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girlwithadragonheart · 1 month ago

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2 ~ The Fool

Vi Et Animo (With Heart and Soul)

Vander x Fem!Reader

Summary: Adapting to your new life will take some time. Luckily, you have a friend to help you out.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Kids asking intrusive questions, teasing, swearing, suggestive comments toward reader, I think that’s it

A/N: Kind of a transition chapter, I tried to make it as interesting as possible for everyone involved XD

Chapter 1 Masterlist Chapter 3

Your eyes grew unfocused as you read over a student’s essay. You’d been sitting there for what felt like days grading papers and planning assignments.You’d scarcely had time for a break lately. The starry blue cloth covering your desk almost seemed to glow as your eyes crossed.

You sighed, rubbing your hands over your face as you sat back for a moment, letting your eyes drift to the domed ceiling. Various constellations were carved into it, all aligning with the sky above.

Absently, you shuffled your cards between your two hands, watching them glide through your fingers, the sound doing something to soothe your weary mind. You continued until a card flew from the deck, landing crooked on your desk face down. Glancing at it, you tilted your head, wondering what your spirit guides found so urgent that you needed to hear it right that moment.

Setting your deck to the side, you let your fingers hover over the single card before carefully flipping it over.

The Fool.

New beginnings, freedom, spontaneity, adventure.

The Fool depicts a youth walking joyfully into the world. He is taking his first steps, and he is exuberant, joyful, excited. He carries nothing with him except a small sack, caring nothing for the possible dangers that lie in his path. Indeed, he is soon to encounter the first of these possible dangers, for if he takes just a step more, he will topple over the cliff that he is reaching.

The Fool is a warning to not be naive to risks and to be aware of the path you’re treading.

In its upright position, it was the bright start of a new journey. When reversed, it was a warning that you were stepping too far beyond your path and it would lead to potential disaster.

It had landed sideways. Perfectly neutral.

Both a warning and a premonition. Urging you to be sure-footed and take your time on this path.

The waters were cold and dark if you plummeted to the depths, but they could also embrace you in the serenity of their stillness—the weightlessness provided a steady release from the heaviness on your shoulders, if you let them.

An assured knock landed on your door, and when you looked up, Lest was in front of you. Her ear twitched as she regarded your drawing.

“The cards giving you a hard time again?” She grinned mischievously.

You sighed, leaning back and gesturing to the card in front of you. “What do you think?” You asked.

She leaned over your desk, eyes darting over the card and its position. “Did it land that way?” She questioned. You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest. “Interesting…”

“That’s it?” You deadpanned.

“What do you want me to say?” She stood up straight, raising a brow as she crossed her arms, mimicking your position.

You sighed, letting your eyes close as you laid your head back against your chair. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “Am I doing the right thing?” You opened your eyes to peer at her as she took a drag from her pipe, the purple smoke drifting through the air. Her presence always calmed you as did her insight.

“Have you asked them?” She nodded to your card deck. “They’re the only ones who could even come close to telling you.”

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You rolled over, and the sheets were cool beside you. Your eyes fluttered, but you didn’t open them yet, wanting to enjoy your time in bed before getting ready for work.

When your lids finally pried apart, you were in an unfamiliar room with air that made your lungs tight and no light filtering through the windows. You sat up, trying not to panic as your eyes flitted around the room.

There was a door across from you and a curtain to your left. You looked down at yourself, seeing a massively baggy t-shirt twisted around your frame from the way you had slept, undoubtedly. It smelled faintly of smoke and leather, and the previous days’ events came flooding back to you.

The exile. The thieves. The hunger. You clutched your stomach as it growled—nowhere near the severity it had been—and noticed how thin you had gotten just in a few days without any source of nutrients.

And out of nowhere, Vander had found you and brought you back to his bar-slash-home, fed you, cleaned you up, and tended your wounds before offering you a place to sleep. Fucking weird thing to happen out of nowhere, but listen, after the hell you had been through, you would take what you could get.

Slowly, you pulled yourself out of bed, remaking the blanket behind you before carefully heading downstairs. You ran a hand through your hair, praying it wasn’t as messy as it felt.

The first thing you noticed was the smell of fried eggs. The second thing was a head of blue hair and a head of pink hair, sitting at the bar. Vander was behind it with a hotplate cooking the eggs you smelled.

He looked up with a half smile as a stair creaked beneath you. You froze, being caught peeping and tucked yourself half behind the corner as both girls turned to you. The younger one—-Powder, if you remembered right—-regarded you with wide eyes, a more curious stare. Whereas her sister, Violet, scowled, looking past you and up the stairs.

Most of the time, you would pride yourself on your interactions with children, but you weren’t from here, and they weren’t from Piltover. You knew there was bound to be some kind of lapse between you.

