#and i use that gif often but it is the constant mood

[impval]

i found love

Victoria Neuman x fem! reader soulmate au

Everyone had different bonds. Some shared pain or emotions. Some even simply had timers, counting down to the moment when they'd first glimpse into the eyes of the person they were meant to be with.

The movements and subtle pulls of the thread, the little tugs and twists, were a constant in her life. She found herself often idly touching the red thread that no one else could see, and wondering where it led to… and who was on the other end, connected to her.

Orphaned at a young age, adopted and learn quickly to survive - it had shaped Victoria. So, she decided that soulmate were just an unnecessary risk. A liability. No soulmate, and no messy emotions or attachments involved. She didn't need one.

No, it was better not to think about it. Better to simply ignore it, ignore the thread that seemed to itch and burn with every passing year. Victoria had always had a plan, a goal, something to work towards. She simply couldn’t afford to have her whole life thrown into chaos simply because there was a chance that her soulmate could somehow... complete her.

Work was the closest thing she had to a lover, to a companion. She'd had fleeting relationships over the years, casual things, but she never let any of them grow into something more.

Victoria didn't really think much of the patterns, at first. Just a curious observation that slowly started to nag on her mind, and which she'd occasionally think about when she got the time to do so. The subtle tugging and pulling throughout the day... there was a distinct rhythm to it that only made sense if the person on the other end were in a similar time zone.

It was just another day.

Wake up, get some coffee, get to work, deal with reports, lunch time if she lucky, reports, meetings, and more reports, and then home. It was a routine she was used to - something that was familiar, something that made at least part of her life predictable.

But it took a few hours, embarrassingly long, for Victoria to realize that something was off. Her soulmate always moved during lunch, sometimes stopping before it started again, as though her soulmate was checking their phone or something...They weren't moving today. Why?

It could very well be that her soulmate had simply forgotten to eat lunch - a trivial and harmless explanation for her uncharacteristically still thread, that lay motionless, red against her arm. Or it could also be something worse. Were they ill? Were they... dead?

No. If the fucking thread was there, obviously her soulmate was alive. Obviously. It stupid to be so worried about a thread, she kept telling herself. But then lunch break passed, then the hour... and then another. The thread still did not move.

Her mood began to sour as the evening drew on. Sitting alone in the safety and secrecy of her home, with glass of whiskey in hand, Victoria let her eyes settle on the thread.

Just... sick, she told herself. Perhaps she was worrying over nothing. Perhaps they'd just come down with a cold or something. There was no reason to worry.

Victoria had her hands full - between dealing with supes, potential terrorist threats, and the occasional meeting with other government officials, the days had been busy and exhausting. Every time she had looked at the thread in the last couple days, the movements had gotten better... but they were still somehow off. It was still concerning, and she still couldn't quite figure out exactly why she was worried.

The incident had happened almost a week ago, the usual supe bullshit...Apparently, some supe had gotten drunk, used his powers to destroy the entire club, and injured several people. The only reason this accident was even in the news was because the supe involved was a relatively well-known hero. Otherwise, these kinds of cases tended to be ignored by the media.

The survivors were now in the hospital and, well, it was good PR, public image was key.

Victoria knew the drill - pay sympathy, try to look as earnest and as concerned as possible. It wasn't even that much of a problem - she did care about the people affected - it was just exhausting, pretending to care more about it than she actually did.

The folder her assistant had handed to her had detailed information. Nothing more than routine - she always prepared for any and all situations. Her gaze lingered for a moment, longer than it had for any of the other names on the list of patients: the last one, your name.

People hurried back and forth, the beeping of machines and the smell of antiseptic pervaded the air. Hospitals had always made Victoria feel uncomfortable.

She walked through the hospital, nodding and making sympathetic noises and reassuring people, reassuring herself that she was doing a good work. Most of the victims had suffered relatively minor injuries - a few broken wrists, concussions, a lost eye... it could have been much, much worse.

The thread was shortening with each person she met, and she'd be lying if she said that she didn't notice - but she pushed it to the back of her mind, tried to focus on what was said instead.

And then...

This was the last stop, the last patient. With blank eyes, Victoria stared down at the red thread, and let out a deep, almost exhausted sigh.

She'd almost made a choice to not even stop by your room. That would be the smart thing to do, the practical thing, the one that would save her from a lot of heartache.

The conversation with her assistant was brief, and in a moment she was alone, standing in front of the door to your room.

Victoria told herself it didn't matter, that it wasn't important. She'd made it this far in life without ever considering finding a soulmate - why worry about them now? But the red thread was pulsating, beckoning her towards.

But there was that other part of her, the part that was curious about what it would be like, the part that was lonely, that wanted to know.

She took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Some swore that the moment they saw their soulmate, the world suddenly made sense - became beautiful. Others claimed that it was no different than meeting anyone else, just... less complicated. For all the research and discussion, no one agreed of what it was like.

The room was quiet, only a low beep from the heart monitor - you were laying in the bed, attached to an IV, a visible scratches and dark bruises across your body.

You looked familiar to her, your face and your eyes - and Victoria recognized you, even though she had never seen you before. Familiar. Warmth and comfort. The feeling of being known... understood, even without knowing this person. She could have gone her entire life without feeling that, and yet here it was anyway.

"Hello," your voice was so soft, so soft that Victoria almost didn't hear it.

Your face, oh my god, so beautiful, had a big smile on it - you weren't smiling with your teeth, as if you were embarrassed for some reason (braces perhaps?). Fuck, how was it possible that you looked cute, even though you were currently in the goddamned hospital?

"Hello," she said, equally quietly, taking a few steps closer.

A week ago, she had been completely sure that a soulmate did not matter to her. And now, the stupid part of her brain was screaming that she wanted to hold your hand, run her fingers gently over your skin...

There was nothing particularly special about your appearance, Victoria admitted to herself, and yet... she couldn't help but look at you - so beautiful, so familiar, so perfect.

Well, Victoria has always been adaptable.

You cleared your throat awkwardly. "I've seen you on TV. Victoria, right?"

She snapped herself out of her thoughts, clearing her own throat and willing (and failing) to clear her mind of all the new, confusing, and unfamiliar (yet welcome) thoughts and feelings.

"Yeah… that's correct," Victoria nodded, trying to get a hold of the swirling thoughts in her mind.

She spoke your name and god, it was beautiful to hear, it was like...

No, focus.

You slowly lifted yourself to sit on the bed, the movement looking like it took a bit of effort and clearly put you in some amount of pain - and she had to suppress the instinctive urge to offer help.

"And here I thought the nurses were joking about a politician coming to the hospital. To be honest, I expected an old white man."

Despite everything, she let out a quiet laugh. It sounded shaky even to her own ears, but she was too focused on watching you to really pay attention to it.

"I always get comments about me being the wrong age and gender for a politician," she replied with a small, easy smile - or at least that was what she tried to portray.

You'd dreamed of this moment. Imagined meeting your soulmate, had probably thought of this moment so many times, over and over. And then it happens, and you meet your damn soulmate — and it turns out to be a fucking politician. To make things even better, one who was famously anti-supe and you were currently in the damn hospital because of a supe attack.

"How... are you feeling?" she asked, her voice softer with the question. "Your injuries, I mean."

There was a sudden feeling of guilt as she looked at you, and she pushed it aside quickly - she could worry about the implications and consequences of her secret identity later when she was alone.

The thread seemed to vibrate as Victoria took another step closer.

You let out a small huff, and shrugged slightly in response, before grimacing in pain. "Like I was hit by a truck," you stated dryly. "But the doctors say I will be fine. And the painkillers helps."

Her eyes darkened at the thought of someone hurting you like this, injuring you so badly that you were in a hospital. Whoever did this was going to face consequences. Not now, of course - she was going to wait.

For now... Victoria took another step forward. Her eyes glanced down at the way you wrapped the thread around your hand, and she almost - almost - reached out to imitate the action herself.

But she didn't - her hands, instead, gripped the metal rail of the bed, her knuckles turning white from the force of the grip. So many questions entered her mind, all at once. She had no idea how long you'd be in hospital, who came to see you, how your recovery process would be going - the list was endless.

"When will you be discharged?"

"Sometime next week, apparently. My injuries are... non-life threatening. Mostly just..." you gestured to the scratches and bruises on your arms and face. "Well. I'm lucky."

You were blushing under her gaze and she noticed, a small part of her preening with satisfaction at the idea that her mere presence was enough to make you blush.

"Do you have family, or someone else who could look after you?"

a partner?

The mere thought that you might be with someone else, with someone other than her, was just wrong. It was just wrong. Victoria had no right to think that way, and she knew it - she'd only just met you, for god’s sake.

But she felt it, she couldn't help it.

Victoria couldn't help but noticed - no flowers, no "get well" balloons, nothing at all that might have indicated visitors.

"No," you shook your head. "My friends are currently in Spain and my family... we don't talk anymore."

Wait.

So who the hell was taking care of you while you were in the hospital? No one? She was your soulmate. You were hers, and it just felt wrong to leave you in your current condition, with no one to take care of you…

Hers. The word echoed through Victoria mind, over and over again, her soulmate, her responsibility, her to protect, to take care of -

"That won't do," She found herself saying before she realized it.

- and Victoria had always held a sense of possessiveness over the things she considered hers. In this case, she would have no compunctions about using her power and influence to guarantee your safety, to make sure you would be looked after.

But you tried to brush it off, of course you did - yet all she could focus on was the fact that no, you weren't going to be alone while you were recovering.

As her hand touched yours, you immediately went silent. The thread wraps around connected hands, and Victoria found herself thinking that the red looked nice on you.

And that's how Victoria was suddenly having a crash course in learning how to be a doting soulmate.

Funny, but she would have never, in a million years assumed she'd be acting so... obsessive over her soulmate, and yet here she was, finding out information that she felt the compulsive need to know.

How were your injuries healing? Had you been prescribed enough painkillers? Were you comfortable? She learned your medical history, for god's sake.

Victoria visited you at every spare moment she had, taking time out of her schedule just to see you. It was pathetic, in a way, how quickly her entire world seemed to revolve around you, the person she'd just met.

She had flowers brought to your room, balloons, even a stupid teddy bear, all while her logical thinking was telling her that this was all just too fast and too much. But the fact that you were alone, without family or friends, drove her to the point of near-aggression, and Victoria wanted to shower you with so much attention you would hardly be able to breathe.

You blushed and stuttered as you told your friends on the phone about all of this. They were surprised, of course, who wouldn't be surprised and a little freaked out, but there was also genuine excitement, and they were happy for you.

You'd always dreamed of having a soulmate, and now you had Victoria. Even her publicity and the fact that she was a politician didn't bother you as much as they probably should.

She was smart, and knew things before you even tried to say them. And once her mind was set on something, she was stubborn as hell, and you soon found that you were completely unable to resist her, especially when she looked at you with those big brown eyes.

You were staying with her when you were discharged. That wasn't up for discussion. She had already had a room cleaned out for you, had set it up to make sure everything was comfortable.

The thought that she'd be looking after you soon wasn't as intimidating as it should have been. Hell, you'd welcomed it.

Once you'd gathered your things from your home, she took you to her apartment, and you weren't surprised. It was definitely the sort of place Victoria would have. All things said that she was incredibly well-off, not shy about how much she spent in any way.

It was funny, the way she was acting right in front of your eyes. The way she doted on you, the way she made sure you were comfortable and happy, that nothing was missing - anything you wanted, she would get it for you.

Unfortunately, the reality was that she needed to work, and that required her to follow a certain schedule.

You adapted quickly, and she began to get used to the routine of having you around, the feeling far more comfortable than she'd expected. You soon learned that she loathed waking up early but did it anyway - and now sometimes you got up with her, even as she protested, cooking breakfast for her while she was in the shower.

Whenever she was at work, at yet another meeting, where she had to deal with the bullshit of idiots and incompetent employees, she would find herself missing you more than she thought she would.

Before, she'd always spent her evenings working, taking her documents home with her and continuing to work when she was in the comfort of her apartment - but now, that routine was changed.

Victoria found herself actually looking forward to coming home, because you were there, always happy to see her.

At first, you slept in the guest bedroom. It didn't take long for that situation to change, though - it was a nightmare that made it necessary. Anxiety and nightmares were hardly surprising - you had been attacked by a supe, after all. Your body recovered fairly well, thankfully, but your mind was another story.

And if that supe that hurt you somehow died in a mysterious, unexplainable accident, it was all just a coincidence.

If she was late coming home from work, claiming that she had suddenly had more important papers to work on, that was just a coincidence as well.

Coincidences happened all the time.

Victoria's bed was soft and comfortable, and it smelled like her. It was probably one of the best decisions she'd made, having you in bed with her. When you had nightmares and woke up sweaty and breathless, she could help you immediately, and she would often wake up to you clinging to her. She'd never admit it to anyone, but she liked seeing that.

You were hers, and even in your sleep, you were subconsciously seeking her out.

Soulmates didn't have to love each other romantically, it was true, and the relationship between soulmates could take a myriad of different forms.

But Victoria wasn't an idiot. She saw the same expression in your eyes, the same look that was most likely mirrored in hers. She wasn't the most romantic person, but some things were not hard to see. This was a romantic soulbond.

A month and then another passed, you were fully recovered now and yet neither of you even bothered to bring up the subject of you moving out. Why would you? You were soulmates, and moving in together was something that would happen anyway at some point - besides, Victoria clearly enjoyed having you there, and you had no objections either.

Not to mention, getting to see her in her suits every day was a pleasure.

Even for a couple that was going a bit fast, you were taking things slow in other aspects. Gentle touches, late-night conversations, the way you talked about the little things, all of it helped you learn each other, figure out habits and personality quirks.

You eventually introduced her to your friends, and Victoria, being the charming woman she was, didn't exactly struggle to win them over. They were quite amused that you moved in with her so quickly, cracking jokes about the lesbian stereotypes that you definitely seemed to be fitting right into.

The most difficult topic was Victoria's career. It was important to her - and unfortunately, that meant that she would have to figure out what she was going to do with you soon.

But you weren't certain whether you wanted people to know about your relationship with her, especially being a public figure and all that came with. And you were also aware that politicians had two options when it came to their soulmates. Politicians either hid their soulmates or they paraded them out like a trophy.

But the main concern on Victoria's mind was your safety.

She had loads of assholes who could be a problem, including those idiotic Hughie's friends, Homelander (she would end him if he dared to even look at you), her adopted father and whoever else decided to add themselves to the metaphorical list.

What you didn't know was that Victoria was protecting you already, using her connections to make sure you had a pair (or sometimes more) of watchful eyes on you when you went somewhere without her.

And while she held you in her arms and watched you sleeping, Victoria decided that it was perhaps time to thin that metaphorical list of threats with a very literal approach.

You had no idea about the violent thoughts that had invaded her mind, and she preferred to keep it that way, for now. To you, Victoria was just your lovely soulmate, who kissed you every morning before work. Someone who wore comfy, stretched-out sweaters around the house and read the newspapers while drinking coffee like a grandma. She was the one who smiled warmly every time you did something nice for her, and she responded by overly spoiling you with expensive gifts.

Part of Victoria felt guilty that she hadn't even considered telling you the truth about her powers. If you found out the truth, would you look at her differently?

Would you see her differently knowing she was a supe too? Knowing that she'd killed more than once? That she would kill again without hesitation, if it meant saving you and her career?

Well, you didn't hate supes, but you were hurt by one of them before, and you were still having nightmares from the goddamn trauma. How would you possibly react when you found out that she was one too?

You were perfect in many ways. You were so considerate and patient, holding her tight while she ranted after a day of dealing with idiots at work, or giving her space when she needed to sort out her own anger.

As the protective one in the relationship, she was well aware that you were also strong in your own way, though not as obvious about it… but would it all be enough?

Victoria shoved those doubts and conflicting thoughts far out of her mind, to be dealt with another time, when she had time to sort through the mess of feelings.

For now, she had a career to build, and a wonderful - if completely oblivious - soulmate at home who she couldn't get enough of.

Coming home after work to find you there, waiting for her, the weekends now filled with you instead of work, laughter in the house and your smile, and...

Victoria would come home after work just to hear your voice and see your smile, feel your touch. Even on the really bad days, when her anger was still bubbling just beneath the surface, even when she was stressed.

This wasn't a life she'd ever thought she would have, but it was one she didn't want to give up for anything in the world.

[qqueenofhades]

Literally the final week of pride month...and PUTIN??!?!?!? mAYBE?!?!?!??!?? 7 days left clarence thomas WE CAN DO THIS

With Prigozhin going full mad general on Putin, and the House Freedom Caucus deciding to "purge" their members for insufficient loyalty (possibly including MTG, lololololololol), today is a GREAT day for asshole-fascist-on-asshole-fascist violence, truly.

[ahqkas]

BELLA ITALIA ; theodore nott

PAIRING! theodore nott x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! in the moment of darkness, he was your light (or when theodore nott noticed a pretty girl struggling to communicate in english and decided to step up) (based off this req.!!)

WARNINGS AND TAGS! fluff, reader is from italy, italian theodore, translation of foreign language

WORD COUNT! 1.7k

NOTES! i’m trying to learn italian on my own and when i hear this man speaking italian i am WHIPPED 😿😿

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

MOVING FROM ONE COUNTRY TO ANOTHER CAN BE AN INCREDIBLY CHALLENGING EXPERIENCE.

The first problem is often the language barrier. Suddenly finding yourself in a place where you don't speak the native language can be isolating and overwhelming. Simple tasks like ordering food or asking for directions become daunting challenges, and the fear of being misunderstood or ridiculed can make even basic interactions fraught with anxiety.

The weather can also play a big role in the adjustment process. Going from a sunny, warm climate to a cold, rainy one (or vice versa) can have a profound impact on one's mood and well-being. It's not just a matter of dressing appropriately — it's about learning to cope with the changes in daylight, temperature, and overall atmosphere. You left the sunny shores filled with ocean breeze and moved to rainy afternoons that seemed rather sad than anything else.

And then, of course, there's the school. Being the new kid in class is never easy, but when you're in a completely foreign environment, it can feel like you're on an entirely different world. Everything from the way classes were conducted to the social dynamics among students was be vastly different from what you were used to, leaving you feeling like a fish out of water. 

But perhaps the most challenging aspect of moving to a new country was the sense of displacement, of not quite belonging anywhere. You longed for the familiarity of home while simultaneously yearning to embrace your new surroundings. You missed the way the sun kissed your skin and the way the sea felt against your movements as you swam in the water with your friends.

And you wanted someone to understand you.

Navigating the labyrinthine halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you clutch your time table tightly, eyes darting from one corridor to another in search of the potion dungeons. The castle's vastness is overwhelming, its endless staircases and hidden passages a far cry from the sunny, open streets of your hometown in Italy. You knew your first day here would be hell.

The weather outside matched your mood: overcast and drizzly, the persistent rain casting a melancholic atmosphere over the stone walls. You miss the warmth of the Italian sun, the vibrant colors of your old school. Here, everything feels cold and foreign, a constant reminder of how far you are from home. Everything was gray and dark, the opposite of the vibrant colors you were used to.

You spot a group of students huddled together, chatting animatedly as they stood by a stone wall. Gathering your courage, you approached them, hoping they can point you in the right direction. "Scusa," you begin, your Italian accent heavy, each word carefully pronounced. "Where . . . potion class . . . dungeons?" (Excuse me.)

The students exchange puzzled glances, clearly struggling to understand your accented English because despite your try, it still came out quite wobbly. One of them, a tall boy with a shock of red hair, furrowed his brow and shakes his head slowly. "What?" he says, not unkindly, but with a hint of frustration at this situation.

You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment. You try again, your voice wavering slightly. "Potion dungeons," you repeat, gesturing with your hands as if that might bridge the gap between your language and theirs. "Next class . . . I need find."

The red-haired boy shrugs, casting a sideways glance of help at his two friends who stood next to him. They all look at you with the same guilty expression, as if they would really like to help but there was no way. The girl with bushy hair smiled at you with an expression of 'Sorry', and you felt a knot of anxiety tighten in your chest. They don't understand, and you're too flustered to find the right words.

"Sorry," the ginger boy said finally, shaking his head again. "I don't know what you're saying."

Disheartened, you nodded and mumbled a quick "grazie" before retreating. You wandered through the corridors, frustration mounting with each wrong turn. The stone walls seemed to close in around you, the ancient tapestries and suits of armor blurring together in your anxious haze. You felt lost, not just in the physical sense but emotionally, adrift in this unfamiliar place where even asking for directions was like a challenge for you.

Your mind was still reeling from the embarrassing encounter as you hurried down the corridor, your thoughts tangled in a web of frustration and self-doubt. How could something as simple as asking for directions feel so impossible? The sting of the students' puzzled looks and guilty smiles lingers, making your cheeks burn with residual embarrassment. Lost in your thoughts, you rounded a corner too quickly and collided with a solid figure. Your bag slipped from your shoulder, and your books spilled across the floor. You gasped at the sight, your heart leaping into your throat. Could you embarrass yourself any more today?

