family are Lord’s. He himself is a Lord. His family would never approve of my-“

“-But he wants you.” Aemond said lowly, stepping forward, looking down at you from his nose, “Desires you. I heard William say that he seeks you out, asks after you. It’s clear there is something there between you.”

Your brows furrowed, “Do you make a habit of listening in on others conversations? There is nothing between me and Dalton. I have known him all my life, and to this day nothing has happened. He is scarcely in town, always on the seas exploring new lands, new women. His interest in me is purely physical, I assure you.”

“And is it reciprocated?”

You blanched, blinking up at him, “Reciprocated?”

Aemond’s jaw twitched as he looked down at you, “Do you desire him in the way he desires you? Do you wish for him to touch you?” His voice dropped lower as he stepped towards you, hand coming to tuck loose strands of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering at the skin of your neck, “To taste you?”

You couldn’t think.

Couldn’t breathe.

Stuck to the floor as you looked up at the silver haired man whom you now realised was jealous.

His lilac eye had darkened as he looked down his nose at you, sharp features illuminated harshly by the fire behind him. His lips were pulled into a stiff line, and his chest rose and fell shallowly.

“Well?”

You blinked again, and cleared your throat softly, “No.” You whispered quietly to the room, watched as his brows furrowed in disbelief, “Once I had.” You admitted watching as his jaw ticked, “But that was before I met you. It feels a long time ago, and it was merely a passing thought, one bred by the desire to not be alone.”

At your words, Aemond seemed to relax, his lips softened and brow evened out, though his jaw remained clenched, “And are you alone?”

Your head cocked to the side.

Alone?

But he was standing right with you.

Right in front of you.

“No?”

Aemond huffed a small humourless laugh at your response, clearly you had misunderstood him.

“Do you feel lonely? With me here?”

You licked your lips, feeling the warmth of his body come closer as he stepped forward, fingers at your neck sliding to the back, tangling themselves into your hair as he pulled you closer. His mouth was a breath apart from yours, his eye on your lips as you heaved uneven lungfuls, waiting for your answer.

You tilted your head upwards, lips brushing against his softly, the feeling sending warmth settling into your gut as you chased his embrace. But Aemond did not let you close the gap, and moved his lips away, awaiting your answer yet again.

As soft as a whisper came your answer.

“Not anymore.”

Aemond’s lips met yours as soon as the words left your mouth, chasing yours in a heated kiss, the hand at the back of your neck tangling in your hair tightly as he pulled you impossibly closer, other arm wrapping around your waist to pull you against him, almost lifting you onto his own feet.

His lips felt like a breath of fresh air, a fire within you set ablaze with each passing moment. You chased after him as much as he chased after you, your hands desperately pulling his tunic closer to you, neck craned up on your tip toes to reach.

The sailors hands came to the front of your dress, teeth nipping at your bottom lip causing you to gasp. His tongue took advantage of your parted lips, licking into your mouth at the opening. You moaned warmly, feeling his hands pause at the buttons at the front of your dress. You nodded sharply, not willing to part from him to verbally give an answer.

With practised ease, he began to pull at the buttons one by one, slowly opening the front of your gown. When it was finally undone down to your navel, you parted for air, a wave of realisation crashing over you.

“The lamp.” You breathed breathlessly, rearing your head back to look up at Aemond, night had begun to fall outside.

His eye was half lidded, pupil expanded across the lilac, and a soft pink dusted on his cheeks, “Already lit.” He mumbled before crashing his lips back against yours.

You made a startled squeak, and wondered briefly when he had had the time to go light it in your absence. But any lingering questioning you had were lost when his large hands scooped under the front of your collarbones and up to your shoulders, slowly sliding the gown down your torso, freeing your arms as he went.

He stepped back to look over you, goosebumps rising on your skin as his heated gaze roamed over your breasts and body. His lips were pink and swollen from your embrace, and the pupil of his eye expanded.

Feeling a spur of confidence, you undid the small belted laces at the back, letting the heavy dress and skirts fall to the ground beneath you in a puddle.

Aemond was on you in a second, the room tilting as you were suddenly picked up, legs automatically wrapping around Aemond’s hips as he hungrily kissed you, all teeth and tongue and impatience, neediness bleeding through the both of you in a rush of desire.

It was as though wildfire had caught in the space between, and it burnt at you both hotly, the flames licking higher and higher on your bodies, an all consuming need.

Your need for him burnt.

“Bed.” He murmured into your lips, speedily walking to the room before he dropped you onto the bed with a bounce.

You gazed up at him through your lashes and watched as he pulled his tunic from over his head with one hand in one swift movement, your eyes roaming down his lean body.

Pale littering of scars were on his chest and arms, and your gaze moved lower still to the trail of hair that lead to what was beneath his breeches, the memory of it causing your core to clench around nothing.

Aemond breathed heavily looking down at you before he pulled you to the edge by your feet, a squeak rising from your chest as he loomed over you.

With haste, Aemond unlaced your boots, throwing them away alongside the stockings he rolled down your legs impatiently. Then came your stays, which did not survive his large, weather worn hands, which tore the laces from their holes, ripping the material at the seams.

You gasped loudly as he did it, not truly knowing the strength he had hidden, which was then smothered by his wanting mouth, body climbing on top of you as he kissed and nipped sharply at your lips with his teeth, hips pressing down into your own as he ground into you.

Heat settled in your gut with each thrust of his hips, his hardening length brushing against your sensitive pearl each time, sending shooting sparks of pleasure up your spine. The kiss consumed you, heat rising in the room as the both of you gripped and pulled at each other desperately, Aemond only breaking the kiss to pave a path down your neck, stopping every so often to suck or bite at your flesh, marking you which caused you to mewl beneath him.

He sunk lower and lower on the bed, pulling up your slip with his hands as he settled between your thighs once again, your hands gripping the sheets of the bed as you looked down at him. His eye was already on you, watching your face as he breathed cool breaths against your bare core.

You whimpered as he blew air onto it, cold on your throbbing bud as he smirked up at you, “Sīr lōz.”, He cooed, swiping two fingers gently up your slit, parting your folds.

A finger pressed down on you, watching with delight as you squirmed beneath him. You bucked your hips up towards his lips shyly as he blew against you again, smirking at how you whimpered and writhed, desperate to alleviate the ache that had been building within since he captured your lips with his.

“Is something wrong?” Aemond smirked, rubbing his fingers through your folds, but never quite touching you were you needed him.

“Please.” You whispered, hips seeking his fingers desperately.

“Please, what?"

You shut your eyes tightly, embarrassment coursing through you, "Please, Aemond."

The man chuckled gently, pressing a kiss just above where you needed him, watching as your eyes opened to look down at him again.

"Syt ao? Mirros.”

Aemond ducked his head between your thighs, hand on either side of your thighs, holding you open for him as he licked a wide stripe up your centre, tongue flicking against your bud.

Your back arched from the bed, eyes screwed shut as pleasure shot through you. The Targaryen moaned into your folds, beginning to lap at them hungrily, thumbs holding you open for him so that he focused on your pearl.

“Iksā sīr vok syt nyke.” Aemond groaned, two long fingers finding your entrance, slowly beginning to push inside of you.

Your breath hitched as they entered, immediately curling up to the soft spongey spot inside of you that he found last time, memorising each and every inch of your body and the reactions that you made when he licked, sucked, pressed or rubbed against it.

The sounds he made as he lapped at your core was filthy, depraved, and down right ravenous, moaning into your cunt as pleasure wound tightly in your belly, his ministrations slowly but surely pulling you towards the edge, no doubt assisted by his low rumblings in his mother tongue.

“Nyke jorrāelagon ao.” He gasped against your thigh, watching his fingers disappear inside of you as he began to fuck them at a faster pace, wetness coating your thighs and the bed beneath you “Gaomā daor gīmigon ziry,” He kissed at your thigh looking up into your eyes with an intensity that made the breath in your chest still, “Yn iksi vēttan naejot sagon.”

Your hips bucked, one hand releasing the sheets to card through his hair, his lilac eye momentarily shutting as you pulled lightly at the strands, a hum vibrating his chest, “Common tongue, please.”

“More tongue?” Aemond responded cheekily, eyebrow raised at you, and before you could quip back, he was back to using his mouth on you, sucking your pearl into his mouth as his fingers did not slow, the tension in your gut about the break.

“Oh.” You breathed, mouth open, “Oh Gods. Oh- fucking Hells.” Pleasure raced through you violently, and a long pealing whine flitted from your lips as you reached your peak.

Aemond sucked your bud into his mouth as he flicked his tongue against it, fingers fucking inside of you speedily through it, the wet squelching of your release loud in the room with each thrust of his hand. Your grip in his hair tightened and you pulled, still falling from the precipice he had brought you to, a deep grunt vibrating into your already sensitive core.

“Aemond- Nng- Please. Slow down.” You whined, writhing as the pleasure soon turned borderline painful, too overstimulated to function.

With a final broad wipe of his tongue, the silver haired man ceased his movements, allowing for your body to finally slump into the pillows, a light sheen of sweat covering you.

Your eyes slid shut as you huffed a laugh, whimpering lightly when he pulled his fingers from within you. Aemond placed wet kisses to the top of you mound, your hip bones, and then to your stomach which he revealed by pulling your slip up your body.

Only did your eyes re-open when he kept lifting the slip up over your breasts, his mouth coming down to capture a pert nipple in his mouth. He rolled it with his tongue, teeth lightly holding it in place as he slotted his hips against you once again.

You moaned, hands sliding down his sides to his breeches which were still very much on his hips.

“Off.” You breathed, tugging at his pants, his mouth releasing your nipple with a soft pop.

“Patience, byka perzys.” Little flame, Aemond chuckled, shifting to drag his breeches down his legs, kicking them off the bed along with his boots.

When he laid back against you, his hands moved to your shift again, pulling it over your head, leaving the two of you bare before each other once again. His head dipped and captured your lips, the taste of yourself on his tongue tart and musky.

Swiftly, Aemond used his thighs to part your own, moving them over the top of his as he lined the hard tip of his cock up with your soaked entrance.

Without pause, Aemond slid inside of you, catching your gasp in his mouth as you stretched around him. There was only the slightest of stings this time, your body far more relaxed than the first time.

The head of his cock pressed against your cervix snugly as he pushed to the hilt, the feeling of fullness spreading within you and up through your gut. You don't think that you could ever get used to such a feeling, such an all encompassing fullness that would forever shock you.

Aemond didn’t wait to give you a chance to adjust, and began to thrust himself through your silky walls immediately, sparks of pleasure beginning rippling up your body. A large hand held your hip, whilst the other buried itself in your hair, tilting your head further back for him to dive his tongue into your mouth, flicking at your own as you messily grabbed and kissed one another.

Feeling yourself begin to jolt up the bed, you lifted your legs and wrapped them around his waist, pulling him deeper and closer to you, desperate whine moving through you as his hips clapped against yours.

It was frenzied, fiery, and with each smack of his hips, you felt your wetness spread against his thighs and hair at the base of his length, his pelvis rubbing against your sensitive nub.

“Sīr ȳrda.” He moaned, head dipping into the crux of your neck, hand on your hip skimming to the globe of your ass, squeezing it as he fucked you harder, grunts spilling from his lips growing louder.

“You feel so good.” You whimpered, hands clawing at his back sharply as you felt a familiar coil within begin to wind again, “Please.”

Aemond raised his head to look down at you, your gaze meeting his. With his thumb, Aemond began to swirl small, wet circles into your pearl, accelerating your oncoming release. The lilac of his eye looked almost black as he lowered his voice to you.

“Take it from me.”

Pleasure coursed through your veins. Blinding white heat pummelling through you as you reached your peak below him.

“There you go.” He cooed, watching as your release crashed over you.

Aemond tumbled over the edge with you with a cry. Your nails dug into his back as he sped up, looking down intently, mouth slack as he watched you come apart from below, not once breaking your locked gaze.

His forehead pressed into yours as he slowed, the throbbing of his length inside you and warmth of his spend filling you causing a smaller wave of pleasure to race through you, your walls clamping down onto him. Aemond hissed before coming to a stop, the both of you panting heavily, bodies going slack, the weight of him on top bringing you an odd sense of comfort.

Carefully Aemond rolled off of you, his cock sliding out from your sensitive walls as he lay on his back, pulling you into his side to tuck your head beneath his.

You curled into him immediately, as though you had done it a million times before, fitting perfectly at his side. You wrapped an arm around his middle, lifting a leg to hook over his hips, which he held and sooth his his hand.

Your entire body was buzzing with the after mass of your release, limbs feeling heavier than they once were. The two of you sweaty and satiated, whilst small little huffs of joy breathed into the space as you both fell into a comfortable rest.

Another week goes by, and soon enough, it had been almost a month since Aemond washed ashore on your island.

Almost a month since the largest storm you had seen raged across the horizon and into the headlands.

Almost a month since you had nursed a man back from death and back to the living.

Almost a month since your heart began to grow fond of the man.

Almost a month since you had grown content with Aemond’s presence.

Things had changed again, not in any negative way, but things became more passionate, more heated, more tender.

Aemond would touch you whenever he could, hold you whenever he could, hand pressed against yours. Lips to yours, or your cheek, or forehead, and his his hands would seek you in gentle caresses that would set you alight and wanting for more.

And he always gave you more.

He seemed to be insatiable, never quite getting his fill, and whatever he had awoken inside of you was equal in fever.

You noted that his personal preference was to be between your thighs, lapping at your folds whenever he could, pulling peak after peak from you whether on your bed, or the couch, against the table or walls or doors or kitchen bench. And even, on one occasion, in the lighthouse, pressed against the bricks with a leg hitched over his shoulder.

Aemond never seemed to get enough of it, always insisting on it before he would sink himself inside of you. You had asked him why once, and he had flushed, stating that it was to prepare you, but when you had asked again, he said that there was no greater sweetness in all the lands he had travelled to than your, so eloquently put, cunt.

Not that you minded, in fact, it began to be a favourite pass time of your own.

When you had woken that morning, it wasn’t to your usual bodily clock, rising before the sun after years of habit, but rather to the warm and wet sensation that prodded and swiped between your legs.

You rose with a moan, and then a deeper one as you found Aemond between your thighs kissing your centre like a man starved. It didn’t take him long to get you to reach your peak, and when you had, he had smiled almost smugly, and stated that that was all he needed to eat for the day.

But the newfound intimacy and exploring each others bodies wasn’t all that you enjoyed in your shifting tides together. Each moment spent with Aemond you learnt more about him. Piece by piece he would reveal new information to you. A new memory, a new story, a new piece of knowledge about the mysterious man that you would itemise and lock away in the back of your mind to create a larger picture of the man in front of you.

You spent hours reading together when not working, for double the hands makes for swift work, and you found that for the first time in your life, you had the ability to sit down, to breathe, to not have every waking moment thinking about the lighthouse and only the lighthouse. And in those moments of breath and thought, you realised how much you truly had been missing out on in life.

You had thought you had been content alone, but the more time you spent with him, the more time you spent reading or hearing about his own adventures, you realised, much to your dismay, how you longed to do the same. But you couldn’t ever leave, for no-one would man the lighthouse after you, at least no-one you would know to be so proficient. Unless it was William himself, but he had a wife and daughters and a job of his own, and you would never ask him to do such a thing for your selfish wants and imagination.

And so you were content in savouring each moment you had with the sailor whilst he was still there, laughing loudly over whiskey as he told you of a story of his older brother losing a wooden sword match with one of his nephews, or another time in which his brother Aegon had grown so drunk at a family event, that two maids had to assist him to bed, dropping him halfway up the stairs as they went.

You learnt that his sister, Helaena, was a sweet and gentle woman with a soft and kind heart. She had, what he called, a nervous or paranoid disposition, and often believed her dreams that things were to happen, the family taking no notice to her fretting. Though he did note, with an ashen face, that she had warned him once about a danger beneath the eye.

Had she meant the eye he lost?

Or the eye of the storm which led to his ships demise, and almost his own?

Aemond did not know.

His mother, you learnt, Alicent, was a stern and pious woman, heavily religious and intent on him performing his duties and marrying a young Lady from a neighbouring land. Though at times she seemed to be somewhat overbearing and traditional in his retellings, when he spoke of her, there was a deep fondness in his eye, and it made you all the more disappointed in yourself for having kept him away from them.

During his stay, Aemond kept his promise to you, teaching you what he could of High Valyrian when you had the chance. It was a struggle to start, but you picked it up quicker than you had thought you would.

He would praise you for your pronunciation, which only led you to want to do better for him, his words of affirmation doing something to your heart and body, which resulted in you mumbling words and phrases beneath your breath every chance you had to perfect them.

You also learnt that he had an older sister, estranged, not talked about and something that was clearly a taboo for the sailor, but when he did mention her, it was to note that her High Valyrian was more advanced as their father had spent ample time teaching her, but not his four other children.

Aemond was, for the most part, self taught, besides the help of a lone tutor which Aemond noted was poorly.

Each time he shared a piece of himself to you, your heart longed to go with him, to see the famed Keep where his family resided. To meet his mother Alicent who was such an important person in his life, as well as his sister Helaena. You wished to meet Aegon, to see if he truly was as bumbling as Aemond had told you.

You wished to see the foods they had, imported from foreign lands you couldn’t pronounce, to walk the Gardens of the Keep, to see the ashen barked Weirwood tree in his Godswood, to try a starfruit, which Aemond had a craving for almost every second day, the shape and flavour a wonder to you.

You wished to be a part of his life, a part of his family, and a tiny, foolish part of you thought that perhaps you could. But the more rational side knew that it could not be, that you were of low rank, and you could not leave the lighthouse unmanned, and as each day passed with this heavy revelation, came the looming of a dark cloud above you.

The fresh scones you had made were still soft and fresh, Celia’s jam spread thickly on top as a treat for the both of you that morning. The cottage was cold, but the heat of the fire radiated warmth around the two of you, a subtle wind whistling past the windows outside.

Despite the bright mood the two of you had, started by Aemond waking you up between your thighs, that cloud still loomed over the top of you, dread and anticipation of what was to come nipping at you like a hound.

“Celia makes great jam. I should like to thank her one day.” Aemond hummed, popping a small broken piece of scone into his mouth to chew, licking the jam off the pad of his thumb after he swallowed.

You nodded, smiling, though it didn’t reach your eyes, “You should thank her yourself in person. I am sure she would like to meet a real Targaryen.”

His eye searched your face, “One day.”

“But when?” You swallowed, preparing your speech which you had practiced over and over in a loop in your head, finding some way that would make him want to stay, to make him want you.

The silver haired man frowned, placing the rest of his scone on his plate as he sat himself straighter, “When?”

“Yes. When.” The lump in your throat grew larger with each passing second, “You have a family, duties, a life. Your mother must be beside herself with worry and grief, and I fear that I am taking you from that. I fear I am creating pain for you all.”

“Taking me?” Aemond sounded confused, eye swiftly searching your face as you straightened in your chair.

“I do not wish to…force you to stay here, or corrupt you into thinking I could be anything other than this.” You watched as his frown deepened, lips pulling into a thin line, “I cannot keep you here as much as I wish to.”

His frown softened, “You wish for me to stay?”

“Kessa.” (Yes) You said quietly, “But I know it is not the reality we live in. You are a Lord, I am-“

“-Why do you always bring up my rank?”

“Because it means something. If your family found out that you have been here, with someone like me, the talk alone could ruin your potential list of decent wives. Your future. I fear I have already tainted-“

“-Tainted?”

“Yes, I-“

“-Why do you believe yourself to ever be capable of tainting me?” Aemond’s voice was stern, colder than before, as though angry at your words. You looked down at the table shyly, focusing on the scone smeared with jam.

“You do not think you could stay here forever, do you?”

Aemond huffed air through his nose, “I can do whatever I like. Go where I please, see who I wish. For now, my family believes me to be dead, and even if I was known to be hale and healthy, I can still do as I please.”

“But your mother-“

“-My mother,” Aemond began, voice softening, “Will one day come to understand.”

You shook your head, confusion coursing through you, “I don’t understand.”

Aemond’s jaw tensed, teeth pressing sharply against each other before he adjusted himself to sit even more impossibly straighter, “Do you believe in the Gods?”

Your eyebrows knitted together, “Of course. I would not have prayed to them if I did not.”

“Then you must believe the Gods control our paths and fate.”

Paths and fate?

What was he talking about?

“Yes, I believe so. But I don’t understand what the Gods have to do with you needing to go home.”

Aemond took a deep breath through his nose, his hand on the table as fingers flexed and then curled back into a fist, dropping into his lap out of sight, “My ship sunk for a reason. I do not believe that it happened without purpose. I drowned and came back for a reason. You prayed to the Gods to save me, and they did.” His tongue peeked out of his lips to wet them, and your heart began to race in your chest, “The Gods gave me a second chance at life and brought me straight to you.” He shook his head, silver locks falling over his shoulders, “Before you, I was unhappy, but with you? I have never been so content. So… at peace.”

Tears prickled at your eyes, your own hands twisting in your lap, “Please do not say such things to me, Sir. My heart cannot bear it.”

Aemond leant forward, “But it is the truth. And mine own heart cannot bear the thought of leaving here. Of leaving you.”

A tear fell from your eye, sliding wetly down your cheek as you looked at him, his figure blurred in your vision, “You cannot want me.”

“I can. And I do.”

A sob fell from your lips as you looked at him, “This is cruelty, Aemond. You cannot- You can’t- Your family would never allow it. You cannot say these things to me, do not give me false hope. Do not give me reason to believe.”

Aemond's hand lifted on top of the table, palm up, offered to you.

You looked at his palm, and the soft smooth skin there, and wished to mark it. You wished to mark him so that he could never leave, so that he could never be without you without evidence of you existing.

“False hope would be to say that I could ever leave here with my heart intact.” His hand waited for you on the table, “Please.”

Another tear fell from your cheek, “You cannot want a life like this. You cannot want a life with me. I have no money, I cannot ever leave, I would never trap you here with me.”

“You could never trap me in the first place. I am yours.”

I am yours.

Another sob fell from your lips, chest aching at the thought of losing him, at the thought of him leaving you. That this declaration would be for naught, that he had not truly thought this over, but deep inside of you, you hoped, dreamed, begged the Gods for his words to be true.

Aemond’s hand slid off the table and back into his lap as he stared at you, silence creeping across the table.

“I am just as much yours. Irrevocably.” You breathed, watching as relief flooded Aemond’s face, “But I cannot ask this of you. Not when you lose so much if you do.”

Aemond stood from his seat, swiftly coming towards you where he knelt in front of you, forcefully taking your hand in his as he looked up into your tear filled eyes. His thumb brushed over your knuckles soothingly, his other hand briefly coming to swipe a tear from your cheek before meeting the other that held yours.

“You are not asking me to do anything, byka perzys.” His words came swiftly, eye searching your face as tear after tear fell down your cheeks, “And if you were, I would do it. A thousands times over, I would do it. If you asked me to walk back into the sea, I would do it. For you, I would do it.”

“Aemond,” You shook your head sadly, mouth opening again to argue, but he interrupted you.

“-I want to stay.” His hands gripped yours tighter, “Here. With you. I want to be with you. Always.” He swallowed thickly, “If you’ll have me.”

Your blood thumped loudly in your ears as you looked at him. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t speak, mind going a thousand miles an hour.

He wanted to stay.

He wanted to stay here.

With you.

“Please do not turn me away. The fate of the seas would be kinder.” His voice cracked, and your heart ached.

There was no turning back, no moving from this conversation without an outcome.

It all just depended on which path you wished to go. Which path your heart ached for most, and that was for him to stay. But would it come without consequences? Would his decision to stay be a mistake he would come to resent you for?

You had nothing to lose, he had everything to.

But the way he was looking at you, the way he was patiently and nervously awaiting your answer, watching as tears continued to fall from your eyes, not just out of grief, but sheer overwhelming love for the man knelt before you, offering all that he was, sacrificing all that he had, and for you.

A small smile cracked on your lips, and you watched as his eye became hopeful. Your hand lifted to his cheek, caressing it softly to cup his jaw as you looked him over; his lilac eye, the sharp aquiline of his nose, the way his plump lips pulled sharply at its peaks. Never in your dreams could you have imagined such a man, and never in your life did you think to imagine that a man such as him could be yours.

And it was in that moment that you made your decision.

You smiled, small sobbing laugh escaping your lips as you rubbed a thumb against his skin, feeling the smooth stubble beneath it, “The Gods brought you to me.” You whispered, eyes searching his face for any sign of regret or trepidation, and when you found none, you continued, “Who am I to turn you away?”

And there it was, that full smile that you had grown to love.

Aemond’s lips pulled widely revealing his teeth as he beamed up at you.

Never had you felt such joy, such elation inside of you at the sight, your heart feeling as though it became full, a fire settling into your chest raging as it always did with him, for he always made it feel as though he set you alight.

“Avy jorrāelan.” Aemond declared softly with a smile, his eyes crinkling in the corners, lilac dancing with admiration, the unseeing eye reflecting the light of the sun outside like a cloudy morning sky.

He sat up on his knees and leant forward, face coming towards you before his eye shut, and his lips met yours in a passionate kiss. Your hands grabbed his face, and he did yours, diving his fingers into your hair, holding you to him gently as he slowly sought your lips with his own.