“Breakfast?” Vander asked, calling back your attention from the little ones.

You smiled sheepishly and nodded as you finally made your way down the stairs to join them at the bar. You took a seat at the end of the bar, pulling on Vander’s shirt to try and cover as much of you as it could. Which—-while not surprising—-was a lot.

Vander started dishing out food and introduced you to the girls. “She’s going to be staying with us for a while, alright? So no funny business.” He pointed the wooden spatula at them each, eyeing them carefully as though he could already see their plans.

You couldn’t help the small smile that spread on your lips watching him. He slid a plate to you and you nodded in thanks, glancing away as he sent you a wink. You looked at the girls as they dug into their food and cleared your throat.

“If you guys have any questions, I’ll try to answer them,” you told them.

Vi looked at you with half an egg shoved in her mouth, practically scowling, while Powder’s eyes darted between you and Vander.

“Are you really from up there?” Powder asked with wide eyes.

You glanced at Vander, and he just shrugged and nodded. “Yes, I’m from Piltover,” you told her. “I was a teacher.”

“Why did you come here?” She asked. “Did you want to visit?” You wished it could be explained with such child-like innocence. The truth was far darker.

“Nobody comes here because they want to, Powder.” Vi rolled her eyes. “What did you do to get kicked?” She questioned.

“Violet—” Vander scolded.

“No, it’s alright,” you assured him. “She’s right.” There was a flash of surprise in Vi’s gaze before it was quickly covered up again. “There was an accident, and the council needed someone to blame. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Not quite a lie. Not quite the truth. You weren’t really sure what the truth was anymore.

“So Vander saved you?” She eyed you suspiciously. “Is that why you’re wearing his clothes?”

“Mine needed a wash,” you shrugged a shoulder, starting to cut into your eggs. Vander chuckled as he cleared his own plate.

“Do you have any cool stuff from Piltover?” Powder asked excitedly.

Your thumb absentmindedly rubs the place your ring used to be. “No, sadly I was mugged the second I stepped foot here.”

Vi scoffed. “Typical. You Piltovians all think you’re better than us, but you couldn’t even take care of your own stuff.”

“Yeah, silly me for letting those four guys take me out,” you shrugged. “Get all your facts straight before throwing around accusations.”

There was a suspicious sound of a laugh hidden by a cough coming from where Vander was sitting. Vi looked at you with shock and disgust as though you had just struck her. Powder looked between you and her sister as you started calmly eating your breakfast.

“Speaking of,” Vander said. “Your clothes are clean.” He took his plate to the sink behind him, setting it down. “Think you can handle this lot while I go get them?” he asked.

You looked at the girls before turning back to him. “I think we’ll be alright.”

Vander nodded and made his way down the stairs. Powder eyed you curiously. “Do you have a family? Do you miss them?” She asked.

“I…” You thought back to your life in the glorious upper city. All the pomp and circumstance. Your classroom. Your students. “I had my students,” you tell her. “Not a traditional family, I suppose.”

“You said you were a teacher,” Vi stated. “Wasn’t it boring?”

You laughed. “No, not at all. Sometimes, I suppose, but mostly? Every day was an adventure. You hear all kinds of things. I mean, think about it, I worked with other teachers and a bunch of kids.” You dragged a hand through your hair.

“You must know loads of stories!” Powder exclaimed. “Can you tell us one?”

You glanced over, seeing Vander coming back up the stairs with your folded clothes. “Maybe another time, kiddo,” you smiled.

Vander came over to you, setting your clothes on the bar. “There ya go. I couldn’t get every stain out, but I did my best.” He scooped up yours and the girls’ plates, moving to the sink. “I’ll get this cleaned up while you get dressed. We’ll open up the bar after,” he told you.

Vi led her younger sister downstairs as you picked up your clothes and headed the other way. “Thank you, Vander,” You said as you left.

“Anytime, lass,” he responded before you were out of earshot.

You took your clothes upstairs, shutting the door and pulling Vander’s shirt off. You folded it carefully and left it on the bed for him. Picking up your dress, you ran the fabric between your fingers. It was familiar, albeit still stained with some loose threads. But it was soft, and it was almost all you had from your earlier life.

Slowly, you brought the cloth to your face and took a deep breath, letting your eyes close. It smelled faintly of tobacco, but other than that had no scent. It didn’t smell like grime and body odor anymore. But it also didn’t smell like your detergent. It didn’t smell like your perfume. It didn’t smell like home anymore.

You took a heavy seat on the edge of the bed, feeling your eyes tear up. Home. That was no home anymore. You rubbed your eyes furiously; This was not the time for a breakdown. You inhaled deeply, though unsteady, until the rising tide of your emotions had receded back to the gently rocking waves of the sea.

