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girlsworldillusion · 29 days ago

Text

Your polished hatred flatters me

Slytherin!Aemond - Fem!Reader

HARRY POTTER AU ⚡️🐍

arranged marriage x enemies to lovers

Summary: If there was anything worse than being forced into an arranged marriage with someone you didn't even know, it was that that someone would become your greatest enemy.

Rated: Explicit (+18)

Word count: 12k

Dividers: @allbutthreads

Author's Note: This story is entirely based on the Harry Potter franchise and its spin-offs, but I may also have added a thing or two of my own.

There are some topics that may be sensitive, such as: blood purity, verbal marriage contracts made at an early age, and young children practicing curses on each other - but overall, this is just a spicy and fun story.

Enjoy!

English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you may find.

“Merlin!” You jump as a huge, translucent green bubble bursts from within your cauldron, the scalding spray nearly reaching your eyes and blinding you in the process.

From across the potions station, Jace sends you a wide-eyed look, his silky, dark curls now frizzy and unruly around his flushed face.

With a frustrated sigh and restless fingers you push the straggly strands of hair behind your ears; the humid, smoky environment making your own hair puff up almost comically, your cheeks pink and skin sticky from all the exposure to the heat and steam.

"That doesn't make any sense, I did exactly what the recipe said-" You mumble, wrinkling your nose at the foul smell of mold and dirty socks that rises in disgusting spirals from your brewing potion, where the swampy goo bubbles almost angrily. "There must be something wrong with this book."

"Umm, is the smoke supposed to be that color?" Your fellow Gryffindor, always oblivious to subtleties, asks, the two of you blinking like idiots at the charcoal-colored smokescreen that at that exact moment leaps out of the cauldron with a loud 'poof' that could not be considered anything less than theatrical. You both explode into a indiscreet coughing fit, the thick, abrupt appearance of the black smoke bomb leaving your faces slightly streaked with soot.

Even though you already know the answer, you still look sadly at the open book on the potions table when you finally manage to stop coughing, holding on to a single remaining fragment of hope that a miracle has happened so that your work won't be considered completely useless in the end.

"Actually, it says here that it should be silver."

Luck isn't something you usually have in abundance, for the record.

"Maybe Snape won't notice. Merlin knows he's had that huge hooked nose stuck in the same book since the class started. Something is clearly keeping him distracted today, much to the general relief and protection of Gryffindor's points. Maybe it's your lucky day after all." The boy smiles brightly at you, all flushed and soot-stained, trying to sound positive despite the chaotic results unfolding right before his eyes.

Of course, since his survival depends solely on breaking other people's expectations and frustrations, Professor Snape decides that this is the perfect time to abandon his reading and wander around the potions stations. You have about two seconds to send Jace a sharp glare before the man in question is making a dramatic turn towards you - no doubt guided by the admittedly quite detectable cloud of smoke exhaling right in front of you.

Jace pales a few shades before ducking his head, fumbling awkwardly with the wooden spoon before dipping it into the bubbling (and, to your shameless envy, much closer to the correct colour) mixture in his cauldron, pretending very poorly to find his own potion extremely interesting.

Arms crossed behind him and head held proudly high, Professor Snape floats across the floor like an ominous kelpie in his long black robes billowing - only breaking his scenic gliding when he’s hovering right next to you.

You swallow, throat suddenly dry at the unwelcome presence, staring at the bubbling disaster inside your cauldron as lace your fingers together in front of you.

"Tell me, Miss Fawley," he begins in his dull, gravelly voice, making you sway on your feet in nervous apprehension, "what is the Draught of Peace potion for?"

You splutter before answering.

"The Draught of Peace potion is a calming potion, Professor. Commonly used to alleviate anxiety and agitation."

If he is pleased with your answer, he doesn't show it at all, still shadowing your body with his sour aura.

"What are the main ingredients in this potion?"

"Huh, moonstone, syrup of hellebore, powdered porcupine quills and powdered unicorn horn, Professor." You are quicker to answer this time, noticing out of the corner of your eye the proud smile that Jace hides very poorly as he continues to unnecessarily mix his own potion as a form of disguise.

"Hmm. Now tell me, Miss Fawley..." Somehow your correct answers only seem to make the man more and more dissatisfied. "What color should the potion be once it's ready?"

"Turquoise blue, sir." You mutter with an embarrassed sigh, knowing full well where he was leading with this.

"And what's inside the cauldron appears to be turquoise blue to you, Miss Fawley?"

You feel your cheeks darken, looking sheepishly at the steaming, greenish mess inside your cauldron, murky and thick like the swamp waters in the deepest part of the Forbidden Forest - a large bubble rising to the festering surface to burst with a 'pop' that only adds another whiff of stench to the surroundings.

"No, sir."

"No, indeed."

He immediately emphasizes, sending you a sharp, cold look before lowering his gaze to the bubbling mixture with an exorbitant amount of disgust on his face as wrinkles his nose.

"I must say I'm impressed, in a way. It takes some talent to ruin a potion so spectacularly." His frown deepens as he sees the mossy goo threaten to spill out of the sides of the cauldron, moving almost like a living thing at this point.

"Maybe with ten points less for your house you'll find some inspiration to try to use this supposed talent and do it right next time."

He doesn't wait for your answer, abruptly turning his body to leave, as if you've exhausted his patience for the day, the movement making his black cloak flutter exaggeratedly as he walks away.

At the potions station next door, a pair of Hufflepuffs do a very poor job of hiding their giggles at what had just happened, which only makes your cheeks burn more intensely in embarrassment and your mood sour to critical levels.

As if to cement his position as the most happily absorbed person in the school, Jace decides to open his mouth.

"Isn't it hilarious how a potion that should, in theory, relieve anxiety and agitation has caused so much stress?" He breathes in amusement, biting his lip to contain a more exaggerated burst of laughter, as if he had told the biggest joke of all. The amusement, however, abruptly fades the moment he lifts his head to find your narrow, sharp eyes staring at him. "Uh, I mean - actually - forget what I said, you know, it's not hilarious at all..." he pauses between the endless babbling to take a breath. "Godric, is this lesson ever going to end?"

With a roll of your eyes, you turn away from him, glaring at the other potions stations with a resentful scowl as you slump onto the stool next to the table, propping your elbow on the wooden surface with a defeated thud, chin resting in your palm.

A few more students whisper and snigger behind their fingers as they glance sideways at you. You glare back at them with your best expression of silent outrage, daring them to say something to your face.

Honestly, so what if you’re not a natural at Potions? So what if your Draught of Peace didn’t turn out exactly as planned? It was an extremely complex potion, even for seventh years — and anyone with eyes could tell that half the class was struggling with the same thing you were. So why was it that you were the only one getting all this special treatment?

Be average at one thing and count on the rest of the school to ignore all the other things you excel at. Talk about unfair.

A silvery spiral of hissing smoke swirls across your line of vision, drawing your grumpy attention to the potions station on the other side of the classroom.

Before you know who it belongs to, you make sure to take about three seconds to part your lips and admire with a certain amount of distinct envy the clearly flawless result of the potion. At least until your eyes lock with his gaze from behind the cauldron and your expression wilts like a trampled flower. As if on cue, the very lighting in the room seems to change, casting an almost ethereal glow over the figure standing beyond the silver veil.

And if having visual proof that Aemond Targaryen was doing astronomically better than you at something wasn’t bad enough, it was even more despairing to realize that he was already looking at you.

He wasn't making any fuss about it, something that couldn't be said for the other students in the room. In fact, some might not even notice any change in his usual stoic and arrogant attitude. But to you, it was clear. He was there, with the sleeves of his white dress shirt carefully rolled up to his elbows as he stirred the spoon in his potion, staring intently at you from behind that veil of silvery shine, with an almost imperceptible playful tug on the left side of his lips, the only visible eye shining with silent provocation.

He saw everything.

The blush runs down your neck like a bucket of scalding water, but you quickly try to cover up your disgrace with an icy glare and a proud turn of your nose, meeting his gaze with a defiance that you, theoretically, would have no morals to uphold in this particular case. But Merlin curse you before you let this platinum weasel humiliate you in any way.

Not anymore.

Your reaction unfortunately only makes him more confident in his passive aggressive teasing, which almost elicits a heated snarl from your lips. And for a moment of guilty pleasure, you slyly entertain the idea of throwing an accio at his hideously green tie and pulling his face, along with that cold smirk, into the perfectly bubbling cauldron below.

The thought does a good job of dispelling some of the sourness in your mood, and you manage to keep yourself mostly under control, even when he raises an eyebrow and looks appraisingly at the chaos of smoke and stench unfolding just behind your body.

Giving due credit to your hunch that Aemond is, in fact, more annoying and insufferable than any living Cornish pixies, you sigh impatiently, shifting your body in front of your potion as if you could hide it from his judgmental gaze - which, of course, is a futile effort, since the toxic and very evident smoke is already spreading throughout the classroom.

It’s impossible not to find it terribly unfair how you appear to have barely survived a catastrophic encounter with a forest troll while he remains as aristocratic and composed as the Slytherin Prince everyone fawningly claims he is. It’s truly an inconvenience that someone as despicable as him can look so good without even trying — even with his long hair slightly disheveled around his face and shoulders, his porcelain-smooth skin flushed with sweat. If anything, these unusual details only add a touch of disorder to his otherwise immaculate beauty that makes him all the more captivating to the eye.

Good heavens, if someone’s going to be as much of a jerk as he is, at least have the decency to not be so easy on the eyes.

Which is only proven when you look away for a second and catch a few girls sighing and smiling shyly in his direction, the steam and humidity making their own hair look as bristly as rats’ nests on their heads.

You suppose you should feel grateful to any higher creature that your fiancé is someone so attractive. But it turns out you don’t.

Yes. Aemond Targaryen would be your future husband. And yes, that is the bane of your existence.

As one of the families of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, your parents decided your love story long ago, making a magical contract with Viserys Targaryen around the time you were about six years old and believed that marriage was when a boy and a girl held hands and walked together in the park. Even before that, you had been raised and molded to be the perfect bride; immaculate and uncultivated time and again with elegant manners and a perfectly controlled temper to propagate the impeccable reputation of your family as an endless legacy.

The only relief you had came from the very selfish pleasure in repeatedly frustrating your parents' expectations with your naturally hot-tempered and bold personality.

But that was all the rebellion you could achieve. Unfortunately, the right to choose your own destiny did not belong to you. It never did.

The arrangement between you was a deal neither of you could escape, a mutual benefit that both families would never give up, a difficult means to a grand end: your family would have the immense honor of being linked to the ancient and very influential name of the Targaryens and they, in return, would finally have the golden key to bring their influence into the Ministry, since your family had always been involved in politics - a fact that only solidified when your father was elected the new Minister of Magic.

Aemond, your arranged fiancé, was a pure-blood Targaryen, the crown of wizarding royalty, along with the Velaryons and the Blacks. By all accounts, it should have been a source of immense honor and joy to be the glue that would bind your family to his in such a fortunate arrangement. And your fiancé was a good match, all in all: handsome, charming, and obscenely wealthy.

But he was also cold, indifferent, and even mean at times.

And, of course, he hated you.

Aemond had always been so cruel, so harsh with his words on the few, isolated occasions when any verbal interaction had occurred. You knew he was as unhappy as you were about the marriage arrangement, but you had at least made some effort to be polite about the inevitable future that hung over your heads. You had known from the beginning that this was not a romantic arrangement and probably never would be. There was no need for a good prior acquaintance. In fact, the two of you had never met in person until both entered Hogwarts at the age of eleven. But your childish and innocent heart nurtured the hope that the two of you could at least get along and perhaps cultivate some sort of friendship over the years.

He, contrary to any hope you might have had, decided that he would make your life an even bigger hell than it already was since your first meeting in the Great Hall, where he mocked your friendly smile and called you a weird bucktooth in front of the entire school. You could have mocked him back then, laughed at the eye patch he wore on the left side of his face, the grotesque and poorly healed scar on his cheek and forehead from some sort of advanced spell cast against him. But even at that age you knew about limits, unlike the insufferable boy.

Later that night, you learned from Jace that that garish scar was caused by his brother, Lucerys Velaryon, another future Gryffindor who became your friend two years later. A common wand dueling challenge that went horribly wrong for Aemond and created another rift in their already volatile relationship. The advanced curse proved unbreakable, even for the most skilled healers, resulting in the permanent loss of his left eye and a scar that is nearly impossible to heal.

It was surprising enough that this Lucerys, even without having been enrolled at Hogwarts yet, already knew how to use this type of curse. And even more surprising was to discover that the Targaryen and Velaryon children had the habit of challenging each other to wand duels at such a young age, as if it were something normal. It scared you, but it only solidified for you the long-standing reputation of both families as highly talented and fearsome wizards.

That was the first time you felt sad for Aemond Targaryen, ruminating on the mental picture of how difficult his childhood could have been. But you quickly covered the softened feeling with the hurt memory of what he made you go through in front of all those people that very day.

Even after that burning humiliation, however, you made an effort to approach him cautiously at times, but the almost hateful coldness with which he looked at you since that first meet did not change much over time. And yes, maybe you were an inconvenience in general. A part of his life that he couldn’t shake off and it frustrated him. But he was exactly like that to you too and that didn’t make you act like had a shoe up your ass.

Eventually, and fueled by the sheer outrage of being so blatantly blocked and ridiculed for no logical reason, since you were as much a slave to this contract as he was, you decided that Aemond Targaryen could go fuck himself for what concerns you.

And so, a heated rivalry was born.

True, over time, that overt hatred and the obvious grimaces of revulsion on his boyish features gave way to a softer kind of icy indifference on his face; now decidedly more masculine and grown-up. He learned to be more discreet about his feelings for you (the lack thereof, to be more precise), with more elegant and aristocratic manners - but you never let your guard down around him again.

And you hated how much you thought about him sometimes, especially after the sudden growth spurt he’d gone through, spending hours late into the night remembering the sharp curve of his jaw or how piercing his gaze was when focused.

Aemond wasn’t thinking about you, not in the same way you thought about him. He probably only thought about you when he wanted to practice an attack, imagining it was your face on the training dummy as he threw diffindo after diffindo at the poor thing.

Merlin knew you did that sometimes too, always ending your private training with a tired but satisfied smile after imagining him taking all those spells to the chest instead of the ridiculous mental replay of your fingers sliding along the dagger-sharp line of his jaw as you kissed him breathlessly.

Heavens, you despised him so much.

Determined not to let this man get any more reaction out of you, you hold his gaze for just a few seconds longer - long enough to let out an elegant puff of air through your nose and a tedious flutter of your eyelashes before turning your head away from him.

Bracing your mind (and stopping yourself from casting a hex on the man instead) you focus your magic and all your attention on the cauldron, putting a definitive end to the steaming mess inside it with a whispered charm only in your mind.

"Wow! You're getting better at nonverbal and wandless spells every day, that's incredible!" A curly-haired Jace, electrified around his face, gasps in front of you, genuinely impressed by your feat, even though he himself (as well as your annoyingly talented future husband) already mastered nonverbal and wandless spells before you even learned how to master them decently verbally and with a wand. You feel your face heat up at the compliment anyway, pleased that someone admires the colossal effort you’ve been putting into perfecting your technique.