It was not rushed, it was not frantic, but patient, the both of you knowing that you were no longer running on limited time. No longer stealing moments together before the end.

No longer was there a looming departure of his presence in your life, and as though a breeze from outside swept inside the house, the dark looming cloud that had situated itself above you cleared.

When finally did you part, breathless and giddy, a curiosity took over.

“What does that mean?” You questioned, burning desire to know eating away at you, “What you said?”

And there was that smile once more, and you knew in your heart what it meant after that.

“You will know soon enough.”

Translations:

Sīr lōz - So wet

Syt ao? Mirros - For you? Anything

Iksā sīr vok syt nyke - You are so perfect for me

Nyke jorrāelagon ao. I need you

Gaomā daor gīmigon ziry, Yn iksi vēttan naejot sagon - You do not know it, but we are made to be.

Sīr ȳrda - So tight

Avy jorrāelan - I love you

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

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#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fic #aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x y/n #hotd fanfic #lighthouse!Aemond #asumofwords lighthouse #sailor!aemond #LighthouseKeeper!reader #sailor!Aemond x reader #Sailor!Aemond #LighthouseKeeper!Reader #Asumofwords Lighthouse #shipwreck!aemond

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bless-my-demons · 8 months

Text

Redamancy: Chapter Thirteen

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: None except for a cuss word and some tooth-rotting fluff

Notes: Oops, I lied - New Moon timeline has been pushed to the right a bit, I got carried away with this chapter lol this one got me cheesin’ hard. I can’t even wait to post this until my regular time, so enjoy!! (Hopefully I didn’t fuck up the tags - thank you to everyone that’s used the google form!)

Word Count: 2701

Series Masterlist

• March 21st, 2005 • Cullen’s Residence •

Reader

The soothing motion of Carlisle’s car came to a gentle stop that didn’t completely wake me up. But the cold arms reaching under me to lift me from the vehicle certainly did. As he began to lift me, Jasper made sure to secure the hem of my dress for my modesty causing me to smile sleepily at his thoughtfulness.

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” He asks quietly, speaking softly into my hairline.

“You.” I blush immediately at my whispered confession, keeping my eyes closed and face buried in his shoulder.

“Mmm, I think I like sleepy Y/n.” He says with a chuckle that rumbles through me.

I finally look up at our surroundings, noticing we’re at his house instead of mine.

“Why-”

“Your mom isn’t expecting us until tomorrow afternoon, normal people don’t make a twenty-four hour drive without sleeping.” Somehow he manages to open the front door without setting me down. “So, you’re going to get some rest while I go for a hunt.”

I blink up at him slowly as he continues his path through his house. I get another day with him? Well, however much is left once his hunger is satiated.

“My siblings are at school, Esme is redecorating with one of her clients, and Carlisle is at the hospital so the house is yours for most of the day.” Jasper explains, walking down the hallway and finally into his room before returning me gently back to solid ground.

His massive king bed is as immaculately made as the first time I saw it and just as inviting. The longer I admire the fluffy black duvet and mountain of pillows, the more aware I am of all the little aches and pains sleeping in the car caused. Not to mention the lingering tenderness of my healing ribs and the other broken parts of me.

Jasper turns me to face his black gaze, “Climb in and get some sleep, Esme stocked the kitchen for you and I’ll be back before you know it.” It comes out almost robotic, but I see that he’s trying - his hunger covers every inch of his face and keeps his body rigid.

“Take your time, I won’t leave without you.” I reassure him with a half smile, especially since I never made that exact promise in the hotel.

He leans in to plant a kiss to my temple before he’s gone with a small breeze and a lingering coolness on my skin as the only signs he was just there. Sighing, I slide the thick drapes closed to stop the morning sun from shining through the beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows.

I stop in the doorway to his closet before reaching the bed, contemplating snooping for something more comfortable to sleep in. Would stealing a shirt be too much? We aren’t even dating, but I do have permission to sleep in his bed… the dresser on the far wall tempts me forward. What’s one shirt to a vampire?

Sliding open the middle drawer in search of anything comfier than a dress, a small note card is waiting on top of his neatly folded shirts:

He doesn’t mind one bit.

- A

Christ, this woman thinks of everything. Grinning, I step out of my sundress and pick up a black short sleeve that’s a couple sizes too big. It hits the tops of my thighs, but since I’m home alone - I don’t think twice before climbing into his bed and situating myself for a much needed rest.

Inhaling the scent that’s so distinctly Jasper Hale, sleep finds me easily for the first time in a very long time.

Jasper

She’s in my shirt. In my bed. In my room. My sheets twisted around her legs. My pillows cradling her body. My scent mingling with hers and settling into the walls, the carpet, the bookshelves, the bed, my lungs.

I close my eyes and slowly retreat out of my room, shutting the door almost completely silent and resting my head on the wood.

“You good?” Emmett’s question almost startles me right out of my skin.

I sigh, “That hunt was almost for fucking nothing.” I turn my darkening eyes toward my brother to see surprise sweeping his face.

“You just got back!” He whisper yells with a wide-eyed look, knowing Y/n is asleep.

“She’s-” a low growl gets the better of me and I immediately tamp it down, closing my eyes in concentration.

A chuckle poorly contained slips from my brother and my eyes burst open to give him a deadly glare.

“You got it bad, brother.” He claps my shoulder with one of his massive hands and steers me down the hallway, putting distance between me and my greatest temptation. “You’ve got it so bad.”

Reader

I wake with a yawn and a stretch, relishing in the softness of Jasper’s sheets.

My eyes snap open. Jasper’s sheets.

I’m in Jasper Hale’s bed, wearing his shirt and my underwear and nothing else.

Shooting up into a sitting position, I glance around wildly trying to determine what time it was, but my eyes stop in the corner of his room. Jasper, sitting in a chair reading a book by a dim lamp.

“It’s almost seven, you slept most of the day. How was your nap, darlin’?” Setting his book down on his lap, he meets my gaze with a sly grin before sliding his eyes down my legs. “I see you made yourself comfortable.”

I gasp, “I-I uh-” fumbling for an explanation as to why I’m half-naked in his bed and absolutely failing.

“Sweetheart, it’s alright. A very nice view to come home to, so I guess you could say it’s more than alright.” He stalks forward slowly, light brown eyes holding me in a trance.

I blush deeply at his words and pull the blankets up to my chest, wishing these sheets could swallow me up.

Just then, a knock at the door and Alice pokes her head inside, “Oh good - you’re up! Get decent, everyone is getting together in the living room for movie night!” She finishes with a wink and is gone as fast as she arrived.

Jasper disappears into his closet and re-emerges with a pair of black sweats, setting them in my lap and leaning forward to whisper in my ear, “Can’t have a lady walking around in just my shirt, huh darlin’?”

Watching him duck out of the room so that I can slip on the bottoms, I contemplate making a run for it to put an end to all this teasing. The blush on my cheeks might as well be permanent.

Jasper

Movie night, really? I direct the thought at Edward and watch him throw a bored, pointed look at our scheming sister before leaving.

Alice replies with a grin, tossing me a blanket presumably for Y/n, “Oh hush, I’m just doing my sisterly duty of moving things along.” She floats past us, preparing the rom-com she selected.

“Don’t even look at me.” Rose waves a hand in dismissal as I raise my eyebrows at her, “I want nothing to do with your human.”

“C’mon, babe-” Emmett whines, but stops at the murderous look in his mate’s eyes. He continues anyways with a semi-serious whisper, “It’s the first time in like, forever since he’s even come close to getting any-”

I cut his inappropriate sentence off with a pillow to the face just as Y/n turns the corner into the room.

“Vampires have pillow fights at night?” She asks playfully, scanning the couch for a spot to sit. My clothes are swarming her and it stirs something I thought was long dead in my chest.

“Vampires do a lot of things at-” Emmett teases her, but this time Rosalie is the one to stop him with a smack to his chest.

Shaking my head, I find a spot on the opposite end of the long sectional from Emmett so as to limit the teasing. Embarrassment and a little something else I can’t quite put my finger on flows from her, so I pat the empty space next to me and hold out my hand for her to take. Once she’s settled with her legs tucked against her chest, I turn to ask Alice to press play and find her already giving me a pointed look. I wrap my arm around Y/n and pull her closer to settle against me, my sister smiles self-satisfied before hopping to the couch and starting the movie.

“Relax, sweetheart.” I whisper in her hair and I’m immediately shushed by Rose.

Y/n finally releases the tension in her body about five minutes into the movie and ten minutes after that, her legs are in my lap with the blanket pulled up to her chin.

“Alice, Rose? Can I get your help with opinions for a client?” Esme calls as she walks through the doorway to the garage halfway into the movie. “And Emmett, mind picking up Carlisle after his shift, sweetheart? I took his car this morning.”

All three of my siblings leave the room, Alice tossing me the remote and Emmett not-so-subtly flashing me a wink. He disappears before Y/n could notice and I could throw another pillow.

I feel her nerves ramp up as the house quiets again, I attempt to ground her by sliding a hand around her ankle under the blanket and it immediately has the opposite effect. Turning to her, she’s already watching me with her mouth open ready to say something, but it’s stuck. So my eyes drift to her mouth, lips that have tempted me from day fucking one. I know she sees what I’m fixated on, because her breath hitches and I tighten my grip on her ankle minutely - not to be painful, but a warning.

“Jasper-”

“May I?” I ask zoned in on her lips, unable to even want to hold myself back anymore. A curious Icarus to her solar flame.

She nods in a daze as my fingers trail her chin, but it’s not enough. “Words, darlin’. I need you to-”

But she’s leaning forward with a whisper, “Yes, Jasper.”

I swear time stops as a buzzing drowns my ears. Breaths puff from her beautiful lips in short spurts, anticipation oozes from her. I have to take a few seconds to collect myself, my mind running rampant.

I slide my hand around to cradle the back of her head and tilt it backwards, the tv casting a warm glow on her face. A shiver wracks through her and I tense, “Do not move.” The request is more of an order and she obeys instantly.

Leaning forward, her warm breath fans across my face before it stops with a sharp inhale. The only sound is her pounding heart and I swear it stutters as I gently meet her lips with mine.

Burning. This burning feeling starts where my lips tangle with hers and it travels down my throat to grip my rock-solid heart in a painful squeeze. Her mouth is warm and pliant where mine is cold and unyielding. Her nose is pressed against mine like a puzzle piece I’ve been missing. It’s absolutely bliss, her lips molding to mine, better than any indulgence I could possibly think up. Her quickening heart rate reminds me to reluctantly retreat - humans and their need for air.

I separate just barely from her mouth and she sucks in a gasp that tears my soul from my chest making me want to dive right back in. Opening my eyes to make sure this is in fact reality, hers are still lightly shut, bliss emanating from every single pore.

How on earth do I go about my day now? Knowing this perfection exists? She’s human, I can’t very well spend eternity kissing her here on this couch.

My groan causes her eyes to flash open and I notice they’re completely dilated, a dangerous observation for my control.

“Are you? I-I mean, did you not-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence.” My voice comes out huskier than I’d like and instantly she relaxes in my grip.

I push back a single strand of hair that blew across her face as I let out a long breath, barely an inch of space between us still. My willpower is at an all time low as we continue to stare at each other in somewhat surprise.

“Jaz?”

“Yes, darlin’?” I’m utterly raptured by her, firmly ensnared by this gorgeous girl - even more so than the moment I met her.

“Can… Can I?” Her question is open and tentative, but I can tell exactly what she wants and I’ll be damned if I don’t give it to her.

“Anything you want, it’s yours sweetheart.” It’s my turn to hold still, to wait patiently for her to come to me.

Reader

Holy fucking shit.

This without a doubt is what it’s like to have an addiction at first taste. Jasper Hale just kissed me and I’m about to kiss him, again.

I lean forward and smooth my hands up his chest to the base of his head, my fingers finding the short ringlets that hide under the bulk of his beautiful blonde hair. He’s deathly still with his eyes closed, allowing me to take the lead - but I also know this is a tricky situation with his control.

My nose bumps his as my eyes flutter closed and it’s his turn to elicit a sharp inhale. Nerves begin to flood my throat with cotton, but they’re gone almost as quickly, Jasper wiping them away with probably half a thought.

I closed the minuscule gap and my lips brush his a little deeper this time, relishing in the temperature difference. Kissing Jasper is in a category of its own, gone are the days I’ll ever settle for the warm mouth of any plain boy ever again.

Opening my lips enough to snake my tongue out for just a taste-

Suddenly there’s a couch-worth of separation between us and both of us are gasping for air like we’ve just run a marathon. His eyes are wide and wild, a darker brown than I distinctly remember a few moments ago.

“I-I’m so sorry,” his voice is strained and his hands are digging through his hair roughly, “Forgive me, darlin’-”

He fumbles at a loss for words, mouth opening and closing with no sound. Immediately I feel terrible because I pushed a boundary he wasn’t ready for.

“Jasper, please-I messed up and I’m so sorry.” I plead from my spot, scared to go and comfort him.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I should have my shit together-” but I stop his panicked apology.

“Look at me, please.” His eyes snap to mine at the request. I scoot closer to him slowly, stopping just within arms reach so as not to invade his personal space. “Can you close your eyes and just, feel with me?”

He takes half a second of hesitation before trusting me, his dark eyes snapping closed with a furrow in his brow. Taking a deep breath, I close my own and focus on exuding positive energy. Calm, content, tranquil - my mind running over any remotely helpful feeling to settle his inner turmoil. After a few moments of the impromptu meditation session, I open my eyes feeling much more relaxed. Staring back at me is the face of a much calmer, but shocked man.

“Did that work? I wasn’t sure, but-”

“You… No one has ever done something like that-darlin’.” Once again I’ve rendered him speechless and it brings a smile to my lips.

“Get used to it Hale, you’re stuck with me now.” I tell him, smug.

“Is that so?” He pulls me closer to him with a grin on his lips, the joy in my chest causing a laugh to burst from me as I toss my head back.

There isn’t a single place I’d rather be than his arms and I’m so glad he’s constantly opening pieces of himself up to let me worm my way inside.

Taglist:

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#bless-my-demons #redamancy series #jasper hale x reader #twilight #twilight fanfiction #jasper whitlock hale #jasper hale fanfiction #jasper hale #female reader insert #jasper hale x female!reader #jasper hale twilight

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schrodingers-deadbitch · 10 months

Text

Half A Corpse

Chapter One

The soft hum of the radio filled the silent car ride, the four bodies inside somewhat anticipating what was to come. It had been a couple of days since they had left the ruins of Amity and were making their way to their new home in Gotham.

If any of them had their own way they would have stayed in Amity and mourned what they had lost. Every Amity Parker would have, even Dan. But with some prompting from none other than Clockwork, they all made their way to their new homes. Where was that? Wherever their hearts took them.

Most, like the Nightingale's, left for Gotham. Others, Metropolis. Some strayed from the trend and moved to places like Central City or even far into the countryside. But it was as Clockwork said, and they went where their hearts took them.

“This place smells of death.”

Jazz couldn't tell if her sister was complaining or not but she wouldn't blame her if she were.

“Haven't you been to Gotham before?” She asked, her eyes drifting upwards to the rear view mirror to look at Dani, only to see her sitting upside down. “Also if you keep that up I'll be the one going to jail not you.”

“It was actually the first place I went because I thought it was interesting,” She said while shifting herself into an upright position “but I could sense that it was someone's haunt so I didn't intrude.”

“Good thing you didn't. She doesn't have the ability to deal with many of the issues within her city but Lady Gotham is a powerful spirit nonetheless, and doesn't do well with outside ghosts.” Dan stated, putting down his book to give his full attention to his little sister.

“Well if that's the case why did she let us in?”

“Because Clockwork and I asked very nicely.” Danny yawned at her. He was still waking up from his nap. He was very, very tired.

Dani didn't ask any more questions. She was already off of that topic and was now observing the city around her. She was completely enamored. Fascinated by how well both the modern and gothic architecture complemented each other. To her (and probably everyone else in the car);

“It gives dark academia vibes, ya know! Just modern. And with lots of crime.” Her voice filled with awe and wonder.

“Excusing the fact that you've been on the internet too much as of late, it would have been better if there was a little more sunlight.”

They all couldn't have agreed more. True to every Gothamite's words, the sun did not shine in Gotham. And with all the smog, probably never will.

From there on the car ride was filled with convocation. Everyone had something to say about their new city. Their new home.

***

Danny never thought that he would be having a conversation with Sam about what it meant to be low-key but here he was.

“Yeah, I know you said that you wanted something low-key but there was no way I was going to let you guys live in some shabby apartment. So I bought a place and renovated it for you guys.”

Danny rubbed his temples feeling a headache coming on. “Yeah okay I thank you for that. But what's the cafe, book shoppy thing down bottom huh?”

“Well you guys said that you wanted to be self-sufficient.” Sam stated as if that would answer his question. Based on pure context alone it did.

"Sam, you know we literally live in a place called Crime. Alley. Right? I know we border the Narrows but that's not the point.”

She sighed. “You guys refused my help because you said it would ‘feel like using me’, “ Danny could just hear the air quotes from over the line, “but let's face it! Jazz is doing college full time and you and Dani will be going to school. The only person left to work in Dan. And no offense to him but he looks shady AF.”

A shout came from the other side of the house informing them that no offense was taken.

“Anyways,” she continued “Dan looks hella shady. And from what I can tell, no one's gonna hire a shady person. Especially if they come from Crime Alley or the Narrows. The only work he would probably get is from a shady garage or joining a gang and doing straight up crime.”

Danny sighed and shook his head, plopping himself into one of the beanbag chairs Sam furnished the house with. She had a point and she was also painting a clear image in his head about how that would work out.

“Besides, I set up a protection circle after renovations were finished and I've gotta say it's the best work I've done yet.”

He could feel Sam's pride through the phone. She was probably puffing up her chest like a peacock.

“Yeah I felt it coming in. I don't know shit about magic but I could tell that it was pretty good. What does it do again?”

The next hour was filled with endless chatter between the two. It became even longer once Tucker joined the conversation.

Jazz couldn't help but watch her little brother talk so animatedly with his friends. He just looked so happy. Like everything that had happened to them didn't even happen. It was kinda unnerving. What she was seeing here, the happy go lucky boy she saw in the orphanage all those years ago, and what she saw a couple back just wasn't adding up. That couldn't have been her brother. It couldn't. But it was.

Her breathing was becoming ragged as she started to shake. She sighed in relief feeling the presence of Dan beside her.

“He's going to remember, you know.” He said, handing her a cup of jasmine tea. She took it gratefully and Dan continued. “Clockwork said that the seals would break eventually-”

“He also said that he needed a trigger.” She snapped at him. After a moment of realization she apologized. He continued.

“CW doesn't do anything uncalculated Jazz I just want you to know that.”

“What do you mean by that?” She asked, her voice quivering a bit.

“He had a whole life before he met you, Jazz. One he doesn't remember. That should say something sis.”

He walked away before she could say anything else.

@emergentpanda-blog

@epilepticnerd

@justwannabecat

@wind02summer

#danny phantom #dc x dp #dcxdp #demon twin au #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #batfamily #damien wayne #batman

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princess-of-thebes-1995 · 7 months

Text

Yandere Professor Hannibal Lecter x Female Reader

Chapter: Dog Days.

When your ex Professor Hannibal Lecter kidnapped you after you finished your school semester as his student, you were at first rebellious. Quite the fighter.

The first meal Professor Lecter cooked for you was none other than Oxtail Soup. He wouldn't let you feed yourself. That annoyed you.

Smiling, he used the spoon to fill it with the tasty liquid and held it to your lips. "Say 'ahh'.''

You blew into the spoon and it caused the hot water to splash onto the face of Professor Lecter.

He hissed in pain. He then put the bowl and spoon down. He slapped you hard across the face.

You were shocked. You clutched your face and felt a bruise forming on your cheek. No one ever raised their hand to you. Not even your own father.

"Listen, Bitch." Professor Lecter grabbed the bottom of your chin to make you look up at him. "I am trying my best and I will not tolerate disrespect."

For you whimpered as tears flowed down your eyes. How frightened you were of this man.

Professor Lecter's expression softened in pity and you think regret. He sighed as if he was tired.

"Please cooperate." He held a spoonful of soup again.

Slowly, you opened your mouth and sipped.

The next morning, you felt weird. You couldn't understand the feeling. It wasn't pleasant. It was, in fact, ugly. Your head hurt and it was spinning like a dark and creepy carousel.

Your throat itches and feels dry. The worst was your temperature. Both overly warm and then cold. Switching on and off. Causing you to be confused. You were sick.

Lecter wanted to make up for slapping you. He knew this was to be expected. I mean he did kidnap you and it was natural to be scared. He felt foolish for losing his temper.

But, his whole life he was respected. His parents spoiled him and would never refuse him. He was popular at school. And when he became an adult and then a successful Psychiatrist, he was always worshiped and respected.

He didn't like this new treatment.

He wanted you to love him back.

Lecter wanted to remove that chain you were wearing and live a normal life with him as his wife.

Well, he wants you to homeschool his future kids. Other than that, he wants a normal life.

Lecter had to wake early to go grocery shopping. He doesn't eat sugar. Only meat and vegetables.

He got the ingredients to make heart shaped pancakes.

He went to Pinterest to cook simple pancakes. He never cooked pancakes before and didn't want to screw it up. This was new to him.

Lecter tried his best. He assumed it was okay. He added strawberries and powdered sugar. It looked decent.

He felt nervous. Normally, he was always confident in everything. With you, it was the opposite. He felt insecure. Oh, well. He shrugged his shoulders. Maybe it is because he loves you. In novels and movies, he read that people feel stupid all the time around their crush.

Taking the tray, he added soy milk and gummy vitamins. He walked down the stairs to the basement.

He saw you curled in bed. "Wake up, my dear. It is time to eat." Lecter announced in an authoritative voice.

When you didn't answer, he clenched his jaw in annoyance. The hard way again? So be it. Lecter settled down the tray on the expensive glass coffee table and walked over to you.

He ripped the blanket off your body. And to his surprise, you were still as a stone. That confused him. He felt your forehead and to his horror, you were burning up.

That caused his heart to pound in fear. You were sick! He then checked your pulse and opened your eyelid. A high fever you had. Lecter then covered you back with the blanket and went upstairs for medicine.

Over the past two hours, Lecter tended to your every need. He gave you pain killers and fed you chicken soup instead. You got better.

But, still weak. Your ex Professor was currently sitting next to your bed pressing a wet rag against your forehead.

You poor thing. He thought. He held your hand lovingly and watched you.

To his surprise, you began talking in your sleep. He blinked in curiosity. He didn't understand what you were saying at first. Now, he heard it loud.

"Mummy."

Ouch. You missed your mother. Lecter sighed. First you wouldn't accept his love, you reject him, he hits you, and now you are sick.

Everything was going wrong.

He is lost and doesn't know what to do.

Covering his face with his hands and resting his elbows on his knees, the stress and worry of your health caused something strange to him.

He felt tears sliding down his wrinkled face.

The thought of you dying was the worst thought. He cannot imagine you leaving him permanently. That was why he took you away in the first place.

"Why are you punishing me, Name?"

#mads mikkelsen #yandere hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal #mads mikkelsen x reader #mads mikkelsen imagine

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itsgodepi · 6 months

Text

If I lose my mind | Ch. 5

Series summary: When life has given you more than enough lemons and you cannot figure out how to make a lemonade, the only way to make it work is to get rid of the whole basket. But was it neccesary to send you to a whole different dimension for that? A juicer would have done the job, really. Or, one day you go to sleep as a normal person and the next you wake up as a Formula One driver. You've never been a fan but isn't it like, one of the most exclusive sports? Pairing: CL16, LH44, CS55, DR3 x fem!reader Chapter: Previous | Next Word Count: 3k Also on AO3

Reading your own Wikipedia page is quite a strange experience. Paragraph after paragraph of your life written on the internet for everybody to see, from the day you were born all the way to this very moment.

You do not know if the fact that none of it is true is for better or worse.

Some parts are accurate, information about your hometown, date of birth, relatives' names and... that’s about it really. According to this biography, not only have you been the runner-up for a Formula 3 championship, but you are also a Formula 2 champion, which is good you guess, for someone that did not even know those kinds of competitions existed. As of two hours ago, Formula One was the only championship with those kinds of cars you had ever heard about, but there are so many. Too many actually. In a section of your page named ‘junior racing career’ —which is in itself a crazy sentence to read—, it even says something about karting’s championships and an academy thing, concepts you are not sure if you want to understand.

Oh, and the most important part, you are a Formula 1 driver, a statement endlessly repeated throughout the text. They even claim this to be your second year on the motorsport, ‘not a rookie anymore’ they say, as if yesterday’s race was not the first one you have ever watched from start to finish.

Still, if being pushed into a Formula One car and a whole Wikipedia page was not enough of a confirmation, you can find a million articles online that certify your participation in the sport. Webs filled with photos of you with the cars, dressed in full gear and with that stupid blue helmet, the situation getting worse and worse with every tap of your finger.

How is any of this possible?

The rabbit hole that seems to be your ‘life’ keeps you awake night after night, new information slapping you in the face every two minutes while you try to navigate what appears to be a Formula One driver’s normal schedule. Nick makes sure of that last part at least.