"Scusa, scusa!" you blurted out in Italian, crouching down to gather your scattered belongings. The words tumbled from your lips in a rapid, nervous stream. You didn't even think the person wouldn't understand your sentences. "Non stavo guardando dove andavo. Mi dispiace tanto!" (Excuse me, excuse me! I wasn't watching where I was going. I'm so sorry!)

As you frantically picked up your books, you glanced up to see who you've bumped into. Your eyes widened in surprise and relief when you recognized Theodore Nott, the quiet Slytherin who always seemed to glide through the halls with an air of calm detachment and mysterious aura. You braced yourself for confusion, expecting him to look as puzzled as the others had.

But instead, Theodore's lips curved into a slight smile and a warm glint appeared in his usually cool eyes. "Non ti preoccupare," he replied in perfect Italian, his voice soothing and accent deafening. "È tutto a posto. Lascia che ti aiuti." (Don't worry. It's all right. Let me help you.)

The shock of hearing your native language from his lips momentarily left you speechless. You watched in amazement as he got down on his knees, helping you gather your books with nothing but ease. The knot of anxiety in your chest began to loosen, replaced by a flutter of gratitude and something else — an unexpected connection.

"Grazie," you managed to say, your voice trembling slightly. "Non sapevo che parlassi italiano." (Thank you. I didn't know you spoke Italian.)

Theodore's smile widened just a fraction, a hint of amusement danced in his eyes. "Mia madre è italiana," he explained, handing you the last of your textbooks from the floor. "L'ho imparato da lei." (My mother is Italian. I learned it from her.)

You stand up, clutching your books to your chest, and for the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. Here is someone who understands — not just your words, but the feeling of being caught between two worlds.

"Grazie mille," you repeated, your smile genuine this time. "Mi sentivo così persa." (Thank you very much. I felt so lost.)

Theodore nodded, his expression softening. "Capisco. Hogwarts può essere un posto molto grande e confuso. Vieni, ti mostro io dov'è la classe di pozioni." (I understand. Hogwarts can be a very big and confusing place. Come, I'll show you where the potions class is.)

As you walked beside Theodore through the corridors of Hogwarts, the oppressive weight of the castle's vastness seemed to lift slightly. His calm demeanor and fluent Italian became a comforting anchor in this world full of unfamiliarity.

"Da quanto tempo sei qui?" you asked the boy next to you, trying to make conversation. (How long have you been here?)

"Questa è la mia sesta anno," he replied. "Conosco il castello come le mie tasche ormai." (This is my sixth year. I know the castle like the back of my hand by now.)

"Sei fortunato," you sighed, your hold on your bag tightening. "Mi sento come se fossi in un labirinto." (You're lucky. I feel like I'm in a maze.)

Theo chuckled and the sound was low and warm. He was nice. "Capisco. Anch'io mi sentivo così i primi giorni. Ma vedrai, presto ti abituerai." (I understand. I felt the same way in my first days. But you'll see, you'll get used to it soon.)

As you continued to walk, the conversation flowed more naturally, easing your nerves. "Cosa ti piace di più di Hogwarts?" you asked him, genuinely curious. (What do you like most about Hogwarts?)

"Direi la biblioteca," Theo said after a moment of thought. "È enorme, con così tanti libri rari. E i corridoi segreti. Sono divertenti da esplorare." (I would say the library. It's enormous, with so many rare books. And the secret corridors. They're fun to explore.)

"Sembra affascinante. Mi piacerebbe esplorare di più, ma ho paura di perdermi." (It sounds fascinating. I'd love to explore more, but I'm afraid of getting lost.)

He gave you a reassuring look. "Se vuoi, posso mostrarti alcuni dei posti migliori. Così non ti perderai." (If you want, I can show you some of the best places. That way you won't get lost.)

Theo was the kindest person you've met here in the entire time since the beginning of the school term and your heart warmed at his kindness. "Mi piacerebbe molto, grazie." (I'd love that, thank you.)

Finally, you reached the entrance to the dungeons. "Eccoci," Theo exclaimed, stopping before the heavy wooden door. "La classe di Pozioni è proprio qui dentro." (Here we are. The Potions class is right inside here.)

You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves. "Grazie, Theo. Sei stato davvero gentile." (Thank you, Theo. You've been really kind.)

He offered you a nod, his smile reassuring. "Prego. Se hai bisogno di altro aiuto, basta chiedere. Buona fortuna con la tua lezione." (You're welcome. If you need any more help, just ask. Good luck with your class.)

With one last grateful look, you pushed open the door and stepped into the dimly lit classroom. As you took your seat, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. Perhaps, with friends like Theo, Hogwarts might start to feel a little more like home.

[lauraneedstochill]

Can’t help falling in love

summary: 5 times Aemond was in love with you + 1 time he finally confessed his feelings

warnings: friends to lovers (at the age of 9, 10, 15, 17, 19), a pinch of angst (Aemond healing after losing his eye), but overall so fluffy and sweet you may want to skip dessert

words: ~ 5500 (I got reeeally carried away with that love confession)

1.

Aemond is weeks away from his tenth birthday and he feels as miserable as ever. That feeling is an iron weight upon his heart, his mood irritated and face features grim more often than not. He is still without a dragon — and it’s the only thing he can think of, day and night, steadfast and stubborn in his obsession that most of his family finds to be blown out of proportion. It might have stang him less if only it wasn’t for the constant teasing and pitiful jokes that added to his distress and the never-ending heartache. He learns to keep a straight face and act as if he doesn’t really care, but deep down he does, way more than he’ll ever admit.

His training sessions are a way to channel his anger, and he lashes out at a straw man, again and again, clinging to the thought that, at least in these moments, he is not entirely powerless. He keeps his focus on the target, attentive to Ser Criston’s advice — “Soften your knees”, “Keep your feet light, your hands heavy”, and for a couple of hours he forgets about his misery.

It’s when the training comes to an end, the dreaded realization sinks in again, and Aemond is lost in his thoughts, mindlessly twirling the wooden sword in one hand, his gaze wandering around the yard.

And then his eyes fall on a bright green spot — and all of a sudden, he sees you. A girl of his age, the hem of your green dress a bit dusty, boots covered in dirt, a few strands of hair fallen loose, a coy smile on your face. You meet his gaze and wave at him excitedly.

Aemond looks dumbfounded. A girl in the training yard. Waving at him. He blinks once, twice — and in the next moment, you’re standing merely a few steps away, glancing curiously at his sword.

“It looks so hefty! Is it heavy? What is it made of?” a string of questions, your voice sweet and joyful.

There’s a brief pause and maybe you mistake his stiffness for arrogance as you are quick to add:

“Oh, my manners!” gasping but showing no actual regret. “Forgive me,” you curtsy, your smile growing even wider. A timid smile appears on his face in return and he finally comes to his senses.

“It’s made out of red oak. It’s not very heavy, you get used to it,” Aemond raises the sword, letting you take a closer look. Within another blink of an eye he finds himself talking to you, your questions endless and maybe a bit naive but he genuinely enjoys it.

That’s until you both hear a loud cry.

“Lady Y/N!” your nanny comes running in, out of breath and scowling. “I told you not to wander around...,” she chokes on her words at the sight of the young prince. She curtsies, too, but it isn’t nearly as cute as when you do it.

She sprints decisively in your direction. “It wasn’t very polite of you to interrupt the prince’s training, you little menace!”

And then Aemond, to his own surprise, moves to stand in her way.

“She didn’t interrupt a thing,” he disagrees, lips thinned into a tight line.

The nanny stops and looks at Aemond dubiously, switching her gaze from him to you.

Ser Criston is the one to resolve the conflict — he comes from behind, with a polite smile plastered on his face.

“Young lady can watch from the balcony. The guests are very much welcomed,” he calls for the maid to escort you and your nanny up there. While you’re away, he looks at Aemond with a grin:

“Already wooing the ladies, my prince? Let’s hope you are as good with your sword as she thinks you are.”

He does make Aemond work for it but the prince fights back, winning one bout after the other. He keeps glancing at you and you wave at him every single time.

Aemond is too young to know what love is, too shy and guarded to even entertain the thought of it. But when you look at him, with your childish grin and your eyes bright with mirth, he doesn’t feel lonely anymore. 2.

It’s been two weeks since Aemond lost his eye and he hasn’t left the bed. The pain is still blinding, burning and constantly making his only eye water. But what hurts even more is the humiliating disability. The triumph of claiming Vhagar died down, and now the prince was faced with the harsh reality he needed to adjust to and the process wasn’t an easy one. The fever has only recently gone down, leaving his body weak and freezing from the lack of movement, but he couldn’t bear the thought of stepping out of the room.

His mother wouldn’t leave his side and even Aegon often came to visit, clearly blaming himself for not being there for his little brother. Yet their presence barely brought Aemond any comfort and most of the time he would pretend to be asleep to avoid any conversations. He knew they only meant well and he was being cruel but he couldn’t help it as his pride was shattered and he gave in to sadness.

That is until one night he wakes up to a weird sound. He’s only half-awake when he hears a vigorous tapping that clearly comes from the outside. Except it's not from the other side of the door — but rather outside his window.

He’s startled by this guess and suspiciously walks closer. It takes him a few seconds to focus his gaze and discern a human’s silhouette — and then another few to realize that it’s you standing on the window sill. He feels like his heart will jump out of his chest as he rushes to open the window.

You climb through and clumsily drop to the floor. But before he can get worried, you are on your feet again, eyeing him with concern.

“Oh, Aemond,” your gaze and voice are both so soft, it makes his lower lip quiver. You carefully approach him and put your hand on his shoulder, gently sliding it on his back in a soothing motion and then cuddling him. He welcomes your company with a sigh of relief. You smell of oranges and you give the best hugs.

“They told me no one was allowed into your chambers,“ your hushed whisper burns his ear. “The silliest thing I’ve ever heard!” you pull away from him, still lightly panting, cheeks flushed and hair messy. “I knew I had to find a way to come see you.”

You examine his face, frowning at the scar that’s still healing.

“Does it hurt?”

He only nods, afraid that if he opens his mouth, he won’t be able to hold back a sob. You move closer, resuming the gentle motion of rubbing his back.

Ever since that day in the training yard, you kept in touch, regularly sending each other letters, chatting about everything and nothing, sharing your little secrets and observations. You recently mentioned that your parents allowed you to come see him again, but with the tragic change of events, Aemond completely forgot about the preplanned visit. 

“I will take his eye,” you say out of the blue, caressing the unharmed side of his face, your voice laced with anger. Aemond thinks he might’ve heard it wrong.

“...Whose eye?”

“Luke’s! I shall take his eye, as payment for yours,” you tell him with zero hesitation. For a girl of your age, you’re way too eager to plan such a thing, yet he somehow has no doubts that you can actually do it.

Aemond shakes his head.

“You shouldn’t,” his voice quiet but firm. “The King was very adamant about that, no payment is needed.”

“Well, maybe he is too old to think straight,” you retort. “You are his son and you lost an eye! Justice must prevail,” you tilt your head at him, clearly thinking that you’re in the right.

And he knows that you are but he also knows no justice will be served. It’s the last straw for Aemond — he looks away in shame as tears, hot and angry, start falling down his cheek. You waste no time hugging him again, letting him cry on your shoulder, and the two of you stay like that for what feels like an hour.

And then, in the comfortable silence of your embrace, he hears you asking, very seriously:

“Are you sure I can’t take his eye?”

At that moment, he can’t stop himself from letting out a laugh — a weak one and barely audible, but still, he laughs, for the first time in two weeks, and you are the sole reason for it. 

Your cheek is pressed to his, your fingers running through his hair, and Aemond realizes he can’t lose you.

He begrudgingly persuades you that taking Luke’s eye isn’t worth the trouble.

3.

By the age of fifteen Aemond becomes quite accustomed to the eyepatch and it gives him a boost of confidence. Losing an eye only made him train harder and his persistence pays off when he’s the one to win, time after time, no matter who his opponent is. His hair grows longer, now silky smooth and with no sign of his boyish curled ends, his face features sharpen. He learns to walk with his head high and hands clasped behind his back, mastering the intimidating look that makes most people want to stay away from the one-eyed prince. 

His tricks could’ve never worked on you, though.

You come to visit him a few times a year, and he eagerly awaits your arrival. All the days in between, you keep talking through letters, them getting longer as you get closer. He keeps those letters locked in a hidden compartment of his table. And sometimes, for no specific reason — or maybe for the reason he can’t yet formulate — he is drawn to reach for them, which always ends with him rereading the letters for hours. Some of them he knows by heart and yet it never stops him from having the pleasure of seeing your handwritten stories and little jokes that were only meant for him.

Today is no exception and Aemond is so enthralled by reading, he almost misses the knock on the door. The sound brings him to reality but he is in no hurry to react. The knocking comes again, and the prince groans, annoyed at the maid’s persistence. He carefully puts the letters back and goes to the door, armed with his cold gaze.

And then he opens it — and it’s you standing in front of him. 

Aemond barely has time to register what’s going on when you launch yourself at him, your arms immediately enveloping him in a tight hug, your laugh ringing in the air. He hugs you back and, while you can’t see it, he’s grinning from ear to ear.

“I swear you’re getting taller every time we meet!” you look up at him, beaming, and he lets you in. “I soon will need a ladder just to hug you properly.”

“I’ll be sure to let my body know of your disapproval,” he sneers and you stick out your tongue.

“While you are at it, shall you also work on your friendly face? I overheard the maids being frightened to go into your chambers,” you try giving him a scolding look but end up giggling at his reddened cheeks.

“I am friendly enough!”

“Yes, nobody glowers quite like you,” you snicker and flop right on the floor, the move always making him smile. Aemond tried persuading you to sit on any other surface that’s actually meant for sitting but you insisted that his fluffy rug works just as well, so he eventually gave up, deciding to join you. He never complained since.

Before he knows it, he’s immersed in the conversation while you enthusiastically share the recent news and everything that’s happened to you on the road. Only about half an hour in, he notes a small bag you’re clasping in your hands.

“You come bearing gifts?”

“Oh, I almost forgot I had it,” you laugh, abashed. “I decided I should bring you something to replace this crumpled-looking thing”.

It takes Aemond a minute to realize that you’re talking about his eyepatch. But he has no time to protest as you silence him with a gesture of your hand.

“I took it upon myself to count for how long you’ve been wearing this one already,” your tone gets serious. “I must say, that number is disturbing.”

There’s a moment of silence and then he clears his throat, his voice unsure. “Very kind of you to think of that, I shall replace it later on.”

He reaches his hand to take the bag but you quickly cover it with yours, fingers brushing over his, and he freezes.

“Are you still not convinced that I can take a look at it?” you try to make eye contact but he averts your gaze.

“Aemond, I was with you and I think I’ve seen enough back then — none of it scared me.”

“It is not a sight for the faint of heart,” the prince mumbles, his bravado faltering.

“Well, I don’t remember fainting the first time. You should have more faith in me,” you try to reason, holding his hand.

Aemond ponders for another minute — or maybe ten, he isn’t sure, and you patiently wait, not wanting to press him any further. Then he finally makes a decision and, after taking a long, sad sigh, he removes the eyepatch and looks at you, the sight of him is the very definition of insecurity.

You stay silent for about five seconds before concluding:

“Oh, it healed so nicely!” with no hint of uncertainty in your voice. Your smile reassures him a little as you peer at the sapphire, looking very pleased.

“The gem compliments your eye very well,” you give him your verdict, taking the new eyepatch out.

“We might have a different understanding of what a compliment is.”

“This is me trying to say that I really like the way it looks,” you chide him lightly. “And I consider myself to be quite understanding, thank you very much. Will you stop pouting and let me put it on?”

At this point he surrenders, giving you permission, and you move closer, giggling with excitement. You gently fix his hair, making sure it’s all combed back, and then lean to put the eyepatch on. You have a habit of biting your lower lip when you’re too concentrated on something, and Aemond can’t help but gaze at that part of your face while your teeth graze over the pillowy surface. 

He’s never let anyone this close — and not just in the sense of physical proximity. The moment is very intimate, and the softness of your movements tugs at his heart. He is suddenly very aware of the very short distance separating you two, and he holds his breath. You are oblivious to his stare and soon lean back, satisfied with the result and glancing at him with something akin to fondness.

He wishes he could paint a picture of you right at this moment, so tender and caring and sitting by his side.

He also wishes he could kiss you — and that thought scares him to death. And yet, once it appears, it never goes away.

4.

Aemond is seventeen and his life has been pure torture since you stopped visiting him. He hasn’t seen you in over half a year (seven months and eleven days, not that anyone is counting). It’s not your fault as your father has unexpectedly fallen ill and you couldn’t leave his side. The prince exhausted the maester with questions, asking for advice to write back to you, worried sick that your separation would be stretched for way longer than he could handle.

Luckily, the Gods took pity on him, and he was glad to learn that your father got better, and you will come to King’s Landing soon. Your visit coincided with Aegon’s birthday, but Aemond didn’t care about the feast, his mind only occupied with the thought of seeing you. He was both nervous and excited to the point of not even hiding it, which led to Aegon teasing him relentlessly. Helaena, on the other hand, wholeheartedly supported Aemond’s feelings for you.

“She will be delighted to see you, too, I am sure of it,” his sister tells him the day before the event.

“But the reason for it might be of a different nature,” Aemond remarks, and Helaena gives him a compassionate look.

“You will never know her true feelings unless you ask,” she encourages. “The two of you are so close, I consider her part of the family.”

Aemond knows that he’s of age and his mother hinted that, despite him showing no interest in courting, some ladies still found him attractive. He dismisses the idea but then finds himself thinking of it from time to time. When the realization forms in his head, it’s nerve-wracking but oh so compelling — he thinks he would’ve really wanted to marry you. He just doesn’t know how to tell you about it.

The day of your arrival comes, and Aemond wakes up at dawn in anticipation, determined to confess his feelings. He tries to come up with a speech, but it feels wrong and sounds weird, and he decides it will be better to improvise. He all but runs to the courtyard to be the first one to greet you. However, when you step out of the carriage, smoothing your dress, and your eyes meet, Aemond stops dead in his tracks and the world around him stands still.

His confidence might’ve blossomed — but not nearly as much as your beauty did. Somehow in those recent months, you’ve matured into a woman that takes his breath away.

It’s not a drastic change, it’s all in the details: the contours of your face are more defined, the cheekbones prominent, your hair knotted up high in a perfect style and even your pace is much slower and gracious. You walk towards one another, both suddenly cautious. But when you are a couple of meters apart, a well-known smile appears on your face and you hold your arms out to him and he finally hugs you again, after all this time. Aemond relaxes, inhaling the familiar scent of fruits that you undoubtedly munched on your way here.

“You look exactly as I remembered you,” you say as you slip from his embrace.

“And you are a sight to behold,” he breathes out, taking you in, and your cheeks heat up at the compliment. You’ve never been shy with him before, so this is also new. He wonders what might’ve caused this change.

As the two of you walk around the castle, it feels a bit awkward at first, and you keep glancing at him with emotion he can’t read. But Aemond is too happy to see you to give it much thought, and within an hour you ease into the conversation, too. By the time the evening comes, the tension disappears, and you are laughing at his sarcastic remarks again, and he savors every second of it.

The feast in honor of Aegon is lush and crowded, but you stay by Aemond’s side, enjoying each other’s company, and he only has eye for you. When the music gets too loud, you sneak out and soon find yourselves in his chambers, just like in the good old days.

Aemond is in the middle of telling you about Aegon’s recent foray to the Flea Bottom, when you say. “It’s just the two of us,” your fingers sink into the fluffy rug. “You don’t have to wear it with me. You know it, right?”

He wears the eyepatch with everyone, only taking it off before going to sleep. Moreover, he actually cherishes it because it’s a gift from you.

Aemond hesitates. “I thought you quite liked it.”

“I only gave it to you because yours started to look like it was pulled off a dead man’s body!” you laugh.

Before he can think of an answer, you lean closer — your shoulder brushing his, your hand touching his face, the same gentle warmth he remembers so well, — and remove the eyepatch yourself. The sight doesn’t bother you in the slightest as you confess:

“I accept you the way you are, Aemond,” and then, a moment away from him opening his mouth and saying the thing that’s been on the tip of his tongue for the duration of the day, you add, “That’s what friends are for — and you are my best friend.”

And just like that, with this word alone, his plan goes out the window.

A friend. Aemond can’t even be upset at the reveal, because, honestly, being your friend feels like a blessing in itself and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. How could he be so selfish and foolish to even think about risking it all, risk losing you?

So he keeps his feelings to himself, locking them away deep in his heart, and doesn't argue with you.

Maybe he should have.

5.