Although students learn some nonverbal spells from sixth year onwards, wandless spells weren’t officially taught at the school, and you had to raid the restricted section of the library once or twice to find the very few books that contained some information and ways to master the technique. And it was a challenging and exhausting technique, to say the least.

“Come on, be useful and tell me how you made your potion instead of just standing there fawning over me.” You wave your hand at him indifferently, as if it were no big deal, even though a smug smile is twitching your lips.

Jace smiles back at you, bright and looking even prouder than you, picking up his own notes to begin explaining.

-----

“Dear fiancée,” a voice hums behind you as you reach for the book high on the shelf, the word fiancée rolling off his tongue with such melodramatic emphasis that it almost makes you roll your eyes to the back of your head in response. Merlin bless your exquisite upbringing for keeping you calm when it really matters.

“Oh, it’s you.” You don’t even try to hide the disdain in your tone, as any good lady would, casually pulling the book out as you turn to him. He wouldn’t buy your lies anyway. It’s well known how shrewd and perceptive the damn man can be, after all.

“It seems so. Disappointed?” Aemond asks, a sharp, subtle smile gracing his lips, looking far too pleased for someone whose presence is so blatantly unwelcome. He knows perfectly well that yes, you’re disappointed.

It’s late now, and besides the two of you now, there are only a small handful of Ravenclaw students on the other side of the library — even Madam Irma Pince is more lethargic from the day’s fatigue, sitting near her desk as she reviews some papers. You definitely don’t have the patience to deal with Aemond.

“Never. To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask with a sweet smile that does nothing to hide your displeasure at seeing him. After the fiasco of your performance in Potions Class, you had the privilege of not hearing from him for a few days. But of course, your luck wouldn’t last forever. “It’s not often that you grace me with your presence.” He’s approaching you slowly, arms crossed behind him, all his glorious, imposing self, and you make the mistake of taking a nervous step back to a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Damn. What did he want now?

“What?” He asks simply, completely calm, and something flickers behind his gaze at the words. “Can’t I check on my fiancée without it looking suspicious?”

“I see,” you say as you take another step back, your heart skipping a beat when you feel the bookshelf at your back. His proximity makes your breathing quicken slightly, but you swallow and hold his gaze. “Well, I’m perfectly fine, as you can see. So if that’s all it is…”

“Not really. You see, I don’t want to be described as a negligent partner.”

The sheer audacity of his statement makes you drop your carefully crafted facade, a wry laugh falling from your lips.

“Oh of course, because you’re always so attentive, aren’t you?” you ask teasingly, the sour smile still stretching your mouth. “The polite way you can barely stand me is especially endearing, I might add.”

"I suppose so,” he retorts unaffectedly, enjoying pushing your buttons — though he’s letting the tension that always builds when you’re around each other get the better of him. “We’re engaged, after all. And that’s my duty, as a son. Your duty as a daughter.”

“Oh, but it’s a heavy duty indeed,” you say as raise your nose in affront, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach as you notice the glaring height difference between the two of you. “But someone who makes such a point of bragging about the elegance and good manners with which he was raised should do better at carrying that burden, don’t you agree? He should be able to at least fake it without much effort.” The last words were more of a hiss than anything else, and he chuckled in response.

“Oh, yes,” he mused casually as closed the distance between you. “The upbringing part really grates on your nerves, doesn’t it? Or is it the similarity to the practices of the Dark Arts thing now? Forgive me, my dear, but I’ve lost count of all the things you openly despise about me.”

Something tightens in your chest. Something dreadful and expectant at the same time, anxiety and anticipation at the prospect of a point of confusion. What did he mean, anyway? Trust Aemond, of course, to resort to riddles and fog when it comes to open conversation.

“Consider marrying you one more thing I despise,” you say quietly. There’s an endless supply of comments to throw at him. It’s incredibly easy to conjure up reasons to dislike this man. But it’s made all the more real by the way he makes you feel, all burning and needy for something that will never truly be yours.

Aemond has the audacity to look almost offended when you say this, his expression falling dangerously close to somber.

What the hell is wrong with him?

His usual stoicism and cold demeanor make any display of emotion beyond that a rare occurrence. And you feel unequipped to understand the complexity of what’s going on.

“I’m afraid that, despise or not, this needs to be done,” he says, as icy as ever, even with his expression dark as it is. “And wouldn’t you say it’s past time we started this pretense?” His question is unsettling on so many levels that even as he rests his forearm on the shelf above your head and leans his face close to yours, all you can do is blink up at him.

He couldn’t possibly be implying what you think, right? But when he smiles condescendingly at your alarmed expression and uses his other hand to grip your waist, you know he is.

“T-there’s no need at all,” you say quickly, dazed by the feel of his long fingers on you, his face leaning close to yours. “This is just a duty we can learn to deal with in the future.”

He hums thoughtfully at your answer, that dangerous shadow still in his one good eye, the silky silver curtain of his hair brushing the side of your face. You subtly inhale his scent; green apples, leather and heat, something refreshing and warming at the same time.

“Should I be worried about you fulfilling such duties with someone else?”

Your eyes narrow at him, the fingers tightening the book in response.

“What do you mean?” Your voice is equal parts curious and a warning.

“What is Cregan Stark to you?”

At the mention of the other man, your stomach sinks a little. It doesn’t take much investigation to understand why he’s suddenly interested in this.

“Cregan? He’s…a good friend.” You struggle to answer, though you feel like you should just leave him alone here in this secluded hallway of the library, avoid the uncomfortable topic of this conversation.

“Just a good friend?” He asks, his cold, hard gaze locked with yours, his grip on your waist tightening.

“What?”

It was clear that Aemond was carefully considering his next words, expression thoughtful as he crafting his answer to you.

“The portraits gossip.”

Yes, you knew.

A few days ago, after a Gryffindor Quidditch victory, the common room was filled with students celebrating. It was the biggest party you had attended in a long time. There was drinking, music, shouting, kissing, and even a few students crowding into a corner for a rather indiscreet sex session.

It was a such mess.

It didn’t take long for your own drinking to take effect, making you more uninhibited and reckless than usual. Cregan, the captain of the team, whose interest in you had always been obvious to everyone, even with your well known arrangement with Aemond, was there when you felt the vibration of alcohol in your veins - that fire that tells you that you are capable of doing anything and, before you could think better of it, you were already making out with him in a small alcove in the common room.

Despite the alcohol, Cregan guided you with passion and desire, biting your neck and lips as he told you how much had waited for this. You didn't love him, nor did you even have any romantic feelings for him. But those words along with the needy touches inevitably made you think of your future husband, the one who so vehemently hated you. And that was the last straw. Before the night was over, you had Cregan Stark buried deep in your pussy until then untouched by any man. It hurt at first, but you don't even think he realized that you were a virgin, as drunk as you both were, reciting hoarse words of praise in your ear while holding you as if he never wanted to let you go.

The next morning, in addition to a splitting headache, you were weighed down by the crushing weight of regret. Not only had you given your first time to someone you had no real feelings for, but you had also deceived a good man in the process. It had been the hardest conversation of your life, and seeing the disappointment on Cregan’s handsome, hopeful face had devastated you so much that you had to take the day off to lock yourself in dormitory and cry with guilt.

And to make matters worse, when you finally emerged into the world, you learned that the entire school already knew about your one-night stand with Cregan Stark. Apparently Muldoon Cragg’s portrait, one of the former Gryffindor Headmasters, wasted no time in leaving his post and gossiping about seeing the House Captain and the renowned Miss Fawley clinging like roots of the same tree in the hallways, stripping each other of their clothes as they ran to the man's dormitory.

Now, see, although you would have preferred to keep such matters private, your shame was not because they had discovered that you had had sex. Your only regret was that, in your moment of emotional weakness and hatred for having Aemond Targaryen as your fiancé, you had hurt someone as incredible as Cregan.

Merlin knows how common it was for students to be having sex at your age, even those who already had an established marital commitment, as you have with Aemond.

In the wizarding world, it was common to be promised to another person from a young age within the great pure-blood families and Hogwarts had some cases like these. Despite the verbal magical contract made between the heads of the families, the bond between the couple itself would only be made official after graduation, when a magical vow between them would be made and their magics linked to each other forever - the magic of the vow preventing them from being with anyone other than their spouse.

But until that day came, it wasn't uncommon for a mutual understanding to be established between the young couple, freeing both of them to 'enjoy' their single moments while they could. There was usually no hard feelings or big fuss about it, especially since, most of the time, there were no real feelings on either side. Therefore, there was also no jealousy.

Aemond himself, according to the gossip of some students, was no exception to this rule.

And that's why you stare at him, open-mouthed, trying hard not to interpret anything the wrong way. Because, heavens, he couldn't possibly be thinking of judging you, could he?

"I didn't anything wrong," you begin cautiously, but Aemond frustrates you with an ironic snort. "But whatever happened, it doesn't concern you, Targaryen."

He laughs humorlessly, his thumb stroking your waist slowly, his face hovering above yours as you both practically breathe the same air.

“For what it’s worth, this concerns me more than anyone else, princess.” Though he remains calm and casual, there’s a sharp bite in his voice, in his gaze. “After all, it’s my reputation that’s being tarnished by your promiscuous behavior.”

You stare at him in bewilderment, unable to believe his audacity. The blood begins to boil in your veins, heating your cheeks and neck with both anger and shame at his words, the magic in your veins reacting to emotional turmoil.

“Promiscuous behavior? Oh, how dare you?” You practically hiss at him, clutching the book between your fingers so tightly that the cover creaks. “That’s rich coming from someone with your notoriety.”

You’re furious, and he’s so close and your breath mingles with his, the smug bastard, his gaze glowing with the same fire you feel…

“It’s just whispers in the hallways.” He exhales with a disinterested shrug, invading your personal space as if he had any right to do so, so close that you can smell the leather eye patch he wears.

"What the hell do you mean it's just whispers in the halls? A few days ago Alys Rivers was singing loud and clear to the entire castle about the sexual exploits you two did after Quidditch practice, don't act like I'm an idiot or something!"

"And what's the proof that this actually happened?" He asks you so casually that for a good minute you just stare at him with your mouth open, not having an immediate answer to his indifferent question. "It's just rumors, princess. In the end, it's going to be her word against mine."

"More like the word of half the female population of the castle against yours, you hypocrite." You growl when you recover, looking at him as if you could set him on fire with just that. Your nonverbal magic isn't all that great yet, but maybe...

"And there's still no proof. Other than words, none of them have any evidence that I was actually there. I've made sure of that." Aside from the burning gaze on yours, Aemond shows little emotion in his argument, crumpling your uniform shirt to caress your belly with his open palm, as if this weren't at all shocking. "But you, you let yourself be caught. You let them have proof of your filthy deeds with that mutt Stark. I must say, your standards are critical low, sweetheart."

The comment, delivered so easily, leaves you breathless. You try to ignore the pangs of anxious curiosity that run through you at his touching your body in favor of the unnerving accusations he’s making. He remains impassive in the face of your volcanic attitude, waiting patiently above you.

“Merlin, you’re so annoying! Understand that you have no right to berate me! And don’t you dare talk about my standards, you don’t know me, you asshole!” You growl in exasperation, squirming under his strong grip, finally trying to escape the strategic hold. But Aemond must have some sort of Whomping Willow ancestry, because the man simply won’t back down.

“I wonder how you could have allowed a dim witted troll like Stark to put those filthy hands on your body.” Contrary to the absurd weight behind his statement, he seems almost possessive as he speaks, insane as the concept was, restraining your efforts by gripping your wrists between the fingers of one hand, using the other to push you against the tall bookshelf by the shoulder. The two of you, caught up in this confrontation as you are, barely hear the loud thud of the book falling to the floor as it slips from your fingers.

Ignoring the unnerving restraint and the open insult to Cregan, this time you actually laugh at his words, amused by their stupid and uncalled-for implication.

"And should I allow you to put your hands on me, Targaryen? Tell me how exactly that would be better?"

He breathes close, staring at you with steely eye and tight lips, the knuckles on your shoulder sliding to caress the throbbing pulse at the side of your neck in an almost unconscious gesture. Something turbulent bubbles in that single visible eye, the peculiar purple color that is inherent to Targaryens appearing darker than usual as he maps every inch of your face. When he finally speaks, you already feel like your heart might leap out of your chest, such is the tension between the two of you.

“You may hate me, beautiful, but I am still your fiancé,” he murmurs with measured slowness, the menacing timbre of his voice making you shiver with the suspicious prelude of what is to come. “Soon we'll be married and united forever and then I'll have you as many times as it takes.” As if to prove his point, he slowly pushes your joined hands to the bookshelf above your head, pressing his body against yours until you feel every heated, hard inch of him. “I will fill you every day and every night until it sink into that pretty head that you're mine. I should have started doing that already."

There's a slight huskiness to his voice and heat pulses through your core and the back of your neck at the explicit picture he's painting with his words. Your cheeks burn and your eyes flutter wide at the boldness of him, the sheer audacity of saying something so lewd to you when he's barely taken time to have any kind of interaction with you before tonight.

And yet, it takes a grueling mental battle to try, and lose, not to imagine him doing exactly what he's saying — taking your body night after night, filling your pussy with his seed until you're leaking from it.

And then you hear Madam Pince's delicate footsteps approaching.

"Kids, it's time to go, we're closing for the night."

And as if waking from some strange dream, you blink rapidly, giving Aemond a rude shove — and this time, mercifully, he complies.

Madam Pince rounds the corner of bookshelf you’re both in at the same time he takes a few steps back, though he still stubbornly holds your gaze.

When you refuse to maintain eye contact any longer, chest rising and falling faster than you’d like, you can feel the fingers trembling as push a strand of hair behind your ear.

You barely hear what Madam Pince says, staggering toward the library exit with hurried steps, bumping into a few students who are taking the same route as you.

“Hey, watch out!” one of them yells when you basically push him as try to climb the stairs, but you, in an uncharacteristic display of rudeness, don’t even register the complaint. All you can think about is how embarrassed and small you feel right now; how you allowed Aemond to put you in a situation where you looked so weak, so exposed.

All those years of hardening your feelings and expectations for that horrible creature and he puts it all in check in one night.

"Idiot, idiot, idiot..." You mumble over and over, walking through corridors and pillars without having the slightest idea of where you're trying to go. "Such an idiot." Who? You, him, both of you - it doesn't matter.

You hate him. So much. The smug, arrogant way he does literally everything; from his penchant for brilliance in absolutely every class, to the discreet smiles he displays when he's showing off in the air during Quidditch matches - even the way he breathes.

You hate him.

And you especially hate how hot he's doing these things.

Amidst the hurried footsteps, you hear another one approaching quickly; quieter, feline - and you don't even need to turn around to know who it is.

"Leave me alone, Targaryen! I've already exhausted my patience quota for you tonight." You huff, practically running down the hallway now.

He remains silent and you almost think he's going to do exactly as you asked, until a scream leaves your lips as feel your elbow suddenly being grabbed by a strong hand, pulling you inside one of the hallway doors.

"What your fucking problem?! Let me go!" Your voice is sharp as you try to pull away from his grip.