The first step on that agenda had been to fly out of Austria, a place you cannot comprehend how you had arrived to when you were in Spain just yesterday. It is not like you were having the best time of your life there, finishing the third month of your external internship in a city you thought was already too far away from home, but this change looks a bit excessive. The possibility of being in a completely different country had seemed so absurd at first, when a list called Austrian GP came up as one of the top results in your research, and yet with a simple look to the navigation app, your worst nightmare had been confirmed. From your trip to the airport, to the arrival to another country, France, and to a new hotel, Nick walking you through every step of the process and only leaving you alone once you are back in the hotel room.

The next few days follow a similar dynamic, mornings spent trailing behind Nick without a clue of what happens around you and long nights glued to the phone, the date for the next GP —or whatever they call it— getting closer and closer.

You are not ready to repeat last Sunday’s events, an engine failure had saved you from the inevitable end, but you might not be so lucky next time. There is no way you are stepping into that car again, that is for sure, and even less so when you have not figured out what brought you here in the first place.

Although you had drowned yourself in information about your supposed life the first nights in France, the need to discover what was happening to you had quickly managed to overpower that curiosity. From the moment Nick knocks on your door early on the morning to the hours you lay awake on bed looking for anything that could explain this madness, you spend every second of the day looking for an explanation.

A kidnapping had been the most credible theory from day one, the way you had woken up to all those screams and the men surrounding you, how Nick had come into your hotel room that morning and pushed you to drive with no regard for your safety. It made sense. However, the articles posted all over the internet told a very different story. There is too much information about you, some posts even dating back to when you were a child, photos and videos that cannot be simply edited and uploaded to make you believe you have gone crazy. You have driven a Formula One car on an official race, for crying out loud, that is not something anybody can orchestrate.

To be honest, the whole Formula One thing had knocked down quite a few of your guesses. What could someone gain from making you, a nobody, believe they are a motorsport driver?

In fact, the only theory that could easily explain everything that had happened to you in the past few days is that: none of this is real. A dream. You can vividly remember dozing off on your bed, that sensation of falling down and then suddenly waking up in that unfamiliar place. It could be the reason why you had blacked out when the car exited the garage, why everyone knew you, and could also explain the existence of all those false stories on the internet.

You had made all of this up.

That had indeed been one of your first assumptions, or at least had been an easy way for your mind to let go of all the worries in such an unnerving situation. If this was not real, there was nothing to stress about, no danger in sight. Your alarm will go off any moment now and you will be one day closer to ending this internship and going back home. Tomorrow will be a new day.

Despite this, as time goes by, it becomes harder and harder to hold onto this happy thought.

Stepping foot into the new track is a breaking point. It is Friday, five days have gone by and nothing has changed, the countdown to the next race weighting down on your mind as you walk through what Nick had called the paddock. It is that strange street again, the one lined by those colorful buildings but in a completely different country —another clue that this was indeed not real, you were clearly lacking imagination to be recycling sceneries like this.

They had brough you here yesterday as well, for a tour around the track that had set your nerves alight. Thankfully, you had done nothing but wander around the circuit for a while, be surrounded by a couple cameras, have a meeting with the engineers and go back to the hotel for another sleepless night.

Maybe you should sleep more —which sounds quite contradictory when you are supposedly already dreaming— because, when the events of last Sunday start repeating themselves, you do not even have the strength to push back. Nick manages once again to lure you into the white building and prepare you for what he calls practice, but the reality is that just the sight of that Formula One car on the garage makes you heart drop to the pit of your stomach.

“Don’t worry about times,” a man who has been following you all day says “Let’s see if everything feels good first and we’ll talk things over for FP2”.

A lot of changes had been made to the car since Austria, that is what all the meetings had been about. You had silently sat down through all of them, nodding along to the engineers’ words as if you understood any of it.

Now that you are seated in the car, blue helmet and jumpsuit on, you can only wish that whatever broke the car in Austria has not been fixed. That the engine won’t even start, and you will have to retire again. It is hard enough to listen to the rest of the cars exiting their own garages, their engines revving like they might explode.

How they have managed to put you on the spot yet again, that you do not understand. And it is not only a one-time thing, but they easily make you jump in the car later the day for a second practice.

When you are finally helped out of the car the second time, body uncontrollably trembling and a static sound filling your ears, you feel an unusual sense of calmness. The whole ride had felt like such a clear sign that none of this is real, it can’t be. Both practices had gone by in the blink of an eye, just like it had happened in Austria, a fade to black and you are back where you started. You do not even remember seeing other cars on the road or how you got back to the garage. Nothing. The only proof that you had driven around for hours being the fatigue consuming your body, something that backs the dreaming theory up so perfectly.

They say you have done great though, so that is something.

Nevertheless, it feels nice to be back on normal clothes, like there is less of a target on your back for the cameras and other strangers, but it is still difficult to keep a low profile when you are walking through the paddock with the team’s merchandising. Nick is guiding you out to the last meeting of the day, after you have fulfilled all the media duties and team reunions that have kept you on the track since your arrival this morning. He says this driver’s briefing thing should not last long, that it is quite late already, and they are probably thinking more about going back home than anything.

The meeting is on another building, one you had not even noticed in your two days here, Nick leading you inside and up some stairs until you find the meeting room. When he opens the door, you realize there is already people seated inside, the sound of their mixed talks now filling the long corridor. You recognize some of them, not from the team meetings but from Austria, other drivers.

The room is furnished as a classroom, a projector on the right wall and the rest of the space filled with rows of chairs. There are not many people in it yet, Nick had said it would be better to get there early before people start crowding the entrance and now you understood why. Your gaze instantly zeroes in on Lewis, a tiny smile pulling at your lips while Nick guides you to some seats, deciding to leave your things with him and go say hello. You have not seen him since Austria, after you had spent the entire pre-race ceremony talking to him, and now that you have kind of ruled out the possibility that he is a kidnapper, you have realized that maybe he was just being nice.

Yet, before you can take more than two steps away from Nick, you feel someone pulling at your hand. You come to a sudden stop, looking back to see a man seated in the row in front of you and Nick’s seat regarding you with a huge grin on his lips. He has dark hair and big brown eyes that seem to be staring into your soul.

“Oh c’mon, you’re not even going to say hello because I didn’t get you cookies last week?” the man chuckles, tilting his head as he looks up at you like he cannot believe what you were about to do “Isn’t that too much?”

Even though his tone is light and jokey, you cannot help but frown at him. Why would you greet him when you don’t know him in the first place? And why is he holding your hand?

Instead of letting go when you stand there in silence, too stunned to react to his words, he decides to pull you down into the seat next to his “Didn’t Charles get you some? You are being greedy at this point” he jokes once you are seated, not a word leaving your lips.

Oh, Charles, you remember him from Austria as well. Actually, he was wearing the same exact red shirt as this man, a detail that the abrupt start of the conversation had left you blind to. The Ferrari logo in both his chest and cap are even more of a telltale of who he must be. Charles’ teammate.

“They were nice...” you respond, crossing your legs and relaxing back on the chair now that you have gathered your bearings. It is true, you had been munching on those cookies throughout the race after your disqualification, Nick bringing them over to you as a treat to distract you.

The man shakes his head in disbelief, smile widening as he assures you “I'll get you a full basket next time, don’t worry”

The promise genuinely makes you smile, he seems nice.

“How’s the car doing?” the man queries, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks around

You can almost feel the media training kicking in, pre-made phrases hanging off the tip of your tongue, they have been putting a microphone in your face and asking you about it all morning. Nonetheless, you manage to push it all down, it finally feels like you are having a normal conversation after this stressful week, you are not about to parrot the engineers' words for the millionth time “Well, it hasn’t caught fire yet...”

The man seems to like that answer, letting out a giggle and a “That’s an improvement” while he nods in understanding. There is a moment of silence that follows, his eyes set on your face as if he was waiting for something that does not come. Is he expecting a more in-depth response or something? Yet, before you can decide on what to do, he finally wills himself to say what he has been thinking ever since you entered the room “So... are you feeling better?”

The question catches you off guard at first, the conversation taking a more serious turn than you had expected —or wanted. Should you say you are great, just to shut down the topic entirely? The room is filling up with people by the second and it is not like you are about to open your heart to a total stranger. Or are you supposed to give the same response Nick had made you repeat over and over again in front of the journalists? ‘I’m perfectly fine now, it was pure exhaustion’.

“I’m-” you start saying, mind not really having decided on what lie to tell, when someone pats your head.

You rise your head to look behind you, both to see who it is and to get away from their touch —what is with this people taking such liberties?—, the man by your side doing the same. Standing tall behind your row of chairs is none other than the man you have spent day and nights thinking about: Daniel.

“Ready for the two hours briefing?” he sighs with a raised eyebrow, his hand traveling down to your shoulder when you turn your body around to talk to him. This is the first time you have seen the man out of that bright orange jumpsuit, now sporting a shirt of the same color instead, logos drawn all over it. He is still wearing that matching cap though.

“So dramatic...” the man seated by your side snickers, the previous chat seemingly forgotten “We should do a twenty-four-hour briefing just for you”

“Mate,” Daniel says with a half-smile, pointing at you with a tilt of his head “she wasn’t here last year”

That must mean something you do not understand because it is all the man in red needs to groan out loud, his face falling in defeat at the prospect of having to sit through such a long meeting. On the other hand, you can only sit there with your eyebrows furrowed, Nick had assured you would be out of here in no time. And of course you were not here last year, or ever, you have not- but your inner monologue gets suddenly interrupted by the one phrase you have been telling yourself all day: none of this is real, you’re dreaming.

“What? No, she was driving here last year” another voice joins the conversation, his statement sharp and direct. You lean your body forward to see who it is, he has taken a seat on the other side of the man in red and his body is blocking the stranger’s face, eyes widening when you recognize him. Charles.

“It was still Mazepin in France, he almost crashed into Kimi remember?” Daniel corrects him with a side grin “She started after the break in... was it Silverstone?”

Daniel looks at you for confirmation on this one, the other two men also lowering their gaze to yours, waiting. You are so overwhelmed though, it feels so strange, the fact that they are talking so categorically about things that have not ever happened. What is Mazepin? Kimi? And Silverstone? What break? The pressure of the situation getting to you in the worst possible moment.

So you end up doing what you do best, nod along to whatever the other person says even though you do not understand anything. That is what you have done to the engineers, to the media, to Nick and now to these three men before the start of a briefing that you won’t understand a word of either.

Afterall, none of this matter, this is only a dream, right?

Next Chapter

___

Author's note: Thanks a lot for all the hearts, comments and everything! I'm so happy you're liking the fic

Taglist: @purplephantomwolf @raye2000 @yuiiimd @drezzerk33 @leclercdream @homie0sapien @minkyungseokie @carlossainzwho @rewmuslupin

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fic #lewis hamilton x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #f1 x you #formula one x you #carlos sainz x you #charles leclerc x you #lewis hamilton x you #daniel ricciardo x you

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neptuneiris · 8 months

Text

brooklyn baby (02/?)

we can go back to New York

pairing: rockstar!aemond × fem!reader

summary: you finally see the sexy guitarist again and after going through a disappointing time, things get interesting at a party where the whole band has been invited by Baela.

word count: 8.2k

previous part • next part • series masterlist

hi besties! here's the second chapter i'm so excited for you to read:) can't wait to read your comments, thanks for the amazing reception to the story, i love you guys! enjoy!

warnings: alcohol, smoking, kissing.

If there's anyone who hates the period a lot, it's you.

In desperate times many girls are relieved when it finally happens to them, fortunately you've never had a scare. But you feel completely sick and can't do anything when those days come every month.

Being irregular, you don't know exactly when it will happen, you've tried calculating, assuming and so on, you've even installed period apps, but nothing works. However, you should have known it was coming since you felt slight cramps this morning and since you started getting pimples two days ago.

But with so much to do from college, you didn't have time to prepare. And also a certain guitarist from a certain band wouldn't leave your thoughts alone sometimes.

Since that kiss almost happened, the next morning you were stalking him on Instagram, which is the only social media he has, compared to the remaining members who have Instagram, Twitter and TikTok.

But he's not even active.

The photos he has are only of the band promoting the tour, albums and songs, or also photos of some cities he has visited. He only has two posts with his brothers and cousins, where they are more like random photos before concerts. He has very few pictures of him and you can't even see his face since he doesn't see the camera, in all of them he plays the guitar and nothing else.

There is nothing about his day to day life really, just music. Also you notice that he posts photos every few months, although lately he has been posting more consistently due to the concerts, but it's all about the band.

You go into Aegon's account, trying to find Aemond in his pictures where he's not doing anything related to his guitar, but there's nothing of him if it's not that way. You see how Aegon takes funny pictures and uploads videos with his brother and cousins where they laugh and make jokes, but none of it shows him.

The same on Jace, Luke and Daeron's account, there's nothing from Aemond if it's not band related.

Instantly this catches your attention more, guessing that he most likely doesn't really like social media and keeps himself as private as possible, seeming so different to you, so mysterious and appealing in a ridiculous way simply because of that.

And yet he has many followers, which is understandable, it is obvious why in addition to his music, when he follows at most three hundred accounts, all of them music accounts, he also follows his siblings, his cousins and other people who must belong to his team.

You let out a groan and finally leave Aemond's account in peace, sinking your face into your pillow, feeling the cramps stronger than before, so you try to calm down and seek to feel more comfortable so you can let the pills take effect.

And even when the cramps are less, you still don't feel energetic or up for anything, entertaining yourself on your phone or watching TV, not wanting to leave the warmth of your bed because you really feel terrible.

So when you least expect it, you fall asleep. When suddenly, someone's scream wakes you up.

"Y/N!"

You raise your gaze instantly, startled, as you see frightened and confused Rhaena at the door of your room, entering, watching you in horror.

"W-what... what are you doing here?" you stare at her between irritated and confused now, still sleepy.

"What are you doing like that?" she asks you incredulously and on the verge of collapse to then watch as she looks down the hallway, "Baela, hurry up! She looks awful!"

You watch her seriously.

"Wow, thanks."

"What? What happe-oh shit," Baela also appears, watching you instantly in horror and shock, "W-what... what are you doing?" she looks at you blankly.

"What are you guys doing?" you ask back, irritated, "How did you get in?"

"It can't be, have you forgotten?" Rhaena looks at you incredulously, "Tonight is the concert of your sexy guitarist."

"Yes," says Baela, "Tonight," she repeats terribly serious, "Now can you explain why you're not ready? We have to go now."

"I'm not going," you say grumpily, laying your head back down on your pillow lazily.

"What do you mean you won't going? Are you crazy?"

"You better be kidding me."

"You guys... I'm having a horrible headache right now and I feel like if I get up now I'm going to throw up, not to mention that every breath I take I feel more blood coming out, so could you please leave my room quietly and let me continue sleeping in peace?"

The room falls silent for a moment.

"Oh no, don't tell me that," you hear Rhaena say disappointedly.

And then you listen as Baela complains, also disappointed.

"And you feel very bad?"

"Very," you answer her without hesitation.

"It's your first day?"

"Yes and I feel like shit."

"But Y/N... you can't miss it," Rhaena says worriedly.

"The sexy guitarist gave you the free tickets to see you again," Baela insists too, "I understand you're sick but wouldn't it be rude if you didn't go?"

You let out a huge groan against your pillow and then look at them with a pained expression.

"You think I haven't thought about it too? Of course I have," you let them know sadly, "I'm just as upset as you are, but what am I supposed to do? Everything hurts, I feel awful and besides you want me to let him see me like this with all my greasy, zitty face?"

Baela and Rhaena exchange a look.

"She's right," Rhaena tells her with a look of pity.

And again they both focus on you.

"Okay, we get it," Baela says resignedly, "So is there anything you want to send the sexy guitarist to say?"

"No," you tell her instantly, confused, "I already feel bad enough about not going. I don't want to be so cynical as to tell him I couldn't go but still thank him for the tickets."

And without saying anything else, your cousins don't insist but they are still disappointed since they will have to go to the concert without you.

You really wanted to go, you wanted to see him again and you wanted to spend time with him again like last time, to get to know him a little more and maybe... just maybe, to find out what else could happen between the two of you.

But now, once your cousins leave, you can only go back to trying to sleep, wanting to forget about the world for a while and not think about him or the concert that will happen in another hour that you couldn't attend.

So the hours pass, the sun in New York begins to set and the nightlife in the city begins, which is what characterizes it so much. And yet by the time severe hours have passed, you are still asleep, very tired and your period is not helping you to have any energy, submerged in a deep sleep.

When around two o'clock in the morning, you are again awakened and your peace of mind is interrupted by feeling absolutely nothing. And those responsible? Your cousins again, of course.

"What?" you say completely sleepy, closing your eyes tightly as the light hits you directly when are turned on.

"Wake up, you have to hear this!" squeals Rhaena excitedly, followed by Baela, both invading your bed, each lying on your sides, while you grunt and groan, sinking your face back into your pillow.

"Leave me alone," you plead weakly.

"Stop sleeping already," Rhaena shakes you, "I bet you've slept all day!"

"As I should."

"Y/N, seriously, you must know this," Baela insists as well.

"What? What thing? Talk now so you can leave me alone," you say irritably, still with your eyes closed.

"How mean you are," Rhaena says with a pout

"Let her, she's on her period, it's understandable."

"Then tell her!"

"The sexy guitarist asked us about you."

And that's more than enough for sleep to leave your system and you open your eyes, so you instantly turn to watch your cousins carefully, brushing your hair out of your face and looking completely surprised and now very interested.

"What?" you inquire, watching them intently.

"Yes!" squeals Rhaena excitedly, nodding, "And Baela made out with Jace," she adds innocently.

You open your eyes wide.

"What!?"

"It just happened," Baela shrugs, with a look of superiority, amused, "It was amazing, by the way. We exchanged numbers, too."

"And Aemond?" you ask more than attentively.

"Well, we were talking to Jace and Luke already by the time the after party was over. We were at the bar when Aegon joined us and he was coming with Aemond, so..." Rhaena laughs excitedly, "Jace and Luke were called I think by their manager, so we stayed with the two of them."

"He didn't talk at all, he was just ordering drinks," Baela clarifies.

"Yes and... when Aegon also ordered a drink, he did talk to us, but to ask us about you."

"He asked us where you were and we told him you couldn't come because you were sick."

"And he just nodded and continued drinking," Rhaena finished.

You avert your gaze from both of them for a moment, focusing on your TV, and then dropping your head back onto your pillow, your gaze resigned, so you let out a long sigh and go back to blaming your period for not being able to go tonight.

"But he looked disappointed, we know," Baela assures you with a small smile, "I even felt bad for him."

"Are you sure?" you ask her not really convinced about that.

"Yes, very. If he wanted to hide it, it didn't come out."

You let out a long breath again, bringing your hands to your face, wanting to let go of the frustration somehow, but you can't.

"Oh Y/N, come on, cheer up," Rhaena tells you without wiping off her smile.

"Yes, this is not the end," Baela adds.

"It's not the end?" you repeat confused, "This was literally my last chance to see him again and I couldn't go."

"Stop it, drama queen," Baela says to you again amused, "You've already forgotten Jace?"

"What about him?"

"That he and I are in contact now, silly."

"So?"

"God, I can't handle her," you hear her say to Rhaena.

"Just tell her. That way we'll make her feel better."

"Yeah, just tell me so i can keep sleeping," you tell her too.

You listen as she lets out a long breath.

"The band will be taking a short break. Their last concert will be next Saturday here in Manhattan and Jace has invited us."

She finally tells you and even though you don't show it, you feel interested to hear such news.

"So now you get to see your sexy guitarist," Rhaena tells you with a mischievous tone.

After an exhaustive search through your closet, making combinations with a lot of shirts, skirts, pants and shoes, you finally put together your perfect outfit.

Thank God your period is over and another horrible week of stress, frustration, worry and this time pain is over, until it's finally time to have a good time. And since you're going to the concert, you decide to choose your all black outfit.

You choose a black skirt, a black sleeveless shirt that exposes part of your stomach, black high boots and a black blazer on top. The only colored thing you bring with you is your small white hanging bag. (click)

Your make-up is not too much, but it is elaborate, because you really want to look good. So at the end you apply a matte red lipstick and style your hair in light waves, leaving it completely loose.

You choose silver jewelry and in the end you love the result, seeing yourself with a little smile in your full-length mirror, happy and excited. Then you head to Baela's apartment, which is actually in the same building and in the same hallway as yours.

You both go to NYU, only she studies fashion and you study business management. You always wanted to live alone, you love your privacy and having a place to yourself, so you got your apartment with the help of your parents and Baela joined you shortly after, although it's really like you both live together.

Rhaena just started college months ago and lives with her roomie, Sara, in the dorms provided by the university.

"Wow."

That's the first thing Baela says to you when she opens the door to her apartment and looks as ready as you do.

"Yeah, wow to you too," you tell her laughing.

"Oh my god-you look so hot," Rhaena says to you, appearing behind Baela.

"Thanks, you too, both," you assure them, "So are we leaving or what?"

"In a moment, I'm waiting for Jason to answer my messages," Baela tells you with her phone in her hand.

"Jason?"

"Lannister."

"Jason Lannister?" you repeat confused, "Your friend the rich guy who lives in that huge, fancy apartment in Upper East Side?"

"That same one. He's having an party tonight and I asked him if I could bring the band after the concert is over. The after party will only last an hour and Jace had said that after that they wanted to go out and celebrate."

"Oh," you nod, "Well, that sounds great," you say, as inevitably a wave of excitement washes over you.

"Oh-he has replied!" she says excitedly, her gaze fixed on her screen, "And he said yes!"

"Great! Now let's go, I want to see Luke," Rhaena says desperately, ushering you both out of the apartment.

Driving doesn't take as long as last time, as you literally crossed half of Manhattan in order to get to Brooklyn and also half of Brooklyn in order to get to the club where the concert was.

And once you get to the club, finding parking is a bit difficult but you make it and finally Baela hands the three tickets to the security man to let you in. Once inside, you get the feeling that there are more people than there were in Brooklyn, seeing all the girls very excited and rushing into the club to get to the front of the stage.

You see Baela texting with Jace and the three of them make it to the front, in a seemingly exclusive section with a great view of the entire stage where they are allowed in after she shows security her phone screen.

"What did you show them?" you ask confused and curious.

"Some messages from Jace," she says with a certain superiority, making you laugh and shake your head at the same time.

Rhaena insists that the three of you take selfies and so you do, killing time as the concert begins. The minutes go by, the place slowly starts to fill up, security brings order, everything is ready on stage and after the lights are turned off for a moment, calling everyone's attention, the concert finally starts.

The first to come out is Aegon, clearly, greeting the whole audience and the other guys follow him, causing the excited and euphoric screams of all the girls.

Instantly your gaze focuses on him, on Aemond, making you smile a little as you watch him focus totally on the music, not even looking much towards the audience, taking a seat at one of the speakers, completely focused on his guitar. And again you become totally absorbed in him.

He looks so handsome, like it's not an everyday thing, with his black pants and a plain white t-shirt, making his black electric guitar stand out, while his hair looks as good as ever.

And the way he plays his notes, the way his face concentrates and the way he lights up the occasional cigarette during the concert, he looks completely sexy.

And you are not the only one who notices these details, you see how some girls around you focus the camera of their phones on him, you also hear how some of them scream his name or go crazy in his solos, all wanting to get his attention.

But then again… Aemond doesn't react much with his audience and only gives head gestures, that being enough for him and stay focused on the music. This especially catches your attention a lot, as his behavior is totally different from Aegon or Daeron.

In fact you were hoping that he will manage to see you in the whole audience, as Jace and Baela although they are not far away but not too close either, both still exchange glances and he especially focuses a lot on your cousin most of the time.

Then comes another solo from Aemond, looking extremely sexy in the way he focuses on hitting his notes perfectly, filling the place with more screams. And you watch in admiration, because even if you wanted to, you couldn't play guitar like that.

You see how there is a man with a camera taking pictures of everyone and him especially at that moment on stage, probably being the band's photographer. There are lots of lighting effects, the whole club looks great and they all put on an amazing show, since it's the last one.

You sing and dance along with your cousins, really enjoying the moment, since even though you were suffering all the week before because of your period, you still started listening to their songs and learned them.

You take more videos together, you also take several videos of everything and you may have focused on recording him a little bit more sometimes, unable to help it.

When it's time to finish.

Aegon again takes charge of dismissing the whole band, causing screams and applause from the whole audience towards them, all the girls screaming and throwing bracelets and necklaces on stage. The five of them say goodbye at the same time, Aemond again without showing much emotion and it's all over.

The after party takes place right there, as the club has its own separate pub-like bar section, so the girls with tickets to meet the band are guided, among them you too with your cousins, by security guards to a huge door that will take them there directly.

Upon entering the pub, everything is empty except for the bartender and more security people. The bar is also free and all the girls start getting ready with their t-shirts, caps and posters more than ready.

"I'll meet Jace before he comes out. I'll be right back," Baela says to Rhaena and you, visibly excited.

It's not as if she can be stopped, as she quickly heads down a hallway where you assume must be those break rooms where everyone in the band keeps their stuff while they tend to the fans and where they must all be now.

"Do you think Baela will take him to his apartment when Jason's party is over?" asks you Rhaena with a knowing look.