By the age of nineteen Aemond reaches the conclusion that he wants to take the risk. Otherwise, he thinks he might actually die as his heart can not hold all his feelings anymore. In two years' time, there isn’t a single thing about you that he hasn’t come to love, and keeping it a secret becomes harder with each day.

Aemond is ridden with doubts to the point where he can’t hide it any longer and he decides to seek advice — and the prince can’t think of a better person to talk to than his mother. Unbeknownst to him, Alicent was the first one to notice. Years ago, when you were kids, she quickly sensed the effect you had on her son, and it brought her joy as she watched the two of you get closer with time.

So when Aemond bursts into her room, anxiety radiating off of him as he starts jabbering away, his pacing erratic and voice trembling, it takes her about a minute to realize what's going on.

“My dear, I think you must talk to her,” she approaches him, an understanding look on her face.

Aemond cuts his speech short, eyeing her with wonder:

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“Your affection for her is as bright as a fire blazing,” Alicent chuckles. “I believe she is the only one who doesn’t see it.”

“Should I tell her...?” he doesn’t dare say it out loud, not yet.

Alicent briefly takes his hands in hers, squeezing them. “You should tell her the truth.”

Her encouragement gives him a dash of hope, lifting a weight off his chest. Aemond knows in an instant that the letter won’t cut it, and you must have the conversation face-to-face. Fortunately, your next visit is in a month, so his suffering won’t last for much longer.

Aemond almost reaches the door but then sharply turns to his mother again, his cheeks flushed:

“Will you give me your approval?” and this time, he looks straight at her as he wants to see her genuine reaction.

Alicent smiles, quick to reassure him. “Yes, Aemond. Your betrothal would only make me happy.” The prince feels elated, almost euphoric, as he finally goes to meet you and runs the remaining distance from his chambers to the yard. But when he sees you, the smile disappears from his face because he notices that something is wrong.

You look visibly upset, your eyes watering and fingers fumbling with the dress, even though you try to force a smile in return. The hug you give him is weak and you keep looking at your feet.

“What is the matter?” he’s never seen you this sad, but you brush him off.

“It’s just a headache, no need to worry.”

Yet that’s exactly what he does, offering to call for the maester, or to prepare you a warm bath, or bring you some tea...

“A cup of water would be nice, thank you,” he leaves you in the hallway to go and get it himself, the task only takes a couple of minutes. When he returns, you stand with your back to him, your shoulders are shaking — and he hears quiet, muffled sobs. If it wasn’t for the nearby table, he would’ve thrown the cup away, his focus on you alone. As he rushes to envelop you in a hug, you don’t fight it, instead nestling your face against his chest, not hiding your tears anymore.

Aemond gives you some time before asking again.

“This doesn’t look like just a headache. What is the cause of your anguish?” now he’s the one running his fingers up and down your back.

You let out a sound that’s a mix between a groan and a whine.

“My father says I am to be betrothed soon. He says I am of age already and... and he wants me to meet some of my cousins,” you sniffle. “I told him I have no wish to get married but he refuses to listen,” you bite your lip, not wanting to cry again.

Surely, that’s not how Aemond wanted to ask you. But he decides to take his chance.

“Mayhaps there is another way out that could make you feel better.”

“Please don’t tell me Vhagar will burn them down,” you jest but the smile doesn’t reach your eyes. Aemond thinks your idea isn’t that bad — but he has to try his first.

“If he insists you should marry but doesn’t have a particular candidate, maybe you can pick one yourself?”

“I’ve met all my cousins — and half of them are imbeciles, the others are too old to survive a wedding,” you scoff.

“Then pick someone you are not related to,” Aemond suggests.

“Do you have a particular candidate in mind?” when you ask with a tinge of annoyance, you don’t think he will answer. And then you look at him — and see him grinning before he says:

“Me”.

You glare at Aemond with eyes wide and mouth agape, the expression frozen on your face for a good minute. 

“Are you laughing at me?” you manage to say.

“I wouldn’t dare,” his nerves are as tight as a wound-up string.

In the blink of a moment, your face lights up. You are looking at him indecisively, searching for words, agitated. But Aemond mistakes your confusion for rejection.

“At the very least you will marry someone you know,” he tries to reason — but it backfires, wiping the joyfulness off your face.

Taken aback, you inquire. “You pity me?” He doesn’t grasp the poor choice of his words yet.

“You pity me and that’s why you want to marry me?” you give him a look of disbelief, your eyes glossy, and he can’t get his head around what just happened.

“Oh, it was so silly of me to think that...,” you choke back a sob, putting your hand over your mouth.

Never in his life he thought he would be the reason for you looking so heartbroken. Aemond covers your hand with his palm — and you let him, as he tries to gather his courage.

“I only meant to say that I —”

And then you recoil, snapping your hand back.

“Aemond, don’t,” you take a step back from him, then another one. “You have said enough. Please, let me be,” you turn away and leave the hall in a hurry before he can utter another word.

... 1.

He finds you at your usual spot, under the blossoming cherry tree. You’ve always said you liked the color of it, little white flowers reminding you of early spring, your favorite time of the year. You don’t know that Aemond insisted on planting that tree specifically for you. Just so he can sit nearby and, as you were basking in the sunlight with your eyes closed, he would get a chance to look at you with all his unconditional love and have those moments engraved in his memory.

Come to think of it, he had so many memories of you — and every single one of them was bliss, and he can recall them so easily like it was yesterday.

And so he does.

“When we first met, you wore a green dress,” his voice startles you, but you don’t turn to face him, sniffling with your arms folded. “It was the color of forest trees. Black lace around the hem of it, the matching hair ribbon that you kept losing,” he keeps his distance, his hands shaking.

“Yes, I remember it pretty well,” you sigh, avoiding his gaze, baffled by his sudden outburst.

“The second time was when you climbed through my window, almost gave me a heart attack,” there’s a hint of a smile in his voice that you catch even without looking. “Blue dress, you tore a huge piece of it and couldn’t care less. You were the first person to make me laugh in two weeks even though it seemed impossible. But not with you.”

He sees your eyebrows furrowing, hands sliding down to rest on your knees.

“Helaena’s name day came next, your dress was bright pink. Luke tried to make fun of it and you threw a cup full of water in his face. To this day, it’s one of my fondest memories.”

You dare to look up at him, perplexed, your eyes wet from crying. 

“Three months after was the light-blue dress, then the peach one and the brown one. Then the white one which didn’t survive the horse riding lesson, and Helaena gave you one of hers. Light green, too long for your liking, even though you pretended otherwise to please her,” the corners of your lips tremble, your face softening.

“Then for a year you only wore violet, much to your nanny’s dismay as she thought it made you look ill. And I thought you were the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, no matter what dress you were in,” he can’t take his eye off you.

Your face expression melts into a stunned one.

“I didn’t realize it back then. Or maybe I didn’t know how to call it. I just knew that your visits only brought me happiness,” he takes a step toward you, uncertain, but you don’t move from your spot.

“When you were fourteen, you picked the autumn colors — orange, dark yellow, deep red. Your started braiding your hair, tried to braid mine,” you can’t hold back a smile. He was fussy when you first voiced the idea but he ended up loving the process so much, he would allow it just to feel your fingers flowing through his hair.

“I think you actually enjoyed it,” you mumble, and Aemond smiles, too.

“I did. I enjoyed every minute that I got to spend with you.”

You stand up then, feeling your pulse quickening.

“The day you brought me the eyepatch, you wore emerald green. I was terrified to show you the scar,” he pauses, catching his breath. “You assuaged my fears with your kindness. But then I was terrified to learn that I wanted to kiss you.”

You think you are dreaming. Is it possible that you fell asleep under the tree? You don’t want to get your hopes too high, but when he looks at you like this, your own fears start melting away.

“Then was the black dress, the grey one, another white one. The golden one you wore to meet Vhagar,” when he saw you that day, he almost forgot how to breathe. You showed no sigh of apprehension as you fearlessly approached the dragon. He was absolutely besotted.

“And then came the agony of not seeing you for over seven months,” he closes his eye for a second, overwhelmed. He almost misses it when you speak:

“Seven months and twenty-five days. Not that I was counting,” his eye snaps open, instantly on you again.

You gravitate toward each other without even noticing. Aemond’s heart skips a beat when you’re at arm’s length, your eyes shining and lips slightly parted. Even in the state you’re in, you look so beautiful, it’s mesmerizing, and the words are stuck in his throat. You are the one to break the silence.

“Aemond, please don't give me false hope,” your heartbeat is too loud, you don’t hear your own voice. He does.

“I do not wish to marry you out of pity,” Aemond takes the last step. “I want you to be my wife because I am in love with you,” he wipes away the remaining tears off your face, his fingers linger, making you shiver. “I’ve been in love with you for quite some time. For a few years, actually,” his voice gets low. “For what feels like an eternity,” Aemond murmurs.

“Why haven’t you told me?” you pout, nervously toying with the collar of his shirt.

“I was afraid you didn’t feel the same. I still am but maybe... Maybe I am wrong?” his gaze is fixed on you, one of his hands following the contour of your waist, your body warming at the touch.

“Tell me that I am wrong,” he whispers, begging.

You look at his lips, the soft curve of them that you’ve dreamt of for so long.

Aemond always thought yours were the most kissable he’s ever seen.

You don’t know who closes the distance first — but his mouth is suddenly on yours and the sensation leaves you disarmed. Kissing him is like being swept with a wave of tenderness, and you’re floating in it, his lips so fervid and supple — truly perfect — your head is spinning. The kiss is not awkward nor modest as you hastily cling to each other, his hands gripping your waist, your chest pressed into his.

Aemond feels like he’s drowning, and he wants more of you — all of you, and then your fingers tug at his locks, eliciting a groan from him, and it is simply a miracle that his heart doesn’t explode. You move in impeccable sync, in the passionate harmony that erupts from years worth of mutual pining. His lungs burn but he resists the urge to break the kiss and stretches it out the best he can until you are breathless, too.

“Never knew that you were so fascinated by my wardrobe choices,” you tease, and his hum turns into a chuckle.

“You know what my favorite memory is?” you ask, your forehead resting against his.

“When we were ten-and-three, and you were teaching me how to hold a sword. I tackled you to the ground and scraped my knee,” you both smile at your then enthusiasm. “And you set everything aside to spend the rest of the day with me even though it was hardly a wound. And I remember thinking,” you hook your finger under his chin, “that there’s nowhere else I would rather be than with you, with this favorite boy of mine.”

The air around you is tense, and you are enchanted by each other.

“Did that help to prove you wrong?”

“I may need some convincing,” his breath fans over your lips.

“You can take your time,” you laugh — and then the sound of it is muffled by his athirst mouth. His favorite memory will be this.

And every other moment with you that’s to come.

author’s note: I’m sorry if this came out messy and rushed. I tried my best to write a shorter fic (this is short for me lmao) and idk how I feel about it. I much rather prefer them longer because I’m a sucker for stories about two people getting to know each other and falling in love BUT I get it that others don’t want to read long ass fics (which kinda breaks my heart but I'm being so very brave about it) anyways, thank you for reading! 💙 the longer version of this fic might have looked like this (yes, this is a shameless plug! because I adore this one to pieces!! bite me) 🎵 the title is a quote from Elvis Presley’s song (duh). there are quite a few covers of it but one of my favorites is by Twenty One Pilots. there’s also a female version — by Ingrid Michaelson — and I think both of them fit the story really well. 💞 my masterlist P.S. I’m also on AO3 (lol, who isn’t), in case you prefer to read fics there.

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

[entitled-fangirl]

Two idiots in love (P2)

Joel Miller x anemic!reader

Summary: the three survivors try to find the supplies they left behind. The two lovebirds bond over the reader passing out.

Words: 2,135

Warnings: anemia, cursing, passing out, lots of bickering

Part 1 and Part 3

Masterlist <3

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She woke up long after Joel had gotten up. 

So, she didn't see the way he held her in their sleep. Or the slight smile on his face as he slumbered.

But Ellie did.

Now, the three were packed up, and ready to continue their journey.

They walked along a gravel road, gravel crunching under their feet being the only sound they could hear in the forest. 

"Have you gone this way a lot? No infected?" Ellie asked.

Joel was in a much calmer mood today, his voice soft, but his body still very much tense, his eyes scanning the area constantly, "Not a lot, no."

"What are you looking for?"

"People."

More silence. 

Joel started to notice Y/N taking smaller, slower steps. Her lungs expanded more than his. It was hard to keep up with his long strides, regardless of her illness. Joel was very long-legged, and the two girls were very much not.

But Joel's head turned to see her slowly fall behind. 

He looked forward once more, his steps naturally slowing until she was next to him again.

"Oh.... thank you, Joel."

He turned, "…You doing alright?"

She nodded, "Yeah, I feel okay."

He rests a hand on her shoulder, "Then don't thank me."

More silence.

The silence could be nice, if you made it so. Y/N certainly enjoyed it. It meant she could focus on her breathing and not the constant bickering of the teen and her partner.

Her smuggling partner.

But, as usual, Ellie broke the silence again.

"Are Bill and Frank nice?"

Y/N nodded her head, Joel answering, "Frank is."

"How'd you get that scar on your head?"

Joel let out a sigh, causing Ellie to smile.

"What? Is it something lame? Like you feel down the stairs or something?"

Y/N looked over Joel, "Ellie…"

"I didn't fall down any stairs."

"Okay, so what then?"

"Someone shot at me and missed."

"See, that's cool. You shoot back?"

"Yeah."

"You get him?"

Another sigh comes from Joel, "No, I missed, too. It happens more often than you think."

"'Cause you suck at shooting or, like, in general?"

Y/N stepped in again, "Hey…"

Joel looked over to Ellie with a glare, "…in general."

More silence.

Y/N got a smirk on her face, "Be glad that they both missed."

Ellie immediately moved to walk by Y/N instead, interested in her story, "…what? What do you mean?"

Joel sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, the other hand kept on his gun holster. 

Y/N leaned in towards Ellie, "…why do YOU think, Ellie? You're a smart girl."

Ellie thought for a while before a huge grin appeared on her face. She pointed back and forth between Y/N and Joel, "You mean… you two… and that…?"

Y/N let out a soft laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, we did."

"That's so fucking cool! See, Joel? That's not lame, that's cool as fuck!"

Joel grunted, his voice dropping slightly, "I'm glad me almost fucking killing her is cool to you, kid."

Y/N grabbed Ellie's arm, giving her a small wink.

Ellie noticed the two different guns in Joel's holsters. "With it just being us, I was thinking I should pro-"

"No."

Y/N let out a breath, holding back a laugh. Laughing would slow her down- slow them all down. She was the weak link. She couldn't let things get the best of her. 

More silence.

…

"Cumberland Farms."

The three approached an old convenience store, the building covered in vines and broken cement.

Joel turned around to look at Ellie, "Hang back a minute. I gotta grab some stuff I stashed."

Ellie's head tilted, "Stashed? Why do you have stuff stashed here?"

"You ask a lot of goddamn questions."

"Yes, yes I do."

Joel opened the door, poking his head in to check for people.

"…so…. Are you gonna answer me or what?"

Joel sighs again, "We hide supplies on routes in case we find ourselves short on gear, which I currently am 'cause-"

"-No way!"

Ellie immediately runs in, approaching a mortal combat arcade machine. "You ever play this one? I had a friend who knew everything about this game."

Joel tugged at Y/N, pulling her to one of the tables, pushing on it to ensure it was strong, "Sit. You need to rest."

She huffed, pulling her self up to sit on the table, her legs swinging as she watched the girl.

"…there's this one character named Mileena who takes off her mask and she has monster teeth and then she swallows you whole and barfs out your bones! Oh, man."

The two girls turn their head when Joel kicks at a rack.

Ellie sighs, "You forgot where you put your stuff."

Joel looked up, "No, I'm just zeroing in on it. It's been a couple of years."

"Okay, well… I'm gonna take a look around, see if there's anything good."

"Trust me, it's all been picked over already."

Ellie's feet crunch over the glass on the ground, "Maybe, maybe not."

Joel pushes on one of the aisles against the wall.

Ellie moves further away from the two, "Is there anything bad in here?"

"Just you."

"Getting funnier."

Ellie then goes to the back part of the store, away from Joel and Y/N.

Joel mutters a quiet, "Fuck."

Y/N pushes herself off the table, moving towards him to help.

He looks up, "No. No, you go back. I'm fine."

She sighs, "I don't think you are."

He stands straight, his hands on his hips, "Alright, then, sweet girl, tell me where the fuck we left it?"

"I don't know, Joel. Ju-"

Ellie zones out on their bickering as she starts to get further and further away from them. She pushes on a door, opening it with a loud creak. She kicks at the stuff on the ground, inspecting it with her shoe. Eventually, she finds a trap door. She moves everything off it, opening it slowly.

She hears Joel's voice from the front of the store, "You all right back there?"

She jumps, "Uh, yep!"

She hears the two begin to bicker quietly again, prompting her to continue.

Y/N let out a light sigh, "Listen, Joel. It's been years. The odds that no one has taken our stuff isn't realistic. Let's just forget about it, yeah?"

He shakes his head, not even looking at her, "no. That's not an option."

"Not an option? Joel, everything we're doing now is a fucking option! It's not gonna be here!"

"IT HAS TO BE!"

She steps back from him slightly, an involuntary breath leaving her throat. Her breathing picks up, hurting her lungs. 

His eyes soften at her reaction, his voice dropping again, "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I… Fuck."

She puts some distance between them, giving them both room to breathe. "I… what…. What's so important about what you left here, Joel?"

He looks up towards the ceiling, his hands moving back to his hips as he slowed his breathing. His voice became a low whisper, "…it's…. It's for you… your medication…"

Her face became one of surprise, "…what?"

"When… when we left stuff here… I left some of your medication because I knew… fuck, I KNEW something like this would happen and you'd need it."

She was speechless. He came here for her. To get her more medication. "…uh… thank you…"

He nodded, "Don't thank me, honey. Don't thank me yet."

But that moment was quickly interrupted by the sound of an infected's scratchy growl.

The two turned their head towards the noise. 

Ellie.

Joel immediately turned to Y/N, "You're gonna stay here."

She grimaced, but listened anyway.

He pulled out his knife, walking toward where he last saw the girl go. "Ellie…?"

She quickly came through the doorway, "Picked over, my ass."

A breath of relief came from both adults.

…

"Holy shit!"

The two turned to the hill Ellie was looking at, a plane crash's remains laid there, scattered over the land.

"You fly in one of those?"

Joel shrugged, "Few time, sure."

"So lucky."

"Didn't feel like it at the time. Get shoved into a middle seat, pay 12 bucks for a sandwich."

Y/N let out a laugh, Joel turning to her, "What, sweetheart? You find that funny?"

"Fuck yeah, I do."

He felt a smile grow on his face, "Jesus, you're something else."

Ellie jumped back in, "Dude, you got to go up in the sky."

Joel turned back to the crash, "Yeah, well, so did they."

A silence fell over them before Joel grabbed Y/N's wrist, pulling her with him. And they began the grueling walk again.

…

A little while later, Joel puts a hand out in front of both girls, stopping them, "We'll cut across the woods here."

Ellie tilted her head, "Isn't the road easier?"

"Yeah, it's just- There's stuff up there you shouldn't see."

"Well, now I want to."

"I don't want you to."

Ellie began to walk forward, Joel following, "Serious. Ellie."

"You're too honest, man."

Y/N sighed, starting to walk behind them, "Jesus, you two…"

Then she stopped. 

She was losing her vision, "Oh, fuck."

Joel turned immediately, "Hey. Ellie, stop. Sweetheart?"

Y/N brought a hand up to her head, as if it could stop the black clouding her vision.

Joel watched with a worried look in his eye, "You alright?"

She looked up, "I… I don't know…"

She fell to her knees.

"Oh Fuck!" Joel ran to her quickly, squatting down next to her.

Ellie watched the two from afar, not sure how to help.

"Sweetheart. You gotta lay down. C'mon. Lay down."

Y/N let out a groan, not wanting to move in fear of making things worse.

Ellie began to walk towards them, "what's going on? Is she gonna die?"

Joel's voice turned to stone, "SHE'S NOT GONNA FUCKING DIE!"

Ellie stopped walking, deciding to give them privacy.

Joel let out a sigh, his focus entirely on Y/N, "You gotta lay down, Sweetheart."

She sighed, "….help me… please."

Joel didn't need to be asked twice. 

He immediately shrugged off his jacket, getting his plan in motion.

He moved behind her, pushing her torso backwards towards him. He played his jacket on the ground in front of him, right where her back would meet the ground. 

He pulled her hair to the side, letting her head rest on his leg. 

"Alright, honey. How do you feel?"

"I… can't see… anything…"

He sighed, "that's alright. You need to sleep?"

She shook her head, but stopped seeing as it made things worse, "No… I….I'm…. Fine..." She was slowly losing consciousness.