"You." He answers sullenly, pushing your back against the door with a heavy thud, slapping both hands on it, one on either side of your face, to prevent you from escaping. You stare at him in surprise, both of you breathing quickly. "You're my fucking problem. You and your annoying, inconvenient stubbornness."

"I told you to stop talking like you know anything about me." You hiss at him, resentment and emotional turmoil guiding your actions until you stand on your tiptoes and almost touch the nose to his as you speak. "You. Don't. Know. Me."

"Yes, I do." He amends instantly and you fall silent only at the unsettling dose of confidence in his voice. "I know you wake up earlier than the other girls in the dorm so you have time to stroll along the shores of the Black Lake while it's still completely empty - because it gives you a feeling of calm and prepares you to face the rest of the day. I know you like dancing in the rain, despite McGonagall’s constant disapproval. I know you love Care of Magical Creatures, even though it’s an elective class, and you’re considering a future career in that department, despite your family’s vehement political expectations.”

You swallow hard, releasing the pressure on your feet to sag back down against the floor and the door with a surprised gasp, but Aemond is quick to lean closer to you, chasing proximity like a Niffler chasing shiny things.

“I know, and you know that you’re an absolute disaster at Potions, but you’re too stubborn to admit it. You're addicted to chocolate frogs, but you're also strangely sensitive to them, so you always wait for the charm end and they stop jumping before eat them - which, of course, makes no sense, since the part where they jump on belly is the most fun." He sighs a laugh and steps even closer, practically trapping you in the doorway with his own body.

And, Merlin help you, he's so close.

His breath, warm and pleasantly sweet, as if he'd recently eaten licorice wands, blows across your face with each ragged breath. His pale, smooth skin is highlighted by a single moonbeam from the opposite stone wall, which also bathes the icy blond of his hair in a mythical way that makes the silky strands shine like silver threads running down his broad shoulders. His eye, a deep, appraising purple, don't leave your eyes for even a second. His scent, citrusy and masculine, invades your senses until all you can feel is him. Only him.

Not even now having a clear, detailed look at that barely healed scar for the first time, could you describe him in any other way than charming. Ethereal, like a creature from a fairy tale or beautiful songs.

“I know you like the pumpkin pie they serve for breakfast, but you think Pixie Puffs are an overrated cereal, whatever that means. And even if no one else noticed, I know you were the one who cast that Tarantallegra on Martyn Reyne just as he was about to turn Oscar Tully into a pulp during the last Quidditch match. And with a wandless charm, to boot. The man was tap-dancing uncontrollably in the Slytherin common room for a whole day after that, princess. It was infuriating to watch.”

“Aemond -” You’ve never heard him speak so much - not to anyone and certainly not to you. You can’t help but sigh, chest heaving at both the words and the resigned weight of admiration in them. And the shock of hearing the name, his name, leave your lips for the first time in your life makes you blush to the roots of hair. But Aemond only feels emboldened by this, his gaze darkening and a muscle jumping in his jaw before he continues.

“I know you’ve despised this marriage contract since you were six and was forced into it, but you still want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you now.” He hovers over you, reaching down with his open hand on the door to brush a few strands of hair out of your eyes; long, cold fingers brushing the delicate curve of your ear.

You choke out a surprised sound and feel your eyes widen, caught off guard exactly like a student caught wandering around the castle after bedtime by some prefect. Aemond’s eyebrows rise, his own gaze burning in silent challenge as he waits for your answer. You open your mouth, but no matter how much you want to, and know you should be denying his outrageous insinuations, no words escape your suddenly dry throat.

“I dare you to deny it,” he murmurs in a voice like heated molasses when you still don’t say anything, leaning his face down to brush his lips against your ear. “Come on baby. If you dare, do it."

And then, in a lapse of judgment and sanity (and instinctively reacting to a challenge he has issued), you do.

There are no glares or scathing retorts to the question raised. There is just you acting impulsively.

You are jumping in Aemond immediately, tugging his green tie down to urge him into a bruising kiss. For a moment he smiles hatefully smugly against your mouth, but before you can regret what you have done and pull away, he pushes you back against the door with more force, slamming you into the aged wood as if to fuse you to it.

You release his tie in favor of desperately grabbing a handful of his shirt, the fingers of other hand digging into the soft flesh of his neck to bring him deeper into your lips. As he ravages your mouth with fervent desire, the world around you seems to deflate and disappear in the shadows, leaving only the electrifying connection between the two of you. Every brush of his lips against yours sets a firestorm of sensation, each touch crawling through your soul with an insatiable hunger for more.

There are no gentle, tender, or exploratory kisses; he kisses you assertively, surely, with ownership. As if he’s imagined doing this for a lifetime. He sinks both hands into the sides of your face, tilting your head back as runs his tongue over your lips, asking for entrance, and you welcome him.

And, unsurprisingly, kissing Aemond is like every other interaction you’ve ever had with him. Heated, intense, filled with tension. He sucks on your tongue and licks it right after, his teeth even brushing lightly yours sometimes - not in an awkward, painful way; but in a way that conveys his hunger for it, his possessiveness.

As you’d imagined, he tastes like the crystallized sugar of licorice wands; a perfectly balanced contrast to his citrusy scent of green apples and crackling wood from a fireplace. It’s an addictive balance that makes you shiver and grip him tighter between your fingers.

He pulls back a little to nibble on your bottom lip, teasing it between his teeth before sucking it in too. Then he fits his lips fully against yours once more, swallowing the wet, heated sound that leaves your throat.

It’s like you’re floating and sinking at the same time, feeling his hands leave your face to pull you closer by the hips, the kisses becoming more and more heated.

With a low, frustrated growl, he suddenly releases you, but not for long. Gripping your hips tighter, he lifts you up, and with a small yelp of surprise, your legs instinctively wrap around him. He cranes his head to continue the kiss as he spins you toward a table in the corner of the room, slipping between your legs as soon as he sits you down.

His mouth moves to your neck, heated and wet, sucking the sensitive flesh to leave marks you would be resenting if you were in your full mental capacity. But as it is, your eyes only flutter in response as you half watch the dust particles shimmer in the air in that small crack of moonlight, small involuntary sighs falling from your lips. His hand slides down your spine to belly, rising to tease the rise of your breast and the delicate slope of neck, the rings spread on his cold fingers poking the skin as he presses your throat lightly and you shiver.

Teeth rise to graze languidly against your ear and lips burn against your skin. How could he be so intense and yet remain so calm?

"Let me show you how it should be. Do it better for you than he did, leave you truly satisfied." He whispers like a lewd secret and even you're though sitting you feel the knees trembling, your heart fluttering at the speed of the delicate wings of a golden snitch.

"And who said he couldn't satisfy me?" You bluff breathlessly, barely able to admit the truth to yourself - much less to him. Not because Cregan didn't actually make it good for you. He did, you suppose. Caring for your pleasure as best he could. But any sense of satisfaction was drowned out by the weight of guilt and the unsettling feeling that it just didn't feel right...not with him.

"Oh, my treasure. With the raw way I crave you, I find it very unlikely that anyone could be as eager to please you as I am - much less a common mutt like Cregan Stark." The rough timbre of his voice vibrates through you and the air grows tense, your skin crawling at the feel of his other hand sliding down your thigh. "Just say yes and I'll prove it to you."

You don't answer him, not with words. But you think your round, needy eyes might have told him something, because he leans in until his mouth is a hair’s breadth from yours, staring at you as if he’s very pleased with what sees. He closes the distance to lick your mouth slowly and, after moving to put enough space between your bodies, uses the hand on your waist to pull you to the edge of the table.

The hand on your thigh moves to slide under your skirt until it plays with the side of the waistband of your panties. You suck in a ragged breath, nervously bracing both hands on the table as you bite your lip.

Those fingers, long and cold, curl into the elastic at your crotch, bunching the fabric to make it brush against your clit once, twice, three times, before you fix him with a drunken, narrowed gaze — a signal to stop teasing, and he chuckles close to your lips.

He takes the hint, though, and dips his thumb into your entrance. The violation of just one digit is surprising and not enough at the same time, and you writhe to make that point clear as you throw your head back, gasping a sound of pleasure. He takes his time, pressing his thumb in and out at the slowest pace imaginable, his signet ring tickling your entrance with each thrust. You moan a little louder and can feel, even without seeing, the infuriating smile of triumph he wears in response.

“You look like want something, hmm?” he drawls, molding his lips to the soft curve of your throat. Your hand releases its death grip on the table to push at his shoulders, even though the thrust is too weak to be taken seriously. When he chuckles in amusement at your action, you lift the head to look at him, noticing how swollen his lips are from kissing you so damn much.

“Come on, ask nicely for what you need from me, beautiful.” He whispers and instead of giving what you want so much, moves his thumb inside you with movements so light that only serve to increase the flame of desire, but never quench it.

But two can play that game, you realize, pursing your lips and huffing elegantly before looking across the room.

Aemond clucks his tongue in disapproval.

“Everything has to be a fight with you, doesn’t it?” His thumb drifts lazily away from your folds, leaving you feeling unbearably empty. You whimper at the loss, but he doesn’t give you a chance to protest. Aemond grips your chin, forcing you to tilt your head toward him again. Looking so close, you’re forced to face the fact of how small you are compared to his tall, defined frame, the width of his shoulders casting shadows over your smaller body. Your chin slips from his grip and instead he takes your hand in his to guide it down between your legs - a confident, strong grip that leaves no room for resistance.

“Feel this,” his words are harsh as he stares down at you, that single eye flashing in wicked amusement as your body twitches in response. Your mouth falls open in a sharp gasp of surprise as he doesn’t hesitate to guide your own finger and his inside your pussy, not bothering to do it slowly, “Feel how wet you are for me, princess.”

Your finger, delicate and smaller, dips in alongside his longer, wider one, going as deep as it will go — and to your growing humiliation, there actually is a wet mess helping; your trembling, tight walls drooling around the intrusion.

“T-that doesn’t mean…” You sob, widening and contracting around both fingers, “nothing.”

“That means everything, baby.” He smiles in an unnervingly knowing way, fucking your walls with slow, deep strokes, curling your fingers so you feel the difference between them perfectly.

“We shouldn’t — not here of all places. Merlin, d-don’t you have an ounce of decency in your being?” you continue, whimpering pathetically, writhing on the table: "Someone could hear us...a prefect could-"

"You'll have to be very quiet then." He interrupts you casually, although he's panting softly against your lips.

"Heavens, you're so annoying! A-at least cast a silencing charm, idiot!"

"And where's the fun in that? What about the danger, the adrenaline rush of avoiding being caught?" He pretends to ponder, sadistically pleased with your desperate arguments. "Take it as another challenge, princess. Especially after how spectacularly you failed the last one." He hums teasingly and you would growl back at him if you weren't too busy riding your fingers. "Can you be quiet?" He says in that soft, teasing way of his. Like he knows perfectly well that you can't.

And he's right.

You have to stifle a moan into his neck as he lifts his thumb to swirl your clit, both fingers working you slowly.

“For all your horrible biting, princess, you are a lovely creature when properly tamed.” His voice is a sigh of awe and hunger, like a worshipper before some masterpiece. You blush several shades, burying your face further into his neck to hide your shame.

“Y-you are even crazier than I imagined, Targaryen. You're sorely mistaken if think you have tam—oh!”

He curls your fingers up suddenly and you gasp, legs twitching and tightening around his waist with undignified desperation. You're beginning to see through blurry lenses, your other hand tangling in his hair for something to anchor yourself to, pulling him closer and closer as the pressure builds with each wet rub against your clit—

And then he’s pulling his fingers out, lifting your joined hands to his mouth, smiling at you as he sucks the both fingers into his mouth like they’re a sweet treat he’s been waiting all day to taste.

Merlin, what must it be like to know you’re the hottest man in the world?

The irritation at having your near orgasm interrupted is overshadowed by the sinful sight ahead of you, your parted lips and lazy gaze.

You catch a glimpse of his pink tongue licking between your upraised fingers and your legs tighten around him, unconsciously trying to ease the sensual pressure between them.

“You’re the most insufferable creature I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting in my life and I-” You start grumpily but breathlessly, stopping slowly when he slides his fingers from his mouth to straighten himself in front of you, tugging at the button on his pants. You sit up straighter on the table, wide eyes fixed on the broad hand undoing his pants. Veiny hand. Long pale fingers adorned with gold and silver rings, the Targaryen insignia gleaming from the signet ring on his thumb.

“A-and I hate you so much. Ardently." You sigh mechanically and vaguely, noting with heated embarrassment a wet spot on the crotch of his pants.

“Me too, princess…” he hums smugly, taking his sweet time to unzip his pants and pull them down slightly, along with his boxer briefs, just enough to free his straining cock. “Ardently.”

Your shoulders slump and your tongue darts out to wet your lips at the sight of his aching, weeping cock. It’s long — much longer than you expected, anyway — and thick. Pre-cum drips from the flushed tip and his cock bobs under your shy scrutiny.

"I-I," you try, humiliatingly lacking the sarcastic words to ridicule him at this moment, and Aemond - bathed in masculine pride and arrogance - drags his palm over the moisture pooling on the head of his cock and spreads it along the veiny shaft. "Fuck, don't you dare say anything now."

He doesn't need to, though - just his smirk tells you enough - and almost a little too spitefully, you grab the tails of his dress shirt, tugging at the fabric until the sound of ripping is heard, the poor buttons rudely ripped from its places to fall bouncing on the stone floor.

Moonlight bathes the soft, marble skin of his throat, chest and abdomen, an endless, sinful expanse of lean, defined muscle covered in a few paler scars - some larger and more evident than others.

The dazzling scene before you pauses for a second as you focus on them, the almost worrying amount.

Where did he get them? How? In duels? Or some kind of archaic and horrific method of punishment?

He doesn’t let you dwell on it too much, though, striding confidently towards you until your attention returns to where it belongs; and while Cregan was all about thick muscles and an intimidating body, Aemond towered over all the other students with his majestic height and lean muscles, with broad shoulders and an elegantly tapered waist. He truly looked the epitome of pure-blood royalty — not that you’d let him know that.

With silver hair falling disheveledly over his shoulders, the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the flaps open on either side of his chest and abdomen, and green tie hanging loosely around his neck, he looked undone in the best possible way. And of course, that air of hungry elegance surrounding him, like a man who knows he’s about to get what he wants.

Aemond, still holding his cock between his fingers, rubs against the wetness between your legs for a few seconds, then uses his thumb to spread your entrance, your panties barely pushed aside. You squeeze around nothing, and he practically sighs in awe at the sight.

“Such a pretty little hole, sweetheart.”

You blush at the vulgarity, holding onto the tail of his shirt for dear life, the other hand latching onto the back of his neck.

With the hand that’s not between your bodies, and much more calmly than you’ve done previously, he unbuttons your dress shirt. He’s skilled at it, much to your silent annoyance — taking each button out of its place with easy precision. And all the while, he doesn’t stop gently thrusting himself between your legs.

And, Merlin, you’re so wet — literally dripping between your legs — so sore, and fuck, you want him so, so bad. But Aemond just rubs the tip of his cock against your clit as he holds your entrance open with his thumb, his gaze intent on the skin that reveals itself when the flaps of your shirt finally part.