You slipped your dress over your head, moving to the bathroom to adjust it in the mirror. Gently running your fingers through your hair, you parted it the way you liked, starting to twist the strands into dutch braids to keep it out of your face. You secured it carefully before pushing them back over your shoulders and tugging on your dress, feeling almost comfortable again.

Your gaze drifted, settling on your tarot deck on that little bathroom shelf. Your hands braced the sink, fingers itching to reach out and do a reading. You missed the feeling of the cards between your fingers. You were used to shuffling them idly between your hands as a way to distract your mind.

But what’s the point?

With a sigh, you flicked off the bathroom light, letting the curtain drift closed behind you as you made to leave. When you opened the door, a pair of boots rested on the stair in front of you. You stared at them for a moment, remembering what Vander had said last night. These must be Vi’s extra pair.

You sat down in the doorway, pulling the boots on. They were a bit snug, but surprisingly comfortable and broken in. At the very least, they were warm and would keep your feet from getting trampled by customers. You had to remember to thank her when you next got the chance.

When you got downstairs, Vander had finished pulling the chairs off the tables and was behind the bar, organizing the drinks below. He looked up as you entered. “Ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you responded.

He chuckled. “You’ll be fine. Just… remember where you’re at,” he said carefully.

“Worried they won’t understand me if I use big words?” You joked.

“Yeah, yeah, you know what I mean.” He rolled his eyes, though his smile gave him away as he turned on the neon lights outside. He tossed you a worn apron, and you quickly tied it around you as you mapped out the bar to learn where things were.

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Not even an hour in, the place was teeming with patrons. Vander had insisted it wouldn’t be too busy—just a “light evening”---but the roar of voices, clatter of tankards, and the occasional crash from a dropped glass said otherwise. You did your best to keep your stress levels down, reminding yourself you didn’t have to be perfect, you just had to get the job done. Everything would be fine. Hopefully.

You were balancing a tray of empty mugs, weaving between the raucous tables and trying to avoid bumping anyone as you walked, when a man barked at you from across the bar. “Oi lass! When are we getting more drinks over here?!” the man questioned, slamming his metal tankard down on the wood of his table.

You flinched from the sudden noise, one of the mugs on your tray tipping precariously. Your breath caught in your throat as you shifted, hand darting out to catch it and place it back on the tray carefully. You glared at the man, cursing under your breath as you hurried back to the bar. You dumped your tray down with a huff, your patience starting to wear thin as Vander prepared their drinks.

“Do they always yell like that?” You asked, resting against the counter with one hip popped.

“Only when they’re sober,” Vander replied, watching the drinks he made.

Your brows dropped and you gave him a dry look. “Oh, so this is normal?”

“Welcome to the Undercity, Princess,” he said, his smirk widening. “You learn to let it roll off. Comes with the territory.”

You crossed your arms on the bar as you waited for him to finish. “Well, I’m letting it roll off alright. Right into my mental list of people I’ll ‘accidentally’ spill drinks on.”

Vander chuckled, setting the bottles back under the counter, and finally looking at you. “Not sure you’ve the patience for this line of work.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed. “And miss the chance to work under you? Never.”

His smirk turned into a full laugh as you started putting their drinks on your tray. “Careful, or I’ll start thinking you like it here.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small grin tugging at your lips. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, old man.”

He put a hand over his chest in mock hurt, winking at you as you walked away to serve the men their drinks. You balanced the tray carefully as you weaved through the crowd of tables again. You smiled as you reached their table, setting their drinks down in front of them.

“Sorry for the wait boys,” you said as you tucked the tray under your arm. “Is there anything else I can get you for the moment?” You asked.

The boy closest to you couldn’t be more than nineteen, though the rest looked to be in their thirties. “I know something you can get us, love,” The older man across from him said. “Or rather somethin’ you can take,” he elbowed the guy beside him, snickering. “Our boy Tommy here still has his virginity!” The table howled with laughter, but the young boy looked rather uncomfortable.

You fought the roll of your eyes, shooting an apologetic glance to Tommy before leaving, finding they were too engaged in their own joke to address you anymore. You found an empty table, clearing the drinks off it and balancing the tray in one hand as you wiped down the table with the other.

You cast a final glance around the room checking for anyone who needed your attention before making your way behind the bar to wash some of the mugs that had started piling up. Vander was just serving drinks and talking to his customers. You vaguely wondered how many of them were regulars here and how long he had known them all. Regardless, he looked much to calm in this sea of faces and storm of demands.

As you set to washing the mugs, you spoke over your shoulder to him when he wasn’t engaged with someone else. “You make this look so easy. It’s almost offensive.”

Vander glanced over his shoulder, one hand still pouring a drink. “Years of practice, Princess. You’ll get there.”