"Shit. Shh…. Just.... Let it happen…."

He held her face with one hand, the other still resting on the gun on his hip in case of an emergency.

…

Half an hour later, her eyes opened to see Joel hadn't moved since she had passed out. One hand still held her jaw, his thumb brushing her skin lightly, but his other had moved to her hair, lightly playing with it. 

She saw Joel give a relieved look before his hands disappeared from her completely. "Oh, thank god. How you feeling, Sweetheart?"

She let out a groan, "achy."

He smiled, "Well, do we need to stop?"

She shook her head, "No. I can do this."

She sat up slowly, letting her body adjust to the feeling. Joel stood up, moving in front of her. He then held out a hand, offering to help her up.

She took it, of course. His other arm snaked around her waist for stability. When he decided she was stable enough, his moved his hands back, letting her adjust the rest of the way herself. 

She leaned forward, whispering in his ear, "…thank you."

He felt a little color come to his cheeks, "Don't thank-"

"Take my fucking gratitude for once, Joel."

He laughed, "Alright. Just this once. You're welcome."

Her head immediately looked around, trying to find Ellie.

She was not too far, her famous shit eating grin on her face. 

Joel knew he wouldn't hear the end of it. "Alright. Get up, Ellie. We go at Y/N's speed, got that?"

Ellie nodded, mumbling under her breath, "Yeah, you do everything her way, don'tcha?"

His head turned, "What the fuck did you just say?"

Her eyes shuffled between the two, "Nothing, sir."

He huffed, beginning to let Y/N take the lead on their walk. 

Ellie caught up with Y/N, "Say… you think you can tell me that story?"

Y/N's eyebrows furrowed, "…what story?"

"The one where you almost shot Joel."

She laughed, "Yeah… yeah, I can do that."

They heard Joel's voice behind them, "Hey. Watch it."

They giggled, continuing their journey with a smile.

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part 3

[fen-luciel]

Jealousy part 2

Part 1 here part 3 here

Warnings: age gap/toxic behavior

Vernestra-Padawan reader/jedi Qimir

I lied. Or rather, I had some ideas while I was writing, so instead of three parts, there will probably be four. Nothing is certain, but... you have been warned.

Leave a comment and share if you are enjoying the story.

I can't say exactly when things started to change. Maybe they were never normal from the beginning, but I was too distracted to see it, blinded by this lie that I childishly told myself.

The more comfortable I felt with Qimir, the worse his relationship with Vernestra became, to the point where in the naivety of my young age, I thought it was my fault, but in truth, I couldn't even see the problem.

I had learned to recognize my master's moods very early on. I understood before even talking to her if she was nervous because of some diplomatic mission or worse. Sometimes I was left to myself for entire days, i knew her missions were very important and that I would only slow her down, but all I could do was read and train with other padawans and read again and... do nothing.

So, while I daydreamed about the magnificent future missions with my master... I spent time with Qimir.

Of course, he was busy too, but I eagerly awaited his return each time. He would tell me what he did, who he met on his travels, the fights to the last breath, and, he was good at narrating them. He often came to see me in the library, where he would put on a silent show due to the librarian's constant admonishments, using books as pieces of the story and his lightsaber to represent himself. I laughed so much that my cheeks hurt, I used my hands to muffle the louder sounds, and Qimir seemed to love every moment of it. Sometimes, I wondered if he didn't deliberately behave insanely on missions just to tell me about it when we would meet.

The months passed quickly. After about a year as a padawan, I began to distinguish between what I was good at and what I was terrible at. For example, I was great at controlling the Force, but terrible at using the sword. Not because I wasn't good from a technical standpoint, but more for a mental reason, the idea of hurting someone paralyzed me. I wanted to be a Jedi who protected the weak, but I had missed the part where, if you're protecting them, it's because someone is hurting them, someone who probably should be stopped even with the use of force.

Worse still, I was terrified of my master's weapon, the whip seemed so unpredictable to control, yet she used it with deadly precision and wanted me to try it too. She believed my fear was natural for a young mind, that I just needed to unlock myself, but for me, it wasn't like that.

And it got worse when I sought comfort in Qimir.

Maybe, in hindsight, I should have realized something, but it's easy to talk when the worst has already happened. I remember very well what happened that evening, I was exhausted after all the sword training. Vernestra didn't seem particularly happy with my outburst a few hours earlier when I tried to say that maybe I wasn't suited to be a knight, that I could have pushed myself into the medical field or even just be an assistant, maybe a volunteer in war zones. She thought I was speaking without knowing anything, pushing me all afternoon to train in various forms. My hands hurt from calluses, but instead of running to the infirmary, I decided to knock on Qimir's room.

"I don't understand why she doesn't want to accept it. I... don't want to hurt anyone." I broke the tense silence that had formed while Qimir wrapped my fingers with the bandages he had in the bathroom.

"No one said you have to. You're a Jedi, our job is to fight for those in need." He was focused on looking at my fingers, so he didn't notice the grimace I gave him, "And I understand that. But I don't feel suited for that role. Many Jedi perform different duties, fighting isn't essential for everyone." He sighed a laugh.

"I think Vernestra is worried about your safety, it's okay to seek your vocation elsewhere, but our faith leads us to interact with dangerous environments, even the most peaceful mission could hide a terrible evil." He finished the bandaging, then gently took my hands in his, the warmth of his palms a pleasant consolation to the painful throbbing of the blisters that filled my fingers.

He looked at me again with a sad smile on his lips, "I understand that you feel sure of what you want. But, flower, you're still a child. And you have many years ahead of you before you face the final exam, you don't know what will happen or if you will change your mind, don't take what you feel for granted." I blushed foolishly at the nickname he had started calling me some time ago, something about how "I seemed delicate like a flower".

"I know, but... don't you think lightsabers are terrifying?" I stuttered uncertainly, looking into his eyes.

And that moment. That single instant when he gave me that sweet smile, I shivered.

"That's what makes them so beautiful, right?"

I didn't have an answer, maybe yes, but I wouldn't have had the courage to tell him at the moment. I only know that I swallowed a bitter bite and freed myself from his grip, a heavy breath escaping my mouth, "I have to go, thanks for the bandages," I got up quickly and fled from that room as if I had someone on my heels.

That shiver down my spine, that rancid smell at my nose, I couldn't imagine it at the time, but that was the first time I felt fear.

Of course, I blamed myself entirely, I was exaggerating, everyone said so, I was terrified of violence in a way not suitable for the role I was supposed to fill in the future, I should have recovered quickly and restarted my training. I tried to forget that evening, as I had gradually forgotten that conversation on Hoth, but that was just the beginning.

The missions with Qimir keeping us company decreased over time, sometimes he just stopped by for a greeting or joined us more to keep me company if he had a free moment. I really appreciated the time together, I liked that we could remain silent without making it seem strange, once on Naboo he showed me almost the whole city since he had already visited it before. We got ice cream overlooking a lake in complete silence, the sunset was spectacular, and with the light sounds of the forest accompanying us, I fell asleep with my face pressed against his side.

The next morning, I found myself in my room with his cloak as a blanket since I was still dressed. When I tried to return it, he teased me, saying I had slipped on the ground when I pressed against him. I yelled at him that he was rude to tell me that, but only because I didn't have the courage to admit that I found it hilarious. If I had given him rope, he would have teased me about it for months.

When I was finally old enough to accompany the master on some of her more dangerous missions, my opinion on weapons had not changed, but I had made peace with myself and decided to find my combat style.

I was proud of how I built my lightsaber, but I had to modify it when I implemented the double-sided exit to have a double-bladed saber. It made me feel safer using it, more protected, and it was a more versatile weapon, especially for more enemies. So, once I got used to using it combined with a defensive fighting style, I finally felt complete.

On the field, I rarely used the lightsaber, trusting more in my control of the Force to block my opponents and stun them. I knew Vernestra was not entirely happy with how I restrained myself, but I tried to excel in everything else, hoping it was enough.

On a return trip to Coruscant, both wounded and tired, we talked once again about the problem that had arisen when it was needed.

What was supposed to be a quiet afternoon defending senators had turned into a nightmare when a bomb exploded at the meeting place, civilians fleeing in terror, and only a Jedi and a padawan handling the dozen terrorists shooting at the crowd.

The situation obviously got out of hand, and we survived by a miracle. Before calling the council to let them know what had happened, seeing me still so shaken, Vernestra hugged me.

I clung to her robe, barely holding back tears, the memory of all the wounded passing under my eyes still fresh, but she grabbed my shoulders, and looking at me with a determined face, she said, "You did well. I am proud of you."

A few minutes later, when we could finally sit down, I had the courage to speak.

"I killed them. It was so..." I was looking at the blue of hyperspace around us, lost in my thoughts, I don't know if I was talking more to myself or to her.

"You did what was necessary. On other occasions, we could have captured them, but we were at a disadvantage. Sometimes, to save lives, you have to make drastic choices," her tone always confident, as if it were all normal, and technically it was, for her.

I no longer knew what I was doing at that point.

"I know, but... my hands..." were shaking. They shaking even then, in the peace of our shuttle. I held onto the armrests tightly as if I were afraid of falling.

"Maybe Qimir is right."

I turned suddenly, confused, hearing his name mentioned out of nowhere. She sighed before looking at me again, "He thinks it would do you good to train with him a bit. He has been suggesting it to me for a while..." she cleared her throat before looking away.

"Maybe dealing with a more aggressive combat style like his would help you unlock. I know you two have become friends, and... he is much better than me at making you feel comfortable. He might be more helpful than I am."

I was taken aback, more by the fact that Qimir had suggested something like that without letting me know anything. It gave me a strange, somewhat unpleasant feeling that I couldn't quite identify.

But still, my problems at the moment were different, so I nodded. I already felt guilty enough for hesitating in the face of danger. Despite the comforting words, I couldn't shake off the feeling that I had failed.

“Just… be careful, okay?”

The look he gave me is one I would never forget. That… knowing glint deep in his eyes, like a warning bell. But I ignored it.

I nodded, but I ignored it.

When we got home, she headed towards the council room to submit her report. She advised me to go rest since it was already evening, but after saying goodbye to her, I quickly walked down the Jedi corridor. I had been injured and was limping slightly, the next day, I could get myself healed quickly by a healer using the Force, but at that moment, it was a different kind of pain tormenting me.

I knocked hard on Qimir's door without even thinking about it, two, three times before I heard some commotion on the other side, bare footsteps approaching the door before it opened.

“I hope you have a good reason for knocking on my door at this hour—” he mumbled sleepily, his hair messy and wearing only a pair of sweatpants. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, confused, when I jumped into his arms.

My face pressed against his warm chest, and the tears I had been holding back until then started to fall relentlessly, accompanied by a few sobs.

He woke up suddenly, understanding what was happening. He effortlessly picked me up before entering the room and shutting the door behind him. “Hey, hey, my sweet flower, what's wrong?” he whispered in my ear, now fully awake.

I hid my face in his neck while he hugged me tightly, my legs hanging down the sides of his hips, my tears wetting the skin of his chest as I tried to stammer out coherent words.

I had never felt so small until that night, hidden in his arms. Although his cheerful personality made him seem childish at times, I tended to forget that we were a little over ten years apart, we didn’t really share anything except our loyalty to the Order and the same master, but we weren’t the same age, and we didn’t even have similar hobbies. We… he treated me like a little sister with absent parents.

I had run off to seek the safest comfort I knew, and he had given it to me without a second's protest.

He listened to my tear-flavored words without saying anything, his fingers brushing through my hair, partly caressing my scalp. He held me against his chest tighter when my sobs were too much to utter even a single syllable. He didn’t say anything when I was done, had me take off my shoes and most of my dirty tunic, and then lay down in bed with me.

I was pressed between the wall and his warm body, one arm on my side, and the covers wrapped around me like a cocoon.

The next day, still comfortably pressed against his chest, I took a moment to sort out my thoughts. I was ashamed of having lost my composure like that, i shouldn’t have fallen victim to fear, so I slipped away at dawn to avoid facing him. We never talked about what happened, I didn’t have much to say anyway and went back to focusing on my studies.

A few days later, Vernestra came to tell me she would be away to resolve the conflict that had arisen after that attack and that I was entrusted to Qimir as she had mentioned. I had already forgotten about that story, but it all came flooding back when we said goodbye on the platform. Her hesitant look as she stopped halfway up the ramp. I saw her sigh, maintaining a stoic expression before coming back to me one last time. “Trust your instincts, Padawan. If something makes you uncomfortable or… you just leave, got it? You’re still too young for certain matters.”

I didn’t have time to ask her what she was referring to, she boarded the ship right after and left, leaving me there with questions on the tip of my tongue.

Qimir sought me out soon after. I was hiding in the library every afternoon, hoping not to run into him and avoid training, but of course, it didn’t last long. With his usual light smile and calm demeanor, he approached me one morning, “Are you perhaps skipping your training, Padawan?” he asked, mimicking an authoritative tone.

I couldn’t even laugh. In the end, I gave in. I had promised my master, and the fear I felt that afternoon still gave me nightmares, so I followed him into the training room.

Fighting Qimir was like facing a hurricane, seemingly chaotic but, in reality, a perfectly concentrated deadly force of nature. I was used to exhausting rhythms, so I didn’t find it difficult, but what destabilized me was his gaze. It seemed like he really wanted to kill me.

Fast and lethal with his double violet lightsabers, he often aimed at my legs to make me fall and gain an advantage over me. I squirmed uneasily under that assault, of course, that was the goal of that training, but… there was a cold wind behind him. A suffocating sensation, a chill on my skin that made me doubt who or what I was facing.

Vernestra was away for just under a month, during which I trained with Qimir when I wasn’t studying. One of the last training sessions was grueling. I began to doubt he wanted to take it easy on me from the beginning, we clashed forcefully -with our lightsabers- because “it’s needed to keep you sharp ” as if the strikes he aimed at me weren’t enough to keep me alert.

A particularly painful strike to the thigh made me fall heavily to the ground, the fabric of my robe smoking from the slash. When I looked up at him, now disarmed, I almost vomited. Those eyes… now I could recognize them. The eyes of a killer. The same as those men that afternoon weeks before who had charged into the crowd.

I fled the room, took a shower, and went to bed without dinner. I was sure I was going insane. I was tired and nervous and seeing things that weren’t there. I tried to shake off that voice in my head that screamed at me to be careful with Qimir, the guilt clashing with the fear. I tried to bury it all once again, deeper and further away.

And so my routine returned to normal once everything was back to how it was before, and the master had returned, although… I had started to avoid Qimir. It wasn’t that I was running away from him, it was more like a need for personal space, let’s say. Luckily, he was sent on a mission, but he wrote to me almost every evening with messages about his goals, to which I replied with monosyllables. He realized something was wrong, but when he asked me how I was or if something had happened, I dodged the question.

During a mission in the Outer Rim, I was able to indirectly spy on a call between Vernestra and Qimir. She was scolding him for some unspecified decision, but it was the final warning that made me waver. “You’re losing your composure lately. Leave the mission and return to Coruscant to meditate on your choices.” My breath stopped when I heard him shouting through the holopad. I couldn’t quite make out the words, but he was complaining about the poor results of the missions or something like that. I swallowed down that memory too. It had been an outburst due to a tense situation, it could happen. I had to stop thinking about it.

Shared missions completely disappeared. Qimir and I only saw each other to spend time together. One evening, he took me to dinner in a somewhat shabby place with the promise that I could bring my fellow Padawans there when we were older. The light conversation at the table was pleasant before silence surrounded us.

“I’m sorry we see each other less lately,” he finally sighed after dessert.

I shrugged, relaxed. “Well, we have our duties. And I need to keep studying.” I thought I had given a satisfactory answer, but he looked more frowned than before. “It’s unfair. I want a Padawan too.”

I chuckled at the thought. “I think you need a few more years for that.” But he didn’t laugh, instead, he… stared at me in a way I couldn’t decipher. “Why do you say that? You’re growing well.”

I frowned at the answer. “Qimir, I’m Vernestra’s Padawan. No offense, but it’s she who’s raising me,” I maintained a smile that he didn’t share. “You spend more time with me than with her.”

I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. I wanted to tell him that it was normal since we were friends, but that had little to do with the conversation we had started. To tell him that, as good as he was, he still struggled to act like a real authoritative figure suitable for a young boy who needs to learn the Jedi way, but… of course, I said nothing.

I didn’t feel like it. That conversation died just as it had begun.

It seemed that as time went by, that cheerful air around him faded. Maybe it was the maturity I was gaining that woke me up from that waking dream I was living. I recognized certain expressions or glances better, those smiles that once warmed my heart now had a bitter aftertaste. I began to wonder if something had been wrong from the start. Sometimes those strange warnings from Vernestra or those fragments of memories where I had seen him in a different light, more sinister, would come back to me.

So, I made a decision.

It was better to put some distance between the two of us, maybe growing up, I would be able to face him better, understand what was going through his head, and once matured, I would be able to help him as he helped me.

I don’t know if that decision was the straw that broke the camel’s back, if it was something inevitable that had already begun, or if there was no escape. Looking back at everything that happened, the mistakes had started much earlier, but how much blame did I truly deserve?

I was young, naive, it wasn’t my job to see beyond the veil of lies, beyond the Jedi, beyond the Force.

I wouldn’t have been able to recognize the dark side under those circumstances.

And in fact, I didn’t recognize it until it was too late.

And there it was, right in front of me, taking my breath away.

[justa-fanfic-writer]

– How could this happen?

Yandere, OOC?, didn't know where the plot would go, reader is deaf, shitty ending, and other warnings I don't know blah blah blah...

Trafalgar Law x Gender Neutral Reader

Symmary: Basically, you have somehow ended up in the One Piece universe, but you're deaf and only use sign language, but luckily, you had joined Trafalgar Law's and his crew the Heart Pirates and you had joined! But something about Law isn't right...

Btw thank you, kiyoahdiy, for this idea credits to them and but I had a hard time writing this since it was hard coming up with this story would go, so I especially hope you liked this!

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Waking up to the familiar sensation of the ocean’s rhythmic sway beneath you, you had to remind yourself—yet again—that this wasn’t some strange, vivid dream. You really had ended up in the world of One Piece. The sight of the bright, open sea stretching endlessly around you was beautiful yet disorienting, a constant reminder of how surreal your situation was. What had started as a normal night back in your world had turned into a reality where you found yourself stranded in this dangerous yet exciting universe.

At first, you had struggled, not just with the shock of being thrown into this pirate-filled world but also with how to communicate. Being deaf meant that you couldn’t hear the chaos around you, and your way of communicating—sign language—was foreign to everyone here. You had felt more isolated than ever.

That was until you met Trafalgar Law and his crew.

The Heart Pirates, initially wary of your sudden appearance, had quickly taken a liking to you. Bepo, the giant talking mink, had been the first to show interest in learning how you communicated, his wide, fluffy paws trying their best to mimic the signs you taught him. Penguin and Shachi followed, eager to help bridge the gap between you and the rest of the crew.

And Law… Law had been watching you closely the entire time. From the moment you stepped on his ship, his amber eyes had never strayed far from you. He was quiet, calculating, as though he was studying every aspect of you—not just your movements but the very essence of who you were. It had unnerved you at first, but you’d quickly chalked it up to his nature. Trafalgar Law was a brilliant tactician, always thinking ahead, always planning. You had assumed his interest was nothing more than that of a captain trying to understand a new crewmate.

It wasn’t until one fateful night that you realized there was much more to it.

•~•

The crew had been sitting around the deck after a long day, the sound of laughter and conversation filling the air—though you could only see their smiles, their body language giving away the friendly banter. Bepo had sat beside you, signing clumsily about the day’s events, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at his efforts. It felt nice, like you were truly part of the crew.

That’s when Law appeared, as he often did, quietly, his presence casting a shadow over the lighthearted mood. His expression was unreadable, a subtle frown etched across his face as he glanced briefly at the crew before turning his focus solely on you. Without a word, he motioned for you to follow him.

You hesitated, wondering what could be so urgent, but ultimately complied, rising to your feet and trailing behind him. Law led you to the far end of the ship, where the noise of the crew faded, leaving the two of you alone under the stars. The sea breeze was cool, and for a moment, you simply stood there, watching the moonlight dance across the waves.

Law turned to face you, his usual gruff demeanor replaced with something almost… vulnerable. He pulled out a small notepad, something he often used when words weren’t enough to communicate with you, and scribbled something down.

"I want to learn more."

He wrote before flipping the paper around for you to see. You had blinked in surprise. You had been teaching the crew basic sign language for weeks now, but Law had always stood on the sidelines, watching with that intense gaze of his. Yet he never seemed interested in joining.

Before you could sign a response, Law continued writing.

"But I want you to teach me. Alone."

Your heart skipped a beat. This wasn’t like Law. The captain was always distant, calculating, rarely showing any signs of personal interest. Why now? And why alone?