“Aemond,” you whimper and he hums questioningly at you, but doesn’t move to do anything other than grind himself against you more, stroking the lacy details of your bra with a cold, hungry gaze.

You make a disgruntled noise and move your hips against him, trying desperately to get him inside you.

“Ah-ah,” your teeth sink into your bottom lip as he completely covers one of your breasts with his palm in a greedy grip. “Come on, stop teasing me, you idiot insensitive…”

He blithely ignores you, kneading your breast like a cat with a ball of yarn, thrusting at your clit with shallow strokes that only make you hotter and needier, his thumb sliding in to breach the barrier of your entrance once more, just to the first knuckle. You let your upper body fall dramatically backwards, barely supporting yourself on forearms, your head rolling from side to side as you groan in frustration.

“Aemond, fuck. This is the worst time for you to be the most annoying person to ever walk this planet. Don’t make me beg.”

You can hear the laughter in his voice as he responds.

“Really?” His tone is proud and playful, as if he doesn’t already have his cock against your clit and a thumb inside you.

You look up to meet his gaze, and the wry smile that tugs at the corner of his lips infuriates you to no end, because suddenly you realize that this is exactly what he wants.

You swallow your growing pride, temporarily deciding to forgo it in favor of satisfying the erupting volcano that resides in your lower belly. Aemond knows exactly which buttons to push with you, and no matter what you do here, there is no winning. Either you give him the satisfaction of hearing what he wants or the satisfaction of continuing to argue. He lives happily for both. It’s a question of knowing which wars are worth fighting and what the benefits of each are.

“Please, Aemond,” you finally whisper, letting your eyes grow rounder and waterier, giving him your best innocent, needy look, legs spreading wider as you rest your body fully on the table. It’s just your luck that with that movement the moonlight falls entirely on you, on the hair spread across the surface of the dark wood, the redness on your cheeks and heaving chest. “Please, just take me. I-I need this.”

It’s worth giving up your pride just for the wild, unsuspecting look Aemond gives you, lips parted in a husky growl that runs through your body like the most intimate magic.

Almost immediately he withdraws his thumb and lines himself up with your entrance and you cry out in surprise when his palms land on your waist, pulling your ass up to better meet his hips, your smaller hands darting to grip his wrists. He presses his tip into you at an excruciatingly slow pace, his gaze burning into yours with the unstoppable violence of a fiendfyre.

The discomfort of the welcome intrusion burning deliciously when he finally pushes in and — oh. You feel so stretched, and he hasn’t even started. Your lips part in a breathless half-scream, brows furrowing. He pushes a little further and you tense, a glorious, painful kind of pressure searing every nerve. You don’t remember it being like this with Cregan — but maybe that was just another consequence of how drunk you both were that night.

“Is — is it all in?” You ask weakly after what feels like an eternity, your nails destroying his wrists as you struggle for something to hold on to.

“Almost there, baby.” Aemond gasps, stroking your hips as he slowly but steadily drills into you. “You’re doing so good for me.” His lips meet yours in a sloppy, wet kiss that leaves you both breathless and your lips bruised. His own exhales start to end with a moan, and you writhe beneath him. It’s an unfamiliar pleasure to you, the kind where you weren’t sure if it was too much or too little, and Aemond hadn’t even started moving yet.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” He groans into your mouth, grinding himself into you a little more, a half-maniacal and proud grin stretching his lips. “That mutt Stark didn’t do a very good job here, did he?”

“S-shut up!” You snarl, skin burning with embarrassment and anger at his words. “Don’t talk about him like that!”

“Shhh, I’m just kidding.” He smiles and kisses the tip of your nose soothingly, though he doesn’t seem the least bit remorseful.

“You’re doing so well, baby, taking me so fucking well,” he whispers, the words stirring in your stomach and making you forget the irritation immediately, clenching even tighter around him. He stifles a growl, dipping his fingers back between your legs, lightly stroking your swollen clit to ease the sting, and one inch at a time, he finally slides inside until he bottoms out inside you.

Meanwhile, you’re tottering on the fine line between too much and not enough. Aemond is long and solid and thick inside you, and the heat is beyond satisfying. You lie there, breathing rapidly, face flushed and eyelashes fluttering, brows furrowed and mouth open and panting. Nails digging into his wrists, legs shaking as they rise to wrap tightly around his waist.

“Please…” Is all you need to say before he’s making his move, his own face stained with lust and blush. He pulls out halfway before sinking back in, groaning hoarsely at the sensation. You’re already making inelegant gagging noises from deep inside, louder and more embarrassing than you could have imagined yourself capable of.

“Feels good, baby?” he pants, pulling out his cock before slamming it back into you as you sob, the pull of him inside you hitting every nerve and setting them on fire. “My cock feels good to you, love?”

“So good!” You moan more than speak, rocking your hips against his as best you can.

“Hmmm…better than him?”

“Aemond—”

“Answer me.”

You bite your lip, knowing there’s no way you should encourage him to do this kind of behavior. But between the overwhelming sensations he makes you feel and the intense gaze he’s giving you, all that have left is the truth.

“Y-yes. Merlin, yes. So much better...”

“Fuck, princess,” Aemond grunts, changing the angle and grinning wildly when it makes you moan louder. He targets that particular spot, watching the way you arch a little higher with each thrust. The sounds of your skin slapping together make you flush even more, though you barely hear it over Aemond’s ragged breathing and your own moans.

“Aemond—oh,” you gasp desperately, throwing your head back. “I-it feels so good,” you drawl, clawing at his wrists. “Please, please, I can’t take it.”

Then he’s reaching down, fingers twisting the front of your bra, pulling it down so his tongue slowly sweeps over one nipple, enveloping it in the warm, wet blanket of his mouth. The hand between your legs gains momentum and his thumb rolls over your clit as he latches onto your nipple and sucks. A high-pitched scream barely escapes your lips before his hand covers your mouth, continuing his merciless assault.

His hand cups the lower half of your face completely and that only makes your eyes roll back, the weight of his body on yours, his wet mouth on your breast, the restraint of your sounds, his deep thrusts, his thumb on your clit...

Your fingers sink into the silvery roots of his hair in a sharp tug, and the pain makes him gasp against your chest, and you chant his name mindlessly behind his broad palm. Static sizzles through your body, your orgasm building at an insane pace, and you meet him thrust for thrust.

When he looks up, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your nipple, he stares at you so intently it makes you shiver, his thumb in your folds quickening. You run your own trembling thumb along his drooling bottom lip and watch him suck it into his wet, swollen mouth. You linger, touching the sharp tips of his canines, sliding across the softness of his tongue and gums before pulling your hand away. Aemond chases your thumb a little as he leans forward, but stops when you grab the leather strap of his eye patch.

The palm over your lips slowly pulls away, and you breathe in sharply, but don’t flinch. Holding his intense, drunken gaze, you push the thing away from his face, letting it fall to the floor with a thud neither of you cares about.

“Don’t stop, please — I’m so close,” you moan, pushing a few icy-white strands away from his face, wanting to see all of him as you shatters below. Aemond, with one missing eye and a cursed scar; that’s how you first saw him in the Great Hall, and that’s how you want to see him now, too.

If he’s shocked by your actions, he doesn’t show it. He’s still staring at you with a lazy expression, sweat starting to break out on his slightly flushed skin, his thrusts becoming more unbalanced, the rhythm faltering a little.

"Fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna fill you so fucking much, my wife—” he groans suddenly, the husky sound of his voice completely destroyed, and then he’s down to lock your mouths in a searing kiss, thrusting so hard into your pussy that the table creaks and slides a few inches across the floor.

But it’s the weight of that statement, his wife, spoken so brokenly and stunned, that finally makes you lose control, and your climax hits you.

“Cumming, cumming,” you cry into the tiny gap between your mouths as his rhythm quickens. His name leaves your lips again — muffled and choked — and your back arches off the table. You can feel his cock throb as the walls of your pussy clench and pulse around him with your orgasm.

And then he’s spilling himself into you, heated cum filling you as he still kisses you deeply, mouth wet and insistent. He makes a few rough, breathless noises into your mouth as he comes and you suck his tongue into your mouth, the climax rippling and lingering deliciously through you.

He relaxes the arm that was between your legs as you both lie there panting, coming down from your intense orgasms. Shifting his body slightly to support himself on forearms, he runs lazy, gentle kisses down your neck.

You stay like that for a while, his weight pressing down on you. Silence, except for the sound of each other’s breathing. You haven’t really allowed yourself to process the fact that he’s here; that Aemond, your future husband and sworn enemy, has cornered you tonight and confessed to wanting you despite strong evidence to the contrary. After years of not having a trace of him, he’s here, in the most intimate way possible. You tilt your head to the side to look at him again, to commit his features to memory in case he disappears from you once more.

Feeling your gaze, he does the same, humming contentedly; one calm, soft lavender eye, almost hidden beneath a thick layer of long lashes, the vibrant blue relic in the other eye, brows furrowed in contemplation for a brief moment. His fingers brush against your still flushed cheek, as if mapping out a secret that exists only for him. It doesn’t escape you that he makes no move to leave the wet heat between your legs — his member, still hard somehow, nestled comfortably within your silken walls.

“I’d really rather we didn’t wait until the wedding to do this again.”

His words, almost hesitant at their core, fill you with a kind of cautious anxiety, some foolish, ancient hope, long forgotten and locked away, surfacing once more. Your face burns with heat as you do your best to keep a expression neutral and collected, choosing the usual path when it comes to the two of you:

“If you wanted some kind of serious commitment you should have just said so, Targaryen. I wouldn’t mock your feelings.” You smile softly, blinking teasingly despite your trembling nerves. “Not much.”

He scoffs and roll his eye, though it’s obvious to both of you that you’re not necessarily saying no.

“I was thinking of it more for your own benefit, insufferable girl,” he grumbles sullenly. “You clearly didn’t have a good first experience and I just think it would be really tragic if you had to wait months to experience something so heavenly good as what I just offered you.”

You huff and press your face into his neck, failing miserably to suppress a laugh.

He’s so full of shit.

“I thought you hated me, anyway.”

“And I did.” He hums nonchalantly, making you part your lips in offense. He smiles at your shocked expression, tilting his face to brush his nose against yours.

“I hated you before I even met you, and I hated you even more the first time we met in the Great Hall and I realized there was absolutely nothing to hate about you. I hated that you were so captivating. I still hate that, I think.”

Your cheeks burn at the depth of his words and you look up at the ceiling, pursing your bottom lip in a sullen pout to cover the fluttering in your stomach.

“You made me feel insecure about my teeth for years after that day, you know?”

He huffs out a short laugh at the memory, cupping your jaw to guide your face to his again.

"Well, they were a little out of proportion..." He taps his thumb gently across the top of your lips until it pokes at your two front teeth, a strangely fond glint in his gaze and a small, amused smile. "Right here."

With a slight, offended swat and blushing even more, you struggle to pull his hand away.

"Of course they were out of proportion, you big insensitive! I was only eleven, still in the growth phase."

"That sounds like an excuse to me. I was eleven too and I wasn't like that."

He sounds smug now, and you hate that he's right. Even at the young age when, inevitably, almost everyone was gangly and awkward in one way or another, Aemond was still an irritatingly beautiful child - even brutally scarred with the loss of his eye and the scar. With pale, delicate features and chubby but perfectly proportioned cheeks, he looked like a spoiled little prince at the time.

He still looks like a spoiled prince now.

“No more pretending,” he confesses reluctantly after a while of poorly hidden laughter, as if it hurts him to be so honest about his feelings. “I’m not sure I can keep denying how much I crave for this. For you.”

A quiet surprise spreads across your features at the admission and you reach out to him, intertwining your fingers. You hadn’t realized that everything had been so…mutual — the forced hatred and provocations, for sure, but not the feelings either.

“Mmm,” you hum softly after a while, hope flickering through you brighter as Aemond’s steady gaze lingers on yours, your bodies still intimately joined over this table in an abandoned classroom. “I suppose it’s probably time we faced head on this despicable fate that awaits us.”

Aemond’s answering smile is rare and absolutely breathtaking.

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tragedy-machine · 2 months ago

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“Edwin, do you ever think about… what it’d be like if we went to school together?”

“I cannot say that I do, Charles.”

“I do, sometimes. About how life would be like if we were both alive and attending St. Hilarion right now.”

“I assume your vision does not include any of our classmates being killers?”

“Nah, ‘course not. Times are different now, aren’t they? So… what do you think?”

“Well, you would be a star of the cricket team, no doubt. And you can certainly bounce a ball without letting it fall for a very long period of time, so maybe a football star, as well.”

“I don’t know about being a star, but– cheers.”

“Of course. Indeed, given your natural charisma, one might readily surmise that people would be most inclined to gather about you. If they possessed any sense whatsoever, your classmates should eagerly seek to make your acquaintance. You would graciously give everyone the time of day, much as you do with our clients, and they would be endlessly charmed by you. ”

“Now you’re really overdoing it, mate. What about you?”

“Me? Oh. I would… greatly delight in the study of languages. I have heard it said that schools nowadays offer a wider array of them within their curriculum. Literature, too, holds a special allure for me; indeed, I might even volunteer my services in the school library, simply for the opportunity to spend more time there or attend a study club. Science has also been a source of fascination for me—chemistry in particular, I could well imagine devoting a lot of time to it.”

“Mhmm, go on.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“What of your friends?”

“I have not considered– perhaps other members of the literature club? Our recent adventure in the States have shown me that although people are decidedly still not my forte, it is possible for me to make acquaintances with them if they share my interests. If they are not dreadfully insufferable, that is to say.”

“And…?”

“And?”

“C’mon, how do we meet?”

“Oh. Realistically, I do not think our paths would cross. You would have more than enough friends interested in sports and music and other activities you enjoy, and I would never set foot near a gymnasium or a music room. We are an unlikely pair, after all.”

“...what? You don’t think we’d be friends if we were at school together?”

“I merely mean to say— as I have mentioned— with a sufficient company of good and worthy friends around you, you would have little cause to seek me out at school, particularly as we would be spending our time entirely differently.”

“Edwin, that’s horrible. A load of tosh, if I’ve ever heard one. I refuse to believe that. We could meet in class, or– maybe I’d have trouble with English, it’s never been my favorite, could never get my letters correct, could I? And since you’re so good at it, you’d offer to tutor me.”

“You believe I would offer?”

“‘Course, you’re proper kind like that, aren’t you? Or I’d ask you and you wouldn’t be able to say no to me.”

“So certain I would not be, even right from the beginning?”

“Isn’t that how our first meeting went?”

“...touché. You can be quite persistent. However, that does not mean you would have to befriend the boy who tutors you.”

“I liked you right when I met you, didn’t I? It’d be the same.”

“You are awfully confident regarding the matter.”

“Yeah, mate. Think about it, we may be an unlikely duo, but against all odds, we met. We stayed together. And will stay together. We’d find each other in every universe, just like we had in this one.”

“...who is the one ‘overdoing it’ now?”

“Come off it, mate! But just think about it, we’d go to uni together, you’d study– English or, or Law, you’d make a great lawyer, you know, and I– I don’t know, I’d study something too, and we’d live together.”