"Don't even doubt it," you assure her.

Then finally the band starts to come out, causing the screams of all the excited girls, quickly wanting to head towards them, but security instantly starts to bring order, controlling everything and asking all the girls to line up and wait their turn without scandal.

You don't move from where you are, but watch everything carefully, wanting to find Aemond. But it's just like last time… everyone shows up but him.

"Done," Baela suddenly appears with a small smile, "Jace sends his greetings."

"Wow sis, you didn't even sweat," Rhaena tells her amused and you let out a loud laugh which makes Baela look at her serious.

"Very funny."

"And what else did he tell you? Everyone is going to Jason's party?" you ask her interested.

"Everyone or Aemond?"

"Aemond," you answer reluctantly.

"Yes, everyone is going."

"And where is he?" asks Rhaena confused, watching the guys with all the fans, "They are all except him."

"I don't know, he was in that room with everyone, he looked… serious and bored."

"He's hiding, like last time," you say, "Eventually he'll have to come out."

"And you're going to talk to him?" says Rhaena excitedly to you.

"I think so," you nod to her.

"She's going to talk to him," Baela says in affirmative mode, serious and threatening.

Then Rhaena is the one who wants to approach Luke, so she asks you to go with her, while Baela takes the opportunity to order something from the bar, so when you start to wait in line, the wait is long.

Rhaena suddenly starts talking to some girls who are behind you both, also waiting, so you entertain yourself on your phone, killing a little more time, although from time to time you participate in Rhaena's conversation with those girls about the band, their favorite songs and so on.

When you briefly inspect the pub, you notice a platinum-haired person starting to join in, catching your attention. You step aside, as Rhaena obstructs your view a bit, and then finally there he is.

As soon as he leaves the hallway, a bunch of girls rush towards him, all smiling and excited, clearly happy to finally see him, to which the security guys instantly bring order and he starts signing and taking pictures with them.

You watch everything with a small smile, inevitably starting to feel nervous and you don't understand why, since he hasn't even seen you and doesn't even know you are here, but his presence in the same place as you already makes you feel that way.

At that moment your mind starts to plan what exactly you will do to get closer to him, telling yourself that you can choose a poster this time and have him sign it for you, but just thinking about it and such a simple action already makes you terribly nervous.

You think that Rhaena or Baela might come with you, but you don't even have the slightest idea how to start the conversation or what exactly to talk to him about, fearing that your nerves will betray you and you'll act like a fool.

So you also think you might as well do nothing and wait for a miracle to happen and he will notice you.

You let out a long breath, since of course you can't decide to do nothing if the man gave you free tickets and you didn't go to the concert, so this is the least you can do, however, you feel very nervous and you also start to get frustrated.

"There's finally your sexy guitarist," Rhaena says to you suddenly, excited, looking in the same direction as you, "Are you going to go to him?"

"Later, I'm just feeling nervous," you confess to her.

"Relax. When he sees you, he'll probably feel as nervous as you do, too, so you won't be the only one."

You frown.

Aemond nervous? You don't think he's nervous at all.

You can't focus on him anymore because the line starts to move faster, so now you focus on helping Rhaena with the pictures and also to want to see her shyly flirting with Luke, who is also shyly flirting with her.

Rhaena and Luke's moment unfortunately passes quickly, but he still tells her that he will see her at the party, in a whisper obviously, and then the following girls come by to meet him and talk to him.

Then again you focus on Aemond, but you are surprised to see that he is no longer with all the fans around him, he has simply disappeared.

Confused, you start looking around, not understanding where he has gone, bewildered, as it was only a brief moment when he was attending to fans and he should stay longer or not? When you are directing your gaze in all directions, you finally focus on that hallway where he had come out before, finding him.

However, what you see is definitely not what you expected.

You see how he heads to the men's restroom, which is normal, but what catches your attention is how a girl or rather a fan goes after him, not hesitating to follow him. And then they enter the restroom together, as he closes the door behind him.

And it's clear what they both went to do, you're not stupid.

You continue to stand there for a few more moments, staring at the closed door, feeling slightly surprised as you really didn't expect to see him like this and you also begin to feel disappointed.

Unable to help it, sadness and anger come over you, as you also feel discouraged now.

With a sad and disappointed look, also a bit serious, you avert your gaze to head towards the bar, all the while biting the inside of your cheek and trying not to let your emotions show too much on your face, but you cannot.

As you take a seat on the stool, you watch as your cousins are with Aegon, so when you inevitably start to think more about it, disappointment washes over you as well along with everything else you're feeling.

You had expectations of him, but you never expected him to be that kind of guy, that's why you feel so disappointed and you can't help it, not even having the energy to be here anymore.

That's why he offered to give me his merch inside that room in Brooklyn.

You think, since that's why you feel angry, not because you saw him with another girl, but because he wanted the two of them to be alone that one nigh and it happened, the two of them kissed, but what would have happened if Aegon hadn't interrupted you? Probably you two would have fucked, as was his purpose.

You start to feel really bad about that and get frustrated with yourself, because even this you should have expected, yet you didn't even though it was too obvious.

He is absolutely handsome and plays in a band, so he meets a lot of girls almost every day and every single one of them he has at his feet, so… who would be fool enough to say no to him? No one.

You were just going to be another one of the crowd.

You say to yourself, really sad, disappointed and upset.

You want to get out of here but you continue to wait for your cousins at the bar, order a drink just to kill time and try not to think about him, knowing perfectly well that you must have a very cold face.

You let out a long breath, continuing to wait, wait and wait, until Baela and Rhaena appear.

"Hey, did you talk to the sexy guitarist?" asks Baela, excited and interested.

"Yes," you lie, trying to put on your best possible face.

"And what happened?" asks you now Rhaena, also excited.

"I'll tell you later."

Luckily they don't insist and Baela again turns to Jace, so Rhaena stays with you, showing you the photos and videos she took of the concert, also the ones from a few moments ago with Luke, asking her which one is the best to post on her Instagram stories.

You're with her for a while, when you raise your gaze to observe the whole pub for a second, although you unconsciously look towards that hallway as well, when then your breath is cut short and you see how Aemond comes out of there to join the inside of the pub again, with Aegon by his side.

You must have averted your gaze the second you saw him come out, for suddenly Aemond casually glances over to where you are, both of your gazes crossing at that moment.

You don't manage to read his gaze, as again nerves and disappointment wash over you, so you instantly avert your eyes from him and focus back on Rhaena, trying to not let his gaze on you affect you.

However, you can feel how he continues to watch you, his burning gaze completely on you, but you don't respond to him anymore, in fact you feel more the need to get out of here now that he has already noticed your presence.

Out of the corner of your eye you watch as he attends to more fans, while at the same time talking to Aegon, who also attends to fans, but every now and then… you feel his gaze on you again, one that was screaming for you to watch him as well, but you didn't.

"The girls are already leaving."

Rhaena tells you, pointing to the doors and watching as the guards ask the fans who have already had their moment with each member of the band to leave.

"I'll go talk to Luke, I'll be right back," she tells you, starting to get up from her stool.

"Actually," you get up too, stopping her, "I'll go ahead to the party. You and Baela are going with Jace and Luke right?"

She frowns.

"Yes, but…

"Great. I'll see you guys over there then, you tell Baela please."

You start to walk past her, heading towards the doors.

"Wait, Y/N," Rhaena stops you, grabbing your arm, "Are you okay? What happened?" she asks you softly, confused, "I thought you wanted to be near Aemond, did something happen with him?"

You bite your lips, hesitant, as you really don't want to lie to your cousin, but you also don't want to tell her and look so dramatic about it, as it has nothing to do with you but you still feel disappointed and like a fool.

"Yes," you finally tell her, in a whisper "But I'll tell you later."

"You promise?" she looks at you, not entirely convinced.

"I promise," you assure her, "I'll see you there."

She has no choice but to let you go, telling you to call her in case of anything, so you nod and are finally able to walk away, starting to walk out of there with your car keys in hand, not letting go of that burning stare on you until you leave the pub.

At first you thought about deciding not to go to the party, sounding like a good plan for you, however, you were well aware that Baela would kill you and probably never forgive you if you decided such a thing, so now you are here, in Jason Lannister's luxurious apartment and with a bunch of other college students enjoying the party.

As you walk in, you greet a few people you know and also Jason, who asks you about Baela, Rhaena and those guys in that band she told him she was bringing.

You catch up with him, telling him they shouldn't be long and then you notice how all the people here are Baela's friends and also studying fashion, except Jason is studying law, so there are more people from that faculty as well.

You decide to help set up the beer pong tables, just to entertain yourself and start enjoying the party, while you talk to Jason and his friends, when not too long after, a half hour maybe, your cousins with them finally arrive.

You watch them almost from the other side of the huge apartment, watching as Baela greets her friends and introduces the band, where Aegon, Daeron and Jace look more than ready to start enjoying themselves, while Luke stays more calm and relaxed with Rhaena.

And even though you didn't want to, you still inevitably focus on him.

He closes the door behind him with a completely relaxed and unconcerned expression and posture, to your bad luck already having a cigarette on his lips, as he watches the whole party around him, now wearing a different black t-shirt.

And of course, his arrival starts to draw the attention of all the girls at the party and not only on him, on all of them, seeing them with a few small smiles and more than interested.

You avert your gaze, deciding not to make a big deal out of it, continuing to place the plastic cups on the table, though really, it's only a matter of time before Baela finds you, bringing them all with her.

With Jason at your side, she introduces them to him and he starts talking to them, while you continue to set everything up, deliberately ignoring his burning gaze when he sees you, not letting it get to you.

And after that it's only a matter of time before the real party starts.

People start dancing and your cousins along with all of them take a seat on some couches, starting to drink, so it's only a matter of time before Aegon gets up and now he's in a corner making out with a girl mercilessly, just like Jace and Baela, this surprising you but you're very excited for her.

Rhaena and Luke are also in a corner close together, but they're both talking, both with shy but willing little smiles, so you're sure that by the end of the night, something will have happened between them.

And at the end, Daeron and Aemond are still sitting on the couches, both drinking, with one girl already talking to Daeron, both very flirtatious, but you don't approach him.

Wherever you move in the apartment, you feel his gaze on you, always. However, you drink and enjoy yourself, although you don't go over one beer either, since you have to drive. But you admit that his gaze on you makes you very nervous and as much as you don't want to give it any importance, you can't.

Until one moment when you are talking to Jason, just for once you decide to return his gaze, and that's what happens, you look at him and he is already watching you so intensely and with a look between serious and curious.

But the moment doesn't last long, because just when you both exchange glances for two seconds, suddenly a girl appears and takes a seat next to him, starting to talk to him, her intentions clear, so he looks away from you to her.

You look away, finishing what's left of your bottle of beer with just one gulp, then you leave the empty bottle on the kitchen island and decide to go out to the balcony for some fresh air, as the place is getting more and more crowded and it's starting to feel suffocating.

Once outside, you enjoy a bit of the quiet, even though you can still hear some music although this doesn't bother you, as you observe the view offered by some New York skyscrapers around you, looking beautiful and eye-catching.

You don't know how long you last there, but you enjoy it, wanting to take another moment before going back to the party. When suddenly… you must have expected that the moment of the night would come for you and Aemond.

The doors open letting in more music and you turn around, this getting your attention, when again nerves and shame come over you, seeing that it's Aemond. But he is not alone… he enters the balcony along with Aegon, who laughs along with…. Cregan?

"Man, all this stuff I missed if I had gone to college," Aegon says, smiling.

Cregan laughs, giving him a friendly tap on his shoulder.

"Oh dude, you don't know what you're talking about."

When then both of their gazes focus on you, to which you wave your hand and smile a bit apologetically, but not for them, but for him, who continues to stare at you like that.

"Y/N?" inquires Cregan, approaching you, watching you incredulously.

"Hi," you smile at him.

"My godness, I haven't seen you in ages!" he exclaims happily, then locks you in a tight hug.

"Please, it's only been months," you tell him amused, reciprocating his hug.

"It's been years for me," he tells you melancholy, pulling away.

And you both laugh.

"So you know Baela's cousin," Aegon says without wiping away his smile, stepping closer, watching you and Cregan continuously.

"Yes," Cregan says, "You know them?" he asks you, pointing at him and Aemond, who stands apart.

"Baela and Rhaena are hanging out with their cousins," you tell him, nodding.

"Oh yes, the drummer and the bass player."

And you nod.

"And how do you two know each other?" asks Aegon, interested.

"We were classmates in business management," Cregan explains to him, "But I decided to change careers to law."

"At NYU?"

You both nod, as does he, now understanding, while Aemond still continues to stand apart, but at no point do you fail to feel his gaze on you, making you still very nervous but distracting with Cregan at your side.

"I didn't know the three of you knew each other," you decide to say, confused and slightly interested.

"Oh, we didn't know each other," Aegon says.

"We only just met a few moments ago when we played beer pong together," Cregan tells you with a small smile.

And you don't say anything else, that being so random, since the two of them barely met and apparently are now best friends, Cregan and Aegon more than anything, since Aemond continues to be just as serious.

"Anyway, have you seen Alysanne?" asks you Cregan, interested and hopeful.

"Yes, a while ago," you nod to him.

"Great. I'm going to go look for her, I haven't seen her in years either."

"Good luck," you smile at him.

"I'm coming with you," Aegon says instantly following suit, "Maybe your girl has a hot friend she can introduce me to."

Cregan laughs and just as they arrived together laughing and as best friends, they leave, only now you're left alone... with Aemond.

So there it is again… that tense air, but not a bad one somehow, as the both of you are left alone and there is an appropriate distance between the two, but again, you can't help but feel terribly nervous.

And even though you don't want to, still that moment of him going into the restroom with that girl keeps replaying in your mind, unable to help it. And that's why you look everywhere but at him, trying to distract yourself with the view.

Then he starts smoking, both of you without saying a word, just listening to the music and the sound of the city around you, which makes you feel a little uneasy, since you can't just leave like that, it would be too rude.

And again… that almost kiss invades your mind and doesn't leave you in peace, while you bite your lips and try to control your nerves, not having the slightest idea of what to do or what to say.

The slight smell of cigarette reaches your nostrils and you try to act as nothing, just like him, whom you see out of the corner of your eye and apparently, compared to you, he is comfortable and unconcerned.

Until he speaks.

"Are you always this quiet?"

He asks you and you bite your lips again, this making you feel more nervous, as you feel him watching you, but you don't look back at him.

"No," you reply, trying to act just as unconcerned as he does, "I'm just… relaxing."

"Hm," he says and you watch just for a second as he takes a drag on his cigarette, " You don't like parties?"

"Yes, I do," you reply softly.

And there you finally dare to look him in the eye, but you regret it the second you do, as he is already watching you and in that way, again as if he wants to see right through you, so burning and intense. So you steel yourself and continue firm, not letting him weaken you.

"I actually thought you didn't like parties," you decide to say, just to create a topic of conversation.

"I don't like them," he says and exhales smoke through his lips, looking away from you for a moment, "But I wanted to come," he says to return to watching you with such intensity.

And God, all you can think about is how ridiculously handsome he looks tonight, from his clothes, his face, his posture, the way he's looking at you, even the way he's smoking, basically everything about him.

There is a brief silence between the two of you, not uncomfortable fortunately, when suddenly he says to you:

"You didn't go to the concert."

Shit.

And there it is again, the nerves, which makes you look away from him for a moment and bite your lips.

"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry," you tell him softly, "I got sick."

"Yeah," he nods, "Your cousins said something like that. But don't apologize, it's fine."

"But I wanted to go," you clarify.

He places a small grin on his face, watching you intently.

"Did you?"

And you nod.

"At this concert you didn't even stay until the end."

Fuck.

You curse, thinking fast, again with that moment of him and that girl going into the restroom replaying in your mind, which was the reason you decided to leave early and why you decided to ignore him.

But ignoring him didn't work for you anymore since now you're here with him… alone.

"Of course I did, I saw the whole concert," you play dumb.

"I mean the after party."

He tells you softly and you again avert your gaze, terribly nervous, having no idea what to say to him now, since you can't tell him you left because you saw him that way with one of his fans. So instead, you lie, making an excuse about the party.

"I had to come here earlier to help set everything up," you explain, looking at him again, trying to sound convincing.

At this, he lets out a long breath, averting his gaze, bringing his cigarette to his lips.

"What a shame," he says in a sigh, then takes a drag.

This catches your attention, but you say nothing more, only until after you think clearly about what you are going to say before you speak.

"Baela said you're not giving any concerts until about a month," you say and he looks at you again.

"Yes, that's true," he says and you watch as he casually slides further towards you, beginning to close the distance between you, "But you could still come."

You frown.

"To where?"

"To rehearsals and then to the concerts."

At this you say nothing, you just continue to watch him, beginning to have a dilemma in mind about it and also beginning to be affected by how he is gradually moving closer to you, doing it so casually and so calculatingly, without stopping smoking, that you hate that he is already starting to make you feel that way.

You don't want to be another one of the crowd, remember?

Your serious mind tells you, since that's why you were crying before and why you decided to avoid him and get to this party earlier.

But God, you think, since he, everything about him, affects you and so much, so much so that you can't even avoid him anymore, starting little by little to let yourself be carried away by him.

And well says Baela that the flesh is weak.

You think grumpily.

"Or what? You really don't want to see me anymore?"

He asks you with that grin, weakening you more completely and making you more nervous, averting your gaze from him for a moment, really not being able to because of the way he's looking at you and making you react.

"N-no, I mean, yeah," you reply foolishly, "Yeah, okay," you look at him, "I'll go."

Then a small satisfied smile appears on his lips.

"Very well, but if you don't go…"

He begins to say, leaving his sentence in suspense and completely stealing your breath when he finally shortens the remaining distance between the two of you, at the same time as he tosses his now non-existent cigarette away, watching you attentively and determinedly.

You tense up completely and watch him completely attentive and nervous, unable to move, your legs and mind not reacting at all at that moment, starting to feel your heart beating too fast.

"If I don't go what?"

You can formulate in the midst of your nervousness in a mumble, as a distraction, as you inevitably look between his face and his lips with your lips parted.

"If you don't go like last time I'm going to be very angry and very disappointed."

You watch him in complete surprise, just at that instant also realizing how incredibly close the two of you are, the two of you completely invading each other's personal space, his entire presence and essence enveloping you completely.

And then this whole scene, it's just like when you both were about to kiss like last time, close to each other and with that tense air. When Aemond says something to you that steals your breath away.

"It was very rude to leave me waiting, you know that?" he says to you in a hoarse voice, his whole gaze determined and his eye dilated, full of desire.

"Did you really want to see me?" you ask him in a whisper.

"What do you think?"

Again your breath catches, as you focus entirely on him, watching or rather admiring the closeness of his face to yours, not being able to help it anymore, not wanting to pull away and wanting more of him.

Then you know there is no turning back when he raises his hand and places it on your cheek gently, caressing your skin with his thumb, continuing to watch you with that attention and with that desire at the same time that he sticks your chest with his, pulling you to him.

Again you watch his lips, completely absorbed in him, feeling your heart still beating too fast and completely enjoying this moment.

"If I don't see you again Y/N…"

He says again, not letting you go, with that direct, firm and challenging tone from before, but leaves his sentence in suspense again.

"What?" you ask him, wanting to know what's going to happen if he doesn't see you again.

But he doesn't say anything more to you, on the contrary, he starts leaning towards you, making you feel like your heart will jump out of your chest at any moment, when his other hand places it on your waist and the atmosphere changes completely.

And then you close your eyes, letting yourself be completely carried away and finally… you feel his lips touch yours.

And as soon as you feel the contact, you are enveloped by a sensation you haven't felt for a long time and you lift your face a little more towards him, pressing your lips more firmly with his.

A slow but completely purposeful and deep kiss begins, as he moves closer towards you, clinging and you let him, beginning to move your lips more constantly, as does he, as you bring your hands up and place them on his chest.

The kiss is perfect and with exact timing, as you feel him cling to you completely, not wanting to let you go, feeling him pull away an inch to take another angle and kiss you again, as you grab his shirt in a fist and pull him closer to you if possible.

You feel perfectly as he gently bites your upper lip in a way you haven't experienced before but firmly enough to make you gasp into his mouth and he takes the opportunity to enter your mouth, making you gasp in the middle of the kiss and bring one of your hands up to his hair, caressing it.

Now it's a fight, as you feel and hear the sound of saliva every time you move your mouths, being a wet kiss in which neither he nor you want it to end.

Everything about him is completely addictive, he is definitely an excellent kisser and you don't want him to stop, ever, enjoying the faint taste of cigarette and mint in his mouth.

"You're so beautiful, did you know that?"

He pulls away to tell you in a husky murmur, instantly attacking your lips again, never stopping caressing your cheek, at the same time he starts to pull you back until your back hits a table out here, now being trapped between it and his body.

You smile in the middle of the kiss, continuing to caress his neck and cheeks.

"You are so beautiful too, Aemond."

You manage to say between his lips, to again both resume the kiss, while you feel how he holds your waist tightly, which will probably leave marks on your skin since it's too firm, but you don't care.

Then his caresses start to be taken further, bringing his hand dangerously close to your ass, but you don't mind this either. When he suddenly lifts you up and sits you on the table behind you, making his way between your legs and caressing your thigh with one of his hands.

The mood changes completely, the whole air feeling too hot and with a need starting to appear in your lower abdomen.

Aemond caresses your thigh firmly and gently, which begins to bring waves of arousal to your core, especially as he grinds very gently against you, but pressing his hips right there as you hold him between your legs.

You gasp into his mouth, feeling too good and starting to drive you crazy, not only by his movements but also by the way he continues to kiss you, having you perfectly where he wants you.

You begin to feel his clear arousal against your center, as he grunts and continues to kiss you, bringing both hands to both of your thighs, caressing you and grinding himself more firmly and steadily against you, seeking relief, as you do, beginning to feel everything about you pulsing in an achingly delicious way.

However, the good things can't last forever.

Suddenly the doors to the balcony open again unexpectedly and this catches the attention of both of you, breaking the kiss and the moment instantly, seeing that it is a group of apparently already drunk friends, starting to make room for themselves on the balcony as well.

They notice you both but say nothing, going back to their own thing, to which you turn your focus back to Aemond, looking just as disappointed as he does at the interruption of the moment.

His lips are red and swollen, just as you must also look, so you try to get off the table, but he instantly won't let you, pressing his hips right back down there firmly, causing you to watch him in surprise and in alert.

"This is what I'll do the next time I see you if you don't go to the rehearsals and concerts," he tells you again with that determination and that honesty, his voice completely low and hoarse, not letting you go.

And at first you don't understand what he's talking about, still very overwhelmed and shocked by what happened, but mostly because he keeps pressing his hips right against your center.

But you remember what you were talking about earlier.

"W-what?"

Then that grin reappears, her gaze still full of desire and completely stealing your breath.

"I'll kiss you again without permission."

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#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond fanfiction #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #hotd aemond

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loving-barnes · 2 months

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LOGAN HOWLETT - BETTER

A/N: Chapter six is here! And it took me quite some time. This one is shorter. Hope you like this one.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: none

Summary: Things are slowly turning around. Or are they?

Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story is suitable for mature audience.

Words: 3100+

Important note: Again, Logan is a tall MF, because they fucked up in the movies. Also, Hugh Jackman!Wolverine. This is set in AU.

A TOUCH OF HOPE MASTERLIST | Chapter Five

LOGAN HOWLETT - BETTER

Logan woke her up at six in the morning. They came to an agreement to start the training early before classes. He laughed at her when she opened the door and had dark circles under her eyes and messy hair. Fortunately, she was dressed in sports clothes and ready to train.

Y/N was surprised to see him in black gym shorts and that damn white tank top. At least he didn’t wear jeans. Fuck, his ass looked fantastic in them. Still, his big, veiny arms were on full display. At least something to look at, she thought. She needed to practise self-control. Otherwise, she’d drool all over him.

It took her a few minutes to wake up and get into training mode. First, Logan made her run through the footpaths around the compound. He stayed close, setting the pace for them. That was just the warm-up. Afterwards, he took them to the Danger room.

Y/N was drinking water while her eyes travelled around Logan, who walked around like a lion in a cage. He was thinking about the next part of the training. She used the opportunity to eye him. Damn, that man was hot. Even with that hairstyle, it made him charming.

“We should focus on your mutation,” he announced. “You need to be able to control it as you wish. The more control you have, the more you can do as you please.”

She put down the water bottle. “I’ve noticed a thing,” she approached the man. Her hands rested on her hiplines. “I’ve been thinking about it the whole night.”

Logan crossed his big, muscular arms across his chest. Then he raised a brow. “Shoot.”

“I think it behaves differently every time I use it. It all depends on the situation,” Y/N explained. “When we were in Salem, and they shot at me, the bullets were absorbed into the shield. Then, I ran towards them, and it threw them away once they made contact with the forcefield. It would absorb or hurt them more if it behaved the same. Instead, it served as a barrier.”

He tilted his head and scratched his beard. “Interesting,” he said. “Someone else would be able to explain why this keeps happening. As the Professor said, your mutation is primarily defensive, and-”

“I can use it as an offence if needed,” she added. “I know, I heard.”