You nodded cautiously, curious but unsure of his intentions. You began showing him some basic signs, expecting him to struggle as the others had, but Law, true to his reputation as a quick learner, picked up the language with ease. His movements were precise, controlled—just like him.

The two of you spent hours like that, the rest of the crew long asleep, as you taught him more and more. And the more he learned, the closer he seemed to get. Literally. His presence was starting to be overwhelming, the space between the two of you growing smaller with each passing moment. You could feel the heat of his body next to yours, and every time your hands brushed during a sign, a strange tension built in the air.

Eventually, Law stopped signing, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. His expression shifted slightly, his usual cold exterior softening ever so subtly.

And then he signed something with his that made your heart stop.

“Be mine.”

You froze, your mind racing to comprehend what you had just seen. Your eyes widened in disbelief, wondering if you had misinterpreted his signs, but Law’s gaze was unwavering, his hands still poised in the air, waiting for your response.

You had never considered romance to be a possibility in this world—especially not with Trafalgar Law. He was always so focused, so guarded. And you? You had resigned yourself to thinking that love was out of reach, that surviving in this world was all you could hope for.

But here he was, asking you to be his... his lover...

You hesitated, a million thoughts running through your mind at once. Was this real? Could you even trust him? Law was powerful and brilliant, but he was also ruthless. You had seen firsthand how he commanded his crew with an iron will, how he controlled every aspect of his surroundings. Was this just another form of control?

Yet, despite the uncertainty, despite the unease swirling in your gut, you found yourself smiling. Something about the way he was looking at you, the vulnerability hidden behind those amber eyes, made you want to believe that this was genuine.

You shook your head slightly, trying to clear your doubts, and as you had blushed a bit as heat was coming in your face as you signed.

“I accept.”

For a moment, Law’s expression didn’t change. He simply stared at you, his face unreadable. But then his eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a small smirk as his brows had furrowed. He looked almost…pleased? As if he knew you would accept... Or perhaps something deeper, something darker was lurking behind his gruff exterior.

He stepped closer, his presence now fully overwhelming, his eyes piercing into yours with a possessive intensity. You had sealed your fate, though you didn’t realize it at the time. The moment you accepted his confession, the moment you agreed to be his, you had unknowingly surrendered to something far more dangerous than you could have imagined.

-(So how's your day been...?)- XD

From that point on, Law’s possessiveness became suffocating. It wasn’t obvious at first. To the crew, things seemed normal, but you could feel the shift. He would always be nearby, watching, waiting. If you spent too much time with the others, even if it was something as innocent as teaching Bepo a new sign, Law would find a way to interrupt, his hand resting on your shoulder as a silent reminder of his claim over you.

It became clear that Law didn’t want anyone else near you—not even his own crew.

One evening, while you were sitting with Penguin and Shachi, showing them some new phrases, Law appeared as if from nowhere. He didn’t say anything, just stood there, arms crossed, his expression as dark as the night around you. The others quickly picked up on the tension and made an excuse to leave, but you could see the worry in their eyes.

As soon as they were gone, Law pulled you aside, his grip firm but not painful. His eyes burned with something intense, something you hadn’t seen before.

“They’re not important”

He sighed quickly, his movements sharp and precise.

“You are important. Only to me.”

You frowned, signing back that the crew mattered, that they were your friends, and was also Law's crew, but Law’s gaze darkened.

“I don’t care”

He sighed as his hands moved with frustration as he was signing with his hands.

“No one else gets to be close to you. Just me.”

You felt a chill run down your spine at his words. This wasn’t love—it was obsession. And you were trapped in the middle of it.

•~•

The final straw came when the Heart Pirates met up with the Straw Hat crew. Luffy, in his usual carefree manner, had approached you, all smiles and curiosity. He tried to communicate with you, his wide eyes filled with excitement, but before you could even sign a greeting, Law was there.

His hand gripped your arm tightly as he stepped between you and Luffy, his eyes cold and dangerous.

“Strawhat-ya”

He said, his voice low and threatening.

“Back off.”

Luffy blinked, confused, but shrugged it off, turning his attention elsewhere. But you could see it—Law’s possessiveness was spiraling out of control. No one was allowed near you. No one but him.

That night, as you lay in your bunk, you realized the truth. Law didn’t love you—not in the way you had hoped. He was obsessed, consumed by the need to control every aspect of your life. You had thought that joining the Heart Pirates would give you a chance to survive, a chance to live in this dangerous world.

But in accepting Law’s love, you had sealed your fate. You weren’t just part of the crew. You were his prisoner.

And no matter how hard you tried to escape, no matter how much you wanted to be free, Law would never let you go. You were his, and he would make sure no one else ever came close to you again.

As Law had kissed you, and the kiss was nothing more on how much he loved you... in a sick and twisted way. The kiss was how Law had held your waist so tightly as if he didn't want to let go...

As the two of you kept kissing as after a few more moments of passionate kissing, Law had said something that made your spine chill.

"You're mine (M/N)-ya and mine alone."

And as Law gave you one more kiss on the lips, you could see the smirk on his face as if he knew he was right.

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Yeah, this was hard to write, especially with school and how i could barely think of the plot, too, and sorry if it had been a long time as I posted... again...

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Lover’s Quarrel

Lee Russell x Reader

Summary: Reader is the third Vice Principal of North Jackson High. She often finds herself fighting with Lee Russell. Tension builds until it finally breaks.

CW: cussing because duh it’s Lee Russell, p in v, creampie, biting(?), Lee being a panty thief,

~~~

You sat alongside your two coworkers watching some of the kids practice for the pep rally. Neal Gamby and Lee Russell, your fellow Vice Principals. Only a few weeks back they had dragged you along for some harebrained scheme to get the new Principal, Dr. Belinda Brown, fired. Breaking into her home, resulting in Russell loosing it and burning her entire house down. You were in the thick of it with them now, no turning back.

Gamby and Lee argued back and forth about what the next plan was to ensure Belinda Brown was no more. You were halfway zoned out not much caring for their petty bickering.

“I can’t help both of you pussed out on me and ran,” Lee scoffed at Gamby. “You can’t be serious right now, what did you want us to go up in flames with the house?” Gamby rolled his eyes.

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Lee began talking through his teeth, “I’m talking about how we were gonna highjack her car too, Gamby! Could’ve burnt that shit down right in the school parking lot!”

“I think burning her new house down was far enough, Lee,” you finally chimed in.

“Yeah, dumbass. Don’t you think we would’ve been caught then?!” Gamby leaned in.

“She has kids, Lee. We’ve already made them homeless,” you sat up straight rolling your shoulders.

“You two are no fun!” Lee rolled his eyes, “Too invested in her personal life and shit. I don’t give a fuck about her! Neither should you, little miss sensitive.”

“That’s rich coming from someone with a detailed binder on every single faculty member in this building,” you stood up.

“Yeah!” Gamby pointed a finger in his face, “You’re the one who’s invested!”

“Shut the fuck up, Gamby,” Lee scrunched his face up at him. Lee’s eyes followed you as you walked down the bleachers.

“Where the fuck are you goin’, prissy pants?” Lee stood up behind you.

“Anywhere where I don’t have to hear your dumbass complain,” you turned around and threw your arms up.

“You always are the first one to back out on anything! Can’t even commit to a conversation with us,” Lee crossed his arms.

“Ooo a lovers quarrel,” Gamby teased.

“Shut Up, Gamby!” You both spoke together.

Lee began walking down the bleachers towards you. This just pissed you off worse.

It had almost always been like this with you and Lee. Small bickerings that were normally wrapped up with some flirting. All your coworkers constantly teased you both about fighting like an old married couple. Lee was different when you were alone. Staying late to help you with some paperwork that you could’ve done yourself, deeply complimenting you, always making an excuse to invite you into his office or himself into yours, lingering touches between you. Things had changed since Dr. Brown joined the faculty. Lee was sassier than ever. No longer willing to be any form of helpful, just hanging around throwing off-hand insults towards anyone and everyone. It had been growing old. You were sick of constant negativity pouring from him.

You headed down the stairs of the bleachers walking as fast as you could away from him.

“What’s the matter with you?” Lee rushed behind you, his hard steps echoing on the metal stairs. You ignored him, continuing forward. “I thought this was like our thing! Just some back and forth, what’s the big deal?” Lee scoffed.

“I’m not in the mood for this today, Lee,” you rolled your eyes refusing to look back at him. He was hot on your heals.

“What are you on your period or something?” Lee joked.

That was it. That sent you over the edge.

"Oh, sweet God, Lee! You're being a fucking asshole!" You stormed off into the nearby woods. The area in which old school supplies got dumped, also where Lee often took his smoke break.

"Me the asshole? You're the one actin' like a royal bitch right now!" Lee followed closely behind you.

That struck a nerve.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Lee stood before you, hands on his hips, mouth hanging awkwardly open and eyes wide. He stammered slightly shaking his head.

"Nothing," he threw his hands up doing a circle step.

"No- Go ahead, Russell. Since you want to be so brave, tell me what you said!"

"You're the one that called me an asshole," he mumbled.

"Because you are an asshole! That's all you've ever been and all you'll ever be! A self obsessed, egotistical asshole!" You grunted as you spun around, leaning your arm against a tree.

"Oh, now look whose name callin'!" Lee stomped.

"You act all sweet and friendly to the staff, then do everything in your power to stab them in the back. Laughing and jokin' at the lunch table, pretending to be one of them. Well you aren't! You're a fucking psychopath who loves to pull everyone down with him! You're a sicko with a power trip, Russell!"

Lee scoffed at you, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

"FUCK YOU, LEE RUSSELL!" You got into his face pointing at him.

Lee cocked his head to the side. His hands found both sides of your face, crashing his lips into yours. You were stunned and extremely aroused. You sunk into the kiss full force, your body melting into Lee's grasp.

"You've got a dirty mouth on you, Ms. L/N," Lee flashed a toothy grin at you.

"You have no idea," you chuckled to yourself.

"Fuck, me. I like the sound of that," he pressed his lips back into yours, backing you into the tree you had leaned on prior. You exchanged spit as your tongues tussled, sloppy kissing being shared. Lee's lips found their way to your neck, biting and sucking at it. "Don't be fucking greedy," you breathed out.

"I'll do whatever I want," he kissed your skin, biting down a little harder than before. A small moan escaped you feeling his teeth dance along your skin. You wanted him badly.

Lee pulled you away from the tree, escorting you over to the mattress on the ground. A little gross, but you could not care right now. "Let's hurry things along a little, I've got an evaluation in an hour," Lee helped you onto the mattress, crawling on top of you. A prominent tent pitched in his tight khakis. "You really know how to make a girl feel special, dontcha Russell?"

"Oh, shut up," Lee kissed your lips. He ran a hand down your body, sliding under your skirt, finding your clothed core. His fingers began making circles against your sensitive nub. Your hips jolted forward at the sudden friction. Your eyes shot up to him. "Did you think I was gonna be the only one getting off here?" Lee looked at you with a cocky grin. You ran both hands up his body, tugging him down by his tie.

"Fuck me, Lee," you fluttered your eyes at him.

"Don't have to ask me twice, sweetheart," Lee began pulling himself from his pants. You shimmied your panties down your legs, cool air hit your soaking core. Lee's eyes stared up your skirt, mouth hanging open admiring your sex. Your eyes finally caught his fully erect cock, his hand grasped around it stroking himself. Your face flushed. Lee got in position, lining himself up with your opening. He eased himself in, the tip stretching you first. Lee’s eyes stared down at yours, lust written all over his face.

He continued easing his way inside you, giving you time to adjust to him. He found himself fully inside you, both of you breathing loud and heavy. He stayed for a moment not ready to begin moving. He gently pulled himself back before aggressively thrusting back into you. A moan fell from you.

"Ah, fuck. Has a pussy this good seriously being hidin' from me this whole time?" Lee threw his head back as he continued thrusting into you. His cocked stretched you just right.

"Should've bent you over my desk by now. Fucked you in the teacher's lounge. Hell, I'll fuck you on my future Principal's desk," Lee grinned ear to ear.

"You mean my future desk," you scowled at him.

"Whatever gets you to let me keep fucking you," Lee leaned his head against you. He squinted his eyes savoring the feeling of you around him. He had not been fucked in a longtime, let alone by someone as good as you.

Lee's hips rocked into you consistently quick, your head rested back on the mattress. He felt extremely good inside you, even if that mouth of his was not doing him any favors. He leaned down placing a wet kiss on your lips, his hand creeping down your body and finding your sensitivity again. His name was a soft moan on your lips. You felt your orgasm inching through your body his fingers working absolute magic on you. You were breathless.

“I wanna cum in you, okay?” Lee whispered in your ear. You nodded aggressively. You knew you would unwind any minute now. Lee’s hips grew sloppy and unrhythmic as he began chasing his high. Praises flowed from him as he threw his head back, his fingers finally sending you over the edge. Your walls fluttered around him, a loud moan escaping you. Lee’s body fell flush with yours, his hips snapping into you. “Fuck, Y/N, you have the perfect pussy,” he moaned in your ear. Ropes of him shot inside you, his hips sputtering trying to get as deep inside you as possible. His lips pressed into yours hard. One of his hands cupped your cheek, Lee admired you, being tender with you for only a moment.

“Goddamn, Y/N! That was— Fuck, great,” Lee chuckled awkwardly trying to catch his breath. You ran your hand through Lee’s hair, his eyes softening for a moment. Lee pulled out of you hesitantly. Deep down he wished you could stay like this forever. He would never admit it publicly, but he really liked you. You both sighed. He rolled over to be on the mattress beside you.

You sat up, searching for your panties that had been discarded earlier. “Where’d my underwear go?”

Lee laughed. He patted his chest, “Don’t you worry about those, I’m sure you have plenty more at home.” Your whole body flushed with heat when you realized what he was saying.

“You’re seriously going to make me walk around the rest of the day with no underwear?” You half smiled at him.

“Goddamn right I am. Make sure every time you sit down you remember what happened out here,” Lee laughed, standing up and reaching his hand out to you. You took it, he pulled you to your feet. Your chest was flush against his, you looked up at him. You pressed a kiss to his lips quickly. You saw a slight pink hue rise on his cheeks. Lee’s hands were on your hips, heavy brown eyes staring into yours. A faint smile painted his face.

The bell rang in the distance.

Lee’s eyes shot up to the school behind you. “Uh— Guess we outta get back to work,” he placed a tiny peck on your cheek. You smiled as he walked ahead of you, one of his hands reaching behind him for yours. You intertwined fingers with him, getting a satisfied look over his shoulder. He led you out of the trees, the field that was previously full of loud cheering students was now empty. No one was outside. At least, that’s what you thought. Lee spun around, planting another kiss on your lips. A goofy grin painting his face.

“RUSSELL!”

You both jumped slightly hearing Neal Gamby’s voice echoing through the air.

“Jesus Christ,” Lee sighed as he turned around to face him.

“What the fuck were you guys doing out there? You know we have to monitor the halls during class changes! Plus you guys forced me to have ‘small talk’ with Bitch Brown!” Gamby folded his arms over his chest.

“No need to get your nutsack twisted, Gamby. We just needed to plan out our next attack,” Lee flicked him in the shoulder walking past him to the school.

“I’m supposed to be involved in all conversations about this!” Gamby protested.

You laughed and rolled your eyes, following closely behind Lee. Turning to make a face at Gamby as you headed inside.

“You guys suck,” Gamby mumbled as he hustled to catch up with you.

You and Lee walked side by side inside the building, occasionally bumping into each other. Exchanging small smiles back and forth. Continuously grazing hands, longing to interlock fingers again.

Save that for another time.

~~~

[END]

~ Thank you for reading! This is my first time writing for Lee Russell so I hope you enjoyed it! I am currently on Episode 6(?) of Vice Principals and am absolutely obsessed. I will be more than happy to write more for Lee Russell if anyone has requests! If you want to be tagged in my future work let me know! ~

[TAGS]

@megangovier ~ @lacey-mercylercy ~ @dichromaniac ~ @toogaytofunctiondangit ~ @justme12200 ~ @aliisa-jones ~ @one-of-thewalkingdead ~ @madladysix ~

[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: I'm very normal about Idia, guys. Being his friend would be great, I just know. Yet he is an interesting character to me so at the same time he'd want you to spend all the time by his side, he also idolizes a version of you, smth smth I love him, enjoy this <3

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warning: Yandere content, control and manipulation tendencies, guilt tripping, gn!reader

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Idia becomes intensely possessive when he first make friends with you, something he’s not used to. His loyalty runs deep and he expects the same in return, often feeling jealous and anxious if you spends time with "the normies", as he likes to call them. He tries to monopolize your attention by filling your days with online games, late-night chats and gossip sessions and anime marathons, making it difficult for you to spend time with anyone else. He even try your blogs if it is something he can do inside his or your room.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Sometimes he beg you to spend the day in his room, studying online as he does, when he is dealing with a particularly bad day - which are slowly turning into a daily thing.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ While Idia doesn’t confront people directly, he’s skilled at subtly manipulating you. If you mention hanging out with someone else, he’ll sulk or act overly dramatic, making you feel guilty for not spending time with him. He wants youto believe you’re the only one, besides Ortho and his family, who truly understands him, ensuring that you stay close. His tech expertise also gives him an advantage over you as he keeps tabs on your online activity, always aware of who you’re talking to or what you’re doing when you are away from him. And if you tell about how suffocating is to be with someone like him or something like that, Idia will make little changes in himself so you won't be bothered by how he acts.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ To further isolate you, Idia draws you deeper into his world, introducing rare games and niche interests that only he can share with you. If you try to make plans outside your usual routine, he’ll always have something special, a one time offer that you simply can't resist. Deep down, his tendencies come from a deep fear of rejection. He’s terrified of being abandoned and he believes the only way to secure your friendship is to make you depend on him as much as he depends on you. He wants to be your hero, strong, fierce, yet he turns into your villain, your tormentor.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ As the friendship deepens, Idia’s clinginess becomes more apparent, though he tries to hide it behind his usual awkwardness. He starts to get anxious whenever you doesn’t respond immediately to messages, bombarding you with worried texts or even calling, something he normally hates doing. When you finally reply, he plays it off but the relief he feels is palpable. He needs that constant reassurance that you’re still there, still close to him, that you still like him.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Idia’s jealousy, though subtle, can become intense. If he notices you are growing closer to someone else, he starts planting doubts in your mind, making snide comments or pointing out flaws in the new person’s behavior. His aim is always to make sure you realizes that no one will ever be as loyal or understanding as he is. He never wants to be obvious about it but his bitterness leaks out in small doses, enough to make his friend second-guess their other relationships.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ When things don’t go as planned, Idia retreats into self-pity, making you feel responsible for his mood. He might withdraw entirely, going quiet for days at a time, only to return with cryptic messages about feeling “left behind” or how much he hates being alone. This emotional tug-of-war keeps you constantly on edge, never wanting to hurt him or push him away, which only feeds into Idia’s control over you. Wether you realize what he does or not, Idia will always find a way to have control over you, no matter what.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Despite his fear of being too obvious, there are times when Idia’s obsession shows more openly. He might create custom in-game avatars of you, carefully crafting you to reflect his idealized version of a romantic relationship. He’ll obsessively collect items or trinkets that remind him of you, even going so far as to create private spaces in games or online where it’s just the two of them, away from anyone else or have an AI of your voice saying sweet little nothings to him, or singing. This, though, he'll never let you know. He doesn't want for you to think he is a weirdo, he just really love you, his bestie.

[lovelykhaleesiii]

hi! will you write an aegon x reader imagine in which they are married out of love. and after she gives birth, alicent (or otto idk) requests to see her child like she did to rhaenyra. like what would aegon do to see his wife in pain and how would he react? thank you!

Ugh, I live for this type of angst!!! I reckon Aegon would be so fucking pisssssed. How dare they try to get you to lift a finger, let alone stand after birthing his child!!!! sorry for the wait, hope you enjoy xx

Our Child.

PAIRING: Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 1,948.

WARNINGS: swearing, fluff, angst, Dad!Aegon, mentions of pregnancy/birth, mentions of bullying.

A/N - I apologise for getting carried away with the beginning lmao, but I felt the need to lay some background, so don't mind me. hope you enjoy!

Within this realm, gossip and scepticism was not unfamiliar territory. Especially regarding the livelihood and innocence of maidens such as yourself, whispers were constant, back and forth, the ongoing judgement would never be silenced although, you'd grown ignorant to. It did not matter, many accused you of being a whore, many expressed their disgust over hearing your so-called promiscuous nature, and many had ridiculed your poor upbringing.

"Surely, she's bedded men before, and the Prince seems to not mind? I heard she was betrothed to a farmer in the North, although ran away."

"Aegon is no saint either... Although he is a man, and men have needs."

"What would the Prince want with someone of her kind? She has nothing to offer, not even a dowry, and he is to be King."