“Would we start a detective agency together as well?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Alive Boy Detectives does not have the same ring to it. Neither does Alive Men Detectives.”

“We’d figure something out.”

#charles “do you ever think about...” rowland #dead boy detectives #my posts #edwin payne #charles rowland #payneland #dbda #dead boy detective agency #painland

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lifeamongtheamazons · 2 years ago

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For my linguistsics degree, I did a project on why I'm seeing more people saying "on accident" instead of "by accident." I looked at almost a million pieces of writing pulled from news sites, blogs, academic articles and television transcripts. I found almost three hundred cases of "on accident" being used. It was a surprisingly even spread across sources. Even more interesting, I organized the hits by date and tracked an upward swing in use as time goes on. This means that the use of "on accident" is increasing over time, and may eventually supplant and drive out the classic usage of "by accident." I like to call this prepositional shift.

Now, looking at my data and looking at the age ranges of the writers or speakers, the majority of them were under the age of thirty. So I interviewed a panel of people, choosing twenty with a spread of about half above thirty, and half below. Those older than thirty years of age felt "strongly" or "very strongly" that "on accident" was wrong in all cases, and that "by accident" was the only correct phrase. However, those younger than thirty were much less rigorous, with more than half feeling "ambivalent" or "less strongly" about which was correct. This demonstrates a generational link in preposition usage.

When presented with options for the definitions of "by" and "on," we also get some interesting data. For by, there are two main definitions according to the Oxford English Dictionary: 1. Identifying the agent performing an action. Or 2. Indicating the means of achieving something. Whereas "on" has many more definitions, the pertinent ones being 1. To indicate the manner of doing something or 2. To indicate active involvement in a condition or status. By the above definitions, either "by accident" or "on accident" is a correct usage of the term. However, native speakers of English could not successfully define either preposition, instead just choosing one, the other, or both as "sounding correct."

The only evidence for a rule-based shift that I could find was a correlation with the paired phrase for the opposite condition "on purpose." While the younger interviewees were ambivalent about the correctness of "on accident," they uniformly rejected the correctness of the suggested phrase "by purpose." So the shift can only be in one direction according the the native ear, towards the preposition "on."

Whether this means that the particular usage of "by" is becoming archaic or the definition of "on" is expanding is a possible subject of further study using a wider range of phrases. But I found the wider acceptance of "on accident" versus "by accident" to be a fascinating look at how prepositions can shift meaning and usage over time.

So now I'm curious, five years from my initial study (and itching to try the Tumblr poll feature):

#linguistics #languages #grammar

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vrystalius · 7 months ago

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💕 The Love Languages of Hashira

How the hashira express their love for you!

Here’s part 2 with Giyu, Obanai, Mitsuri and Shinobu.

Here’s my masterlist. My requests are open <3

Author’s Note: I didn’t use any gender specific pronouns, or at least tried to. This is my very first thingy I posted on here, so please tell me your opinion on this piece! Correct me on grammatical and spelling errors, english is not my first language. Anyways, enjoy! <3

Note: Tysm for over 100 notes!!

Pairing: Sanemi, Gyomei, Kyojuro, Tengen x gn!reader

💚Sanemi Shinazugawa 💚

Acts of service (Intensity: 6/10)

Sanemi isn’t very good with words, often coming off as rude and cold, even if he tries to be nice. He just has this talent to come off as an asshole. His intimidating appearance is not helping it.

So instead of relying on his words to express his love and affection for you, he would much rather do acts of service, even if they are small. Sanemi helps you undress after a long day, his movement slow and gentle as if you’re the most fragile thing that ever grazed his touch, folding your clothes and putting them aside to wash later. He massages your shoulders, his large palms hitting all the right spots and making the knots disappear. He cooks for you, having picked up a recipe or two from his mother, who taught him back then when Sanemi had to cook for his siblings with whatever they had. The meals he makes are personal comfort dishes and he likes sharing them with you.

Physical affection (Intensity: 8/10)

Something Sanemi just loves to do after a long night his duties is to just melt in your arms. Sanemi is a very light sleeper, waking up because of everything and any sound, but something that makes him feel more secure is to sleep in your arms. The warmth of your skin makes him feel safe and comforted, feel loved and wanted, some sort of save haven. Somewhere he can always return to.

But Sanemi also shows his affections during the day, may it be some quiet handholding or holding you by your waist, reminding himself that you are right here, with him. Hugs are a little difficult for him though, he just doesn’t really know what to do. Sanemi stiffens up immediately when you hug him, especially out of nowhere.

Quality time (Intensity: 10/10)

(I’m going to keep this part short since it was already kind of in the two above)

If he could, Sanemi would spend all of his time in the day and night with you. Doesn’t matter what you two are doing, he just wants to be close to you and soak in your presence. He likes it when you watch him train though, that’s when he gets to show off all his muscles and skill, making you laugh and perhaps even jokingly squeeze his bicep.

“Y’know, I can make us some ohagi after this. I-If ya want.”

🤎 Gyomei Himejima ��

Physical affection (Intensity: 9/10)

As a blind man, Gyomei relies on his other senses to guide him. His favourite way to express his affection also is influenced by that. Since he can’t stare at you for hours a day, even if he’d love to, he’ll simply hold you close for hours as compensation. Since Gyomei is much larger than you, he loves to cuddle you close against his chest. His favourite thing is to caress your back while you listen to his calm heartbeat.

During the day Gyomei likes having his large palm on your body. For example on your shoulder to show his support and comfort, or on your waist so he can take a walk with you while staying close, or just gentle, but big bear hugs.

Words of affirmation (Intensity: 7/10)

Gyomei likes having long conversations with you during breaks of his training or after a long night fighting demons. He enjoys listening to you talk about your day and tell him all about the things you have done, no matter how boring or unimportant it seemed to you. Gyomei would sit there in silence, rubbing his palms together in his usual gesture and listen with a soft smile on his face.

What Gyomei loves to do as well is to compliment you. He can’t really say anything about your appearance, not that he cares, so his compliments are always different and even a little creative. From complimenting how you smell, to the way how comforting your footsteps sound.

“Ah, my light, it’s you. Sit, I have just finished my daily training. We can talk a little.”

❤️‍🔥 Kyojuro Rengoku ❤️‍🔥

Receiving gifts (intensity: 6/10)

To say that Kyojuro loves your cooking is an understatement. This man will compliment your cooking in every way possible, no matter if you dish him the most exquisite five star high grade wagyu or plate him one of Tengen’s Muscle Mice with a sprinkle of salt. Whatever it is, he will eat it and he will thank you for it (loudly).

Kyojuro loves it when you give Senjuro gifts too, it makes him feel warm inside when he sees his little brother happy and taken care of.

He also adores it when you buy him things that remind you of him. For example, a yukata with a flame pattern, or buy him a batch of sweet potatoes that he will inhale in a span of two days maximum.

Words of affirmation (intensity: 10/10)

Kyojuro lives and breathes to praise you on everything you do. He adores you and isn’t shy to express it, even in front of the other hashira (even though Sanemi gives him a glare every time he does it).

He praises you on everything you do. How you’re dressed, your hair, your face, your voice… the list goes on and on.

But when it’s dark out and you two are in bed, he whispers his sweeting nothings and compliments into your ear while holding you close to his body.

Physical affection (intensity: 8/10)

Kyojuro’s body is a heater, wich is gruelling in the summer but a blessing in the winter. He wraps you into his arms, holding you close to his warm chest, caressing your back with his calloused palm and planting soft kisses on your cheek, forehead and lips. His body warmth is enough for the two of you, so blankets are not really needed.

Kyojuro is a cuddlebug, so cuddling in the summer is also a must, even though the sheets ans bodies will be soaked and dripping in the morning. You will be sweating, and Kyojuro will somehow find a way to compliment the smell of your sweat.

“My dearest flame! I just bought you s matching kimono. Now the yukata you bought and your new kimono can match! It will suit you and your body perfectly!”

🩷 Tengen Uzui 🩷

Quality time (intensity: 9/10)

Tengen adores spending time with all three of his wives, even more when it’s time at home, just chilling. Tengen could be just having your head on his lap, braiding your hair while you gossip with Makio, Hinatsuru and Suma. Tengen of course chimes in when it gets juicy.

Sometimes you visit the hotsprings all together. Tengen uses this opportunity to flex his muscles and show off, but you and the other three just giggle quietly at his embarrassing tan marks. Even though Tengen doesn’t enjoy being laughed at, he enjoys the time he spends with you and Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma.

Words of affirmation (intensity: 7/10)

Tengen loves to get complimented on his flamboyantness and flashiness, but he loves complimenting you as well. He calls you flashy, beautiful, flamboyant, adorable and more. He’s not very creative with his words, but at least he’s expressing his love!

“Well, I have to say that you three look VERY flamboyant tonight!”

“Can you call us ANYTHING but flamboyant for once?!”

“Well, we do appreciate it.”

“Yeah, but he can change them up every once in a while!”

💠

Thank you for reading my first piece of work! I was really nervous while writing and posting it, so some things may feel a little off. Sorry about that! And of course, I want to credit my cat as a co-author on this fic.

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough.

Take care of yourselves <3

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miss-occult · 2 months ago

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Shadow's romantics headcanons

Okay- It's been YEARS I didn't wrote headcanons so I may be rusty, but I missed this (my first ones were about MHA and Arcane) and since I'm obssessed with Sonic again (especially Shadow) well he won't escape (っ◔◡◔)っ Also my english is very shitty, I sometimes need to use Reverso to correct everything, so I know It's not perfect 🙏

Reader's gender and species are not specified here so imagine whatever you want !

❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤

❤️ First, his feelings towards you will develop veeeeeery slowly. he's not used to those feelings, so he probably won't know what they are first, claiming he just appreciate you, and that's it.

🖤 Once he realized it is love, he will be very confused and a little distant first. He wanted to be sure it was love and nothing else. Deep inside, he didn’t know that he could feel this way about someone, so he is completly lost.

❤️ Be prepared that he will be the one who confesses first, to be sure to get rid of these feelings (but it won't go away silly). He would go straight to the point, honest as possible. He won’t even wait for your answer as he will already be gone.

🖤 Once you accept each other’s feelings, Shadow will need time to adapt.

❤️ He's not a fan of PDA. But on the other hand, he can accept to hold your hand in public (EEH ON THE OTHER HAND- HAND- JOKES HAHA sorry) , to be sure you won't go anymore without him.

🖤 Speaking of which, be sure he’s ALWAYS gonna be somewhere watching you, to assure your security. Even If you tell him it's kinda creepy, he don't care. He is your personal boyguard, your safety is his prority. He will not allow someone he loves to be in danger or even dying before his eyes once again.

❤️ His love language is probably act of services. Go outside for even a few minutes, like to buy some bread or something, and all your hard work you planned for the day will be done.

Dishes? Done. Laundry? Already laid out. Your meal? Ready to be eaten. Your bed? Changed and ready for the night, there’s probably your pajamas on it. Cleaning your house ? Done. Taking out the trash ? Done. Like... everything was already done in a quicky second.

🖤 He is not a gift giver. He only buys what he thinks is useful. But for special occasions, like your birthday, your anniversary or even Valentine’s Day, he will make efforts to give you a gift that will make you happy.

❤️ Shadow is someone who observes a lot and notices every detail of your behavior. If you are feeling down and sad, he will be here to listen to you. If you spot something in a store that you liked but couldn’t buy it, he will note it in the corner of his head to give it to you later. You don't need to say anything to Shadow, he probably already know what's going on.

🖤 He still has a hard time with the physical contact, so he will be very tense at each hugs at first. But as the time passes, he will get used to it and even embraces you back gently.

❤️ For the kisses, Shadow is very careful, delicate and gentle. Each of his kisses is like a feather laying on your lips. If he’s in the mood to tease you, he’d bite your lips with one of his canines.

🖤 Shadow also has his moments when he feels more vulnerable, but it is very rare. And it is also rare that he shows that to you. He always wants to keep that strong and unshakable attitude in front of you. But If he really needs it, he will hold you in his arms, very tightly, to be sure you won't go away and hide his face in your neck, probably crying silently on your shoulder.

❤️ For the dates, he probably prefers to stay at your house and read books or watch TV, something quiet. But if you were going out, he would probably prefer to go to a cafe or walk in a park with you. He doesn’t like being in civilization very much.

🖤 You both have morning and night skincare routines, speading time together in the bathroom to do it (to make you both young and youthful). Shadow would probably help you to do yours If you need it, and vice versa.

❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤

THERE YOU GO!!! I had fun writing this, please be gentle I'm very rusty

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five-thousand-loaves-of-bread · 2 months ago

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never stop deal with this so this your periodic reminder that

⬇️

!! if you see someone write different online. unless they explicitly tell you something different. leave them alone. don’t comment on their write. don’t do anything unprompted to “help” without ask. it rude annoying we heard it million times promise. !!

⬆️

some people with language disorders. agrammatism. cognitive struggles. or write with symbol base AAC that not support grammar inflections.

yes we will sometimes write different than you use to.

yes it not “correct grammar,” you so observant (sarcasm).

no it not for fun, no it not choice, no it not writing quirk.

whatever you want say, we probably heard it million times. yes even if it friendly joke - n we appreciate you friendly. but please

great that it “actually help you read/understand better than full grammar.” some people may like you tell them that. but personally not want hear it too - my way write my disability, it about me n it not on purpose it out of my control. would rather you talk about how way break down concept (something can actually control n try really hard at) as easy understand.

“this just gave stroke/seizure/whatever ‘funny’ ‘edgy’ disability” joke. not that anyone make it would listen but. shut up. it not funny to me it not funny to stroke survivors or to seizure havers.

decide stop apologize for exist if it hard read. even if you have receptive language / comprehension / reading / cognitive / etc disability - it unfortunate but conflicting accessibility exist. (yes, do understand actually, because speak from experience.)

if you want know what am say please at least put in some effort to read it.

if after genuine try, still struggle, do what you do when you see tumblr post in “perfect grammar” you don’t understand - polite ask for explain or rephrase or summarize.

it still english, or whatever language person use. unless you actual look for it be turn different language, it still english, no you not need “translate.” (no don’t care that “translate” okay in writing quirk community because again. not writing quirk)

not “fix.”

and. understand sometimes we can’t rephrase in different way, even if that different way include still write different.

personally am allow other people answer “can you rephrase” questions without go through me first, for now, because of this. - but understand this is reluctant compromise. because:

understand sometimes we still sensitive to other people rewrite explain in perfect grammar. because have long history of people refuse put effort in read our stuff but instead always give more attention to people who write perfect, even if their writing not any less complicated than ours. because have long history of be charity case n get unsolicit “help” “translate” when we never ask.

because have long history of be forcibly spoken for n be misunderstood. because people who answer may (& many times do) get it wrong & we then have to spend more effort chase down n correct when we already struggle with communication, n that other version always spread faster than our correction.

so know other people who write different, don’t allow people rephrase at all unless go through them first. please also respect that even if inconvenient.

n on that note.

unless we give you explicit permission to you (like “you specifically can do it” or like above “can do it if someone ask,” or “anyone can do it all times”). don’t. don’t rewrite what we write into correct grammar, into perfect grammar.

don’t give random disabled person unsolicited help. it not friendly it not helpful it rude n annoying. not your charity case. who even are you. no one asked.

none. of. your. business.

not need your fix. get off moral high ground.

n like everything. there some jokes n comments that *some* people who write different may be okay with if they friend with that person make it - sometimes opposite of what this post say. if you not friend with that person then. maybe don’t.

people who write different not all same. sometimes okay or not okay with different things. but. this general see.

the first time you hear about [stuff am tell you in post] probably 456737th time we re-explain it. excuse us for be exhausted n done n our time be tired n angry n impatient.

this been a PSA.