“Exactly like it happened a few days ago. Your emotions got the best of you, and the forcefield flew right out of ya,” Logan continued. “I think you need to experiment with it. You know, try a bunch of shit to figure it all out.”

Y/N laughed at that. “Aw, you are a great teacher,” she teased. “I have never received such specific instructions. Try a bunch of shit and figure it all out.”

While she kept chuckling at that, Logan’s claws emerged from his skin, and he threw a punch. He would have gotten her face, but Y/N dodged it by a few centimetres. Her heart skipped a beat, and her soul escaped her body. “What the fuck?” she yelled. “Why the fuck did you do that?”

“What? You dodged it,” he smirked. He threw another punch, and she quickly blocked it. “Better,” he commented.

“You could’ve killed me, you ass,” she spat.

“Stop crying, princess,” said Logan with a smirk plastered over his face. “You need to expect the unexpected. Plus, I’d never hurt ya.”

Princess? That was new, she thought. “What if I hurt you? Have you thought about that?”

“I wouldn’t stress over it. I can heal, remember?”

Y/N didn’t wait and kicked him in the gut hard. He stumbled back and gasped from pain. He managed to stay on his feet. “Expect the unexpected,” she said to him with a big smile.

“Will I correctly ask if I ask that you’ve learnt to fight when you were with that Mars guy?” he rubbed his belly.

She stretched while he kept his distance. “Yes. I’m not saying he made me the best fighter or anything. We had to know how to fight and escape. I know what I’m doing, but compared to you, I am a novice,” she said.

“You are far from that,” Logan said. “Now, come on. Less talking, more fighting. You wanted me to train you and not chit-chat.”

“Aw, come on, you like chatting with me,” she teased again.

“Shut up and fight.”

Left hook, right hook and then Y/N was down on the floor. She cursed and frowned at the man above her. She was panting, mad that he managed to get her down that quickly. Y/N rolled over her shoulder and went for his legs. She tried to trip him but wasn’t successful. She attempted to kick him in the knee and failed. Damn, Logan was agile. He predicted her moves.

“Come on, Y/N, hit me finally!”

As he hauled off at her, Y/N’s hand shot forward, and she made a forcefield. Logan collided with it and flew through the air until he hit the ground farther away. Y/N’s eyes almost fell out of her sockets. She covered her mouth and nose with both hands, gasping. “Oh my god!”

She didn’t expect him to fly through the seven seas and more. Hell, she didn’t want to use the forcefield in the first place. He attacked, and she protected herself. It was instinct. Y/N ran to him and fell to her knees. Her eyes filled with horror.

Logan was grunting on the floor. His white tank top was burnt in many places. The smell of burning flesh caught her nose. She found a few burns on his skin that healed before her eyes. “I’m so sorry! Logan, I’m sorry. I didn’t…” She was panicking.

Slowly, he sat up and looked down at his destroyed piece of clothing. “Shit,” he mumbled. “That hurt.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” her mouth ran miles. “I wanted to use the shield to make you fly, yes. However, not to burn you alive. What the fuck was that? I am so sorry, Logan.”

His hand pressed against her mouth to shut her up. “Breathe, princess. I’m fine.” He wrinkled his eyebrows when he smelled the burnt clothing. He grabbed the fabric with his other hand and ripped it off him.

Holy shit, she thought. She would have said it out loud if it wasn’t for Logan’s hand over her mouth. For the first time ever, she got the perfect and close view of his toned, muscular chest. It was covered in hair that travelled down to his stomach and even further. It was hot. She couldn’t believe how much she liked it. He was a definition of a man. The way his chest rose and fell from breathing, she had to clench her thighs.

The door to the Danger room opened. Storm ran inside. “Have you seen-” she stopped talking when she found Logan and Y/N on the floor. He kept holding her mouth while being shirtless. They turned their heads to the woman. “Y/N,” she added. “I was looking for you this whole morning. As I can see, you are preoccupied.”

Logan let go of her mouth. “We’ve been training since six,” she said.

“I need to talk to you,” said Storm when she approached them. “Since when do you train without a shirt?” she teased the man.

“Since someone burnt it with her mutation,” he glared at Y/N, who gave him a big, embarrassing smile. “Y/N, at least buy me a drink before you want to see me shirtless.”

Her mouth opened wide as if she was offended by that. She couldn’t give a reply. Logan put two fingers under her chin and helped her close it. “You’re a douche,” said Y/N. “It was an accident,” she turned to Storm.

“If you are done, can I talk to you?” Storm asked. Her voice was soft and friendly.

Logan stood up. He helped Y/N on her feet. “We’re done. I have a class in half an hour, and I need to shower.” He noticed how the woman by his side kept ogling him. He smirked. “I’ll see ya later, Y/N.”

Both women watched him leave the Danger room. Storm raised a brow and smirked. “You have a thing for him, don’t you?”

Y/N’s eyes goggled. “It’s nice to look at him,” she commented. “Anyway, what do you need?”

“I need to talk to you about everything that happened a few days ago.”

Y/N inhaled through her nose. “Can I quickly shower? We can meet in fifteen minutes at the basketball court. Then, we can talk.”

“That sounds okay,” Storm nodded. “I’ll see you there in fifteen.”

. . .

Storm and Y/N walked over the school grounds, enjoying the autumn breeze. The weather was warm, even though it was October and Halloween was knocking on the door. Storm wanted to know Y/N’s story. She needed to understand what had happened before she would jump to any conclusions. That’s why they spent the last hour walking around, talking about Y/N’s life.

“I don’t get why Scott needed to paint you as the bad guy when all of us struggled when we were teens,” Storm shook her head in disbelief. “All stories are different. You happened to have a tragic one. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But I still did it,” Y/N sighed. “I managed to kill my sister with the ability to protect. How ironic is that?” she shook her head. “I can’t change the past. My little sister is dead. My parents hate me. If they knew I was alive, they would want me dead.”

“So, what happened after?”

“I ended up in an insane asylum where I stayed for a few years before I escaped,” said Y/N. “Those years are a blur. With the heavy medication and shit, I don’t remember much.” They slowly moved back to the school. “You know, I wanted to leave yesterday,” she admitted.

“Why?”

Y/N shrugged. “I thought you’d hate me for what I did. I hurt you all. I thought you wouldn’t want that kind of a person here, with the kids,” she explained.

“What made you stay then?” Storm was curious. She had an idea in her mind. That idea was inside the school, teaching history.

“A chance of being a better person,” Y/N said. “I have the opportunity to do something good. I can learn more about mutation and be there for those who require help. I want to prove to you and myself that I am not a monster.”

“Is that all?” Storm had to ask with a teasing smile.

“Let’s not go there,” Y/N chuckled.

“Logan is a nice guy. Grumpy but with a good heart,” said Storm. “You two clicked, you know? When I think about it, it would be a great love story. He’s literally your knight in shining armour.”

“Y/N!” they heard a voice shouting. Both women turned to see JJ running towards them. Saved by the kid, she thought. Y/N’s eyes sparkled with excitement. She spread her arms, and the boy ran into them. They hugged tightly. “I haven’t seen you in days,” said the boy.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“They told me you were hurt,” he said. “Are you okay?”

She gave him a smile and patted his head. “Of course I am. I needed some time to rest. How do you like it here?”

“This place is awesome,” he said excitedly. “I share a room with two other boys. They seem nice. Oh, hey Storm,” the boy acknowledged the other woman standing by them. “They teach us how to work with our mutation. It’s so much fun!”

“Oh, it makes me so happy that you like this place,” Y/N looked into the boy’s face.

“I have to go, but I’ll see you later. Bye Y/N, bye Storm!” the boy waved to them and ran inside the building. He probably had another class to attend.

“He’s a unique young man and a good student,” Storm said when the boy was gone. “Was your past also a reason you wanted to save the boy?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

Together, they went back inside the mansion. When they stepped into the main hallway, Y/N turned around on her heel. “Hey, didn’t I make Scott fly out of that window?” she pointed at the undamaged window. “How is it fixed already?”

“With all the mutations around, things can get fixed fast here,” said Storm with a gentle laugh. “Listen, I have a wild idea,” her eyes brightened. “Half an hour from here, there’s a bar. It’s owned by a mutant. We should all grab a drink tonight.”

“There is a bar?” Y/N was surprised to hear that. “I’d love a beer. It’s been years since I had one.”

The school bell rang. Silent halls turned into noisy ones. Another class was over. The students left the classrooms.

“Great. All we need is to find a babysitter and-”

Office, now.

Y/N frowned and looked around. She heard the Professor in her head. “Did you hear that?”

Storm nodded. “Come, something’s going on.”

They moved fast into Charles’s office. Rogue, Bobby and Kitty were quickly behind them. After entering the office, Jean, Scott, and Kurt were already there, with another man Y/N never met before. He had mid-long silver hair and a smug smile on his face. The last ones to enter were Logan and Colossus.

“You must be the new girl,” the man pointed at Y/N, his eyes travelling over her body. After a blink, he stood in front of her. “I’m Peter,” he shook her hand.

“Y/N,” she said, startled. “Wow, you are fast.”

Logan approached Y/N, standing right behind her. She smelled like a coconut shampoo. It was nice. What he didn’t like were Peter’s eyes on her. Logan glared at him. “Hey, Speedy,” he greeted his friend. “Long time no see.”

Peter moved back to the chair he was sitting on. It was faster than a snap of the fingers. “Had some business to do. Same old, same old.”

Scott turned his head to look at Y/N. Because no one could see his eyes, they didn’t know what emotion was behind them. He wrapped an arm around Jean’s waist and faced the Professor again.

“Why are we here, Professor?” Kitty asked softly. “Did something happen?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have good news,” Charles started to talk. “Hank and Remy went to Washington to attend a conference. It was about Human and Mutant affairs. I’m afraid some new threads want to stop the cooperation between humans and mutants.”

“Here we go again,” Bobby mumbled, shaking his head.

“And with Trask Industries trying to come up with a way to suppress us, I’m afraid we are on thin ice,” Charles continued. “I’ll send Scott and Jean to join Hank and Remy. We need more reasonable voices to help with the cause.”

“Professor, this will never stop,” Rogue commented. “They tried before. Here we are again, facing the same issue over again.”

“We can only hope for the best, for now,” said the Professor. “We need to act now before Magneto and his Brotherhood will step in. And we all know what happens when they get into it.”

“We need to be prepared for anything,” Jean said. “If the politics decide to break the treaty pact, we will be endangered again, and there will be war. No one wants that.”

Y/N shook her head. Even though there was a treaty, humans would experiment on mutants. They would capture them and abuse them like they did her. They needed lab rats to figure out how the X gene worked.

How am I still alive?

When the meeting had ended, everyone, except for Jean and Scott, gathered outside the office. “How about Stan’s tonight?” Storm suggested. “I need a drink more than ever after hearing that,” she pointed at the office door behind her.

“I’m out,” Colossus said. “I don’t think I am welcomed there for a while. Last time, I accidentally destroyed two tables.”

“Because you wanted to arm-wrestle after drinking the whole bottle of vodka,” Logan glared at his friend. “I warned you. You didn’t listen, Piotr.”

Y/N bit her lower lip to keep her from laughing. Obviously, they were notoriously well-known at the bar. Her eyes met Logan’s for a brief moment.

“So, you’ll be the babysitter then?” Storm gave him pleading eyes.

“Sure,” he agreed. “You all have a good time. If anything happens, I’ll give someone a call.”

“Great,” Strom clapped excitedly. “How about we meet at the entrance gate at seven in the evening?” she suggested.

As they all started to disperse, Y/N turned around and looked at the Professor’s door. She had an idea inside her head. It was stupid, but she wanted to ask about it.

“Are you coming?” she heard Logan’s voice.

“Uh,” she turned her head to look at him. “I need to talk to the Professor. I’ll see you later.”

With a single nod, Logan left her alone. Y/N knew Jean and Scott were still inside, but she wanted to speak to Charles alone. Y/N approached the door and knocked on it. Once she was allowed to enter, she did.

Scott and Jean were already on their way out. Jean gave her a polite smile while Scott ignored her. Y/N had to roll her eyes. His behaviour was childish.

“How can I help you, Y/N?” Charles asked. He moved behind his table. “Your mind is closed, so I wonder what you want.”

“I was thinking,” she approached the table and then seated in an armchair. “Do you need an extra teacher?”

“What do you have in mind exactly?”

“Uh,” she fiddled with her fingers. “English and literature, perhaps? You took me in, and I would like to repay you somehow. I was the best in class. Before my life turned upside down, I used to apply to writing competitions. I know a lot about literature. I love it.”

Charles smiled. “Anything else?”

“Uh,” she thought back, thinking about the hobbies she had as a child. “I attended guitar lessons, so I guess music? I might remember something.”

The man chuckled. “You can teach English and literature. It would help me with some of the classes, to be honest. I teach physics, mutant ethics and even literature. Another teacher for this would be great.”

“And it’s okay that I don’t have a proper school?”

“No one does. Hank, Jean and I are the only educated here,” he said gently. “Any help would be appreciated. I will look at the schedules with Storm, and I believe you can start from Monday.”

“Really?” Y/N’s eyes sparkled. She was getting excited.

“I have no reason to lie to you.”

“Thank you, Professor,” she smiled at him. “This means a lot. I’m glad I’ll be able to help you. I’ll let you be. You must have a ton of work to do.”

When she left his office, she felt more relief in her chest. At least she would be able to repay them somehow. A smile appeared on her face. Things slowly started to turn for the better.

#Logan Howlett x reader #Logan Howlett x female reader #Logan Howlett #Wolverine #Wolverine x reader #Wolverine x female reader #Logan Howlett fanfiction #Marvel fanfiction #X-Men #A touch of hope #X-men fanfiction

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darkbluekies · 1 year

Note

ARHGGG I KNOW ITS LATE. BUT IM SO CURIOUS ABOUT VALENTINES DAY WITH DR KRYYYYY

“Do you like me too?”

Doctor!yandere OC x reader Valentine special

Summary: Your very own doctor decides to try to make Valentine's in the hospital special for you. And for once, you're finally let outside and Dr Kry can pretend that you're a real couple.

Warnings: none really!

Word count: 1k

[I spedwrote this, im going to bed now]

Today’s a day like every other. You wake up in your bed with nothing to do. It doesn’t even register that it’s valentine's day. Why would you care? You don’t have anyone and you can’t go out on a date.

Dr Kry has been out all morning in search of perfect gifts for you. He’s gotten flowers, chocolate, a new book and a green sweatset for you.

When you wake up from your first nap, Dr Kry is back with the gifts in a paper bag.

“Good morning, Y/N”, he smiles and sits down on his rolling stool. “How are you feeling today?”

“Like normal”, you mumble. “I’m never getting better.”

“Don’t be so sad. Look, I got you gifts!”

He fixes the pillow behind your back and places the paper bag on your legs. You åick up the chocolate box first and give him a wide smile.

“I love chocolate!” you burst out.

Dr Kry smiles fondly. You’re so cute.

You pick up the red roses too and take a sniff. Sadly, you have lost a lot of your smell, but you can imagine how sweet their scent is. You look around, trying to find a vase.

“I need water to put them in”, you say.

“I’ll get a vase for you”, Dr Kry says and takes the flowers out of your hands. “They’re beautiful, right?”

“I love them.”

You pick up the book he got you.

“You haven’t read that, right?” he asks. “Would be a shame if you have.”

“I haven’t”, you say. “It looks good. Can you read it for me tonight?”

“Of course I can. I have one more thing for you in the bag. Take a look.”

“You shouldn’t have got me so much. I don’t have anything for you.”

“You don’t have to. I like your quality time more than material goods. If I get to read for you, that’s enough of a gift for me. Look at the last thing now!”

You pick up a pair of sage green sweatpants and a hoodie in the same color.

“The hospital gown you’re wearing is very thin”, Dr Kry explains. “I’m sure you’re cold. This will give you some warmth.”

You look at the things you’ve gotten as your eyes tear up. Not even your last partner was as sweet as Doctor Kry.

“Thank you so much”, you smile. “You didn’t have to-”

“I wanted to, don’t worry about it”, Dr Kry smiles.

“Can I give you a hug?”

He nods and leans over to wrap you in his arms. You put your arms around his neck and he wishes that you could suffocate him. He hugs you close to his heart, enjoying the feeling of your body in his arms.

“You should dress in the new clothes”, Dr Kry smiles. “Then you can sit and eat chocolate while I read for you.”

He helps you change into the sweatset. Oh, you’re so cute in the clothes.

“WHat do you want for dinner?” Dr Kry asks. “I can go out and buy something special for you.”

“I want to come with you”, you say. “I want McDonald’s.”

“It’s not safe for you.”

“We can go through the drive through. I can be in the car. Please? It’s just for half an hour.”

Dr Kry sighs and nods, giving in.

“Now lean back and grab some chocolate”, he says and picks up the book. “Here’s chapter one.”

You hug your teddy bear and take a piece of the chocolate. Dr Kry starts to read and you listen closely.

That evening, Dr Kry dresses you in his coat and holds his arm around your shoulders. You’re wearing the sweatset he got you and his large coat. Being in a car again makes you jump up and down in the elevator.

“I want mozzarella sticks!” you grin. “What are you going to get?”

“I don’t know”, Dr Kry says. “Maybe chicken nuggets.”

He leads you through the lobby, out to the parking lot. The sky is filled with wonderful little stars.

“Look!” you say and breathe out. “My breath fogs!”

Dr Kry imitates you and points at the fog that exits his own.

“Mine do too”, he smiles.

“Ah, it’s been such a long time since that happened …”

Dr Kry smiles and takes your hand. He leads you over to a white car in a protective hold, making sure that none of the people in the parking lot comes close to you. The second you see his car, you want to laugh. Of course it’s white. He opens the front seat door and straps you in as if you were a child before walking over to the driver’s seat.

“Is this your car?” you ask and look around.

“Yes, it is”, he smiles, turning on the engine.

“I like it.”

Dr Kry smiles. His heart is beating oh, so hard. He feels so dizzy. This is literally a date! He’s on a date with you! You’re so cute, sitting there all innocently in the seat beside him. Your face lights up thanks to the streetlights.

“I like car rides”, you admit.

“You like a lot”, Dr Kry smiles. “Do you like me too?”

“You’re a good doctor. I’m happy I have you.”

His heart explodes then and there.

You reach the McDonald’s restaurant and go in the drive through. Dr Kry gives the radio your order while you sit beside him. You look so cute in his coat. He gets filled with primal, almost animalistic tendencies. The feeling of wanting to kill something cute. You get to hold the bag in your lap as he drives back to the hospital.

When you come back to your room, you jump onto your bed and pull up your fries. You hold out some fries to your dear doctor and he takes them carefully, blushing slightly. And there you sit for the rest of the evening, with your burger in one hand and some chocolate in the other while your doctor reads to you. Not a very bad Valentine’s after all.

#yandere #yandere stories #yandere doctor #yandere oc #yandere thoughts #yandere male #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere drabble #yandere imagine #yandere oneshot #yandere valentines #yandere x reader #dr kry oc

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ourautumn86 · 1 year

Text

stray. pt.6

joel miller x fem! reader

< previous chapter next chapter >

summary; after saving Joel and Ellie from the brink of death, you get caught with having to live with two more strays.., and you don't do strays.

REMINDER: english is not my mother language so i apologize if there are some mistakes <3 !¡either ways, i hope y'all like it. <3

REPOSTS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!<3

warnings; eventual +18 content! MINORS DONT INTERACT IN THE CHAPTERS WHERE IT IS IMPLIED IN THE WARNINGS. and smut, mentions of death, possible deaths, blood, fighting, angst, fluff...

warnings for chapter 6; so much fluffffffff, tension, arguing, cursing, kissing, cuddling, ellie being a sweetheart and loving reader…

Please, under no circumstances, repost my work on any other sites. I do not consent to anyone taking my work and posting it as their own.

When Ellie woke up it was too early in the morning, sunrise, just when her body started to notice the lack of warmth. Her hands reached out for something, for you, her fingertips meeting nothing more than the cold sheets that once had surrounded you.

She frowned and sat up. The darkness of the salon swallowing her whole and a gust of air coming from your open balcony met her when she stepped outside of the room. Outside was Joel, smoking, probably awake since not long ago.

“She’s gone.” he said, without even looking at her, and her shoulders fell when her suspicions became real.

You were gone for three days. Enough time for Ellie to finish reading Alice in Wonderland. You felt as the white rabbit. Always too fast to reach, too quick to disappear and leave her behind…

You closed the door of your apartment, your back aching for the weight on your bag. You sighed when you pushed yourself to your sofa, and oh god, it for once was comfortable.

You left your bag aside and leaned on it. You felt at peace just when Ellie barged in the salon from your room.

“Oh, fuck! You’re alive! Now I owe Joel the sausages of my next breakfast.” she whined, and you rolled your eyes.

“Nice to see you too, brat.”

“Where the hell did you go?” she inquired, a curious expression on her face when she saw you get up and get your back.

“Went looking for this.” you said, getting out of it about five books, some big, some small, and all about the same thing; the space.

Her eyes widened, her heart stopping inside her chest.

“No.” she said, in disbelief.

“Yeah. Went to the library up east, thought you’d like having something more of your liking to read.” you scoffed, feeling awkward. Ellie’s hand were almost shaking when she took them from you. Physics, astronauts, NASA, the universe, the planets and every little star that was known to date before the outbreak… Everything.

“Thank you.” she whispered, shiny eyes still on the books in between your arms. “Thank you so much, y/n.” she smiled at you, and you scratched the back of your neck.

“Yeah, uhm… Whatever kid.” you said, pulling your bag over your shoulder. “I’m gonna go sleep now, alright? Would probably be passed out for a couple of days. Don’t you dare wake me up.” you said before entering Laura’s room and leaving your backpack on the floor. You sighed when one of the paint cans rolled out of it. You took it in between your hands. Black.

You looked up to Laura’s ceiling, and sighed.

“Well shit.”

Your body was covered in sweat, and your muscles ached and burned with every new punch you gave to the speed bag.

It was dark at night, no soul on the streets, everybody fast asleep. Everyone except for you. Your mind was clearly a mess, and your eyes were unable to close. Training always helped you with the fear that you always felt, but this time it was stronger, and none of your punches or kicks could make it go away, beat it out of yourself.

All of this scares you shitless. The things you’d found lately doing, the person that lied stuck into your head like the roots of your hair…

Every time you closed your eyes there was him, him and his stupid hair, and his stupid brown shiny eyes, his voice, his warmth and his smell.

You wanted it all out of your head, him out of your head.

You turned around when you heard footsteps at your back, and for a moment, you were in a dream. You had to be.

“You’re back.” Joel was resting against the threshold of the door to the training salon where you boxed and boxed everyday to get stronger, rougher…

There was this silence. This unspoken tension in between the two of you that begged you to lose yourself, to ignore the warnings from your head.

He couldn’t help but take you in, with rosy cheeks and shiny flushed skin, hair wet on a high ponytail.

He was like a ghost, a ghost that you couldn’t scape from, that haunted you when awake and asleep.

“Joel…” you muttered his name, and he stepped inside the room. The air around you seemed to instantly weight down on your shoulders even harder.

You couldn’t scape from him, couldn’t scape from it all, right?

“You look good.” and by that he meant that you didn’t look hurt, not like the last time. That was good.

“I know my ways.” you shrugged, and balanced the bag, that had been swaying due to your last punch. He looked at you, and you looked at him. There was it again.

“Ellie showed me the books.” he said, and your eyes darted away.

You shrugged, trying to hide your true intentions.

“Needed to go for some things to the next town and found them.” you explained, the silence in between the two of you feeling like stone over stone, a tall wall.

“You do that a lot.” he said, and your breath hitched when he took a couple of steps closer, facing you. You could almost feel his warmth fill the air around you.

“What?” you inquired, and he was looking down at you, his head cocked slightly to the side as one of his hand reached out for you, for a lock of hair that had fallen on your forehead. You shivered when he pushed it away, his fingertips like electricity against your skin.

“Run away.” he answers, and you fell silent, until you could make the words stuck on your chest leave your lips.

“I don’t run away, Joel.” you spat, and pushed his touch away, but he just simply took your wrist, his grip soft against your skin. It burned.

“Oh but you do. You’re doing it right now.” he whispered, and your body froze. He was so close it was hard to breath.

You squinted your eyes, and in a quick movement you had pinned him to the floor, your hips straddling his, his hands on each side of his head. You felt like burning on a fire place, like snow melting under the sun, like a fire cracker being light up. You felt like giving in, like making your head stop whispering your fears, to stop the clock and freeze the time, to give into his eyes and lose yourself on his touch, on how he spoke, on how he felt…

“I’m not a coward.” you muttered, anger dripping from your lips, your eyes hard as a glaciar, but Joel was like the apocalypse, was like the unstoppable rising of global warming, and you were falling apart, melting.

Your breath left your lungs when you found yourself pinned below him, one of his hands harshly pinning your wrists to the floor, one of his legs in between your own and his weight on top of you to make you stay still. You were trapped. But had you ever been free?