The scrutiny was constant, and Aegon knew at times, no matter how well you masked it, that the words stung. He knew your story, having allowed him and granting him the time to really get to know you, Aegon had pestered you for so long, he listened and knew your truth.

The rest were all lies, deceit and gossip, for many lords had intended for their own daughters to wed the King to be.

"The realm have already made up their minds, Aegon, I stand no chance against them."

Aegon did not care. He loved you undeniably, and whatever he saw in you, made him a better man.

"They can answer to me, I'd like to hear their judgement directly."

It was true, no one dared to question Aegon's intentions with you, not at least in front of him. First off, he had a dragon. Secondly, a terribly, quick temper, the notorious Targaryen temper... The two fused well together depending on who asked.

Overtime, just as you always had, the scrutiny of the high class and council did not matter to you, for it was the least of your concerns.

Although, it bothered you greatly that his mother, Queen Alicent, had tuned into such gossip and determined herself that you unworthy.

She did not completely ignore your presence in the castle, although she was cold. She never warmed unto you like she did with other high-borne ladies, nor did she give you the chance to speak or tell your truth. Her mind was made.

Alicent was certain that you had other intentions with her son, that you'd wanted riches, gold, money, anything to help redeem your family's status in society. She assumed that you would use the Crown in all its glory, all through Aegon.

"I see you as you are, Y/N. Aegon may think with his cock when it comes to you, although I see right through you," Her words cut sharp as Valyrian blade, left you defeated and speechless.

Aegon knew of this, for he could tell how quickly your mood had shifted. He knew of his mother's sour attitude towards you, for she'd plead with him many times to let you go, even proposing the idea of offering you money in return that you leave King's Landing for good.

In despite of the adversity, Aegon held his ground, for one of the first times in his life. He remained with you, by your side relentlessly, and defended your honour. He often returned to your chambers tiresome of the repetitive quarrelling with his mother about you, and yet he did not intend to stop, until she'd accepted you. In time, he had asked for your hand, wedding you in a private ceremony, upholding his Valyrian heritage, and not before long, you were with child, Aegon's child and his rightful heir.

****

The birthing was difficult to say the least, going on for a fair few hours in the night, right until sunlight could be seen in the horizon. The instant cry of your newborn babe filled the room, and much to your relief, caused you to beam with a smile on your face, as you embraced the small bub in your arms.

"A boy, your Grace. Kicking like a goat," The experienced midwife exclaimed, as she tended to the sweat dripping on your face, and the blood marked on your cheeks, from kissing the babe, trying to make you somewhat decent if Aegon was to return.

Aegon although, desperate to be with you, was caught in a council meeting. Much to his dismay, his abrupt marriage to you left many lords in uproar as his family had promised them the opportunities for their daughters to meet the young Prince, determined to see if he'd take a liking to one of the them. Many now furious at the Crown, refusing to pay taxes and levies.

As you cradled the baby in your arms, enamoured by the bundle of joy, little shrouds of hair on his head, parallel to his father's Targaryen heritage, his nose even a copy of Aegon's. It was his little twin. Trying to take your son's presence all in, was suddenly interrupted by a loud knock on the door, jolting your attention towards the entrance. Your heart raced with excitement, as you'd relished in the image of Aegon rushing through to your bedside, meeting his newborn son for the first moment ever.

Much to your disappointment it was a knight, although, one that you'd grown familiar to seeing in the Queen's company.

"Apologies to bother you, your Grace. Although, Queen Alicent wishes to see you and the babe at this very moment."

A puzzled look drenched your face, as you scanned the faces of the midwives and maester present during your birth, each of them sharing a discerning look, some quickly looking to their shuffling feet, trying to seem busy.

"Right now?" You stuttered, holding your newborn tightly instinctively.

The knight merely nodded, as though hesitant to giving such orders considering the ordeal you'd endured just mere minutes ago.

Now you'd grown annoyed, you gestured for one of the midwives to hold your dear son, who continued to wail as he left your arms, whilst the others helped you to your feet, blood drenched clothes, pooling down your legs as you gained steadiness.

You couldn't stand by yourself, your head whirling and your belly and thighs aching in a dull pain, sudden movements and long strides caused sharp pains to bellow your lower back and hips, cramping your muscles. It was pain you'd never felt like before.

The maester attempted to convince you of taking milk of the poppy for the walk, although short, would be tormenting with the stairs you had to conquer.

Although, milk of the poppy made you feel weaker, less conscious. You did not want to wish dropping the babe in your arms, nor be less alert for Alicent.

The midwives carefully donned you in a clean, silk gown, attempting to make you as decent and proper as possible, for people began to bustle through the castle now. Hearing their conversations and steps outside the door, for it was morning and you'd grown familiar to its routine.

"Y/N dearest, perhaps we can send a message to the Queen that your condition does not allow for you to travel currently-" The maester pitied.

"No, it is fine. If this is what the Queen wants, this is what she shall get."

The midwife that had held your son, returned him to your arms, as the knight helped to guide you out, holding out his armoured arm as you gripped it tightly for support. Thankfully, he did not rush you, for he could see how slow and careful you were taking your steps.

Some lords and ladies passing by would congratulate you, whilst others remained ignorant to your presence, and some in pure shock that you were travelling in such a state.

Their whispers again, filled the morning air, although before reaching the steps, you'd taken a glance at your newborn son, snug in his blankets. Again, the same, warm smile gleamed on your face as you watched him, before a sharp pain pierced through your lower abdomen. Your grip on the knight tensed and he knew immediately, questioning if you wished to turn back.

"No-No, let's just fucking go."

As you took the first, agonising step up, a familiar voice yelled out your name. Slowly turning back, your body straining, resisting all the physical movement, you could see Aegon down the other side of the corridor, rushing past as he reached your side.

"What's the meaning of this, where are you going in such a state?"

He kept his focus on you, oblivious to the babe in your arms, as one hand massaged your back, whilst the other held your arm for support, as you began to cower in pain.

"Ughh-Y-Your mother, wanted t-to see the babe, now."

You stuttered, your voice trembling as the pain worsened the more you remained on your feet, becoming breathless by the second.

As you mentioned the babe, Aegon looked down, his eyes meeting his newborn son, a cherished look on his face appeared for a split second, before he realised the situation. His eyes darted towards the knight and commanded that he tell his mother, "That would not be wise, if she so wishes to see the babe, she can come down herself."

You reassured the knight that you were fine, as Aegon took his place by your side, turning you back around to your chambers, the midwives still present as they remained cleaning the bloody scene, were relieved to see you return. They all helped you back down cautiously, propping pillows behind your back for support, even preparing a small cup of milk of the poppy, now that you were rested in bed.

"What were you thinking Y/N? Don't you ever think that you need to prove yourself like that, my mother can answer to me."

"I-I don't know, Aegon. She is the Queen, a-and I thought... I am sorry husband."

Aegon had been pacing himself up and down the room, as the midwives left to give you both peace and privacy, shaking and rubbing his head. Out of fury, he slammed his fist against the wooden post of the bed railing, before calming himself. Seating himself down by your side, as he ran his fingers through his short, tussled platinum hair. A low sigh escaping his mouth, as he exchanged a worried look on his face, your hand reaching over to hold his reddened knuckles, as your thumb grazed the small, fresh cut.

"You-You my dearest, need not to apologise, you did nothing wrong. I just cannot fathom how my mother think it okay to torment you like that."

"I-I do not know, Aegon. But rest assured, our son is happy and healthy, come-"

You pulled his fingers, beckoning to come closer, as you pulled down the cover on your son's little face, despite all the mayhem that ensued following his birth, he remained quiet and slept. Unphased by the drama of his presence, he was your calm before the storm.

"He's beautiful isn't he? Our child." You softly whisper, as you looked up from the babe to Aegon, and back down again, gently cradling him in your arms.

Aegon's arm wrapped beneath yours, as his free hand, a finger gently grazed over his son's nose, dotting it. Helplessly, a smile beamed up on his face, as his son cooed against his father's touch.

"As angelic as his mother is." He uttered, before resting his head against your shoulder.

"She will be dealt with, Y/N. Rest assured, I will speak with her and it will be the last time we speak of this matter again. She did not deem me fit to be King before, she will now."

[animeyanderelover]

Hi 🌸Can I request Hashirama,Tobirama,Madara,Itachi,Sasuke,pein ,Indra,Shisui and Tsunade with a darling that has a weaken immune system so they are often sick?Thank you 👽

@shumidehiro @swagenemyartisan

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional mindset, overprotective behavior, clinginess, stalking, isolation

Darling has a weak immune system

Indra Otsutsuki

💜​There is a tiny part that obviously enjoys your weak condition because it enables him to have better control over you. Since you are so often sick as you are, you have very little chances of trying to escape him nor do you have the needed strength to fight him. Instead you are one way or another forced to rely on him and you'd be a fool to think that he doesn't enjoy your dependency on him. Yet there is always a limit with Indra and it is the sheer amount of times you fall ill that manages to get on his nerves. Yes, you have no control over it since you have always had a weak immune system but that doesn't stop him from using this annoyed and irritated tone when he talks to you. Indra doesn't want to be degraded to your personal nurse yet he is as he hasn't really allowed you to see anyone else since he has abducted you. Considering your frail health though, he eventually sees himself forced to assign a medic to you who is tasked to take care of you in his absence.

💜​Indra has better things to do than caring for you the entire day but at the same time he isn't heartless enough to leave you to battle on your own so hiring a medic seems like the best choice. Since the medic is much more trained than Indra is though, he expects them to do an excellent job now that they were assigned to you. They would also do better to know that their only task is nursing you back to health whenever you are sick. Indra is aware that this medic will be your only daily social interaction next to him but he would hate for you to get attached which is why he clarifies via intimidation and threats that he doesn't want them to entertain your feeble hopes of bonding with someone else and potentially even getting their help. There are a lot of doctors out there so if they dare to displease him, he will murder them and just find someone else. He is very surveiling even if he also spends time training to see if the medic has done a good job taking care of you.

Madara Uchiha

🌑​Ever since Madara has announced you as the spouse he wants, the elders haven't given him a day of rest. It has come as a huge shock to all of them that from all potential spouses they had suggested, he has chosen you. What witchery did you even use to gain Madara's interest even with your delicate health? Surely he is joking as it is unacceptable for him to marry someone who is as weak and feeble as you are. When Madara fights back though, they all know that he is serious. What you lack in your health is after all more than made up in your temper and your sharp tongue. Maybe it is the constant pain of illness that makes you as grumpy as you are but even if he knows that he shouldn't think about it this way, to Madara your angry mood is adorable. You are almost rivaling him in your sheer stubbornness as you are unwilling to yield to your body and gladly ignore the doctor's advice to do what you wish to do. As you always say, it's all mental. Very cute.

🌑​You can only get that far though until Madara has to stop you by lifting you up and carrying you back to your room. Don't get him wrong, he admires your fighting spirit but he'll only let you push your body that far. He wouldn't want you to strain your immune system even more than it is already. Only the best medics are allowed to attend to your needs and even if you refuse their help, Madara has the last word. If you refuse to take the medicine when you are especially ill, he will gladly help to get it past your lips and down your throat and drag you back to your futon if he catches you in an attempt to escape your room. He only lets a handful of people visit you in your room and the elder definitely don't belong to those guests. Madara is surprisingly accepting of your weak immune system overall because he respects that you power through it all with such determination. He just expects you to not be dumb and push your body to a limit that will only cause you more suffering.

Hashirama Senju

🌳​His clan is going to give him an earful when they find out that he plans to marry you as they expected more. Hashirama is a man blessed with power and skills beyond imagination and to think that he would choose you from all people is a pill hard to swallow for many of the Senju clan. Honestly, Hashirama is busy with other things than worrying about what his clan thinks. He has to take care of you after all. Hashirama is already under normal circumstances a pretty obsessive man but with your frail health, you are even more on his mind than you would be normally. He loathes it when he has to sit in his office and has to work even if he is also dedicated to his position as the Hokage. He's wondering how you are doing and if you're fine in this moment and it often causes him to space out as his mind wanders to you. It can be pretty bad at times and Tobirama has been lecturing him for it every time. To allow his brother to focus on his work, him and Mito are volunteering to look after you when he's in his office.

🌳​Whilst Hashirama knows that you are in good hands when Tobirama or Mito are looking out after you, he still finds himself spacing out. Sometimes he's begging his brother if he can do all the paperwork at home where he can be with you and he has to deliver all of the work finished to Tobirama so that his younger brother can be sure that Hashirama has done his job instead of just doting on you. The Hokage is quite clingy and caring whenever he is with you though as he makes sure to give you support and enough love. He is very overprotective due to your poor immune system but he's also very prone to feel affected by your own feelings. He understands and he feels your frustration as you hate being isolated and stuck like this most of the time. In order to keep you happy, he makes sure to take you out as soon as you are in a better condition, even if he usually accompanies you to be prepared if anything should happen to you. After all Hashirama is skilled in medical jutsu too and can help you when you need medical assistance.

Tobirama Senju

🌊​Tobirama is already pretty prepared when it comes to surveiling his darling since they might be targeted due to his position as the Second Hokage. With the situation at hand that you are often prone to falling ill, he tightens the security around you even more. He is very picky as he selects a few medics who will cater to your needs during the time where he is in his office and doing his work and only those who meet his high expectations will be chosen. Any arguments the elder of his clan may try to have with him will be mercilessly cut short by him. He is a busy man and he has not as much time for a meaningless dispute as those people might think, even if he highly respects his clan. His decision remains firm though so really, it'll be no use to argue with him over his choice of partner as Tobirama is very stubborn and determined once he has chosen someone for himself. You have other qualities he respects about you after all as he knows that you can't really control your immune system.

🌊​He studies more medical ninjutsu ever since he has fallen in love with you as he is pretty dedicated to keep you as healthy as possible by not only relying on others but also by using his own skills. Similar to Madara he expects you not be reckless though by pushing your limits and he is going to be quite strict about any instructions he or your other medics give you as those are given for you to feel better and not for you to ignore them and risk to make everything even worse. Don't be too stubborn. If you have work that you still want to continue even despite your constantly ill health, Tobirama does his best to find a way to enable you to do work even when you are ill. Surely you can do some paperwork from home too if you are too sick to go outside. He's actually very mindful to never insult you for your sick body as he knows that no one is more frustrated about it than you are and is very pissed if someone were to insult you for it.

Tsunade Senju

🐌​Tsunade is going to be just like her grandfather quite the mother hen as she is almost constantly making a fuss over your sick condition. Since she is a medic, the best one to exist next to the pupils she is personally training, she is also very fixated on being the one to cater to your health and to your needs. This desire to take care of you stands in conflict to her position as the Fifth Hokage as she also has other work to do. It needs the combined power of Shizune and Sakura to see it through that she does her paperwork instead of only spending her time with you whilst her two students keep an eye on you in the meantime. They know that their sensei is very sceptical to let someone else take care of you aside from her so it is always the easiest to promise Tsunade that they will look out for you as Tsunade trusts both of her students. She is quite prone to be a tad bit more unproductive though as she is with her mind constantly by you. The fine lady is maybe a tiny bit paranoid about your condition.

🐌​Whilst there is an aspect of dependence that you automatically have as you have to rely on her as your medic, Tsunade doesn't find herself enjoying this as much as some others could. She is a doctor after all who is dedicated to nurse her patients back to health and she has enough experience to know that a immune system as weak as yours can be dangerous if you were to catch a serious illness. So you often find yourself in a room in the hospital which is sanitised to lower to risk of any bacteria finding their way to you as well as limited to only a few visitors. Her heart breaks to see you so sad and lonely though so she starts searching for a way to boost your immune system somehow. She even promises you to create a medicine or a jutsu to help you and that promise she has made to you is from that day on a pressure and determination constantly on her mind as she spends hours reading books and thinking about how to go about this. She just wants to make you happy after all.

Pain

🌧️​Not only do you happen to have a very weak immune system but you also just happen to be stuck in a cold tower in a city where the rain has never really stopped. Truly, everything just appears to be against you as you are knocked down with one fever after another and constantly suffer from something. Nagato doesn't exactly have any expertise to take the role as a medic. He has wrecked his own body beyond repair and mostly interacts with you through one of the other bodies, mainly through Yahiko's. Whilst he can keep his composure when he uses one of the other bodies of pain, his real body certainly panics at times when he comes to learn just how severely he underestimated your frail health. He was too focused on his own possessive desires when he took you as Pain and whilst he doesn't regret the act of abducting you, he is worried about how little he is actually prepared for your constant sick condition. Worst is that he is very unwilling to let anyone else besides Konan see you.

🌧️​So all the work has to fall upon Konan and his other bodies who have to get the medicine and everything else that is needed to cure you somewhat back to health. Nagato is actually worried but that concern he feels will come over as pure intimidation and forceful gestures in all of the pther bodies of Pain who force every medicine down your throat and completely isolate you within the walls of your room to lower the risk of you falling ill once again. His bodies see it through that your room is kept warm when she comments that your room isn't exactly heated and that the constant rain has made the air quite chilly. Within a few days you get a lot of blankets and other stuff to keep you warm and it would be laughable if you wouldn't have one of his bodies observing you as often as they do. It is creepy and uncomfortable even if Nagato is just intending to be more attentive by letting one of the bodies of Pain constantly watch over you. He just wants to be in control of the situation and prevent you to get even worse.

Shisui Uchiha

🍂​You truly make it not easy for him to balance his life out the right way. Being obsessed with you is one thing but having a darling who is so prone to all illnesses is another thing that is making it even harder on his part. Shisui grows much more protective over you thanks to your weak condition and this doesn't mash well because he is a part of the Anbu and is often away on missions. He feels very conflicted, torn apart between the duty for his village and the dedication he harbors for you. He knows that he can't leave the Anbu though because a lot of people would have objections and he doesn't want to drag you into any unnecessary drama as you have already enough to deal with. Instead he just makes sure to have you surrounded by competent medics and if you don't have that just yet he makes sure to have a word with the Hokage to request him to assign some good doctors to you. Shisui just needs to be able to know that you are in good hands when he is away on missions.

🍂​He feels constantly like he wants to hover over you as he feels very protective but he knows that he has to be tactful about it as he is very careful to give no one even the slightest doubt that his feelings for you could be something much more dark. That certainly doesn't stop him from stalking you though at night but you are probably too exhausted to notice the shadow on the roof of your house who slowly makes sure to take a look inside your window. Even if you were to notice him, he would be gone within the blink of an eye which would make you dismiss it as nothing but your sick imagination. He's very sweet and attentive when he visits you, sympathetic for your obvious frustration as you are constantly sheltered due to being so physically prone to everything. At times you beg him to take you outside as you are sometimes days on end stuck in your house and your bed and whilst his heart aches a bit for you when he sees you so saddened, he is not as careless as to risk only worsening your condition. Just be patient for a bit longer.

Itachi Uchiha

🍡​It is safe to say that Itachi has known about your feeble health long before he has kidnapped you. How couldn't he? It has caused him on numerous occasions to hesitate whenever his darker urges got the better of him. Ultimately he still gave in to his obsession but not without at least a bit of preparation. The whole cottage where he keeps you from that day on is filled with medicine, herbs and everything else he has been able to gather by learning through stalking what the doctor in your former village has always prescripted you to use. Nevertheless though Itachi feels somewhat overwhelmed. On the one hand he has to work for the Akatsuki and missions can take him weeks but now there is also you who needs attention and care due to your constant relapse of health. Itachi is stuck in an organisation he can't leave because it could endanger you but he also doesn't want to leave you alone if he really is gone for a long time. Not like you would care if he would be gone as you are very skittish around him after the abduction.

🍡​Sometimes he uses shadow clones to stay back and take care of you although there is always the risk that the jutsu may undo itself, either because of his choice or because of another factor. At least it can give him a certain amount of peace as you are in the care of one of his clones who feels about you exactly the same as he does. As soon as he undoes the jutsu, he always receives all of the memories his clone has made and is up to date with your current condition. Whenever Itachi is home though, he spends the majority of his time catering to whatever illness you have been taken down with. You may fear that he might be annoyed as he is a notorious criminal but catering to your needs grounds him and gives him a routine to his life that he appreciates. He knows he shouldn't feel this way since you are always ill but there is a joy inside of him he knows he shouldn't have. Maybe it is the isolation he has put himself through that is talking out of him but there is happiness he feels for being able to provide to the person he loves so much.

Sasuke Uchiha

💙​There are going to be some unkind words directed against you every once in a while as Sasuke sometimes feels quite drained from your weak health condition as well. You always require special needs and his journey is often put on hold whenever you come down with the next illness he doesn't even know where you got it from. Of course his mood is sometimes strained about it but if you even suggest for a moment that he should probably leave you behind, he will very quickly make you shut up. Despite all of the troubles you put him through, he will never abandon you. Sasuke is far too possessive, controlling and loyal to ever do that to you. Especially since your health is so utterly frail would he never allow to leave you unattended and in the care of someone else. He relies on medics for the majority of the time but he soon starts picking up on some medical jutsus himself, not only to be prepared in case you should fall ill or injure yourself somewhere where no medics are around but also to take better care of you by himself.