#loaf screm #long post

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artistmarchalius · 2 years ago

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Innit VS In’t - a PSA

I’ve seen some confusion in Hobie fics around the word “innit” and I think I’ve figured out why: aside from general confusion about the use of the word, I believe some people are occasionally mixing it up with “in’t”.

So let’s dive into it!

Innit - isn’t it

Can be used at the end of a sentence to make it a question or for emphasis.

E.g. “That’s a load of rubbish, innit?” Or “I’m Spider-Man, innit.” (The latter is an example of emphasis. It’s not grammatically correct but using slang isn’t always about being grammatically correct).

“Innit” can also be used in the middle and at the beginning of sentences (in place of “isn’t it”).

E.g. “Innit lovely out here?” Or “You told me that a Vulture variant was loose in Holborn, but innit true you’ve been tellin’ porkies?”

In’t - contraction of “isn’t”

You can use “in’t” in place of “isn’t”.

E.g. “In’t that the guy who was in here earlier?” Or “That’s a metaphor for capitalism, in’t it?” (You could also use “innit” in the second example).

It can be a bit confusing to a non-English ear to distinguish between “innit” and “in’t”, especially when they’re spoken quickly. For example: if you think you’re hearing someone say something like “Innit that right?” (which would be saying “Isn’t it that right?”, then you’re probably actually hearing them say “In’t that right?”

But wait!

Couldn’t you just use “ain’t” instead of “in’t”?

Sure!

“Ain’t” is a very versatile contraction. It can mean: am not, are not, is not, have not, has not, do not, does not and did not.

E.g. “I ain’t a liar!” Or “He ain’t done his homework.” Or “Ain’t that the truth.” Or “It ain’t right.”

Fun facts:

The earliest records of “ain’t” are from the 1700’s but it was popularised by Dickens’ representation of Cockney dialect.

“In’t” originates from Northern England.

So why use “in’t” instead of “ain’t”?

Personal preference, innit?

And there you have it, a dive into the world of “innit”, “in’t” and “ain’t”!

As always, I’m not an expert, I just wanted to share the knowledge that I do have. There may be other ways to use these words, depending on what part of the country you come from, but this should cover the vast majority of them (if not maybe all of them)! Hopefully someone will find this helpful, informative or entertaining at the very least. I know a lot of this seems basic, but there are a lot of non-native English speakers in the fandom so I wanted to cover all my bases.

Let me know if there’s anything else you’d like me to cover and I’ll see what I can do! If you’re using “innit” or “in’t” in your writing but aren’t sure if you’re using it right, I’m happy to look over any sentences you’d like me to!

Happy writing!

#hobie brown #spider punk #atsv #hobie brown fanfiction #writing help #innit #in’t #ain’t #British slang #fic help #across the spiderverse #hobie brown fanart #hobie fanart #comic #writing #writing tips

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cheese-elite · 1 month ago

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Guide to Early Modern English in Elden Ring

Okay Elden Ring community. I've seen too many examples of writing your Elden Ring bosses with improper use of their funny language.

So.

Here's my quick and easy guide to Early Modern English:

Pronouns:

Thou = subject

Thee = direct object

Thy = next word starts with a consonant

Thine = next word starts with a vowel

(same rules as my and mine)

Ex:

"Thy breakfast is prepared for thee."

"Thou hast forgotten thine omelette."

If we're talking about formality here, the pronoun "you" was also used back in the 14th century as a more polite or respectful way to address someone. E.g. a subject may address their monarch with "you."

Separately, "you" is the plural version of "thou."

Conjugation:

Thou = -st

Ex:

"Thou hast (Thou'st) eaten thy vegetables?"

"Dost thou require mine assistance?"

"Thou seemest to be lost."

"Thou shouldst remember well my name."

Exceptions:

"Thou art (Thou'rt) well versed in sorcery."

"Thou wert ere acquainted?"

"Thou shalt stay here."

He/she/they = -eth

Ex:

"He sleepeth soundly."

"Doth she remember me?"

"They runneth away from the village."

Exceptions:

"He shall not fight."

"She is quite skilled."

"They will expect thy presence."

As always with English, there's a million irregular verbs. If you're unsure about the right conjugation, a quick Google search might be best.

Other noteworthy words:

'Tis = It is

'Twas = It was

Prithee = Please

Ere = before

My thanks = Thank you

Also, don't stress if you mess up, since English is a joke language and there's an exception for any rule if you feel like breaking it.

For example, Ranni's lines use the arguably incorrect pronoun "thy" when the next word begins with a vowel.

This first one also uses the modern conjugation "has" with the third person noun "that," which is usually conjugated "hath."

"Well? Has that roused thy interest?"

"Well? Hath that roused thine interest?"

"Enough of thy unbearable breath."

"Enough of thine unbearable breath."

Though if we go there, we can also cite Shakespeare's Sonnet 18 with the same:

"But thy eternal summer shall not fade."

"But thine eternal summer shall not fade."

To be dissapointingly honest, I don't have a good explanation for that.

Even so, I hope this can clear some stuff up for those of you who don't already know how to write archaic English. I'm nowhere near an expert on this, so definitely correct me if I'm speaking lies! Otherwise, stay cool and enjoy your new and improved fun English words.

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m-oddinsdottir · 7 months ago

Text

COLD STEEL

the shadowsinger and the traitor .ˊˎ 🗡️

Azriel x Fem! Reader

Words: 2,674

Warnings: takes place in acowar so it may contain SPOILERS from previous books, archeron sister reader, use of a dagger, reader is tied up, angst, betrayal, no use of y/n, mating bond, fluff, images above do not depict reader’s appearance it’s just for aesthetic and I think that’s it

Summary: When your real intentions are discovered by the Inner Circle of the Night Court, you have to face the consequences. Your mate and the cold steel of Truth Teller.

A/N: friendly reminder that english isn’t my first language so please feel free to correct me <3 this is my first one shot for acotar so of course it had to be about azriel

Masterlist

•••

Gods, how did you end up in this situation? Wrists tied behind your back and a rope that served as a muzzle inside your mouth to prevent yourself from making any sound… Any sound that could mess up with your mate's closed-up mind.

No. You knew exactly why you were there. It was all your fault and because of what? A blinding desire for revenge? Or perhaps it was childish behavior that had made you reach out to the wrong person?

But you were young. Immature. Compared to all those creatures you had sworn once in your life to hate and that now your sister considered a family. They were centuries old, you were just turned twenty-one when it happened.

Twenty-one before your mortality had been taken away from you, in front of your eyes, while you were slowly sunk inside that turbid water of what they had called "The Caldroun"... A powerful source of magic, creator of the world known and theft of yours and your sisters' mortality.

But as theft, as The Cauldron was, it was also generous. So it gifted powerful abilities that seemed to differ from others in that magical end of The Wall.

As a mortal, your impulsivity sometimes took a thick control over your logical sense. And when you were turned High Fae, that only increased. The process of adaptation was hard. You could hear, see, and feel everything. Everything you had ignored before. And the desperation of not knowing how to stop it made you act.

And the King of Hybern was the only solution.

Or so you thought, less than a year as an immortal and you had already made your biggest mistake. He promised he would help you with the emerging powers. You believed him. He swore that if you desired it, he would return your mortality. You believed him. He convinced you it was all Feyre's fault. You believed him.

And the only requirement? You would become his spy. All you had to do was watch and tell. And you stupidly agreed.

Easy job. You already hated all of them... It was their fault you had ended up being swallowed by the Cauldron and resurfaced as one of them. You just had to do as the King said, keep Nesta and Elain protected until the King would turn the three of you mortal again, and then... Then you would figure it out. It was easy, right?

It was easy knowing that you were working with the male who plotted to kill the sister who had saved you from starvation. Even easier witnessing the love they shared, the love of a family... A family bonded by the drawbacks of time and the burdens they had fought together.

Gods...

And it was even easier to betray the male who had silently been by your side, wanting to help and protect you without being invasive. His quiet and cold presence was even more reassuring than a gentle caress or a hug and before you realized, you desired to spend more time with him... Not only in silence.

When the bond snapped, it wasn't a surprise but a relief for Azriel to be able to call you his mate... On the other hand, for you, it was what changed everything.

You were trapped, being suffocated by the feeling of betrayal and consternation. And every time you slept by his side when you were in the comfort of being surrounded by him and him only, silent tears escaped your eyes.

Said eyes widened slightly when he entered the stance where you had been tied up. Azriel was silent, but not his usual comforting silence. The male that looked at you now was someone completely different from the male that held you through the nights, wings wrapped around your body to shield you from any harm.

Your eyes moved lower to his scarred hands, eyes closing tightly as you noticed that Azriel was gripping Truth Teller. The dagger's blade caught the only traces of light that filtered through the darkness of the room and your throat closed as the tears began to pool in your closed eyes, dropping down your cheeks into the muzzle.

Azriel didn't say a word as he approached you. He didn't even flinch when he saw your tears as he usually did every time you cried in front of him. No, he just moved to free you from the muzzle around your lips.

He was determined to make you talk. Your mate seemed willing to torture you until he got any valuable information out of you... Or, at least, an explanation.

Your heart ached at the thought and unconsciously your pain traveled through the bond making Azriel's breath hitch before he shook his head.

‘Azriel...’ You mumbled beggingly, your voice sounding strained with emotion. But not because of the muzzle, the rope around your wrists, or the thought of being tortured... Those were the least of your concerns as you observed the male before you.

He didn't answer. ‘Azriel, please...’ You tried again and he looked into your eyes, no emotions visible in his hazel irises. Almost as if he had shut them down. A sob escaped your lips. ‘Please, please... Just—’

Azriel interrupted you. ‘You are not going to trick me anymore.’

The coldness in his words made you fight against the ropes that were wrapped around your wrists. ‘I didn't—!’ Lie. You did trick everyone into thinking you were harmless. ‘Please, Azriel... I swear I—’

‘Were you forcefully compelled to work with Hybern?’

‘No, but—’

His firm voice interrupted you before you could try to justify yourself. ‘Did you not spy on us... On me and shared that information with Hybern?’

‘Azriel, please—’

‘Were you not condemning us to a certain death by sharing that information?’

A sob escaped your lips and you couldn't hold his gaze anymore, looking down at the ground before yelping when his scarred hands roughly held your chin and forced you to look at him. His fingers squeezing your cheeks.

‘Were you not condemning me to death?’ Azriel asked again.

‘I didn't know what else to do.’ You mumbled and then the cold steel of Truth Teller pressed against your trembling throat. Holding back the need to sob, your gaze locked with his.

‘And betraying your family and your mate was the best option?’

‘The bond hadn't snapped when I...’ Azriel pressed the blade closer to your throat but despite his threat, you noticed he was being gentle... The blade was raised upwards to prevent it from slicing your throat and even if he was gripping it tightly, the pressure against your neck was minimal.

You looked behind him and noticed how his own shadows were trying to move him away from you. The dark tendrils were trying to protect you.

‘Look. At. Me.’ He spoke coldly, fingers squeezing your cheeks again. ‘You still betrayed your sisters... And then betrayed me when you kept going.’

‘What did you expect me to do? To suddenly cut connections with Hybern? Yeah, that probably wouldn't raise suspicions, Azriel.’ You managed to mumble, a small frown of frustration over your features as you looked at him through the blur of your tear-filled eyes.

He held his breath as he analyzed you, his eyes scanning the tears that stained your cheeks and how your brows furrowed together. ‘You could have told me.’

‘And then what? The same damn situation we're dealing with now.’ His fingers around your chin squeezed tightly pulling you forward to him. His nose brushed against yours as breaths mingled together. Gods, his turmoil was so tangible that you could smell the inner fight he was struggling with.

He breathed in your scent. ‘I would have helped you... I would have understood you.’

‘Are you understanding me? Are you helping me?’

Azriel called your name in frustration before he roughly shoved your head back. Desperately needing to create some distance between you, he held your chin so that you couldn't lean in closer. ‘Don't say that as if that's not the only thing I long for. Help you, protect you, shield you.’

Hearing the desperation in his voice had you holding your breath. The guilt invades your lungs in a choking sensation instead of the so-desired oxygen. But that's what you deserved, after everything.

‘I...’ Your strained voice broke the silence as you finally looked into his eyes. ‘I just wanted my mortality back, Azriel...’ He sighed shakily before his hand holding Truth Teller moved down. ‘Everything's been so...’ Your voice broke and his other hand moved up to cup your cheek.

‘I know, I know...’ He mumbled and his eyes met you, the same warmth in which he usually held your gaze.

‘I didn't know what else to do... I was so furious with Feyre and I—... I just thought about bringing our mortality back.’ You admitted referring to your sisters before Azriel shushed you, the hand holding Truth Tuller moving down to cut the ropes that held your shoulders to the pole so that at least you could rest your weight against him. However, he kept the ropes around your wrists and legs.

When your head gently hit his shoulder resting against him, his hand moved up to cup the back of your head. Whispering sweet words to reassure you as he held you in his arms, trying to silence your tears as he brushed his lips along your temple.

‘If I could go back, I swear I'll do it... I—’ You trailed off when he began massaging your scalp bringing a sense of calm to your trembling body. ‘Ever since the bond snapped, I've been giving him confusing information. Half-lies... Or entirely nothing. I swear...’

‘I know, baby, I know.’

His words made you nuzzle your nose more against his shoulder. ‘Please, you have to believe me... Please.’

His hand over your cheek pulled you back so you could look into his hazel eyes. Gods, those irises... You could sink into them and get lost in that pool of golden brown. And you would do it willingly. They were your anchor. He was your anchor. Your strength and your liability, both at the same time.

‘I believe you.’ Azriel assured you. Then, the strength of your bond hit you so hard that it caught your breath away. The golden thread looked tangible as it swirled as a bridge between your souls and there you could feel his honesty and concern.

‘I don't know what to do.’ You confessed in a shaky whisper and he rested his forehead against yours. ‘Gods, please hate me. It's way easier than this... Hate me, Az...’ You begged him.

Azriel shook his head before his lips pressed a gentle kiss against your forehead. Rejoicing the feeling, a soft sigh escaped your lips. ‘I don't hate you. I could never hate you.’

‘You should.’

‘I don't want to,’ Azriel repeated before he gently called your name. The word rolled off his tongue with a soothing tone to it. ‘I don't hate you, baby... And neither does Feyre, nor either of the others.’

When a small sob escaped your lips, his dagger swiftly cut the rope that held your arms and wrists and you were able to wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace.

Finally.

Your torso was pressed against his, the soft flesh in your body caressing the hardness of the centuries-trained muscles over his chest and abdomen. Azriel immediately encircled your waist. He needed this. To feel you closer. To know you weren't a threat.