“Then stop running.” he whispered, and your heart pushed harder against your ribs. His eyes were on you and solely you, his face just mere inches away. “Please stop running from me.” he muttered, and your eyes fell to his lips, to his healing cut, to his tongue dampening them. xxx

“I can’t.” you whispered back, but you were moving closer, giving in. It was unstoppable, you were drunk on his skin already. Addicted to the possibility of him. “I shouldn’t.” you said, and Joel’s grip on your wrists faltered, your voice sending chills down his body.

But now his lips were brushing yours, and your body was arching for his touch. Your mind was dead silent, as if he was the answer to all the questions, to all the doubts, as if he was the only thing that could make your world stop spinning, stop hurting.

His lips felt like stepping in heaven, like finding water in a desert, like being able to eat for the first time after starving for weeks…

He quickly let go of your hands to capture your waist, your own digging in his grayish hair. You were like gasoline. And he was a lighter. You were too gone to think about the disaster, about the fire.

He groaned against your lips when you pulled from his hair, pushing him harder against you, opening your mouth for him. He was quick to give it to you, pulling from you so you could straddle his lap once again, sitting softly on his strong and thick thighs.

“Joel…” you whispered against your lips, your mind screaming for you to run away the moment you pulled away to catch your breath, but he was nipping at your neck, and your body was consumed in electricity. He must have seen that look in your eyes, ‘cause he was quick to act.

“Don’t run from me.” he pulled you back to his lips, his arms surrounding your body to press you impossibly closer to his chest. It was an indescribable feeling, to have you this close, to taste the sweetness of your mouth, to tell your heartbeat against his…

And that’s when you noticed that you’d had it wrong this whole time, ‘cause truth was that you couldn’t. You couldn’t run away from him anymore. Not ever.

You melted in his arms.

“I’m right here.” he promised, muting all the warnings in your mind. And for once, you believed him. Ignored them. ‘Cause he was kissing you as if the world was ending, when in reality it was starting for you once again.

“Okay. Close your eyes. Don’t you dare fucking look.”

“I won’t.” Ellie groaned as you pulled from her through the salon.

“Good ‘cause then I’ll kill you.” you threatened her, opening the door at your back and dragging her in. You turned on the lights to Laura’s room, room which you hadn’t let anybody stepped into for days on end, until now. “Okay…” you said, your breath shaky and shallow. You were nervous. Terrified. You’d finally finished it. There were still bits of paint on your hands. “You can…, look.” you said, slowly. And Ellie at the same pace pulled her hands away from her face and opened her eyes.

Her heart skipped a beat, her lips parted in a breath.

You were looking at her, staring at the ceiling, her shiny eyes sparking with the stars you had drawn all over it, the colors of the space, the little constellations drawn by hand. By your hands…

“I was thinking you could… Stay here. Larry seemed to have taken a liking to the two of you and…” you took a deep breath in, her eyes now on you. “I want you to stay.” you muttered, your gut growing in knots. “You don’t have to. I was thinking that you could use this room and… Since you told me you liked the stars and the space so much I went to that town where I got your books and…” you were babbling, unable to stop talking when suddenly she was hugging you, knocking the air out of your lungs.

“Thank you.” there were tears brimming her eyes, and she was clinging to you as if you were the last anchor to this cruel world. “Thank you.” she repeated, and even if your arms were shaking you hugged her back.

“I get that as I ‘yes, and thank you for the drawing, I love it’?” you sarcastically played it off, trying to lighten the weight of the situation. It was suddenly too much, but not enough at the same time. It felt nice. To have somebody to look for again, to love again.

“Yes. I love it.” she repeated, and she smiled at you, letting you go and looking once again at the ceiling. “But what about Laura… This is her room.” she whispers, careful, softly…

“I’m sure she won’t mind sharing it with a brat as cool as you.” you said, and her smile only grew even more. You let out a laughter when she only came back to your arms, her head resting on your chest. “Okay, kid. Enough of that.” you played, pushing her away.

“Can I keep her drawings? I like watching them.” she pointed at Laura’s sketches, still hanging on the walls.

“Of course.” you smiled, the air around you feeling somehow warmer.

“Oh, and y/n?” she suddenly called out for you, your eyes back to her.

“Yeah?”

“Could you teach me how to draw?” she inquired, and you couldn’t help the huge smile that softened your face.

“Yeah.”

Things between you and Joel were silent. Dead silent. Since that kiss… Since those eyes had begged you to stop running away from him… You hadn’t even be able to look at him, ‘cause you knew that the moment you would, you wouldn’t be able to stop the dam that captured all your feelings to fly open.

You were smoking on your balcony when you heard him close the door to your apartment. It was late at night, and Ellie was sleeping in her now room. With charcoal all over her face since she had stayed up late while you taught her how to draw the anatomy of the human body.

You were on your fifth now, and your body was begging you for even more. Now that you could feel his presence, hear his steps getting closer…

You felt like pray. Like a rabbit trying to run away from a wolf.

He sat by your side, and the gravity pulling you down on your seat seemed to increase.

You took a drag of your cigarette, and when you heard his own sizzling you couldn’t help your eyes to drift towards him, towards the bear on his jaw and chin, the mustache rimming his lips, the hard lines of his face, his nose, his eyes, his eyebrows, his hair, his neck, his chest…

“It’s rude to stare so much.” he casually said, and you looked away as fast as you could, harshly swallowing. That’s when you felt his index finger and thumb took your chin to make you look at him once again. “Did I tell you to stop?” he muttered, and you looked into his brown eyes, he was now closer, his thumb caressing your chin. “You keep trying to hide from me.” he said, and you sighed when he pressed against your bottom lip, his eyes taking you in. “Trying to act like you can’t feel how much I want you. How much I want to kiss you right now.”

“Joel…” you called out for him, but your next words got swallowed by his lips when he kissed you. Your eyes closed as you leaned in it, your arms surrounding his neck.

“You’ve saved me. Multiple times. You still save me everyday.” he whispers against your lips, and there are goosebumps creeping up your skin when his fingers trailed down your neck, softly, mere fingertips against your skin. “Let me save you.” he begged, and your heart ached. ‘Cause you liked him. You liked Joel Miller. And there was no turning back from that fact, not if you were scared you’d lose him too, scared of your heart breaking again. Your eyes were watering, and his were beautiful. “Can I kiss you, y/n? Can I hold you?” he inquired, mere centimeters separating you two.

And when you nodded, he didn’t waste time to surround you with his strong and warm arms, your cigarettes long abandoned and forgotten on top of the balcony table.

You could taste the remains on his lips, taste his need to keep you close, to love you.

“Joel…” you cried out when he kissed you softly, so softly it was ripping you apart. So softly it was leaving you naked in front of him, freeing you of all the walls you had surrounded yourself with.

“You’re beautiful.” he muttered against your lips, and you swore you could die when his mouth left soft pecks all over your face.

“Please don’t leave.” you whispered in between his hands as he cupped your face, kissing your forehead.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. I promise.”

And he repeated it over and over again as he carried you to your bed, where he laid you and pulled you flush against his chest, holding you like you didn’t know you needed to be held. “I promise.”

Joel was gluing all your broken parts back together.

taglist; ♡

@bubbles-for-all-of-us @hiphopdancer101universe @amethystwonders11 @mmeerraa @azxulaa @euovennia @twilightsbiggestfan @dabria14 @minaxcarter @lynndaline @frogjumps-world @cassiepascal @mdnigts @fudosl @batweildinglittlepysco @doodlebob-mp3 @boh3mian @saintmagx @scaredknight @ipadkidsworld @somebodytookmyusername @natalia42069 @cassrox @seninjakitey @maddsfilms @issybee0611 @corpsebridenightamare @eddie-munsons-slut @wren-2-d @hiroikegawa @luvwanda @hawsx3

pedro pascal masterlist! <3

joel miller masterlist! <3

a/n; AGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!! there’d probably be about 1 or 2 more chapters, sadly enough. hope you liked this one, and thank you for all the support!! love you<3

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theteasetwrites · 1 year

Text

Merciless Beauty

Chapter 6: Through Life and After Death

❧ Pairing: Knight Daryl Dixon x Princess Reader ❧ Era: Medieval fantasy AU ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT (18+)―missionary, body worship, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (do not endorse), loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, sir kink if you squint, "fucked dumb" (lol), language ❧ Word Count: 15k (I am so sorry.)

❧ Before You Read...

❧ Glossary

❧ In This Chapter: With the threat of Negan and the Saviors' imminent return heavy on your mind, you find solace in one last excursion outside the castle walls, with your knight. A chance discovery, and the knowledge that this may be your last moment alone with him, leads you to the logical conclusion of your longing.

❧ A/N: Babe, wake up. The knight and the princess are about to boink. Btw I wrote most of this while I’m on my period so that might explain a lot.

The night before last had haunted you, tormented you, until you saw Sir Negan’s arrogant face in every shadow in your bedroom, every darkened corner of the castle, and even every forlorn hollow amongst the foliage in the courtyard where you took your afternoon strolls.

Your own home became a house of horrors, and now, you could not stand to be there another minute.

Before that night, the castle was only a place of sadness for you, but now, it was a looming threat, with each rising and setting of the sun marking another day closer to the day he would come back. You couldn’t even bear to speak his name, so you didn’t. You couldn’t, as though somehow even using your voice to acknowledge his existence was giving him more power. And yet, it was impossible to avoid the plague of unease that the man had infected you with.

Afterall, your situation was dire, no matter what transpired in the coming days leading up to his return. If your father decided to appease Negan, the best option for the survival of the kingdom, it would mean you’d be given to him willingly, taken to the Sanctuary to be his wife. If your father refused to give you to him, you’d be taken by force, and there was no way that Alexandria’s now weakened defenses could fight the Saviors from taking you―they were going to take you, no matter what. There was no outcome that would be in your favor. You were going to be Negan’s now, and you had to accept it.

But you didn’t.

Late last night, the king had left Alexandria in the hopes of making alliances with neighboring kingdoms against the Saviors in a last ditch effort to fight them. It was a noble pursuit, but worthless. Even with the help of the other provinces, the Saviors had weakened those kingdoms as well. Their armories were ransacked, and their numbers were increasingly dwindling. Still, you took advantage of your father’s absence―for one last excursion outside the walls before you’d surely be ripped away from your home in a matter of days.

It was the easiest breakout yet, given the lack of guards roaming the corridors of the castle. The journey through the tunnel was quiet, none of the usual talk of knighthood or herbalism or the knight’s stories of his adventures in exotic, faraway lands. It wasn’t until the meadow when you asked Sir Daryl to treat this day just the same as the others―as if nothing had changed, and this wasn’t your last journey with him.

And so, the knight being simply unable to refuse your wishes, he buried his sorrows to speak of things that pleased you, and you continued regaling him with quotes from your favorite tales and poems, all of which he listened to attentively, pulling Phantom’s reins as you both approached the familiar little cottage, its new outer walls now the first thing you saw.

It was only recently that Sir Daryl had commissioned a mason to build the protective border round the little house, an additional safety precaution to keep the walkers out, he said. Sometimes, you wondered if he’d had that built just for you to be safe, but perhaps that was a self-centered thought. The notion still produced a fluttering feeling in your abdomen, one that you became accustomed to since you first felt them with him. It was the most pleasant feeling you’d ever had, and no matter how you experimented to see if any other source of happiness could replicate that feeling, you always failed.

The sun was setting now, the usual ending to the usual day out, only now, the knight had offered to prepare you a real supper, not just the usual loaves of bread and rosemary butter. This eve, he was set on something special―venison he’d hunted himself just days prior, accompanied by vegetables you’d collected from the cottage garden, many of which you’d never even tried before. “Peasants’ grub” the nobles called them, but they were simple potatoes, onions, cabbages, leeks, carrots… Everything you’d need for a good stew.

But Daryl would not let you lift a finger, relegating you to sitting upon one of the straw-filled pillows strewn about on the floor, just a handful of feet from the warm lit hearth, where Daryl stood laboring over a steaming pot.

“Are you sure you do not need any help?” you peeped, though you and he both knew that you had less skill in cooking than him. In fact, you’d never even cut a vegetable before today. That was simply not your responsibility.

He looked at you through curling smoke, his eyebrow raised at the notion. “Told ya I’d do it. Isn’t much left to do, anyway… Just gotta let it cook a bit more.”

With your posture as straight and perfect as ever, you nodded and wrapped the blanket he always gave you tighter around your body. At this point, it smelled distinctly of your sweet perfume. “Thank you again, Daryl. I know… I know this is not the most ideal time to leave the castle, but I could not stand to be there another second. I swear I can still smell that man’s stench.”

Daryl swallowed hard before clearing his throat, disturbed by the very thought of him, the man who he knew he could not stop from taking you, but he’d do anything in his power to prevent it from happening.

He’d thought of many things, in fact. He hadn’t slept in two nights, the time spent instead thinking of ways to stop Negan, but they all had their weaknesses. Of course, his first thought was to hide you, to take you away from the castle and keep you somewhere else, but that wouldn’t stop the Saviors from pillaging Alexandria, from killing more people. The one thing keeping Negan from destroying the kingdom was you, and even then, it was still uncertain.

And killing Negan and enough of the Saviors to render them powerless was next to impossible. Alexandria was a small kingdom anyway, and now it had dwindled down to almost the size of a large village, with hardly any defenses or military-trained citizens to even stand a chance against an army of the Saviors’ size. The situation was hopeless, and he hated that all he could do was wait.

“But it’s nice to be here,” you said. “I like it here… With you.”

He met your sweet smile with a boyishly lopsided one. The man was quite a bit older than you, but he had a youthfulness about him you couldn’t quite place. Perhaps it was in his eyes, which glimmered just as brightly as you’d imagined they had when he was closer to your own age. His face was weathered, but mostly, he was very handsome to you, with a softness to his features that mesmerized you at times.

Particularly, you’d developed a fascination with his lips, the way they moved. He had a habit of folding in his lower lip and chewing on it, especially when deep in thought. Sometimes he’d purse them to the side when he was frustrated, or the top lip would snarl a bit when he killed a walker. You’d become attuned to the patterns of his smiles, grins, and smirks. Your favorites were the ones like this, uneven and slightly bashful, as though you’d said something that flattered him.

You’d been flattering him a lot more lately, you realized. Perhaps your attraction to him was becoming more and more difficult to hide. Strangely, you did not feel the usual urge to combat it. Maybe it was the particular kind of heat from the hearth that evening or the way his hair was pinned behind his ears to keep it out of his way as he cooked, but the fluttery feeling in your abdomen was more persistent than usual, more continuous. At some point, you knew it would be impossible to hold back, but you had to.

“I like being with you, too,” he replied, sprinkling some freshly ground herbs into the cast iron pot. “I wish I could…” He trailed off, stopping his train of thought before he spoke improperly in front of you.

“Could what?”

Gut Negan ‘fore he lays another finger on you. “Nothin’.”

You huffed in amusement at his shyness. “Keeping secrets from your princess,” you teased with a wiggling brow and a squint of faux offense. “That is not very knightly behavior, sir.”

My princess, he thought. Mine.

He shook his head with a huff, ridding himself of his intrusive thoughts. “Wish I could… do somethin’ for you, s’all.”

“Oh, Daryl,” you said. “You’ve already done so much for me. There’s nothing you could do… It is in my father’s hands. Well, it is in Negan’s hands, really.”

“But it shouldn’t be like that.”

“No, it shouldn’t, but it’s how it is, no matter what. Even if Sir Negan had no interest in me, my father would expect me to marry a noble, or a prince or king from some other kingdom. He’s a good father, but he is still a king. Really, I am quite lucky he has not married me off yet. Many princesses marry men they do not love. My mother, her marriage to my father was arranged. Somehow, it worked. They grew to love each other very much. I do not believe I could ever love Sir Negan, though… Not ever. He is evil.”

I won’t let him take you, he wanted to say, but he knew that would be an empty promise. Tonight, for all he knew, could’ve been one of the last nights he’d ever see you again. One thing was certain, this was going to be the last time he took you outside the castle. The last time he could truly be alone with you. And yet, he could not work up the courage to tell you how he felt, how he cherished you much more than he should’ve, how he believed he loved you.

“Wish I could take you away from here,” he said, his lips moving faster than his brain could process his words. “Wish you could stay here, and Negan would never find you.” When his rationality caught up with him, he cleared his throat and shook his head in an attempt to take back what he just said, even though he meant every word.

“I do, too,” you said, surprising him a bit. “I wish I could, but then what would Negan do? He’d destroy Alexandria. He’d kill my people… He might even kill my father. I couldn’t let that happen. No, I have to face it. There’s nothing anyone can do, Daryl, though I appreciate how much you care about my safety.”

I love you.

Instead of voicing his thought, he eyed the weakening fire of the hearth, its flame no longer adequately heating the bottom of the pot. “I’m sworn to protect you,” he said. “As your knight.” He felt your soft gaze caressing his face like an invisible hand, though he tried to remain nonchalant as he poked at the fire. “If I let you get taken against your will, I’m not protecting you.”

That was almost amusing to you, as Daryl seemed to rarely care about performing his official knightly duties. When it came to you, though, he took his job quite seriously. In fact, you began to wonder if he cared more about protecting you than his own lord to whom he owed fealty. What he owed to you meant much more than mere feudalism, though. What he owed to you was his mind, body, and soul.

“And I am sworn to protect my kingdom. If I run away, I am endangering my kingdom.”

That all being said, the idea of Daryl taking you far away from all your troubles was dangerously tempting, to the point that you forgot to breathe for a moment, until it came back to you in the form of a heavy swallowing of air.

“I do not want anyone else to die,” you continued. “I… certainly do not want you to die fighting for me, Daryl, though I am so very grateful for everything you’ve done for me. In truth, I don’t think I have ever felt as close to someone as I feel with you.”

There was more you wished to say, and it seemed as though Daryl had something on the tip of his tongue, but once again, he held himself back, despite every cell in his body screaming out to you professions of love and adoration that had only grown stronger with each passing moment he’d known you. With every way he’d begun to see you for who you were, he fell harder in love. With every angle of you he feasted upon with starving eyes that tore themselves away despite their hunger, he grew more desperate, more bereft of your warm, soft, supple body that he dreamed of cherishing and worshipping every waking moment of everyday.

God, he couldn’t keep you from his mind, your presence overwhelming and intoxicating and mesmerizing, even in this moment when your voice spoke so innocently and with the dignity and poise of a princess. That’s what you were, he had to remember—a princess. He was a knight. He needed to know his place… Though it was becoming increasingly harder to do so.

With the heady air of silence meandering between you in the tiny hovel, Daryl concentrated on rousing the flame of the hearth, but there was nothing he could do to build it up again without collecting more firewood to fuel it. It was the perfect moment to excuse himself and go out to gather tinder while he collected himself, before he did or said something… improper.

In fact, he swore that if he opened his mouth now, he’d wax poetic about all the sinful thoughts he’d tried to keep at bay. Only your voice stopped him from heading out without an explanation.

“Where are you going, knight?”

He palmed at his forehead with a huff, remembering that he was in a social situation, with a sacred woman he cared for too tenderly. He couldn’t just leave you without saying what he was doing, after all.

“Hearth needs more tinder,” he spoke over his shoulder as he donned his black wool cloak. “I won’t be far, just at the splitting log right outside.”

“I shall stir the stew,” you said dutifully, rising elegantly from your seat, with delicate handfuls of your dress to lift it as you crossed to the hearth.

“Don’t poison it,” the knight replied, to which you flashed him a smirk.

“Why ever would I do such a thing? That would be foolish, anyway. I am going to eat the stew, too.” He turned to look your way. It was a mistake. He got lost in your face, your cheeks high and full with your smile, and your eyes sparkling with the reflection of the dying fire. “Hurry along, now,” you said, your voice low now, almost husky. “You mustn’t keep me waiting.”

You did not intend the phrase to sound… suggestive, but perhaps your emotions were beginning to cloud your better judgment, and now every word you spoke betrayed you.

“I won’t,” he replied, a barely audible crack in his voice, though you chalked it up to his already raspy way of speaking. “Be right back.”

Before leaving, he took up the splitting maul he kept beside the door, a burst of cold from the spring night air chilling you for a moment as the door swung shut. Absent-mindedly, you found yourself studying the stew as you stirred it. You tilted your head in amused curiosity at the simple, yet appetizing, concoction. Whatever mix of herbs Daryl had thrown together had created a pleasant kind of aroma that filled the small one-room cottage with a comforting warmth.

A mischievous grin spread across your face as you thought to taste a bit of the stew before Daryl came back. Afterall, it couldn’t hurt to get a small sampling. Careful to get a little bit of everything in your spoonful, you purposefully sought out a large chunk of perfectly cooked-through venison. Raising the large wooden spoon to your pursed lips, you tasted the warm soup, letting it sit on your tongue for a few thoughtful moments as you attempted to study every flavor and texture.

Though the stew was undoubtedly delicious, it was still missing something. You’d seen Daryl sprinkle several different herbs and spices, but it lacked the savory, peppery taste of one of your favorite herbs: sage.

There was a tall wooden pantry across the room, where Daryl had stored most of his dry ingredients. You quickly crossed to the cabinet, your eyes looking back every few moments to keep an eye on the rolling boil of the stew. The pantry doors opened with a creak, you biting your lip and furrowing your brow as you scanned the dim shelves for the dried herb you sought. Daryl had an impressive selection of both culinary and medicinal ingredients, each jarred in their own glasses with a label of faded paper glued to its side, indicating the ingredients’ names. You’d pushed back several jars, all of which weren’t the dried sage you were looking for.

He had everything—rosemary, saffron, ginger, grains of paradise, cloves, parsley, cinnamon, spikenard, alecost, thyme, southernwood… Everything but sage. “Good heavens, sage cannot be that difficult to come by, can it?” you spoke to yourself. “Sage… Sage…” You began to impatiently rearrange the jars, rereading each one a few times to ensure you weren’t going mad, though it began to feel like it. “How could he not have—”

You’d reached the back of the dusty old shelf, where no more pesky jars of spices and herbs could taunt you. Instead, a lone small chest of plain cedarwood sat undisturbed against the back wall of the cupboard. It wouldn’t have fazed you, as you’d most logically assume it was just another container for some special exotic spice, but what had silenced you and your mumbled self-ramblings was the chain of iridescent white pearls that poured out from the little chest, rendering the lid slightly ajar, but just open enough for your to catch a brief sparkle twinkling in the darkness.

And those pearls… You recognized them.

They weren’t cheap freshwater pearls, the kind you could get from any silver-tongued peddler on the street in Alexandria’s market district. No, they were distinctive… Their luster and nearly perfect roundness betraying their expensive nature. Akoya pearls, you recalled the explorer saying. It was not long before the Scourge broke out, when you were just fifteen. The only jewels you had kept now were those inherited from your mother or family heirlooms. The pearls were beautiful, and they were important to you, but they were sacrifices you had made in the name of gratitude for the knight’s kindness.

You gave them to him, but under the impression that he’d sell them.

Why would he keep this?

But it wasn’t just one necklace, no. The faint glimmer of light from deep within the box enticed you, leading you to lift the lid, despite your high-society etiquette telling you that snooping around in other people’s things was hardly becoming behavior. You believed, though, that you had a right to see. That was once your necklace, after all.

There was more, just as you’d suspected. The box was brimming with a colorful assortment of precious jewels from your collection, all of which you’d had distinct memories of gifting to the knight after each excursion he’d accompanied you on. Pulling the box forward, you stared wide-eyed as you rummaged through, recognizing each and every piece—the pair of pearl and amethyst earrings, the ruby and silver brooch, the gilded ring of jade with an intricate claw setting, the red coral rosary given to you at your first Holy Communion, the repoussé chaplet set with refined diamonds and sapphires… Each trinket was unique, and undeniably yours.

There were a few possible explanations you could think of. The first explanation, and the most logical, was that Sir Daryl was saving your jewels for a rainy day, intent on selling them all together for a larger sum. The second, and the most amusing to you, was that he was wearing the jewelry himself, and he was hiding them to spare himself the embarrassment. The third, and the most worrisome, was that there was a lady he was intent upon giving your jewelry to, or at least that he was keeping the jewels in the event that he would find a lady to woo. This thought made your heart race, but not in the way it usually did when the knight crossed your mind.

But all these explanations were useless to you. There was no way of knowing now exactly why he kept your jewelry. Perhaps it meant nothing at all, but you couldn’t let it go. You needed to know, otherwise you’d never think clearly again. Without your sage, you replaced the chest and its contents to close the cupboard and return to the boiling pot, though not without a nervous pitter patter in your chest.

You were startled from your thoughts with a jump and a gasp when the knight kicked open the front door, a pile of freshly cut logs in his arms. He cursed himself for his lack of grace.

“Y’all right?” he asked, keeping a concerned eye on you as he crossed to the hearth to prepare the fire.

“Fine,” you replied with a nod. “Stew’s ready, I think.”

He furrowed his brow at that statement, then responded with a slight chuckle to his voice. “How do you know?”

“I tasted it,” you said. “It’s ready.”

“Yes, your highness,” he replied with a huff, amused by your certainty.

At length, he procured two wooden bowls and two silver spoons, the both of you settling for casual seating in front of the hearth, sitting upon the floor cushions with criss-crossed legs and a strange silence between you. Silences like this were uncommon. Of course, whenever it was quiet between you, there was always this presence of heaviness, as though something needed to be said by one of you, or both, but right now, there was no comfort to it. Now, the weight had become so unbearable that there would be no comfort to this usually pleasant silence until one of you spoke.