💙​What he can find in some moments annoying, Sasuke can enjoy in other moments just as much. There is an undeniable level of dependency you have on him over time and sometimes he can't help but be smug enough to rub this under your nose. He ignores the fact that he is the one who has dragged you onto this journey in the first place because it is much more efficient for his own ego to remind you that without his help and protection you wouldn't be able to survive on your own. Not when you are constantly as weak and sickly as you are. If you should catch something very serious, Sasuke stops in the closest town to let you rest in a proper bed until he deems you to be fit enough to continue with the journey. Your common state of sickness has made him much more protective and overbearing as he has to constantly check on your current health status and never allows you to leave his vision because even the simplest thing could trigger your immune system.

[pollymorgan]

Teacher Negan - The Football Game - Part 5

Warnings: Of course, there's still a big age difference and Negan is an asshole. Smut!

-Several months later-

I am probably the only student in the entire school who looks forward to Monday every time. Even though the classes before my sports block are always a little torture and never seem to end. But I am rewarded for my patience. After the double lesson, Negan and I always spend a good hour together, secretly. Every time I sneak back into the hall, where he impatiently waits for me.

Otherwise, we only see each other occasionally by chance on the schoolyard or in the hallway, and every time I feel this incredible tingling in my stomach. By now, I have to admit to myself, I am incredibly in love with him. Even though I tried to suppress it for so long.

My evenings, or rather nights, are often spent playing online games with Negan, while we talk for hours on the phone and discuss everything possible.

Only two topics we successfully avoid. Firstly, his wife and secondly, what this whole thing between us is or could become.

It was also on one of those late evenings when he suggested that I join the cheerleading group, whose football team he coached in his free time.

"Me? A cheerleader?" I asked in surprise into the speaker of my phone, while the situation on the PlayStation was getting pretty intense.

"Of course, you are super athletic and phenomenally beautiful!" he stated without hesitation.

I laughed, "So that's what you're into? Bouncing girls in short skirts?"

"No, I'm into you ... bouncing in a short skirt..." he stated and added "...even if it won't be easy for me to train the guys with a constant hard-on, but the main thing is that we can see each other more often."

So it happened that I really became a cheerleader, and surprisingly, I even had a lot of fun. Not only because I could see Negan more often, but also because the other players and cheerleaders were really nice.

After a while, our team was so good that we planned our first away game. It was so far from our hometown that we rented a bus and planned to stay in a hostel afterwards.

Everyone was pretty nervous and trained hard. The boys, as well as us girls. Even Negan could be seen tensing up as the game approached. Because if there's one thing he absolutely hates, it's embarrassing himself. So he put a lot of pressure on the players during training.

But his worry was unfounded. We won our first away game, and we won big. The joy was immense.

-The evening after the game-

Together we enter our small accommodation, which more resembles a youth hostel than a hotel. We never thought our team would actually win, so the mood was very high.

We settle into our rooms and agree to meet in the common room right after to celebrate the victory. I share my hotel room with Layla. She is also a cheerleader and a few years older than me. I am once again the youngest, but by now, I don't mind. We get along great, and she has become like my best friend. I trust her, and we tell each other everything, well, almost everything, I can't tell her about Negan, which is really hard. After all, he is constantly on my mind.

After freshening up a bit, we head to the common room with the others. It consists of a few seats, a large TV, and a foosball table.

As soon as I enter the room, I look around, but Negan is not here. As I scan the room with my eyes, I see Liam fixating his gaze on me and interrupting his conversation. Liam is a pretty good player on the team, and I have noticed that he has been seeking my attention for some time, which doesn't bother me because he is really funny and considerate. I enjoy spending time with him - of course, only as friends.

Suddenly, he jumps up and stands right in front of me, "Want to go outside for a smoke?" he asks with a smile on his lips.

I shrug nonchalantly, "Sure, why not?"

So we walk down the narrow hallway, at the end of which is a tiny balcony that can only accommodate 3-4 people. Together we step out onto it, and Liam immediately holds out his pack of cigarettes. I gratefully take one and let him light it for me. After the first deep drag, I smile, "Thanks for a great game!"

He grins somewhat embarrassed and waves it off, "Oh, that was a team effort..."

"Don't be so modest!" I encourage him and tap his shoulder, feeling how his confidence is boosted even more.

"Well, you also cheered us on pretty well, so we can only be motivated..." he states, and I notice how he comes much closer to me, "I'm really glad you're here..." he adds in a soft voice.

Speechless, I look at him, as I hadn't expected the conversation to take this turn so quickly.

Suddenly, I startle as the silence is interrupted by the opening of the balcony door.

My heart races even higher when Negan suddenly stands right next to us. He must have just come out of the shower, as his hair is still slightly damp and a wonderful scent of soap and aftershave surrounds him.

Instinctively, I move away slightly from Liam, which is not easy on this small balcony. After all, the three of us are quite cramped.

Without saying anything, Negan snatches the cigarette from my hand and puts it in his mouth. He holds it between his lips and addresses Liam in an annoyed tone, "What's wrong with you?! No cigarettes for minors."

Liam raises his hands in resignation, "Coach, Sam is not a kid anymore... she's almost 19."

"Exactly, almost 19 means 18! So, three damn years until she's 21... or have you become too stupid to do math because all the blood has rushed elsewhere in your head?" he asks calmly.

Liam stutters slightly, "That... that's really not fair," and I have to try not to laugh.

Negan is definitely jealous!

I've experienced a few situations where I thought he was, but always convinced myself that I was imagining things. But now the whole situation is pretty clear, and I secretly enjoy it because it shows me that he really cares about me.

"That's not fair," Negan mimics him.

Offended, Liam shakes his head and extinguishes his cigarette on the wall beside him.

"I'm going back inside, are you coming, Sam?" he asks me, trying to ignore Negan as best as he can.

I briefly catch Negan's gaze and say uncertainly, "Oh... um... you go ahead... I'll be right there... the fresh air is really nice right now."

Annoyed, Liam leaves the balcony, and Negan silently watches through the window as he walks down the long hallway. As soon as he disappears from sight, Negan turns to me.

"That sleazy guy is trying to get in your pants!" he exclaims.

"Mh, could be..." I say, unfazed.

Negan looks at the long hallway once more, and when he sees that no one is there, he pulls me close and kisses my lips.

Slightly surprised by the risky move, it takes me a few seconds to respond to the kiss. But now I don't want to let go of his lips at all. It feels so good to finally feel him again. Seeing him constantly but not being able to touch him is really torture for me.

As we separate, I wipe my lipstick from his mouth.

"Pretty risky, don't you think?" I remark.

He looks at me with a broad grin, "I know how these daring actions make you wet, don't I? And besides, I had to make it clear who you belong to, my sweet! Oh, I have something for you..."

"For me?" my smile turns into a questioning look.

I watch in amazement as he pulls a small black box from his jeans and opens it skillfully. Inside is a delicate golden chain with a small heart pendant featuring a sparkling blue stone. My heart starts to race. Negan has never given me anything, not even flowers. And now he's standing there with a beautiful necklace in his hand.

"I saw it and immediately thought of you... so, what do you say? Do you like it?" he asks.

I take a deep breath and try to hold back my tears with all my might. Quickly, I take a critical look towards the hallway, and when I see that no one is there, I wrap my arms around him.

"You didn't have to do this, it's beautiful..." my words rush out before I kiss him.

-Several hours later-

Some guys are sitting in front of the TV watching some sports show, while the rest of us are gathered around a large table, engaging in lively conversation over a few beers.

Everyone is in this small common room, except Negan.

I catch myself playing with my new necklace and thinking about him. Suddenly, I'm pulled out of my thoughts when Liam loudly announces, "Okay, guys, spin the bottle!"

Everyone cheers, but I ask somewhat annoyed, "Are you serious, isn't that a bit silly?"

But everyone protests, so I resign myself to my fate, and we start the game.

After a few rounds with typical tasks and questions, the door suddenly opens, and Negan walks in.

Some startle and try to hide the hard liquor. Even my heart pumps, but for different reasons, suddenly very strongly.

"I'm officially off duty, so if anyone starts crying because they miss their mommy or gets a paper cut, please don't come to me... and anything else you plan on doing tonight, I don't care..." With this announcement, he grabs a full beer from our table and briefly catches my eye before opening the bottle on the edge of the table and sitting down with a few other guys in front of the TV.

Now I can only see his back.

"Let's continue!" someone suddenly interrupts the silence at the table, "Whoever the bottle points to, has to kiss their neighbor, whether it's the left or right one, they can decide!"

The bottle is spun with full force, and of course, this time it points to me.

"Haha... Sam!" everyone cries out excitedly, and I immediately look to Negan, who discreetly turns around and looks at us. To my left is Liam, and to my right is Layla. I playfully take my time with my decision, even though it's clear from the start. After some hesitation, I slowly lean in towards Layla and take her chin between my fingers. We grin at each other before locking eyes and our lips gently touch. I feel her tongue lightly press against my lips, which initially startles me, but it actually feels quite good, and the thought that Negan is watching us closely spurs me on even more. I let my tongue cautiously explore hers, and the kiss becomes more intimate, with the comments around us getting louder. We take our time exploring each other's mouths hesitantly. Only then do I slowly pull away and give her a loud smack on her full lips as a final touch.

I pause for a moment and look at Negan, who is just turning back to the TV.

"Whoever the bottle points to has to reveal the most unusual place they've had sex..." I say after a brief pause and spin the bottle.

But I don't get to hear the answer because my phone vibrates in my lap. Curious, I look at the display and see a text from "Mister N." My heart skips a beat. I glance at him, but can only see his back. Eagerly, I lean back, making sure no one can see my screen.

"You naughty girl! 🔥" I read and quickly respond.

"Didn't you enjoy the little show? 😉"

"I can't say no. 😉 I just have some worry about leaving you alone with Layla tonight after what I just saw!"

"Don't worry! My pussy belongs only to you! And she misses you so much..🥺"

"I miss her too! How much I would love to run my mouth over her right now and catch every sweet drop with my tongue... I know how much you love that, right?..."

We exchange a few more messages back and forth, even though we are sitting just a few meters away from each other. Each message from him makes my lower body tingle more and my throat gets drier.

-Later in the hotel room-

Layla is already pretty out in bed, while I disappear into the bathroom. When I step out of the shower, I am wearing nothing but Negan's necklace. I look at myself in the mirror, then pick up my phone from the edge of the sink and quickly take a selfie covering my nipples.

"The necklace is so beautiful! 😍" I type underneath and nervously send it to Negan.

My heart is pounding wildly as I brush my hair and keep glancing at the screen. But there is no response. Is he already asleep? I put on my pajamas, and as I'm about to pull the top over my head, I hear the reassuring sound of my vibrating phone.

"Damn, sweetheart. That's not the only thing beautiful in the photo! 💕 Do you know how much I love your enchanting titties? Come on, show me more of them!" he texts.

Unconsciously, I smile immediately and after a few seconds of hesitation, I pull the straps of my top down, fully exposing my breasts, and once again set the camera function on my phone. I take a few photos and quickly choose one to send to Negan.

"Sweetheart, you are way too good to me! Can you imagine how rock hard my cock is right now because of you?"

I type, "No, show it to me, please!" on my phone, and as I send the message, my cheeks glow so much that I feel they might burst any moment.

It doesn't take long before I actually receive a picture of his hard arousal. I never thought something like this would turn me on, but with Negan, it's different. I instinctively squeeze my legs together and bite my lower lip.

"I really want him deep inside me right now..." I type back.

"That's all I can think about right now, damn! We should sleep now, my sweet! The sooner we can be close again..." he writes.

"You're right... pleasant dreams!" I reply, already missing him terribly in that moment. Disappointed, I set my phone aside and put my clothes back on. Then I step out of the small bathroom and, just as I'm about to say something to Layla to distract myself, I open the door. But she doesn't react. Confused, I look at the bed and see her sleeping peacefully.

"Hey Layla?" I ask a bit louder, but there's no response. I look at her once more and make sure she's really fast asleep. Then, quietly, I leave the hotel room and tiptoe barefoot down the hallway. Feeling slightly disoriented, I look at the room numbers on the doors. Of course, I remember Negan's room number. As I get closer to the number, I feel my body pumping with adrenaline. Finally, standing right in front of it, I hesitate for a moment. The risk is quite high. But then I timidly knock on Negan's door, not sure what makes my heart beat faster - the fear of getting caught or the excitement of being able to embrace Negan in my arms.

In the dark hallway, clad in a short pajama shorts and the matching tank top, I look around anxiously. Eventually, I hear movement behind the door and the doorknob turning, sending even more adrenaline rushing through my veins. I try to appear as calm as possible as Negan opens the door a crack and looks me up and down, his grin growing wider with every passing second.

I, too, let my eyes wander. He's wearing only dark gray boxers. Unconsciously, I bite my lower lip as my eyes travel over his slim, defined upper body. His dark chest hair and tattoos make him even more attractive.

On Mondays, after sports, I don't often get the chance to admire him like this. Everything always has to be quick, and we only take off the essentials, so I savor this sight even more. I take a deep breath and meet his gaze once again.

Innocently and softly, I say, "Mr. Smith, I can't fall asleep..."

He slowly licks his lips, and his dark eyes begin to sparkle. Leaning casually against the door frame with one arm, he asks, "Oh, my poor girl, what can I do for you?"

A smile tugs at my lips, and I try to keep my composure and stay in my role. Nervously, I nibble on the fingernail of my right thumb.

"Could you maybe... fuck me hard?" I ask in a pleading tone.

He grabs my wrist firmly and pulls me into his room with a swift motion. As soon as he closes the door, he presses my back firmly against it and starts kissing me passionately.

"I've been wanting to do this the whole damn time," he whispers into my open mouth, just before our tongues meet again.

His tall body presses against mine, and only the thin fabric of my pajamas prevents me from feeling his skin against mine. His right hand travels from my cheek, over my neck, to my shoulder. Skillfully, he takes hold of the strap of my top and slowly pulls it down, fully exposing my left breast. I let out a soft moan as he takes it in his large hand and massages it with considerable pressure. My nipple is caught between his index and middle fingers, and his firm grasp makes it harden. His more dominant touches, which I have yearned for, send a warm sensation directly to my lower abdomen.

"We don't have much time! I want you deep inside me. Please, Negan, I need your hard cock..." I beg him softly. This is not only the absolute truth, but I also know how much he enjoys it when I ask him like this.

With a satisfied grin, he leans his upper body back a bit and lets his dark, sparkling eyes roam over my body.

"You look like a sweet angel, but such dirty words come out of your mouth... My dear, you have no idea how incredible you are! Come on, get on the bed, but undress completely first," he says, smiling, taking a step back to make room for me.

I look at him and remove my top. The way he looks at me with so much desire excites me even more. Slowly, I also rid myself of my shorts and panties, standing completely naked in front of him. Then, I confidently walk past him. His intense gaze feels like it's physically touching me. I'm just about to sit on the bed when he speaks up.

"Oh no, get on all fours... Show me your sweet ass..."

His direct command makes my pussy twitch, and I know he enjoys the fact that I immediately obey his command. So, without hesitation, I turn around and climb onto his bed, ending up in the middle. I stretch out my bottom even more, feeling Negan getting behind me. He places his hand on my back and firmly presses my upper body down. My face presses into the pillow as I grip the sheets tightly.

I feel his teeth on my right buttock and his beard scratching against my skin. It sends a shiver down my spine, and I can sense his warm breath on my sensitive skin. I can tell he's grinning from my reaction. Then, his hand glides lightly along my inner thigh, moving higher, causing me to spread my legs a bit more. Just before reaching my most intimate area, he pauses and then moves back down. Disappointed, I let out a protest.

"What's wrong, my dear?" he asks mockingly.

"Touch my pussy, please..." I plead in a whispering tone.

He immediately grabs both cheeks of my bottom and pulls them wide apart.

"Oh man, you're practically dripping..." he states contently, "... you look so damn hot..". With those words, he buries his face between my legs. His warm tongue leisurely licks through my slit, catching every drop until he reaches my entrance. Slowly, he penetrates me.

Everything in me tightens, my body trembles under his touch as if I'm about to explode.

"Negan, that feels so good..." I moan softly.

With a gentle kiss right on my center, he pulls back.

After giving me a rather hard slap, he then digs his fingers into my butt firmly.

My whole body is addicted to him, to his touch, his tongue, his voice. I want him so badly.

"I want you inside me..." I say, unable to think of anything else.

"First, show me where you want my hard cock, my dear. Come in with your fingers..." he instructs. "I want to see them disappear into your sweet wet pussy."

Without hesitation, I move my hand between my legs and moisten my index and middle fingers with my arousal before sliding them inside me.

"So good..." Negan whispers behind me. Then, I feel him slowly press his index finger into me as well, widening me further. Once his finger is fully inside me, he starts massaging my swollen clitoris with his thumb. My moans grow louder with each passing moment. His index finger is pressed closely to mine inside me, and the more he massages my clit, the more everything inside me tightens, a sensation we both feel clearly.

"Do you feel how good you are...? So damn warm and tight..." he murmurs.

"I'm going to come, Negan..." I pant.

"I know, my dear, I know... come while our fingers are inside you..."

His rubbing on my clit intensifies, and I can barely hold myself up on my knees. My legs tremble as I experience such a powerful orgasm that it takes my breath away.

[sosa2imagines]

Blurbs for C.E characters giving their partners nicknames?

Thanks for the ask, I had fun writing this. ❤️

Warning - None, GN.

Steve Rogers- 'Doll'

Steve often called his partner 'doll' in a soft, loving tone, a constant reminder of the deep affection he held for you.

The nickname was more than just a term of endearment; it encapsulated the way he saw you - resilient, beautiful, and an embodiment of strength.

From quiet, stolen moments of affection to public, heartfelt declarations, Steve's use of the nickname was a testament to the depth of his love and respect for his partner.

It was a nickname born from the bond you both shared, a symbol of the trust and tenderness that defined your relationship.

The endearing nickname was one that held a special place in Steve's heart as it reminded him of the simplicity and sweetness of a bygone era.

Each time he used the nickname, it was with a warm and soft smile on his lips.

Modern Steve Rogers- "Baby Doll'

(Modern) Steve had a habit of calling his partner 'baby doll' in a soft, gentle tone, his voice always tinged with affection and tenderness.

The nickname, 'baby doll', was a term of endearment that Steve had chosen specifically for his partner. It was a reflection of the way he saw you- beautiful, vulnerable, and deserving of all the love and care in the world.

Whether he was talking to you in private or addressing you in public, the name carried a weight of endearment that was uniquely his. Whenever Steve referred to his partner as 'baby doll,' it was with a warm smile and possessiveness.

The word 'baby doll' rolled off his tongue effortlessly. It was a pet name that held a special place in the dynamic of your relationship, one that he used often and with great affection and authority.

Each time he called you 'baby doll,' it was a silent declaration of his love and devotion, a reminder of the tenderness and protectiveness he felt towards you.

Dark Steve Rogers- 'Angel'

Whenever he referred to you as 'angel', there was always an undercurrent of possessiveness in his tone.

It was a sign of the twisted sense of ownership he had over you, a term of endearment steeped in a sense of power and domination.

In his mind, you were not just his partner, but his 'angel', a vulnerable and submissive being that he had complete control over.

Each time he called you 'angel', it was a reminder of the dark and possessive nature of your relationship.

You were an Angel made especially and only for him. 'Angel' was more than just a pet name for him.

It was a word that symbolized his twisted perception of her as his possession and property.

Whenever he spoke to you, the tone of his voice was always laced with a mixture of possessiveness and mockery, a subtle reminder of the power dynamic in your relationship.

He used the term with a hint of menace and control, relishing in the way it made you submit to him.

Lloyd Hansen- 'Sugar'

It was a term of endearment that he used often, a reminder of the sweet and playful side he hid beneath his ruthless and dangerous exterior.

Whenever he called you 'sugar', whether in a soft whisper or a teasing tone, there was a hint of warmth and affection in his voice. It was a stark contrast to his usual callous demeanor, a side of him that only you were privy to.

You were the only sweetness in his bitter life. 'Sugar' was a pet name that seemed at odds with the cold and calculating side of Lloyd. It was a word that contradicted his usual harshness and ruthlessness.

Yet, each time he called you 'Sugar,' it was with a tenderness that was only reserved for you.

Whether he was in a good mood or a bad one, the usage of the term 'Sugar' was a way for Lloyd to express a part of himself that he kept hidden from the rest of the world.

You were the only one who could bring out that softer side in him.