‘No one hates you.’ He assured you gently ‘Elain... She saw your intentions through one of her... Visions,’ Azriel's face contorted into discomfort at the thought of your younger sister having such a powerful ability that she didn't know how to control ‘She defended you and I... I wanted to see it for myself, see that you... That you at least had some regret.’

He loathed the thought of what he had planned to do before entering that room.

‘I wanted to torture you until you would give me something... Anything.’ Azriel admitted and you felt his pain and self-hatred through the bond. ‘But I... Seeing you like this, I can't— I don't...’ His grip on you tightened.

‘Azriel...’ You mumbled but he interrupted you.

‘I know you regret it.’ The Shadowsinger mumbled and his dark tendrils roamed down to free you from the rope around your legs. The minute you were free you wrapped one leg around him bringing the male closer to you. ‘Now I see it.’

You two fell into a comfortable silence. He brought you comfort and so did you to him. It was as simple as that.

‘If I hadn't felt any regret...’ You began gently only stopping for a second when the male growled. His chest vibrated roughly, so you placed one hand over the hard tattooed flesh. ‘Would you have done it? Torture me?’

The Ilyrian male froze under the weight of your question. Was that what you believed of him? Did you think he would do you any harm? The mere idea made Azriel want to go through every single torture himself.

‘No.’ He spoke firmly and his eyes met yours again when he pulled away. ‘No. Never...’ Azriel shook his head and then it seemed as if something broke inside him. ‘Never... never...’

He repeated over and over again as he slowly closed the distance between your lips. Lazily, his lips crashed against yours tasting the saltiness of your lips. ‘Never...’ He repeated over your lips. ‘Don't ever suggest it again.’ Azriel mumbled with pain.

His hand moved up to tangle around your hair as he kissed you again, this time it was messier... The male was shaking as he captured your lips with his and he gently pulled away when you choked one of your sobs against his mouth, more tears silently falling and making the kiss even messier if it was possible. A small frown adorned his face as he pulled you closer by the waist after backing away.

‘What can I do?’ You asked, voice strained and tears falling down your cheek until they would wet the dark fabric of his shirt. ‘Please, Azriel, what can I do to amend it?’

His sigh was warm against the skin of your neck and his lips pressed a gentle kiss against the sensitive skin provoking a shiver that ran down your spine. ‘Nothing. You don't need to do anything...’

‘I do.’ You insisted and he shook his head, burying his nose even more into the crook of your neck.

‘You don't.’

‘Azriel...’

‘I... Cassian may have said something earlier that could not be a terrible idea.’ Azriel mumbled against your skin before he moved backward to look into your eyes and seeing your raised brow he sighed. ‘But I don't want you to get in danger just to...’

‘Just to make it up for you? Enough reason.’ You whispered, chin tilted backward to brush your lips against his. ‘I am capable of making my own decisions, Azriel.’

His small grin widened as he answered, ‘I know that,’ when your lips pressed against his in small, gentle pecks. Yet, he couldn't help but keep talking. ‘This shouldn't be allowed… You're compelling me with your kisses.’

‘Am I now? What a shame... Poor Spymaster can't handle some kisses?’

The moment he confessed, ‘Not when they're yours,’ you couldn't help but stifle a giggle. You paused your kisses and instead nestled your nose against his, savoring the intimacy of the moment.

‘Please, Azriel... Just tell me what I can do.’

He groaned under his breath when your presence clouded his thoughts. ‘Cassian mentioned that you could gather information for us… Misinform Hybern and extract intel from him.’

Your brow raised with interest.

‘Perhaps I could teach you the art of espionage, my mate... Be one of my spies… What do you think?’ Azriel mused, his gaze penetrating as he locked his gaze with yours.

Oh, how the tables had turned on Hybern.

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #requests open #azriel acotar #acotar x you #a court of thorns and roses #azriel fic #acotar fic #cassian #batboys #rhysand #feyre #archeron sisters

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steor-ra · 7 months ago

Note

What do you think about Reader being Alfred's apprentice, they would be the Batfam's apprentice butler. The man needs a break

(hey! so, i don't actually know what apprentice means because english is not my first nor second language i'm just relying on grammatical correct to fix it all for me. so sorry if it's not written the way it means. also may have carried away and lost the topic)

(Yan!batfam)

Well, good luck for them because being Alfred's apprentice means having to also learn how to tolerate vigilantes who have also picked up some of the stubbornness from their mentor.

I don't know if you want your relationship with them platonic or romantic but either way they would be annoying for an ounce of attention

If it were more romantic in nature, then let them provide the experience; they will let the reader to tend to their minor injuries, even though they know full well that they could handle it themselves, just for the pleasure of feeling the warm hands gently nuzzling their muscled arm. They touch them and ask if it hurts. Well, honey, of course it hurts, especially when you look at them with those amazing eyes that defy explanation. All they can do is try to act normal and give you flirtatious answers like they always do, but since you came from Alfred, you have to maintain your professionalism and brush off all the flirtatious comments to keep things as they are.

If they were platonic, you'd need siblings to thrive. They won't treat you as a butler so you may have the real experience of taking care of them like Alfred would. No, how about they train you to be their sibling? Wouldn't that be more appropriate for you yeah?

However, you resisted and continued to serve them regardless of what they said to you. You already have a family, therefore there is no need for another obsessive one. So they'll have to do it on their own; they'll do the ruffling of your hair whenever you say something brilliant; they'll do the holding of your hands; they'll make clothes for you and force you to wear them so they can dot on you; they'll do things with you that only siblings would do, not butlers.

Eventually you lost from their stubbornness and let them be the another obsessive family of yours.

But I'll say, there's no need for another trainee Alfred to fill in when the main one is in rest because no matter how Alfred train them to be like him, they will never be him.

No one can do it like Alfred could. Just sayin 🤷‍♀️

#yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #yandere dc #yandere batfam x reader #–asks! 📎

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cheapshrimpysheep · 3 days ago

Text

Dating in a Dream - Epel Felmier

SUMMARY: What would his dream be like, exactly the same as in the original story, but with the small detail that he is dreaming that he is your boyfriend?

CHARACTERS: Epel Felmier x Reader 🍎🦐

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; In a Relationship (kinda)

WARNING: Spoilers from Book 7 and Epel’s dream (Eng Server)

WORD COUNT: 1.530 words

COMMENTS: As English is not my first language I asked Gemini for help with Epel's dialect/accent. This was written as a companion piece to the original dream story, so the parts that are the same as the game are just summarized.

I would like to do a series with this whenever the dreams are released on the English Server, since this is the one I'm following the story on. Unfortunately, I won't be able to do it with diasomnia, but maybe I'll think of a different but similar promp, let's see how the story goes.

I hope you enjoy 🍎

“Aether signal tracking successful.” Ortho says when you land in the new dream, along with Grim, Silver and Sebek. “We have arrived at the designated coordinates.”

You're on Main Street, looking around and trying to figure out whose dream it is. That's when you hear abnormally heavy footsteps running and getting closer. You look and see an Epel's head in a body that looks more like Jack's, which made it all the more strange, uncanny, and almost hilarious.

You hear him saying something about being late and that's why he doesn't see your group. Grim was the one who had to shout to get Epel's attention.

“Ah, Grim! (Y/N)! Good morning! And behind you, Ah see... Ortho and some Diasomnia fellas Ah don't hardly know. Ah don't get why y'all're glowerin'.”

“Cease your incessant mumbling!” Sebek says.

“Huh? Ah was just... Ain't you Sebek from Class D? What's yer problem? Y'wanna start somethin' with me, huh?”

Epel approaches Sebek as if he were ready to start a fight, that's when you put yourself between the two of them to ask Epel to wait and say that there's no need for that.

“Oh, they’re yer friends? Sorry babe.”

“W-what did he call (Y/N)?” Grim asked with wide eyes, the same expression as everyone else.

“Hey, since you're here... Ah was goin’ to ma Spelldrive practice. Don't you have cheerleadin' practice too? You always practice with us.”

“C-cheerleading?” You ask.

“Yeah. You probly forgot ‘cause you're always so busy. If you're free, come with me. Ah always play better with you cheerin’ me on.” He smirks at you. “And Ah know how you love seein’ yer boyfriend win another game.”

“BOYFRIEND?!” Everyone said in unison.

“Oh boy.” Idia's voice says through the tablet. “Dude is dreaming that he's some sports team captain who's dating the head cheerleader. So cliché. What did I tell you about his imagination being weak?”

“Epel Felmier. May I make you a few questions?” Ortho asks and Epel agrees. “From what I understand, you and (Y/N) are dating, correct?”

“Ya bet we are!” Epel confirms with a huge smile. “Ain't they just as kind as can be, and as pretty as a picture?” He grabs you by the waist to pull you against him. “Shoot, Ah must be the luckiest guy aroun’!”

“Aww, so sweet.” Idia says. “If I get diabetes after this I'll be sending this guy the bill for my medication.”

“You two really make a very cute couple.” Ortho says to Epel. You didn't know if he was being sincere or sarcastic just to keep the conversation going. “When did you two start dating?”

“Lesse... When was it again? It was after I gained muscle and get this tall. And that was... Uhh... When WAS it? ... Hrk! Mah head... It hurts!”

The dream begins to distort, but when you think Epel is about to wake up, Vil and Rook appear, darkness versions of them.

“I believe it was near the end of winter break when your height surpassed mine, Eple.” Darkness Vil says.

“Oui. And you two started your love affair in the spring.” Darkness Rook complements. “Tellement romantique!”

“Really?” Idia complained again. “You start dating in the spring? How predictable. Were the birds also singing their hearts out when (Y/N) said 'Of course I want to date you, silly' ?”

“Epel.” Darkness Vil speaks again. “You left the dorm rather early today, so why are you standing around shooting the breeze?”

“Ah was on mah way to mornin’ practice when Ah ran into (Y/N) and these other folks...”

“Conversing with friends is indeed a valuable thing, but are you not the Spelldrive club most promising rookie?” Darkness Rook says. “I hear as much all the time from Leona.”

The two darkness figures with the appearance of Vil and Rook continue talking about how Eple is strong and such a talented player that the students of Savanaclaw would like him to ask to transfer to their dorm, but Vil would never allow it because he doesn't want to lose a student like Epel.

“That’s enough idle chitchat.” Darkness Vil says. “Off with you, now, get to your club.”

“Yessir. You coming with me (Y/N)?”

“NO!” You say. “This is not you Epel! You're not this tall, muscular guy. You are a boy with a cute and delicate appearance but a will of steel. We may have never started dating, but the truth is... I like you too Epel. I really do. But not this you, the real you. The Epel who said in SDC that he was going to maximize his weapon and beat Neige with his charm! Did you forget?”

“Epel. Cease listening to those spudlings.” Darkness Vil warns him.

“Yes, indeed. You will never go wrong by heeding Vil, Epel!” Darkness Rook encourages.

“You were finally accepting yourself.” You continue “Finally seeing yourself the way I see you. You were so cool! I was so proud of you!”

The dream world distorts again until Epel breaks and awakens. His body returned to normal, and he was wearing his dorm uniform.

“How could I have forgotten?” Epel says with tears in the corners of his eyes. “I was going to accept the strength only I had, a strength like that poison apple... I swore it that day!”

You feel so happy to see him return to the Epel you know that you can't contain the urge to hug him. He stays still for a second because of the surprise, but right after you feel him returning the hug with affection.

“Oh dear, Epel...” Darkness Vil says horrified. “You look so frail now.”

“Misérables! Your physique towered as high as the Seven jeweled Hills themselves. Where has it gone?”

“You poor thing. That dirty spud have cursed you with a pitiful form. You certainly deserve someone better than them. Come to me instead. I'll restore your brawny beauty.”

“Yes, Vil, that's a marvelous idea! Come, Epel. Join us.”

Epel is silent for a moment. To then tell them that the Rook and Vil he knows would never say those things. And that he would be lying if he said that he didn't wish he could be big and brawny.

“But the strength I want... The brawn I want... The beauty I want... The love I want... That's for ME to decide, and for ME to claim myself! And one more thing... You insult (Y/N) again, and me punchin' yer fake face'll be the least of yer worries, I guarantee it!”

Darkness Vil and Rook tried to convince Epel to choose the dream over reality, but this only angered him even more and made him and the others attack the darkness figures. Epel finishes the fight by using his signature spell on the fake Vil and Rook.

“Hey, Epel! You finally awake?” Grim asks.

“Yeah, my head's clear now. I must've looked like a real doof to you guys, huh?”

They chit chat a little about Epel showing how strong he is for being able to overcome the darkness. Until Grim speaks again to caught Epel's attention with a serious expression and crossed paws.

“Enough chit chat. Epel, I need to sort somethin’ out with you.” Epel looks at Grim puzzledly and Grim points at him with a cute, threatening finger. “What are your intentions with my hench-human?”

Epel practically jumps in place with a panicked expression and flushed cheeks. He opens his mouth to say something, or at least try, but he can barely say a word without stuttering.

“If you need, I can play the audios of what you said so you remember what you could explain first.” Ortho suggests with a look of someone who smiles mischievously.

“NO! REALLY DON’T DO IT!” Epel begs. “Can we just forget about that for now and focus on the real issue here? I don’t even know what's going on. What was up with the fake Vil and Rook? What’s happening?!”

They show the explanatory video to Epel, explain the plan and that he should go with them to the next dream as they would go to another Pomefiore student's dream. He agrees and Ortho creates a dummy version of tall and brawny Epel to stay in that dream so as not to alert Malleus.

“Eugh! Now that I'm looking at it again... How in tarnation did Ah ever think Ah looked cool?!”

“Indeed.” You say. “The real you is so much better.”

He looks at you surprised and flattered.

“R-really?... Huh... hey... sorry about... huh...”

“I like you too, Epel.” You admit.

“You... WHAT?!”

You tell him that the feeling is mutual and everything you like about him. You also talk about how you prefer the real him, rather than that... weird version of him.

“You know, I could cheer for you in a game or two if you want.” You tease him.

“I’m... not gonna lie, I would love that.” He smiles, cutely and excited. He then gains the courage to hug you and kiss you on the cheek.

“PDA Alert!” Idia's voice is heard through the table.

Epel immediately moves away from you, embarrassed for having done it in front of the others.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

#Twisted Wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst fluff #Twisted Wonderland Fluff #Epel Felmier #Epel Felmier x Reader

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mangiomochi · 2 months ago

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LM’s Social Media

I made this long post to list all the social media accounts and profiles of Luigi Mangione. As many of you already know, a lot of his profiles have been taken down. The platforms where we could see the more personal side of Luigi and his experiences, like Facebook, Instagram, and Reddit, have been deleted. However, fortunately, some of his profiles on other platforms remain active to this day.

I’ll try to list each of these sites. If you see anything that needs to be corrected or know of another LM profile that isn’t listed here, I’d appreciate it if you shared it. My goal is to keep this post as updated as possible.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language, so if you notice anything odd in the writing, I apologize.