And it had to be you. You were the one who had seen the chest, who knew now that Daryl kept all those payments for whatever reason instead of cashing them in. You had to know why, there was no other way around it.

You only hoped he wouldn’t resent you for it.

“Daryl?” You let your spoon clink against the side of the wooden bowl as you relished the recent aftertaste of the savory soup. “May I ask you something?”

He was hoping you would. He’d spent enough time with you, had known all your habits and quirks and idiosyncrasies, that he knew when there was something on your mind. Given the weight of this silence, it must’ve been important.

“Yeah.” He wiped his lips with the sleeve of his off-white chemise. You took extra care not to become distracted by the crop of pale brown, wiry chest hairs just barely visible at his loosely laced up collar.

Without even noticing, you licked your lips as you thought of what to say, hoping he wouldn’t be offended. Afterall, you’d gone snooping about in his pantry. Still, you believed you had a right to know.

To focus on your words, you set your near-empty bowl on the stone edge of the hearth. You straightened to sit up taller, your hands carefully folded in your lap. You looked like the picture of a princess, except in your eyes. They were downturned, as you couldn’t bear to look him in the eye in case your actions were misconstrued as mischief. “When you were out chopping wood,” you began with a small nervous croak in your voice, “I… Well, I tried the stew, as I said, but I thought it could use some sage, you see, and so I—I looked in your pantry.”

It was then that the knight began to choke on a chunk of venison, having swallowed it too soon with the realization that you could’ve seen his jewelry box, the one he hid because of his embarrassment to admit that he kept those jewels because they were yours. No practical reason at all, just the thought of you, something part of you belonging to him. It was silly, he knew that, but to him, there was a comfort in having those trinkets. If he’d sold them, all he’d have would be measly bits of dirty metal that had been in thousands of different hands and would be in a thousand more. Those jewels were worth more than that. They were once yours. As far as he was concerned, they were still yours.

The man turned away from you, covering his mouth with the inside of his elbow as he coughed to help the meat pass down his throat. You leaned forward, reaching your hand out to touch his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“Mhm,” he mumbled between his coughs. “Just… just…”

“Here,” you said, scooting closer to hand him a tankard of water. He waved you off, but he was still hunched over to the side and refusing to face you, both as a result of his embarrassment and his coughing fit. You huffed and spoke more harshly now. “Daryl.”

He knew that voice well enough now to know you were serious. He turned towards you slowly, taking the cup from your hands as he still sputtered our grunts between coughs. “Th—thanks.”

He choked a bit more on the water now, but only because he felt your hand soothing his back in slow, languid, yet careful, movements. “There…” Your voice was smooth and velvety, like sweet whipped cream. With each pass of your hand, you felt the silk fabric of his shirt pucker against your palm. The heat of his body drew you closer subconsciously, til you felt his strong, hard shoulder nearly digging into your chest. Despite your attempt to pull away, it felt too good to rid yourself of his closeness. “Better?”

With the delicate pressure of your hand caressing him, of course he felt better. He grunted in acknowledgement as he nodded, setting the tankard on the floor beside him. “Yeah… Please forgive me.”

You shook your head and laughed at that. “For what? Swallowing your food too fast?”

He felt like a blubbering fool, wiping his lips and chuckling under his breath to match your contagious giggles. But then, with a diminuendo of laughter, he realized he’d interrupted you, and he needed to know now what you were going to say, just in case you did see his hidden treasure. Well, your hidden treasure.

“For interrupting you,” he said. “You were sayin’ something… D’ya find the sage?”

He knew full well there was no sage in that pantry. He’d run out just a few days prior.

“Oh,” you sighed. “Well, no, I…”

You’d made the grave mistake of lifting your wide eyes to meet his, though the both of you were trying to hide your gaze from one another. It was inevitable that they would meet at some point this evening, but now that they had, you could not bear to look away, neither could he. For several moments, you could not even blink for fear of missing him and his deep, almost dark blue eyes, filled with the mystery of something nearly inscrutable, but not impossible to figure out. In fact, the more you looked, you swore you got closer to finding the answers to all the questions in his eyes.

“Daryl,” you started again, this time holding his gaze with a nervous, fluttering blink of your curled eyelashes. “Why… Why have you not sold the jewelry I paid you with?”

There were many replies he could have made, but the only one that was remotely coherent was the one with the fewest number of words: Because I love you.

Several heavy moments passed in silence, with only the crackling of the now roaring hearthfire filling the space where words might’ve existed if only he had the courage to speak without thinking first in this moment. This, however, was a delicate situation, and he could not face it with the usual impulsivity and carelessness that he might’ve had in other situations.

There was a contradictory sense of both a need to profess his love to you and a need to brush it off with some lie, but how could he lie to you, his sweet princess? You were worth so much more than that to him, so much more than a paltry lie, but you were also worth more than every jewel in that box.

“You, uh… You saw that?”

Your shoulders shrugged as you smiled bashfully. Daryl’s cheeks seemed to heat up, too. “I did. I know I had no right to look, but with the gold those jewels are worth, you could purchase your own manor and petition to become a lord. My father would happily grant you that position, I’m sure. You would not have to be a vassal. Of course, it is your property to do with as you wish, but I cannot help but wonder why.”

Titles and property were of no consequence to Daryl. They never meant much. He grew up with next to nothing, raised by poor merchants who struggled to buy a single loaf of bread. Perhaps one would think that growing up so poor would make him value money, but it was quite the opposite. It made him hate it, how it could make or break a man. No, what you gave to him was worth so much more.

“I—” He paused to think more thoroughly about what he was to say, but there was no way around it. He had to say it. “I couldn’t get rid of them. Couldn’t just give ‘em to somebody else.”

Though his words seemed sentimental, his eyes still strayed from you. Leaning forward, your heart aching with a desperate hope, you tried to coerce his eyes to meet yours. Your hand still traced invisible shapes across the broad expanse of his back.

“Why?” You wondered if perhaps your secret fourth explanation had been correct. The more he stalled, you began to realize that it was. “Daryl…” Your other hand lifted cautiously, its movements foreign to you as your fingers delicately cradled his chin, then brought his head up until those soft, deep blue eyes greeted you. Perhaps you were torturing him, begging him to admit his feelings despite his fear, but you needed his words. That was all you’d need. You smiled to comfort him as you spoke. “Why could you not bear to sell my jewels?”

Your touch was in two places now—his back and his chin. Both points of contact were burning, a fire that spread through him and touched him in places he didn’t dare even think of at this moment. Your touch was innocent, it had to be. He wouldn’t let himself believe otherwise. His task was to keep you safe, to never let harm come your way. Indulging in his desires, no matter how much he wanted to, would only take advantage of the trust you and your father had in him. But, oh… The way your chest heaved against his shoulder. You were so close. So incredibly close. Almost as close as he’d imagined, in his darkened bedroom where his sordid thoughts took root. Even his dreams were full of visions of you, hazy and ethereal, like you were made of clouds. So soft, so warm.

“Daryl?” you pressed again. “Won’t you answer me, please?”

“It’s wrong,” he said quickly. “It’s all wrong.”

“No, it is not.”

“I just couldn’t… Couldn’t give part of you away.”

“Part of me?”

“Part of you,” he repeated. “Someone else, with a part of you… I can’t let anyone else have you. Those things belonged to you, so they’re precious to me. You’re precious to me.”

There. That was enough. Enough for you to know the truth, enough for you to lean even closer, your eyes nearly closed despite a sliver of vision focused on his lips, slightly agape and quivering. With your hand still holding his chin, you pulled him closer, too, his body and mind paralyzed for a moment, rendered helpless by you.

But for a moment, when your lips were just an inch or two from his, you fluttered your eyes open to meet his. “My knight,” you whispered, the soft wind of your breath tickling his aching lips. “Kiss me.”

“I—I can’t.”

“Yes, you can…” Just like that, you spoke in your most regal tone of authority, the same you’d used to threaten to have Negan executed, though this time, a little more sultry. “I am your princess, and you will do as I say, knight.”

Yes, your highness.

With a burst of desperation rising up in his abdomen, he leaned forward to close the gap between you, not just at your lips, but at every part of you. His hands grasped hard at your waist, pulling you nearly onto his lap. Your chest was pressed so tight against his that you gasped for breath from his mouth as he kissed you, heavy breaths exhaling from his nostrils like a wild animal just freed from its cage.

You felt one hand wildly rise up your back and tangle in your hair, loosening the lone braid at the back of your head, until cascades of hair hung freely over your shoulders and back. Your hands had no choice but to cling tight to his shoulders as his hands explored you to the extent he would allow himself, though it felt so wonderful that you wished he’d unrestrain himself even more. Just when you started to think he was becoming more unhindered, his hand slowly melting down your lower back and inching closer to your bottom, he stopped himself.

His mouth tore away from you, the cold of the night air stinging your moistened lips as they trembled, and you felt your throat already begin to swallow back a lump. “What is it?”

His hands were still on you, but he panted as he looked worryingly at you, his head shaking as if to reprimand himself, though he couldn’t hide his blown out pupils and the increasingly noticeable hardness of his lap. Still, you feared he’d deny you.

“I can’t control myself,” he said. “If we… kept goin’…”

“I want to keep going,” you said. Your hands moved to grasp at his shirt collar, where your fingers began to undo his lace. “I want whatever you would do.”

“You don’t know what you want,” he said. “You don’t want me, princess.”

“I do want you, knight.”

“You can’t. I can’t. If your father—”

“I love you.”

He fell silent. Scared. Not of your words, but of himself, of what hearing those words in your voice did to him. They ignited a deeper, inextinguishable fire.

“Don’t say what ya don’t mean, milady.”

A single shiny tear glimmered as it rolled down your soft rouged cheek, settling into the corner of your mouth. You weren’t sure exactly why you began to cry. Perhaps it was the idea of rejection, or the thought of Sir Negan taking you away before promising yourself to the only man you’d ever cared for, but one thing was certain: your love for him was strong enough to bring tears to your eyes.

“I do not say things I do not mean, Sir Daryl. When I say I love you, I am speaking from my heart, and my heart would not lead me astray. I love you, and that is the truth.”

And it was his truth, too. Now, your words were enough to convince him.

He lowered his eyes, his lips turned stern. It was an earnest, serious gaze. He said what he’d been thinking for months, what he would never stop thinking no matter what. He would always love you. He would always do anything for you. It was time he made it known. “I love you.”

It was simple when he said it, but you knew it to be true by the way his hands clung tighter to your waist. Hesitantly, he raised his right hand, allowing the back of it to caress your cheek. His touch was rough, but only because of his worn skin. The way he moved was soft, gentle, sweet. Even in his evident lust, he still touched you with the innocence of a white daisy’s petals brushing against your skin.

Hesitantly, he let his lips ghost your other cheek as you exhaled a heavy breath against his neck. “Daryl,” you whispered. He kissed your skin, his lips spread open and tongue just barely stretching out to tickle you. As he moved his mouth lower, dragging sloppy kisses along your jawline, his arms wrapped fully around you, tugging you against him. Your hands held tight to his shoulder blades, and you felt them flex and jolt with each movement he made as his lips met yours again. This time, his tongue breached the entrance to your mouth, finding yours and almost attacking it. In your inexperience, you only gasped against his lips, then jutted out your own tongue in an attempt to keep up with him.

“Daryl,” you panted between his kisses. He grunted under his breath, still indulging in your taste. With your fingers on his cheeks, you pulled back for a moment, looking into his darkened eyes. You’d never seen his eyes like that before. It almost frightened you, but mostly, it only made you realize exactly what you wanted. “I want you to take my maidenhead.”

Of course, he wanted to. It wasn’t a question of whether or not he wanted to, it was a question of whether or not he should, and he knew he shouldn’t. He knew such a thing was against his code, perhaps the most egregious way to break it. The law of chivalry held all knights to a certain standard, a law that governed their every action. Sleeping with the daughter of the king he served, much less taking her virginity, would certainly be cause for execution.

“I can’t,” he said, though his eyes portrayed another answer. “You know I can’t.” You shook your head, opening your mouth to latch onto his jawline, kissing him as he’d kissed you. He muttered your name, though he could not tear you away, your sweet lips wetting his skin as your hand combed through his hair. “It would…”

Your hand lowered to his chest, grasping at his bare skin underneath his chemise. Your fingers seemed to tremble, your body not knowing what to do without his guidance. He grasped at your hand, though he did not push you away. He kept it there, keeping it steady. He turned to face your lips, and they trembled, too. To steady them, he raised his thumb to your plump bottom lip, moving it gently side to side. It felt like sacrilege to touch you like this, but it also felt like the most holy, sacred kind of worship.

“It would be wrong. I’m not your husband. It would be against… Against my code of chivalry.”

It nearly made you laugh. “You’ve already disobeyed my father and taken me outside the castle walls into walker-infested woods. You’ve done a hundred things that broke your code.”

Leaning ever closer, you pressed your soft chest against his firm one, the heat rising between your bodies almost as strong as the roaring hearthfire that painted his face in rich, warm burnt oranges and browns. The smile on your face curled delicately as you brushed aside the curtains of his hair till they were pinned behind his ears. In this light, his face was both worn yet youthful, like an old painting of a young man.

In a hushed, honeyed voice, you whispered against his cheek, “What’s one more?” Innocent lips coated with that floral musky balm grazed his stubbly cheek. It was not scratchy, though, it was soft and ticklish, like how your fingers felt on his chest.

For a long, torturous moment, he only held you close, his grip still tight on your waist. He leaned into your kiss, though he still was trying to cling to the last thread of chivalrous honor he had within him. That rope was threadbare, though, with only a fiber or two to hold on to, and the more your lips grazed his skin, trailing to his neck in clumsy, inexperienced movements, you felt his hand return to your hair to tangle itself in your now tousled locks.

The low, dulcet moan escaping your lips marked the moment the tether snapped, and no longer could he say he had any respect for a code of conduct that left him bereft of your body and the pleasure he could give you, as your servant, your escort, your knight.

With a throaty grunt, he took your mouth in his, devouring it much more deeply than he had before. There was no cautiousness now in his embrace, his hands lowering to cup both sides of your bottom as he lifted you more fully to his lap, with his legs outstretched underneath you.

Both of you became engulfed in a tangle of limbs, furiously clawing at each other like you were both tearing at your own flesh to escape from its confines. Yourself now made taller than him as you sat upon his lap, you parted from his lips for a moment to look down at him, panting and lips shiny from your saliva, and made plump and red by his impassioned kiss.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, looking up at you with hazy, dark eyes. Indeed, you were the most beautiful sight he’d ever had the chance to behold. Sometimes, he did not even think himself worthy to utter your name, or to have his name uttered by you… You in your sweetness and kindness and sensitivity and grace and—

Your small laugh reawakened him. How dare he even begin to wax poetic about you in his own head when you were in his arms now, your hands on his shoulders and your chest heaving with each beautiful breath. To know you were so alive, warm and trembling in his strong arms, safe and protected… That was the greatest pleasure of all.

And yet, the carnal desire for you was quick to overwhelm him. He squeezed you tighter before leaning forward, taking you with him. “Mm!” you laughed against his lips as he kissed you.

How he could be so gentle and yet so strong you did not know. With your back arched and your head cradled by his hands, you felt the support of your floor pillow underneath you, your legs now wrapped around his waist.

Propping himself up by his arms to look at you, he gazed in awe, your hair sprawled out from your head in every which way like an angel’s halo made from a sunburst. Where your gown of sage green silk brocade met your breasts, he let his gaze linger. Finally. Without the worries of being improper, he could admire the gentle, supple curves of your décolletage.

And now your gown sank down to your upper thighs, exposing much more skin than he’d ever seen—or felt. He sat up straight, his hand gently petting your soft bare calf, then moving down slowly, torturously, to touch your thigh.

Never had you been touched like this. Not even by yourself. In fact, you felt rather foolish, stiffening a bit as your eyes widened the more he moved his hand, now lifting up the rest of your skirt.

“Daryl…” you all but whined, a moan somewhere between a begging lust and a nervous embarrassment. “I know nothing,” you said simply. “I—I—”

Your own gasp cut short your stuttering admission. “Oh.”

All you could feel was his hand cupping your mound, now completely exposed without the cover of your gown.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away, each fold and crevice and speckling of your dainty hairs that matched perfectly the locks on your head. In fact, he ran his fingers through the little forest above your womanhood. It was soft, warm, untouched until now.

“You’re beautiful,” he spoke again. “Very… royal.”

“Royal?”

He laughed under his breath, biting his lip as he trailed his pointer finger around your lips, tickling you as you writhed a little. “Everything about you,” he said. “Even this… So perfect and clean and royal.”

Flushed with rose-tinted clouds of excitement and shyness, you rolled your shoulders as you watched him lick his pretty pink lips, over and over. “Have you seen many women like this, sir?”

He returned his gaze to yours with a raised, mischievous brow. Sir had never sounded so intoxicating as it did now. “None as sweet and virtuous as you.”

Indeed, he slightly feared his first movements towards intercourse. Never before had he taken a maiden’s virginity, and he was sure he’d hurt you if he was too hasty. He would have to tread carefully, though the subtle glisten of your entrance beckoned him, and those soft, intricate folds of supple flesh sparked a fire in him he’d never felt before. This was the image he’d dreamed of—your untouched womanhood naked before him, just waiting for him to release you from the bonds of chastity forevermore.

And, oh, that moan, of which he had only gotten a sampling of. He needed more, he needed to be drowned in that sound. He needed to be the one who showed you the carnal pleasure of love, and to experience it himself, too. It would be the most potent kind of intimacy, and he wanted the both of you to be consumed by it. Together.

All he could think of, all he wanted to do, was get a mouthful of you. Drink from the fountain that was your body.

“Can I… taste you?”

A genuine expression of innocent confusion spread across your face. “Kiss me?” Your eyes fluttered shut as your lips gently pursed, prepared to receive his sweet kiss.

“Nah, not like that,” he said, a subtle laugh under his low, gruff voice. Two calloused fingertips grazed the top junction of your lips, where an almost overwhelming tingle spread through you. Then, his fingers moved apart as they descended slowly, spreading you open. The reddish, taught flesh seemed to pulse on its own accord as your breath shuddered and your eyes widened at the strange feeling. “Here. I wanna taste you here.”

Finally understanding, and yet not understanding at all, you looked up at him with a furrowed look of concern. “Why? Is that not… unsanitary?”

An amused grin spread across his face. “Looks clean to me… They bathe you good, my princess.”

His princess. Oh, that sent an entirely new shiver through you.

But only with your permission would he do such a thing. Only with your word would he let his common tongue invade your royal maidenhead.

So he’d beg for it, like he knew he should.

“Please,” he said, voice sweeter and softer than you’d ever heard. He even lowered himself, his lips hovering above your navel as he looked up at you with those crystal clear eyes. “Please, your highness… I will be gentle.” His hands held firm to your thighs, rubbing them softly, up and down. When his lips met your abdomen, just below your navel, you sighed unexpectedly, and he could feel your heat.

“I’ll beg for it.” The reverberations of his rough voice tickled your lower stomach. He dragged his lips progressively lower, to where the hairs upon your mound began. A trail of kisses began to form between each mumbled plea.

“I’ll beg to taste you…” Kiss. “Lick you…” Kiss. “I’m beggin’…” Kiss. “Let me taste how perfect my sweet princess is.”

Though you were still puzzled by his desire to kiss you there, you decided to oblige, especially as the strange tickly feeling became more and more intense with each kiss he bestowed upon your mound. Somehow, his begging even excited you.

“Yes,” you sighed. Blindly, you reached for him, your hands tangling in his chestnut colored hair, strands messy and wild. The ends of those locks tickled your skin as they hung around his face, dragging with each movement of his mouth downwards. “You may taste me… Though I do not understand why you want to, sir.” You laughed as you looked down at him, kissing the soft little hairs you always found to be unsightly, but it was not in vogue to shave, of course. At least, not for a lady of your status. He seemed to like it, though. “You are rather strange,” you teased. “Do you think I will taste nice?”

“Know you will,” he said, and you watched as he wetted his fingers with his tongue, then circled them over your now puffy lips.

With a little gasp, you giggled girlishly at his touch. It was all so strange to you, but it felt nice. You’d had no idea this part of you was so sensitive, as you’d never bothered to touch it besides your daily baths. Even then, you hardly touched yourself only to clean, and when you felt an unfamiliar tingle as you’d slide your wet hand between those little folds of sensitive skin, you’d quickly pull away. All you knew of that part of you was that it was for your future husband, and you’d never cared much for trying to find one, especially since the world was the way it was.

Now, you could only dream of a husband like him, the knight who lowered himself once more, slotting his head between your bare thighs. His hands holding them, he coerced your legs to spread wider, allowing that crevice to widen and open the small fleshy hole. He could already tell you’d never even touched yourself, your entrance half-obstructed by a small stretch of skin-colored tissue—your maidenhead.

He’d not touch that for now, instead only focused on slowly licking a stripe up your open slit, marking his first taste of you.

There was a strong reverberation that jolted through you, causing your legs to flinch closed, Daryl’s head now sandwiched between the fat of your thighs. “Oh!” you cried out, back involuntarily arched against the cushion and hands tangled further in his hair until your fingernails clawed at his scalp. There was a muffled growl between your legs in response. At first, you assumed you’d hurt him. “Oh, I—I am sorry, my love…” you sputtered, almost with a nervous laugh at your sensitivity, and massaging his scalp more gently now. “Did I hurt you?”

On the contrary, your scratching and pulling and squeezing only excited him. He did not answer your question, only pressing his face harder against you, smothering his nose and mouth between your folds, wettened by his saliva. If he suffocated between your legs, he’d die happy, as the taste was intoxicating, sweeter than the finest honey wine he’d ever had, and the feeling a more lovely warmth than the hearth that illuminated the dim cottage with that dreamy glow.

With a renewed lust, he moved his head wildly, licking up and down and swirling in tight circles round the bundle of nerves above the entrance. It seemed to elicit the most beautiful moans and gasps and sighs from your pretty mouth, of which he often took a glimpse when he raised his eyes to admire your innocent beauty.

And though he could lick you like this for hours on end, he’d grown desperate to taste you deeper, just a little. So he parted your legs with a jolt. “Keep ‘em open,” he ordered, voice more hoarse and throaty and deep than before. His desire was becoming more urgent, more primitive as the very last of his decency was chiseled away by his need. “I want more of this pretty cunt.”

You nearly gasped at the vulgar word, having only heard it once or twice in your presence—both times from a slightly inebriated Lady Margaret, who used it to pejoratively refer to Lady Caroline behind her back, but now you knew where it came from. It sounded devilishly dulcet on his low, panting voice.

Legs spread further apart, he caught another glimpse of that hole, coated in a sparkling sheen that was damp to the touch. The corner of his lip lifted slightly as he spoke. “You’re gettin’ wet,” he said, much to your confusion. “D’ya like what I’m doin’ to you, princess?”

“Y-yes,” you stuttered. His fingertip traced the rim of your wet entrance.

Before he dove down once more, he couldn’t help but just admire the beauty of your womanhood with his eyes. He felt a sudden wave of unworthiness well up in him. After all, this sight was never for him. It was forbidden, and yet, you’d decided he was worthy to have you.

You, his lady, his mistress, his princess, his queen. In every sense of the word, you ruled him, and he had no choice but to bask in the glory of your trembling body, every inch perfect and unique and, soon, his.

He’d make you his, but first he had to make him yours.

“Oh!” His lips spread open wide to envelope the hole, where his tongue flattened out to lick at the source of your arousal. All you could feel was his long tongue poking inside you, wiggling to adjust to how small the entrance was.

Meanwhile, the tip of his soft button nose pressed up against your most sensitive spot, where a fresh tingle surged through you. To get a better angle, he slid both hands underneath your bare rump, pulling your body closer and angling your core upwards as your legs found their home upon his shoulders, just the perfect width to accommodate your thighs.

“That’s it,” he spoke against your inner thigh, where he left a series of frantic, desperate little kisses. They weren’t just lustful, but affectionate, as though he was bestowing these kisses to reward you for your obedience. “Sweet royal cunt.”

That word again made you flinch, or perhaps it was the suction of his lips around that bundle of nerves that pleased you so.

“Y-you’re so vulgar,” you sighed with a gentle laugh rolling under your voice. “Where… is my gallant knight?”

“Between your pretty legs, milady.”

His tongue wiggled in spastic movements between his lips, reddening and engorging the sensitive spot as a strange tightening feeling formed in your lower belly. Unbeknownst to you, the walls of your passage squeezed involuntarily around the empty space inside you. In this moment, you never felt more empty, in fact. All you wanted, the longer his mouth devoured you, was to somehow feel whole.

“Please!” you cried out, voice strained and high-pitched with a desperate plea for him to satisfy you, somehow. You did not know how, but you needed it, whatever it was. “Oh, I…”

The knight knew what you needed, and he needed it, too, but you were so close to ultimate pleasure. The wetter you became, the more of his saliva that soaked into your crevices and your increasingly gaping entrance, the more your body would accept his. That much he knew.