Andy Barber- 'Sweetheart'

The term 'sweetheart' was not just a pet name. It was a reflection of the deep love and affection he had for you. Whether he was in a public setting or in the privacy of their home, Andy would use 'sweetheart' as a term of endearment, his voice always laced with a hint of tenderness and care.

You were his sweetheart, the one who held a special place in his heart. The use of the term 'sweetheart' was a small but significant way for Andy to express his love for his partner. It was a word that was reserved solely for you, a reminder of the special bond you both shared.

Whenever he spoke to you, there was an underlying hint of protectiveness and adoration in his voice. He used 'sweetheart' not just as a term of endearment but as a way to remind you, just how much he valued you.

You were his sweetheart, and he would go to any lengths to protect, love, and treasure you.

Ari Levinson- 'Bub'

It was a term of endearment that oozed warmth and affection, a reminder of the protective and caring nature Ari.

Whenever he called you 'Bub', there was a hint of tenderness in his voice, a quiet yet fierce protectiveness that spoke volumes about how much he loved you. Whether you were in a quiet moment together or surrounded by others, Ari would use 'Bub' as a way to express his love for you.

You were his 'bub', the one who meant the most to him in the world.

The use of the term 'Bub' was a way for Ari to show his softer side, a side of him that was rarely seen by others. It was a reminder of the love and care he had for his partner, a pet name that was exclusive to your relationship.

He would use 'Bub' not just in private, but also in public, a declaration to the world of the bond you both shared. 'Bub' was a term always filled with affection and tenderness.

You were his 'bub,' the one who had captured his heart completely.

Ransom Drysdale- 'Cupcakes'

It was a term of endearment that was both sweet and a bit cheeky, a reflection of his playful and sometimes immature nature.

Whenever he called you 'Cupcakes,' there was a hint of mischief in his voice, a hint of the boyish charm he couldn't quite shake off. Whether he was trying to tease you or showering you with affection, 'Cupcakes' was a term he would often use, a pet name that was unique to the relationship.

You were his 'Cupcakes' - sweet, tempting, and always a little

Ransom enjoyed using 'Cupcakes' as a nickname for you because it was a reflection of his own sweet tooth and the way you made him feel – sweet, indulgent, and irresistibly delicious.

Whenever he called you 'Cupcakes' with a wicked grin, there was an underlying hint of affection. He would use it not just in private moments, but also when others were around, a public declaration of his affection for you.

And a statement that you belong to him.

[theurgists]

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ JUST A TOUCH ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

aemond targaryen x fem!reader

summary | when you ask your husband to help you dress, he uses the strings of your stay — and his fingers to his advantage.

warnings | 18+, porn without plot, breathe play/ slight choking kink, fingering, pet names, mentions of love bites/marks, not proof-read

a/n | just some smut that wouldn't leave my head no matter how hard I tried to dismiss it lol. i did some research and GRRM mentions stays a couple of times throughout the novels, even though it's not that important to the plot.

“Help me tighten my stay, dear husband?”

He should’ve known better.

Aemond Targaryen should’ve known from the mischievous glint twinkling in the depths of your irises, that you were no good for him.

But then again, he was no good for you either — maybe that’s why it was hard to leave you so soon. He’d never let the words spew past his lips so early, but he enjoyed your presence. Thoroughly. There seemed to be an invisible force wrapped around him, warping his constant state of distress, numbing it to the furthest extent — better than any expensive wine he could fill his belly with.

Here, in the confines of what small duration of privacy you had hugged by the thickness of your comforter filling his nostrils with the scent of lemongrass and citrus. He could mold you, shape you into whatever he wanted for the night, and there would be no protest from your end.

So, Aemond became prey when he cautiously moved to your position in front of your vanity, gently raising his left hand. It rested on your shoulder blade, just a couple of inches above your collarbone, his clothed chest pressed firmly against your back. From the way your breath hitched, he noticed you were in no mood for teasing; needy, starving as if you were an animal malnourished of food and attention. He’d take care of you; his little pet.

 All his to nurture, to bring to the brink of pleasure, to devour as if you were the ripest of fruits, quenching his thirst with your saccharine sweetness on the most sweltering days of the summer months. It showed in the way his cock tented against the fabric of his trousers, head buried in the space under your jaw, hot, open-mouthed kisses peppered just against your pulse point. 

“You look ravishing this evening, nuha raqiarzy.” my beloved. 

A low hum sounded in your throat as you stared ahead, removing your earrings as his nose continued to poke around near your neck, inhaling the subtle scent of sweat and the rose petals you often bathed in. 

“Thank you, my prince.” Voice faltering when his tongue licked over a particular spot on the expanse of your throat, you sighed once again, craning your neck as a means to give him better access; to take you as he always did. 

“Mhm, always so submissive, aren’t you?” The flesh of his lips moves against you with such haste, that you can’t help the way your fingers twirl the material that made up the skirt of your dress, distracting yourself from fully drowning in his touch. The hand lingering at your collarbone moves painstakingly slowly, a single finger ghosting up your larynx, trailing his uneven fingernail across the flesh there. 

You savor his touch. The way his lips part to suck at your chest the best he could from his angle, rubbing against you to rid the uncomfortable friction that had developed. Aemond was growing painfully hard, and there was only one way to fix it. 

You. 

He could live in your cunt — make more of a home in it than any other man could. Perhaps, this is what he would pride himself in for the rest of his days; pleasing you with the little time he had on this godforsaken realm was something he’d have little to no trouble finding joy in.

Having yet to hear a response from you, he kept his violet eye locked onto your figure under his chin, and he groaned lowly at the sight of your head lulled to the side on his shoulder, hands balled tightly to your side in fists, chest rising and falling rapidly. The effect he had on you was otherworldly — even more so when the same hand had circled the width of your throat, squeezing lightly. 

“I need an answer from you, sweet wife.” Aemond’s tone was one of faux innocence as the corner of his lips quirked in a half-smile, the other hand trailing to your midsection, clutching at the dark blue silk. 

Nodding as best you could, you opened your eyes, focusing on a crack in the ceiling, right hand gripping his clothed thigh. “Only for you.”

His grip tightened, restricting air from passing through your lungs only for a second before he removed it, satisfied with your response. “Much better.” 

He darts the muscle of his tongue out between his lips, coating them in a layer of saliva. “Stand straight.”

Without hesitation, you intake the surrounding air of your chambers, adjusting your posture as his hands fiddle with the strings of your dress, looping them through each hole. “What if I kept you here all to myself today, hm?” 

You smiled lazily, taking in the delighted expression painting his usual stoic features as he pressed a kiss to your temple before resuming his work. “I’m sure Helaena wouldn’t enjoy that much.” 

“Mhm,” Without warning, his fingers tug at the strings, causing your ribs to ache slightly at the sudden action of your clothing restricting your ability to exhale as deeply. This was something Aemond did often. 

Toy with you right before an outing, willing you to abandon your excursions for the day and spend the rest of the sun under the sheets with him, losing yourself in the depths of all the pleasures you weren’t sure were possible.  Yet, to you, anything that involved his subtle touches — his caresses — was like being blessed by each of the seven themselves. 

Maybe that was why you had winced, facial muscles contorting into that of discomfort before you blew a breath through your lips, sucking your stomach in as he pulled tighter. 

“This is a nice little toy.” Aemond frowns slightly as he leans in closer, the fabric still pressed between his palms when the heat of his mouth touches the shell of your ear. “The way you gasp when I pull these tighter actually might be my favorite sound.” 

At his words, you struggle not to moan aloud, opting to rub the fat of your thighs together, desperately trying to ease the dull throb between your legs at his husky tone. 

“Do not tease, husband, please.” The utter defeat in your voice was as clear as day, mingling with the heavy tension weaving between your bodies. 

He pulls at your stay once again, holding the frayed fabric as tightly as he can for one second… two …. three before letting them fall from his clammy palms.

“Lift your skirts.” 

His command was one you were quick to obey, leaning down to ball the ends of your dress up to your waist, revealing all of you to his watchful eye.

The dim candlelight did nothing to dwindle the curiosity that piqued within him as he dipped his head from behind you to stare at your naval between bunches of silk fabric, unashamedly trailing his gaze down to the smoothness of your thighs — that which were littered with an array of different shades of blues, purples, and yellows.

It was a mural; his canvas that he got to decorate almost nightly in the comfort of his bed, rewarded with a gentle bask in a nice afterglow that he found himself becoming attached to. 

“Such an obedient little thing.” With that, he let his right-hand slap against your thigh, gripping the flesh there tightly as you hissed between clenched teeth, pressing your backside to the tent rising in his trousers.

You could feel the need in his touch, how his thin, calloused fingers danced their way to your core before gently tugging your underwear to the side, index finger prodding at your folds almost immediately. 

“And so wet for me, too.” 

There was a thin sheen of saliva coating your teeth, warm as you glossed your tongue over the top row before biting down harshly on the muscle to suppress your whimper of surprise.

His finger continues to toy with your folds before he parts them, gathering up your arousal before pressing said finger into you, sighing lightly at the way you immediately clench around his digit.

He pumps it in and out of you, bending it in such a way that this time, you let out a mewl, rocking your hips into his hand as best you can. If only you could see the way his eyes darken ever so slightly, pupils blown wide as his cock throbs, a patch of wetness growing at his angry tip the longer he waits. 

By the end of the night, he was sure those in the Red Keep who had the misfortune of walking by your shared chambers would discover just how much your husband had you writhing as he did now. The lewdness of your moans and the intrusion of yet another finger spitting your walls sent him into a frenzy, picking up his pace as your juices dripped down his knuckles. 

It grew cold as it decorated your thighs when you’d trap his hand, only separating them when he’d use the other to dig his nails in the bone of your hip, creating light indents that’d disappear with time. 

“Aemond, f-fuck.” You rode his fingers with such vigor that although his thumb pressing down to rub eagerly at your clit only intensified the feeling, it wouldn’t have been needed. 

It was welcomed nonetheless, as his digits finally brought you to your high the minute they came in contact with that certain spot buried deep within you. 

“Come on my fingers, sweet girl.” He cooed, watching the way your chin wobbled, how your eyes screwed shut as you shudder in his arms. 

The knot in your stomach unravels, snapping abruptly, mind growing hazy when he pulls them out of you. 

“I think you have somewhere to be now.” 

“Damn you.” 

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Lost Hope

Pairing: Dark Paul Atreides x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: Paul will never allow you to stay behind in Caladan, not when you belong by his side.

WARNINGS: Toxic Marriage; Pregnancy.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feeback.

--

“In the Duchess’s current situation, it would be best if she stayed here instead of traveling for Arrakis. The intense warm weather may pose a difficulty.” Dr. Yueh informs, crossing his hands in front of him as he faces Paul. Everyone in this room knows Paul won’t be pleased by this. 

You’re laying in bed, snuggled up on fluffy pillows with one of Paul’s hands possessively perched on top of your belly. Your five month bump is very noticeable now, it often makes you feel weak and sick, just like any other common pregnancy. 

However earlier today, as you managed the preparations to travel to Arrakis, you felt sick, almost passing out which left everyone in a state of complete distress. 

“Paul, maybe I really shouldn’t go. I’ll be fine here, don’t worry.” you try to disguise the hope in your voice, assuringly placing your hand on top of Paul’s. 

Paul gives you an odd look, as if he’s trying to decipher your words and after a long moment, he turns around towards a maid. 

“Prepare all of the Duchess’s belongings. She’s still coming.” he commands, his voice strong and determined. It breaks the last of your hopes, but you try to maintain an indifferent expression. 

“Thank you for your advice, Dr. Yueh. You may all leave now.” Dr. Yueh bows, giving you a sad look before exiting the room, accompanied by the maids. As soon as the door closes, Paul’s hand grabs your face, squishing your cheeks together. 

“Did you really think that faking being ill would stop me from taking you to Arrakis? That I would just leave you here alone, so that you could rejoice without my presence?” your eyes widen with shock as you try to shake your head. 

“N-No! Paul, I wasn’t pretending! I-” 

“Enough.” his loud voice makes you flinch, tears pooling in your eyes. Paul finally removes his painful hold off your face, releasing a deep sigh. He rubs one of his hands on his face, a tired expression settling in. 

“Let’s not fight, shall we? I already have much to worry about without having you trying to slip away from me.” he looks at you, his hand once again advancing towards your face but this time with a gentler touch, his thumb smoothly rubbing your cheek, catching up a fallen tear. 

By now you should be used to his constant bipolar moods, either smothering you with love or behaving as if you’re always trying to escape from him. Which has a bit of truth there. 

“You know I can’t leave you here, I need you with me and that’s never going to change.” his eyes glint with an emotion that you can’t quite understand. Love, passion, obsession. “Whether you like it or not.” 

[blakeswritingimagines]

Dating Yandere Jon Snow Would Include:

For starters, you should know that he's incredibly protective of the person he loves. He's possessive, obsessive, and extremely jealous. He's also prone to intense emotional outbursts, which can lead to him acting out in ways that may not be the best for either of you both. It's important to recognize that these behaviors can be toxic and harmful to the relationship, and in the end, he may end up driving you away.

While I'm sure there are different ways to handle dating a yandere, I would recommend focusing on understanding the source of his behavior and being mindful of triggering him.

In addition to obsessive and violent behaviors, he may use emotional manipulation to try and control your actions. The constant fear that you may leave him can quickly turn into guilt-tripping and gaslighting. He may also use threats of suicide or self-harm, as well as stalking and defamation, to keep you under his control. In short, he will do whatever it takes to keep you to himself, even if it means hurting you in the process.

Dating him as a yandere can be emotionally draining, as he might often act out in rage and other extreme emotions. He may also exhibit controlling behaviors, such as limiting who you can interact with or spending every moment with you. His extreme jealousy and possessiveness over you may cause you to feel trapped or smothered. In addition, his constant need for approval can wear you down, emotionally speaking. Ultimately, dating a yandere partner can be a rollercoaster, leaving one walking on eggshells and tiptoeing around his unstable emotions.

In addition, he can be unpredictable and impulsive in his attempts to keep you to himself. This can involve a range of behaviors, from manipulating or bribing others to interfere with his lover's plans, to threatening or physically harming those who get in his way. He may also become overly clingy and demanding of you, seeking constant reassurance and not allowing you room for yourself. The obsession he has for you can take a toll on your mental health, and result in a damaging codependent relationship.

He is also highly unpredictable in his mood swings. He can go from loving and doting on you, to angry and violent, over very small issues or misunderstandings. In order to 'protect' your relationship. He may even resort to illegal acts, such as stalking and kidnapping, to ensure that you stay with him.

He is extremely jealous and possessive. He feared that you might leave him for someone else, and this could cause even more extreme emotional distress in him. He may resort to all kinds of extreme and controlling behaviors in order to keep you from being in situations where you could fall for someone else. This can include threats, manipulation, and even violence, in order to ensure that you stay with him. He may also become obsessed with the idea of you leaving him, and become paranoid about any signs of you losing interest in him.

While he can become obsessive, jealous, and controlling, he can also be highly affectionate and loving. He may love you intensely and become emotionally dependent on your companionship. He may want to spend as much time as possible with you and seek out your affection and approval. He may also seek out more physical intimacy from you when like this, and become clingy and possessive in his affection.

He may become overly dependent on you for his own happiness and self-worth. He may be extremely clingy, and become emotionally distraught when you are apart. He will not let you out of his sight or be out of contact with you for long periods of time. The obsessive nature of his jealousy and possessiveness may cause him to isolate you, and become controlling in order to ensure that you don't have contact with others who may take you away from him.

Going on dates with him can be a very intense experience. He may plan the most elaborate dates, and shower you with gifts and affection on the date itself. This could entail romantic meals, activities, and even surprises, in order to keep the day as exciting as possible. However, his obsessive and possessive nature may make him overly clingy and protective on the date. He'll become jealous of others who might get in the way of your enjoyment, or become overly controlling in order to ensure that the date goes exactly as he had planned.

He'll use rewards to reward good behavior from you and to punish bad behavior. This can involve gifts, praise, and even physical affection. If you had done something to make him feel jealous or insecure, he may punish you by withholding affection or being cold and standoffish. He may also resort to manipulation and threats in order to prevent you from misbehaving. On the other hand, if you have done something to make him feel loved and secure, he'll reward you with presents, praise, and physical affection.

His obsessive and manipulative behaviors can often be difficult for others to stop, as he has a tendency to react very strongly to any intervention. If someone tries to interfere with his relationship, he may resort to extreme and potentially violent measures in order to keep them away. He may be verbally abusive, or try to manipulate or physically harm them in order to protect his relationship with you and ensure that you remain with him. Any attempts to break you and him apart will be met with his blind rage, and could potentially lead to catastrophic and serious consequences.

Marriage to you likely represents the ultimate expression of his true obsessive nature. He wants to be permanently entangled with you, both emotionally and legally. For a yandere, the idea of owning their partner and ensuring that they have no escape or other options can be extremely appealing. In a marriage, he would expect you to constantly acknowledge or respect him as your owner, and be subservient to him in all matters. He may even become obsessive about the marriage, and seek to control all aspects of your life even more than before, both inside and outside your household.

He may see having children with you as a further manifestation of his ownership and possessiveness over you. He may be obsessively protective of your children, and seek to ensure that they are raised according to his values and preferences. He may even try to enforce rules and restrictions upon them, and be very strict and controlling in his parenting. His obsession may become overwhelming and could end up damaging your children's mental well-being.

He may not take the news of your not having children well. He is known to react violently to any perceived threat or loss to his relationship, and you not having his children might be perceived as such in his mind. He may get angry, or become verbally abusive towards you. He may even blame you for what in his mind is infertility, and try to force you to seek medical treatment or other means of having children. He may even resort to physical violence or manipulation to make you comply with his wishes.

He'll become obsessive about your health, and seek to protect you from any signs of sickness or weakness. He'll become extremely concerned and worried about your well-being and may take control of your healthcare and recovery. He'll also become overprotective, and seek to shelter you from any stress or risks to your recovery. He may even try to control your diet, activities, and even medications, in order to ensure that you get better as soon as possible.

He would react extremely negatively to your desire to leave the relationship. He may feel deeply insecure and abandoned, and his obsessive and possessive tendencies would come into the forefront. He would be likely to become extremely manipulative and controlling, in order to keep you from leaving him. This could involve threats of violence, emotional blackmail, and even physical force. He'll also try to convince you that you are better off with him than without him and that you are not capable of surviving on your own.

He can be extremely manipulative in his attempts to keep you to himself. He'll use guilt-tripping, blackmail, or emotional manipulation to ensure that you do not have the freedom to choose your decisions. He may also use love bombing, sex, or other forms of pleasure to control you and keep you with him forever. His obsession with you can lead to even more controlling behavior and the destruction of trust in the relationship. The manipulation he'll use can be destructive to your mental health as well as your relationship.

He may also experience feelings of sadness, loneliness, and abandonment when you don't give him the attention he desires. This can lead to a cycle of emotional extremes, from extreme sadness and depression to extreme jealousy and rage, where his feelings consume him. He will also find himself struggling to process and express his emotions in a healthy way only on good days, as his obsessive and controlling behavior takes over. In addition, he may also struggle to form new relationships outside of you, as he relies on you for all his emotional needs.

He can also experience deep emotional distress when he feels that you are distancing yourself from him or drifting away from him. This can trigger more of his obsessive and controlling behavior and can cause him to become emotionally unstable. This may result in him doing things that are dangerous or unreasonable in an attempt to keep you from leaving. He may even resort to self-harm or suicidal thoughts due to his extreme emotions and inability to handle them. These intense emotions, while powerful and overwhelming, are ultimately unhealthy for both himself and you.

It is possible that he might just listen to you, but it would likely only happen in limited circumstances. If you made a reasonable and logical argument or request, he may be willing to listen and consider it. However, if you make a request that goes against his wishes, he may be reluctant to change his behavior. If you persist, he may resort to manipulative or abusive tactics in an attempt to control the situation to his preferred outcome.

He enjoys sensuality, intimacy, and passion. He likes it when you are turned on and give him positive responses. He likes it when he can take things slow and build up the tension until you can't hold back anymore. He enjoys building up the passion and then releasing it in explosive and powerful ways.

Beyond dominance and submission, he also enjoys exploring power dynamics in relationships. He enjoys exploring the many ways in which power dynamics can play out, both in and out of the bedroom.

It should also be said that Jon pre-wall and Jon post-wall are two very different animals: even if it shares a lot of similarities. Jon post-wall is a lot more dominant and confident in himself: if he wants something he asks for it and he lacks the hesitance he once did in his youth. He’s learned the importance of not wasting time and willing yourself to be bold. 

He likes the idea of exploring new and exciting ways to experience pleasure with a partner and finds the dynamic of switching roles to be a major turn-on.

Role-playing is an enjoyable way to explore different dynamics and adds an element of creativity to sexual arousal.