Facebook: luigi.mangione.2

Status: Taken Down First post: Jan 17, 2010 Last post: Aug 24, 2019

LM has had a Facebook account for quite some time—likely his first social media platform. His earliest posts date back to 2010. His last post was in 2019, which was also the year he was most active on the platform. That year, he posted several photos from a trip to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico with his fraternity and the three months he spent as a head counselor at Stanford in Palo Alto, CA.

Instagram: @luigi.from.fiji

Status: Taken Down First post: Aug 13, 2018 Last post: Aug 27, 2021

LM’s first Instagram post was in the summer of 2018. In that post, he explicitly mentioned that he created the account just to give one more follower to his sister’s blog. (LM has two sisters.) He also tagged his sister @lifewithlu__—or whatever handle she had at the time. If you've come across accounts currently using that handle on Instagram or Twitter, they are fake. LM’s sister apparently changed her username a while ago and later deactivated her account after LM’s arrest.

As for LM’s Instagram activity, his last posts were from the summer of 2021. He shared photos from a trip to Puerto Rico, where he was working remotely for some time, and from a trip to Hawaii with his other sister. LM also posted pictures with a friend he met at Stanford in 2019.

Additionally, LM had a highlight section featuring his predictions for 2027, which he uploaded in Jan 2021.

LM became inactive in 2022, despite appearing in a few posts made by his roommates in Hawaii. However, many of these posts were later deleted, or the accounts were set to private—likely to completely disassociate from LM and the allegations against him, or to avoid harassment from either his supporters or detractors.

In 2022, despite not posting anything himself, he was tagged in various posts and stories by his roommates and friends in Hawaii.

Instagram 2: @luiginmangione (probably fake)

Status: Taken Down

This account is probably fake, but we can’t be entirely sure. Unlike the confirmed account, this one was private and also has been deactivated. It had zero posts and 404 followers—an interesting detail, as "404" in some areas of computing means "not found," which is notable given that LM was reported missing in 2024.

As for the profile picture and bio, there was nothing we hadn’t seen before, making it highly unlikely that this account actually belonged to him.

Instagram 3 or Another Social Media Account

In messages between LM and one of his friends, his friend mentioned that he was wondering who the person trying to follow him was. It seems that in February 2024, LM created an account where it was impossible to recognize that it was him.

YouTube

First active: Unknown Last active: May 2024

You've probably already seen his supposed channel—the one with a single uploaded video and another that was never released. What was in that second video? Most likely some form of self-promotion from whoever was behind that account. Fortunately, the channel was taken down before that could happen.

However, we do know that LM had not just one but three YouTube channels, all of which were unfortunately removed due to YouTube’s absurd policies. According to the CNN article where this was mentioned, LM hadn't uploaded anything in seven months, meaning his last content would have been from May 2024. It's a complete mystery what he had posted—most likely something related to his trip to Asia. Sadly, we may never know. YouTube acted so quickly against LM’s channels that the internet didn’t have time to archive the deleted content.

Another possible type of content LM might have uploaded to these channels includes drone footage from Hawaii and Asia, projects from his time at Penn (2016–2020), or even school projects.

GitHub: lnmangione

Status: Still Up First active: Feb 27, 2015 Last active: May 8, 2021

In case you’re not familiar, GitHub is a platform where users can store and update code—directly related to LM’s career and essential for anyone studying or working in a field that involves coding.

LM was active on GitHub from 2015 to 2021, contributing to personal projects, FTC (Robotics), and university assignments. In 2020, after graduating, he used it to prepare for coding interviews. By 2021, he was mainly working on private projects, likely related to his remote job. Apparently, Luigi stopped being active on GitHub in 2021.

Twitter: @PepMangione

Status: Again, Still Up First tweet: Apr 14, 2016 Last active: Jun 10, 2024

This was probably the social media platform where LM was most active before his arrest. His most active year was 2024, and he had been using this account since 2016, although he didn’t post anything after 2016 and only became active again in 2021

His earliest tweets appear to be automated posts with random numbers, possibly tests for some kind of Twitter-connected application.

Aside from that, his Twitter provides insight into his ideology, which seems somewhat ambiguous. Politically, he didn’t appear to have strong affiliations.

After his arrest, LM’s account was taken down but later reinstated. And it was recently taken down again on March 19, 2025, for a few hours and then reinstated. He followed only 71 people—later 70, after a Japanese poker player he met in Tokyo in February removed him as a follower. Currently, LM’s account has over half a million followers. Before his arrest, several accounts followed LM during the time he was missing—most of them were likely bot accounts, though not all, as some belonged to friends trying to contact him through public tweets you’ve probably already seen.

LM didn’t follow any of his friends on Twitter. Some of his friends did follow him, which means either he never followed them back or he unfollowed them at some point.

Regarding his banner, it consists of three images:

Breloom from Pokémon – This is directly linked to Theory 286, which you may have heard about. It connects Breloom’s Pokédex number (286) with LM’s total number of Twitter posts, which was also 286 (now 285), as well as with certain health insurance denial codes. Personally, I think this is just a coincidence. Breloom was likely there because LM liked the Pokémon—it’s a Fighting type, which can be linked to physical activity, and is a Mushroom, which could relate to his interest in psychedelics.

X-ray from his surgery – This was from a procedure that took place on July 21, 2023 (though I’m not sure if that’s the exact date). This means his header was updated at least after that date.

A shirtless photo of him on a mountain in Hawaii – We know that one of LM’s favorite activities was hiking.

The last known activity of LM on Twitter was on June 10, 2024. That day, he retweeted a post and sent a DM to Gurwinder in response to a tweet, asking him to show him how to curate his feed to display more valuable and educational content.

After LM disappeared, during July, October and November, his friends tried to reach out through tweets and probably also through private messages.

Twitter alt: (Fake)

I don’t remember the name of the account, but it was something related to mushrooms, it was initially linked to LM due to its similarities with his interests. However, it was later clarified that this profile does not belong to LM, and the shared interests were purely coincidental.

Linktree: lnmangione

State: Still up

Linktree is a platform that allows users to compile multiple links into a single page, making it easier to share various profiles, websites, or projects. Many content creators and professionals use it to organize their online presence.

LM did have a Linktree, but instead of links, it only contained a series of emojis. No actual links to his profiles or projects were listed, making it unclear what the purpose of his account was.

Here’s a possible interpretation of LM’s emojis based on what we know about his interests:

💻🤓 – Likely represents his tech side.

🥷🏃‍♂️🧘‍♂️🏋️ – Suggests his active lifestyle, including exercise, meditation, and discipline. The ninja could represent martial arts.

📚🤓 – Reflects his love for books and self-education.

🦍🧠 – Likely represents LM’s interest in gorillas, as seen on his Goodreads, Reddit and Twitter.

🍄🧠 – Likely a nod to his interest in psychedelics.

🐄👨‍⚖️ – Might reference ethical concerns about the meat industry or food regulations. It could also be a nod to Moo’s Law, a book exploring the rise of lab-grown meat, its potential to revolutionize food production, and the ethical, environmental, and economic implications of this technology.

☯️ – Represents balance, Eastern philosophy, or mindfulness practices.

Snapchat: luigimangione

State: Taken down

LM’s Snapchat was listed in his yearbook alongside his Facebook, suggesting he was quite active on the platform. After his arrest, his account remained up for a few days. Someone posted screenshots of his profile on TikTok before it was taken down, but I haven’t been able to find them. Perhaps that profile was also taken down due to TikTok’s constant censorship. His avatar was surprisingly well-made. If anyone has those screenshots and can share them, I would be grateful and will, of course, give credit.

Substack: @anotherdayanotherplay

Status: Still Up

Substack was where LM followed many of the writers he engaged with on Twitter. One of them was Gurwinder, a British blogger whose work LM seemed to appreciate deeply. He liked it enough to purchase a premium subscription to Gurwinder’s Substack blog, The Prism, which costs $200. This subscription granted LM perks like a video call with the writer.

Gurwinder’s articles cover topics such as gamification, short-form video platforms and their negative effects, and NPC behavior.

You can read more about this meeting in the article Gurwinder wrote about LM.

TikTok: @lnmangione (Fake)

Not Owned by LM

If you’ve seen some of LM’s tweets, you’ll know he was against short-form video platforms, making it unlikely that he ever had a TikTok account. The account mentioned here does not appear to belong to LM. Most of its reposted content is in German and English, Additionally, the type of content shared on this account doesn’t align with LM’s known interests.

TikTok started gaining popularity between 2018 and 2020, so we can’t completely rule out the possibility that LM once had an account.

LinkedIn: Luigi Mangione

Status: Still Up Joined: Feb, 2015 Last active: 2023

LinkedIn is the go-to social media platform for job searching, and LM’s profile provides detailed insight into his education and work history. His last known job was at TrueCar, where he had been working remotely for some time. He left this job at some point in 2023, but he never updated his LinkedIn to reflect this change.

The exact reason LM left TrueCar remains unknown. One theory suggests he resigned to take time off for traveling and recovering from his surgery. Another theory points to company-wide layoffs at TrueCar. However, we can’t confirm anything for sure, as TrueCar declined to provide detailed statements, citing employee privacy—specifically in LM’s case.

Reddit: u/mister_cactus

Status: Taken Down Joined: Feb 23, 2016 Last active: May 25, 2024

Reddit was one of the platforms where LM was quite active, and he remained so until May 2024, sharing details about his travel through Asia. LM created his Reddit account in 2016, the same year as his Twitter.

In the beginning, his activity was mostly related to university projects, garage sales, and Pokémon Go. Over the years, he also engaged with posts discussing brain fog, spondylolisthesis (spondy), and other topics. From his comments, we know that at some point, his health insurance provider was Blue Cross Blue Shield. He also shared details about his struggles with spondylolisthesis and how a surfing accident in 2022 worsened his condition.

In 2023, LM posted about his decision to undergo spinal fusion surgery, sharing research on successful cases. His most recent Reddit activity in 2024 included reposting videos of the mass street livestreams that have become common. LM seemed highly aware of how technology was creating these dystopian scenes.

His final Reddit post detailed what he packed for his trip to Asia—notable items included:

Backpacks

An iPhone 13 Mini

A drone - DJI Mini 2 Drone

A physical book (LM preferred them over digital ones)

Other personal essentials

Unfortunately, his account was taken down shortly after being discovered. It's unclear whether this was due to Reddit’s questionable policies or possibly mass reports against the account.

Goodreads: luigimangione

Status: Set to Private

LM’s Goodreads account gained attention after his arrest, offering a detailed look into his reading preferences. His library included a mix of genres, with notable categories such as:

Self-help books

Back pain management

Psychedelics

Agronomics

Moo’s Law

Exercise books

Books about Hawaiian islands

Fantasy and science fiction, including A Brave New World and Harry Potter

LM was quite active on the platform, frequently writing detailed reviews and sometimes even adding handwritten notes to his books.

Steam: Pep

Status: Still Up Joined: Oct 20, 2013 Last active: Jul 7, 2024

Steam is the most popular platform for purchasing games, and LM had been active on it for a long time. His last recorded activity was on July 7, 2024—exactly six months and 2 days before his arrest. The last game he played was PUBG.

Looking at his library, you can see the wide variety of games he played over 11 years since Oct 2013. One touching detail is that many of his friends still have him added, and one of them even changed their username to "FreeLuigi"—a clear sign of loyalty and support. That’s definitely a good friend.

LM also had an alt account added, but nothing noteworthy has been mentioned about this account.

The last games LM played are:

PUBG: BATTLEGROUNDS – last played on July 7, 2024 Orwell – last played on June 28, 2024 Spelunky 2 – last played on June 2, 2024

Tinder

Joined: Nov 27, 2021 Last active: Dec 18, 2022

Apparently, Luigi was only active on Tinder for a short time in December 2022, though his profile dates back to November 27, 2021. His love life is also a complete mystery, so it’s interesting that he even had a Tinder account. Shoutout to the person who spent 15 bucks to unlock the unique photos Luigi had here 🫶

Trello: @luigimangione

Status: Still Up Joined: Unknown Last active: Unknown

Trello is a platform designed to help teams organize their work. There isn’t much to see on LM’s account, but his profile picture is the protagonist of Spelunky—one of the games he has logged the most hours on in Steam.

Pinterest: luigimangione

Status: Still Up Joined: Unknown Last active: Unknown

There isn’t much to see here. LM only saved a hoodie, likely as a show of support for Tim Urban and his blog Wait But Why—one of the writers he was most enthusiastic about.

Spotify (Fake)

These Spotify profiles began circulating just hours after Luigi Mangione’s name became widely known. However, these profiles are fake and seem to be an attempt to link Luigi to various musical tastes—such as artists like Clairo, Charlie XCX, or Blackpink. If you’ve tried to research Luigi’s musical preferences, you’ll know that there’s very little information available. The only two songs we know Luigi listened to are from his SoundCloud account.

SoundCloud

Status: Still Up Joined: Unknown Last active: Unknown

This is where Luigi liked two EDM tracks that are not very well known. These are currently the only reference we have to LM’s musical tastes.

Chess: sexytwerker69

Status: Still Up Joined: Sep 19, 2017 Last active: Dec 22, 2023

This is one of my favorites. The nickname is quite original and gives us a glimpse into Luigi’s sense of humor. This profile was created in 2017, and the profile picture is a unique selfie of Luigi biting an apple—one of the few selfies he had taken. This confirms that the account is indeed his.

Other noteworthy details include that his last activity on the account was in 2023. Additionally, he had the Italian flag on his profile instead of the American flag, showcasing his pride in his Italian heritage—just in case that wasn’t clear enough.

Venmo

Status: Still Up

Venmo is a personal payment platform commonly used in the United States.

Activity on LM’s account is mostly from 2017, the year when Luigi was selling Christmas lights at his university. While we’re not entirely sure what he was raising money for, many of the payments made to and from him included some of the silly comments that showcased Luigi’s sense of humor.

DISQUS: @luigimangione

State: Still up Joined: Jun 20, 2017 Last active: Jun 20, 2017

LM's only activity here was commenting on a post from Wait But Why. The blog post was Neuralink and the Brain’s Magical Future. This was the only community he followed and his only interaction on the platform.

Sporcle: lnmangione

State: Still up Joined: Jan 23, 2024 Last active: Feb 4, 2024

Sporcle is a trivia and quiz platform where users can test their knowledge on various topics. LM had an account here, among the quizzes he completed were Most Visited Websites, Countries in Europe, SpongeBob Characters, Most Populous Countries, US States, Computer Hardware Parts, Programming Language Popularity, Genetics Vocabulary, Super Secure Bunker and Erase the Periodic Table.

Devpost: luigimangione

State: Still up

This is a platform where developers showcase and submit projects for hackathons. LM was active here during his university years, submitting a project for PennApps competition. Not much to see, but it gives a glimpse into his early coding days.

Other sites that seem to belong to Luigi are:

Apple Profile State: Still up A default profile linked to Apple services, not much to see here.

DockerHub State: Still up A platform for sharing and managing Docker containers, LM had no repositories here.

HackerRank State: Still up A coding challenge site; LM had no public activity or submissions here.

Medium State: Still up A blogging platform; no known posts from LM, but the account exists.

And that would be all the profiles I know of so far. As a small reward for making it to the end of this post, here’s a low-quality picture of Luigi showing off his perfect side profile 🙌

#luigi mangione

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