But the feeling was so powerful, so overwhelming. Each burst of pleasure erupted within you, like a volcano that had lain dormant for a millenia or two, and only now was that red hot magma spewing forth, until one final eruption would leave you satisfied. It terrified you. Was this normal? Surely a woman should not feel such euphoria. All you’d known of your womb was the pain and shame of that period in which blood would flow from you. You’d been told it was divine punishment for women. Eve’s betrayal, the fall of Eden… Why should you pay for that? Now, there was only pleasure, no pain.

The pleasure, though, was so intense, so frightful, that you panicked, your thighs clenching tight round his head once more as your back arched in agonizing bliss, his tongue now thrusting into you again. “Oh!” you cried out. “I… Wh-what… Daryl, I’m frightened!”

His eyes flashed up to look at you. “What is it?” he asked. He tore himself away from you, while his hand reached up to cradle your trembling cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“I—I…” Gasping for air, you writhed and wriggled underneath him, squeezing your thighs together as if to provide some relief. “I do not know… I feel so strange.”

Tears trickled down your cheek, and the knight’s brows furrowed in concern. He brushed a few away with his fingers. “Why’re ya cryin’, girl?”

And you knew now why, as your hips gyrated and bucked up towards him, as if demanding for him to return to you. The sensation was just so strong, but so lovely. “Please,” you whimpered. “Do not stop.”

Now he knew, too. A laugh forced his mouth into a wide grin. “Oh, I see,” he said, hands moving achingly slowly back down to your thighs. He spread them apart again, a feeling which made your breath hitch for a moment. “Feels good, doesn’t it? My tongue…”

“Yes,” you gasped. “Please, more.”

And so he gave you more, his mouth quickly returning to that puffy, reddened flesh between your thighs, eliciting from you a visceral moan as your head fell back against the cushion. “Ah!” you cried out.

After the brief period in which he’d separated from you, you now felt the sensation returning, this time even more intense. Sounds of wet flesh being licked and sucked and kissed surrounded you, accompanied by soft, muffled groans from your knight.

How he’d wanted this for so long, to have your taste and to feel your restless, writhing body involuntarily grinding against his tongue. For a moment, he pulled your outer lips further apart, allowing more direct exposure to the now throbbing, swollen protrusion that gave you so much pleasure. He sucked at that flesh again, this time bringing his finger to the hole that begged to be filled.

“Oh, oh!” His finger breached the entrance, just a few centimeters, but enough to stretch you more than you’d been stretched open ever before. “My god!”

“Come,” his voice murmured between furious sucking. “Come, my princess. I want you to come.”

“C-come… Where?”

“On my face,” he laughed.

“Wh-what… are you… talking about?”

The vibration of his laughter tickled your flesh. “You’re too innocent,” he said. “You’ll see what I mean.”

He knew you must be close, so it did not take much more effort to get you to the brink of orgasm. All he needed to do was curl his finger upwards inside you as he swirled his tongue with more pressure, practically digging a brand new hole with the tip of his tongue.

And, with your hands shooting out to claw at his shoulders, the tingling and tightening and tickling finally reached its peak as the feeling of the final, strongest eruption came forth, exploding from the pit of your abdomen and spreading throughout every cell in your hot, squirming body.

Moans of his name were falling softly, repeatedly from your lips, where bite marks had embedded themselves after several minutes of your teeth digging into the skin. He’d never heard his name being spoken so much, so sweetly and with so much bliss. After all, it was the name of the person who’d given you the greatest feeling you’d ever experienced.

You were left jolting, your body gently rocking up against his face, which was still buried between your lips as his tongue gathered every drop of the arousal that slowly dripped from you. His own arousal caught up with him, too, a noticeable feeling of a strain, and a tightening in his chausses.

Panting and moaning under your labored breaths, you felt the pleasure begin to die down as his lips praised you with small kisses all over the outside of your pulsing entrance. Deviously, he stuck his tongue out to deliver short, sweet licks to your still throbbing bundle of nerves.

A soft, delirious giggle erupted from your lips as your fingers tangled in his disheveled hair. All you could see was his head bobbing between your legs, and all you could hear was the crackle of the hearthfire and the sounds of his pursed lips kissing your wet folds. Feeling his finger curling at the shallow part of you, you squeezed on purpose, much to his amusement.

“I feel ya,” he mumbled. “You feel so good.”

“Daryl.” Your hands grasped both sides of his head with some pressure, as if to pull him up. “Come here.”

He let you guide his head until his lips met yours and your arms wrapped loosely around his neck, weighing him down. His body weight covered you completely, a sensation which excited him even more.

On your lips, you tasted yourself, his tongue and lips now coated with your arousal. “What did you do to me?” you asked between his kiss. “Your tongue is magical… Some kind of wicked sorcery.”

His laughter tickled your cheek as he kissed you there. “I jus’ made ya come,” he said simply. “S’why you’re so wet down there now. Got you all ready.” His hands raised up to tug on the collar of your dress, as if trying to yank it off you.

“Ready for what?” you laughed, though you had a few ideas of what he could be referring to, as innocent as you were, but you hadn’t heard the word he’d said next before.

“For my cock.”

In genuine confusion, you furrowed your brow. “You have a rooster?”

“Yeah.” The mischievous, lop-sided smirk on his face as his finger traced your jawline told you he was messing with you. “I’ve got a big, red rooster.”

“Oh?” you said, playing along with him despite your ignorance. “Well, won’t you introduce me to your rooster?”

By now, you knew what he meant.

When he dragged your hand down to his clothed erection, a deep blush bloomed upon your cheeks. “Oh,” you sighed. “Hello, rooster.”

To say you hadn’t thought of it before would be a lie. Of course you had. While you did not know much about sex, or that part of the male anatomy, you knew that part of a man was meant for that complimentary part of a woman. You knew that was the part of him that would put a child in your womb, though you knew not the exact details of the whole ordeal.

Interrupting your thoughts of his “rooster,” you were suddenly lifted from the ground and tangled in his arms, with your feet dangling off the ground as he dragged you towards the hay-stuffed mattress you’d rested upon a few times before. You exclaimed a laughing, “Daryl!” before being laid gently, yet almost impatiently, upon the bed.

You propped yourself up on your elbows to see him at the foot of the bed, lifting his shirt above his head as he panted.

Eyes wide, you felt your heart thump in your chest when his broad frame was bare before you, his chest just as bulky and strong and wide as you’d imagined. Your eyes were drawn to the charming smattering of little hairs, and the small pink nipples that hardened against the air.

You couldn’t help but follow the trail of those same hairs that began at his navel and led down to the waistband of his pants, which he began to untie frantically. Meanwhile, your mouth fell agape at the shape of his… cock, you supposed it was called—so big it looked like it could rip through the cotton of his chausses at any second.

Involuntarily, your thighs rubbed themselves together, where you could now feel your own wetness seeping from you. Seeing the size of his cock, now you knew why you’d need to be wet.

Just like that, he was naked, his cock springing up as soon as he pulled his pants down enough. It nearly startled you, almost eliciting a gasp. Never had you seen something so… odd. You couldn’t even wrap your head around the testicles just yet.

But he left you hardly any time to think about the new body parts you were faced with. Instead, he laid himself down on his side next to you, his hands rubbing up and down your arms. The motion soothed you, though his dark, lusty stare made you shiver.

“Sit up for me,” he said. You did as he told you, as an unspoken dynamic had appeared: he would lead you, as you were much too inexperienced to know your way around this territory.

And yet, he was not forceful, nor domineering. Indeed, he knew you were still his princess, his ruler. He knew that you held the utmost power over him, and that whatever you’d say, he would have to do it. There was no mistake of who was ultimately in charge, whose body he was compelled to worship and please. Still, he’d lead you physically.

Now sitting up, he scooted back to unlace the back of your gown, each silk knot coming undone with a beautiful cascade of fabric, until your back was nude, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your spine.

He pulled on your sleeves gently, but with a noticeable waning of his patience. “Lay back now,” he said. Like a mindless servant, you obeyed him.

Your surcoat was loose enough to pull off you now, so he did, letting the expensive garment sink to the floor. Now, your kirtle, which he pulled over your head, manipulating your body like a rag doll. With each movement he made, another sweaty, glistening muscle flexed under that tan, workworn skin, stretching across which were many faded scars from battles and jousts and God only knew what else.

Lastly, your chemise kept him from your supple nude body, so he pulled it off with a slight growl under his breath. Now, you laid back fully, your completely divested skin meeting the thick, buttery soft pelt of the fur blanket beneath you.

Your body was a sight to behold, so marvelous that he stood up again, stepping back to let his eyes roam all over you.

It was enough to bring him to knees, literally. He sunk to the floor, where he attached his lips to your ankle, which had caused him some trouble in the past. The many times he’d caught sight of your ankle, he felt perverted, sinful. Then your calf, soft and smooth against his lips. He covered as much skin as he could in his kisses, then he reached your knee, and your thighs, where he spread apart your legs to leave more kisses at your womanhood.

“You’re insatiable,” you laughed, watching as his lips trailed through the hairs on your mound. “You cannot kiss every part of my body, sir.”

“I can try.”

His tongue circled around your navel, then he continued his kisses to the slope of your left breast, where he quickly latched to your nipple, causing you to flinch at the new feeling.

His other hand found your other breast, squeezing it just enough to make you gasp a little. After all, with his lips and hands worshiping your entire body, you weren’t sure how else to react.

“You’re so perfect,” he mumbled against the pillowy surface of your breast. “I’d die for you.”

Even the thought made you shiver and cling to his flexing shoulder blades. “N-no, my love… Do not say such a thing. My… my heart c-could not bear to even think of it.”

“I’d kill for you,” he said now. “I’ll do anythin’ you ask of me… I belong to you.”

As you processed his pledge, you hadn’t even noticed two of his fingers digging into your entrance, spreading you open, little by little. His sweet, raspy voice soothed the pain.

Now, his lips trailed to your collarbones, where he left dozens of kisses and licks across your skin.

“I live to serve you,” he whispered. You gasped, not at his words, but at his two thick fingers going deeper, a sound of flesh upon wet flesh. “Only you… My sweet princess.”

“Oh, my sweet knight… Ah…”

A slight tearing feeling at your entrance made you wince in pain, but the knight paused for a moment, nudging his nose against your cheek to get your attention.

“Am I hurtin’ ya?”

“No, no.” If he stopped, you might die of emptiness. The stretching hurt, but you could not go much longer without him filling the emptiness within you. Once he started, you wouldn’t be able to be without him.

“Need to stretch your cunt a little,” he said. “My cock’s gonna hurt ya more if I don’t.”

Judging by the size, you believed him. Your eyes were transfixed on the thing as you wondered how in the world he’d get it in your tight hole, but you trusted him to take care of you.

And you wanted it. You couldn’t explain it, but your need for that big length of flesh, with engorged veins and a droplet or two of clear liquid beading at its reddened tip, was greater than any pain you might’ve felt.

“I want it, sir,” you practically purred. “Your…”

He smiled against the cheek he was busy kissing. “My rooster?”

“Your cock.”

He tore his lips away to give you a wide-eyed stare as he tried to fake a serious look of shock, but the upturned corner of his snickering lips betrayed him.

“Your highness,” he scolded in jest. “Where’d ya learn such a dirty word?” His fingers inched deeper, so deep that your back arched as you laughed a visceral moan.

“Oh, you scoundrel!” Your hand delivered a very weak slap to his chest.

Pulling his fingers out, he laughed as his hands gripped both of your wrists. His face turned serious, yet still soft. “You think you’re ready for my cock?”

“Yes, but… I mustn’t have your child now.”

You weren’t totally unaware of the true purpose of sex. In fact, it had been drilled into your head by archbishop Gabriel, whose responsibility seemed to be deterring you and all other maidens at court from engaging in premarital sex that was not for the express purpose of procreation, as such an act would brand one “a whore in the eyes of God.” Conveniently, the archbishop’s sermon had overlooked any consequences for men.

“You won’t,” he assured you. Indeed, he had intimate knowledge of one of the world’s most time-honored methods of contraception: coitus interruptus. “I’ll be careful.”

Removing his fingers from you, he rubbed his palm up and down your slit, spreading the wetness of your arousal all over you. He leaned back for a moment, looking down to spread apart your lips and see your hole, which opened quite a bit wider now for him. Redness pooled around the opening, but you couldn’t notice the dull pain, not when his eyes held yours so intently. “Think you’re ready,” he said. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

Don’t stop. “All right, my love.”

The hard, spongy surface of his tip grazed over your clit, and slid with his body as he rolled forward over you. “You ready?”

At this point, the suspense was killing you. Each drag of his length through your sodden flesh was agonizing. Your body grew restless, arching your back up to meet his chest and pull him down. “Yes,” you sighed, then ghosted your lips over his. “Make me yours now. I want to be yours.”

He eased himself in as your mouth latched to his, your whimpers of combined pain and pleasure melting into his kiss. The tip was inside you now, just beginning to stretch you further to meet the wide girth of his thick cock. The slow, tearing feeling was enough to make you bite down on his tongue, nearly drawing blood. He only growled into your mouth, digging his cock deeper.

Your suffocating tightness tested his willpower, his ability to keep himself from moving so fast that he’d lose control of his cock, but it felt so good, so warm and snug. As he sank further into you, he tore his lips free to whisper against your ear, “How ya feel?”

With a deep swallow, you held back your tears. “Fine,” you said. “Just… it hurts a little. Does it fit?”

He looked between your bodies, where half his length was inside you, the other half twitching with bulging veins and redness only darkening. He stayed still, brushing back your tears as you sniffled. “Yeah, it’ll fit. You just need stretched, s’all.”

He pushed himself in a little further as his lips caught another tear. Clawing at his back, you let out a sharp gasp. “Oh! Daryl! It’s too big, you’re too big… I can’t…”

His hand reached down to tickle his fingers against your clit, attempting to ease your pain by giving you more pleasure. He knew his cock would hurt you before it felt good. “Sh… sh… D’ya want me to stop, princess?”

“No, no!” you cried out, nearly startling him. He felt your arms tighten round his back, as if to keep him exactly where he was. “Please don’t stop. I—I…” Tears trickled down more now, like a torrential rain over your cheek.

He stopped again, this time pulling himself out a little to prop himself up and look at you with the utmost earnestness. “Why are ya cryin’ now? I don’t wanna make you cry. Am I hurtin’ you too much?”

In truth, the physical pain of being stretched by him was not strong enough to elicit these tears. What made you cry, in fact, was the simple truth that tonight, you’d give yourself to your true love, but in a matter of days, Sir Negan would take you away from him, and you might never see him, or your father, or anyone else you loved, ever again.

To think you may never be here, like this, with him again… It broke your heart, though every cell in your body was demanding for another burst of euphoria. It was all too much emotion, too much stimulation. And yet, you’d never want him to stop. You’d like to be this way forever, if you could. If only you could.

“It’s just… Promise me…”

Furrowed brows contorted his face. He brushed the back of his hand over your cheek. “Promise ya what?” He wasn’t sure of the point of asking, as he knew that he would promise you, his lady, anything anyway. A knight’s ultimate test of chivalry, afterall, was his undying, unyielding, uncompromising devotion to his lady.

“Promise you won’t forget me.” When Negan takes me, you wanted to say, but you hesitated to even mention him at this moment, when the only man who really mattered to you was looking at you with his own tears beginning to well in his cunning blue eyes.

“I could never, ever forget you, milady.”

And he knew now what you meant. He knew the fear in your eyes, the same fear from the other night. He could feel this fear inside him, too. The fear of never seeing you again, of you being trapped in a place you could not escape from, not unlike how you’d been trapped in your own castle. Yet, this would be so much worse, for you’d be chained to that wretched, evil man, who would do God knows what to you.

But those thoughts were poisonous. “Don’t think about that now… Just feel me.” So he came into you again, just as far as he’d gotten before. “That’s it… Can you take more?”

That was all you wanted, actually. More. All you needed was him, filling you as deep as possible, taking you over and marking you as his. You’d never be Negan’s now, and that gave you a sense of power, a relief in knowing that there was at least one thing Negan could never take from you—your chastity.

“More, Daryl. Please.”

By now, he was almost all the way inside you, but he could go no further, for his own fear of hurting you too much. He pulled out a bit then, to which you grasped at his shoulders and pulled him back against you. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere,” he laughed. “I’m just movin’. Calm down, you’re all rigid. Ease up.” Taking his words to heart, you let out a deep breath and relaxed your muscles, allowing you to settle more comfortably into the plush fur underneath you. Slowly, he pushed himself back in, your body welcoming him in with the hug of your slick tightness. “There ya go… Look, your cunt’s already gettin’ used to me. You’re takin’ it good.”

So good, in fact, that you couldn’t help but smile at the feeling—the warmth, the hardness, the fullness… The feeling of his cock sliding back and forth, but never completely leaving you. The sensation was beautiful, far more intimate than anything you’d ever imagined. When he lowered himself down again, his chest laid snug against yours, the feeling of his nipples rubbing yours hard and slow the more he thrusted. As if on their own accord, your legs loosened to lift and wrap around his lower back, taking him in just a little further. There was pain again, but not enough to hurt you. It only felt good.

He had to be careful not to move too fast, though the involuntary squeezing of your walls drew him closer to his breaking point. He could feel both your arousal and his, surrounding him inside you. But he had to make you come again, he thought. He needed to know that his cock had pleased his princess just as much as his tongue.

Your soft, whimpering moans made it clear that he was, indeed, pleasing you, your tearing pain having given way to that tingling feeling again, making your writhe and shiver underneath him.

“Daryl,” you panted. Spurred on by your pulsing body, his movements became faster, more sloppy, more passionate. Now you could really feel his size, his length digging into a particular spot that made you roll your head back against his pillow, your lips trembling and gasping for air as you spoke. “Oh, it feels so… Yes, my love, my knight… You’re so big.”

“Princess… I feel your cunt squeezing me.”

“Oh, I—I am s-sorry.”

He huffed a laugh against your cheek. “Feels good,” he said. “Keep squeezin’ me.”

He pressed a firm kiss to your cheek as his hips thrusted non-stop, now molding you to fit his cock perfectly, forever. Well, for however long you had left together.

“God, you’re soakin’ me,” he said, his voice nearly drowned out by the sound of wet skin on skin.

Your well-trained manners urged you to apologize again, but the sensation of his cock hitting into you was enough to render you speechless, except for the breathless sighs and sultry moans escaping your lips as you clawed at his shoulders, fingernails digging into his scarred flesh to nearly break open new wounds.

He continued on for a while now, though you could not tell how long he’d been thrusting, you only knew you were drowned by his mouth, his lips finding every part of your skin that he could reach in this position and leaving sloppy trails of open-mouthed kisses. That tightening and tingling within you strengthened with each movement he made, each thrust reminding you of how deep inside you he was, and how strong he was, his body weight driving the force of each hard, deep stroke.

Only when your moans had faded into heaving breaths and your body had loosened into jelly did he speak to you again, though not stopping his thrusts, as he couldn’t bring himself to even think about stopping now.

“Hey, sweetheart? You all right?”

You were hardly responsive, only opening half-lidded eyes to gape at his reddened, sweat-dripping face. His chestnut hair hung wildly, tickling your cheeks, though all you could feel was the pounding, the swelling of his cock inside you, the growing sensation of that volcano about to erupt again.

“H-hey.” You felt his hand cup your cheek as he said your name, his own voice shaky and stuttering as he began to lose his ability to keep himself in control. Tears welled up in your eyes once more, only now, they were those same tears of overwhelming, astounding satisfaction.

Stimulated to the point of near-catatonia, you were released by a sudden wave of vibrations that surged through you like electricity, bringing you back to life. Your legs clenched tight around his waist as your head shot back, exposing your strained neck. His lips did not spare you in your moaning, crying state. They attacked your neck as you pulsed all around his cock and grinded up against his pelvis by instinct. He held his hips still now, though, letting you ride the multiple waves of your intense orgasm until you shook like a leaf in a cool autumn wind beneath his strong, stabilizing body which your hands clung to desperately.

“Oh, Jesus!” was all you muster. You’d never said the Lord’s name in vain as many times as you had that night. Granted, you had never said the Lord’s name in vain before. “Christ!” Surely, you would be going to Hell.

“Shit,” the knight muttered into the crook of your neck. “I—I’m…”

Ears pounding with the sound of your heart, you could not process a word he said. You could only allow your glassy eyes to roll back as your lips formed a delirious, open-mouthed smile. “Oh, Daryl.”

He propped himself up on his bulky arms, dripping with sweat and bulging with flexed, aching muscles. As if to soothe them, you ran your hands up towards his biceps, holding onto them for dear life as he began thrusting again, almost completely inside of you.

All you could do now was smile up at him, murmuring his name, interspersed with declarations of your love and breathy moans that tortured him the closer he came to releasing himself.

“You’re so beautiful,” he panted. “You’re mine.”

“Yes,” you agreed. “Yes, yours. Forever.”

“Mine.”

With an almost helpless groan, he pulled himself completely from you, sinking down on his arms to press against you, but with his cock angled to release on your heavy stomach. Though you missed the feeling of him inside you, you moaned at the feeling of warmth near your navel, where he spilled himself onto you.

Curiosity overcame you as you looked between your bodies, watching his strange… attachment release a silky, cloudy white liquid in spurts. For a moment, your eyes widened in slight fear. Truly, you had absolutely no idea what was happening. For all you knew, he’d suddenly contracted some strange disease that caused his cock to leak a new humor.

“Wh-what is… Daryl, are you all right?”

Once again, he laughed at your innocence. “I’m just fine… Better than fine,” he said, sinking down into a deep kiss. He only parted from them for a moment to say, “That’s s’posed to happen. Did they not teach you anythin’ about sex?”

“Th-they said…” You laughed at your lack of breath. “They said my husband would show me.”

He sighed as he lifted himself off you, then rolled over onto his side. With a huff, he yanked the fur-lined blanket from underneath you, then draped it over himself and you, much to your relief, as it was cold without his naked body on top of yours.

“Your father,” he began to say, wrapping an arm around your rather limp, flimsy body to pull you close, “he wanted ya to marry my lord, didn’t he?”

A puzzled look contorted your face. “How did you know?”

“He tells me everythin’.” The touch of his calloused fingers tickled your hairline as he brushed back your bangs. “Told me the king brought us here because he thought Richard would make a good husband for you… Why didn’t you want him?”

Duke Richard hadn’t crossed your mind much since that night he first arrived, though you never thought too much about why exactly he did not attract you as much as Sir Daryl did. Now, it was quite clear.

“Because he isn’t you, my love.” A laugh escaped your lips as you settled your hand upon his chest, twisting your fingers between the hairs that intrigued you so. “The duke is… He is a good man, but you are better. That is all.”

A rosy blush blossomed on his cheeks as his mouth curled with a lopsided smile. You admired the lines in his face, the crows feet and tired bags around his adoring eyes. “He would’ve made a good husband for you.”

“Mm, perhaps.” Your pointer finger traced lines over his sharp collarbone. “Lady Michonne is rather fond of him, though. I think they make a lovely couple. Besides, my heart does not belong to him. It belongs to you.”

Shaking his head, he offered you a somber smile. “You know you can’t marry me, even if Negan didn’t want you. I’d be killed.”

“My father would not kill you.”

“You don’t know that for sure. If he… if he knew that I took you outside the walls, let alone that we—”

“We could go somewhere, someday.”

Your name fell on his lips, but you interrupted him again. “Negan will take me, I know I cannot escape that, but someday, when Alexandria is strong enough, you can find me, and we’ll go away, somewhere you’ve been on your travels. My father would understand. We could be together, we could marry. Someday.”

But you knew it was a pipe dream. You knew that, if it could ever happen, it would happen so long from now, and you could not leave your father without him knowing you were all right. It seemed as though there was nothing to stop the world from caving in. For someone who had so much power by birth, you felt so powerless, the most powerless you’d ever felt in your whole life. That was saying something, as you never truly felt in control of your own destiny. You never thought it could get worse, until now.

“You know I won’t let him take you,” he said. “Maybe we can be together like that someday, but right now, all I care about is you, not me and you.”

“But… I care about you.”

And for the first time in his life, he believed those words.

“I know you do.” Upon your forehead, he placed a chaste kiss. “Ya know, once a knight gives his heart to a lady, he can never give it to anyone else, and he’s bound to her forever.”

Of course you knew that. There wasn’t much about knights you didn’t know. If only you had as much knowledge of human sexuality as you did of knighthood, but alas.

“Does that mean you will marry me one day?”

His eyes narrowed in playful suspicion as he pretended to think it over, mumbling a pensive, “Hm…”

“Sir Daryl,” you teased, “if you do not agree to marry me, I will send you to the stocks.”

“Your highness,” he said, his arms pulling you in closer to his chest, “I promise myself to you.”

“And I, you… My sweet, brave knight.”

That evening, you did not return to the castle until the sun began to rise again. Sleeping on a straw-stuffed bed was quite the adjustment from your feather-stuffed one, but he did not let go of you, not even in his sleep, and that made all the difference to you.

Despite the uncertainty that loomed in the air all around you, the fear that settled in your heart from the moment you realized you might never see Daryl again, you had a strange, persistent sense that, someday, every night could be like this one.

Someday, you repeated in your head, lulling yourself to sleep in his arms.

But that was the future, and this was now. Now, you knew only one thing to be perfectly, virtuously true: you were his, just as he was yours.

Through life, and after death.

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