You snorted, setting a mug on the drying rack. “If I don’t keel over first.”

“You’re holding up fine,” he said, passing the freshly poured drink to a customer and flashing a quick grin at you. “Though you missed a spot on that last mug.”

You froze mid-scrub, narrowing your eyes at him. “You’re joking.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied smoothly, already moving to grab another mug for a refill.

You quickly grabbed the offending tankard off the rack and squinted at it. Spotless. “Looks clean to me,” you muttered before glancing back at Vander. “You just like messing with me, don’t you?”

Vander shrugged, that infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. “Keeps things interesting.”

You rolled your eyes and dunked another mug into the soapy water. “You’re lucky you’ve got charm, old man. Otherwise I’d dump this water over your head.”

He chuckled, sliding another drink across the counter. “If that’s the best you’ve got, I’m not worried.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you shot back, a small grin tugging at your lips despite yourself.

His teasing was cut short by another customer slamming a mug down, demanding a refill. Vander gave you a wink before turning back to the crowd, leaving you to pick up your tray and go see what trouble was in store this time.

“Dickhead,” you muttered under your breath.

You moved across the floor to one of the tables by the entrance, smiling at the man drinking alone. A flash of blue and pink caught your eye as Vi and Powder ran past the windows. You couldn’t help the way your chest squeezed when you saw them. Happy and almost carefree kids. You hoped it would stay that way.

You turned your attention to the man, a cigar hanging out of his mouth as he spoke around it. “I’d heard Vander took the Pilty in off the streets, but I couldn’t believe it until I’d seen it for myself.” He sat forward, taking his cigar between his fingers and blowing smoke in your face.

You let your breath catch until it dispersed so you didn’t cough and make a fool of yourself. “Quite,” you said simply. You didn’t like the way this felt, and you wanted to get out of this conversation as fast as possible. Your gut had never steered you wrong before, you weren’t about to stop listening to it now. “Is there anything I can get you, sir?” You asked.

“A ride if you’re selling it, sweetheart,” he grinned, and you felt dirty. Disgusting.

“I’ll have to decline,” you said with a forced smile. His eyes roved over your form. It was common for men to have this kind of reaction to any woman, especially one of such refinement. They just couldn’t wait to get their hands on them and corrupt them like some twisted right of passage. “If that’s all, I’m sure others need my attention.”

He huffed a laugh, “Yeah, I’m sure they do,” he licked his cracked lips before putting the smoke back between them.

You fought the twitch of your lip as it tried to become a sneer. Without saying anything else, you headed back behind the bar. Though you made sure to keep composed and completely masked, Vander’s eyes darted over you as you set your tray down.

“Y’alright?” He asked quietly as you moved to the sink.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” you told him, picking up the mug you had dropped before and resuming your task. You could feel his eyes on you still, and you refused to meet his gaze. “Really,” you assured him.

You were almost certain he didn’t believe you, but he also didn’t press about it, turning back to the bar and serving someone else.

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Finally, after what felt like an endless nightmare, the last straggler had left the bar and Vander flipped the signs off. You huffed out, practically deflating as you untied your apron and hung it up on the far wall next to the bar. The kids had come back a few hours ago and gone downstairs, and you watched as Vander locked the place up for the night.

You moved to the small closet where you grabbed the broom and started sweeping the wooden floors. Your feet and back ached from the work. Luckily, you had found a few minutes earlier to grab a bite to eat so you weren’t overly hungry.

You and Vander worked around each other as he wiped down the tables and started putting chairs up for the night. When he finished with the tables and chairs, he moved behind the bar to count coins.

“So, is this the glamorous nightlife of Zaun I’ve heard so much about? Dusty floors and sticky counters?” You asked him.

He didn’t look up as he spoke. “Better than wherever you came from, I’d bet.”

You scoffed, leaning against the handle of the broom. “Oh, absolutely. Who needs fancy parties and clean air when you’ve got rat traps in every corner?”

He chuckled. “You’re getting the hang of it, though. Starting to look less like a lost little princess.”

You paused with mock offense. “Is that a compliment?”

He finally glanced up at you with a wry grin. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

You grinned back, “Too late,” you said, going back to your task until you felt you had finished.

Once the two of you had settled down you sat at the bar and Vander poured himself a drink. “Can I get you anything?” He flashed you the same smile he gave his customers, and you rolled your eyes.

“Just give me whatever you’re having,” you said with a dismissive wave of the hand.

He raised a brow but said nothing as he filled two glasses halfway with a dark amber liquor, sliding one over to you before pulling a stool around to sit facing you. He lifted his glass to you, and you clinked yours against it with a tired smile.

“To my new life,” you toasted.

“Cheers,” Vander said before taking a drink.

You tipped your head back, feeling the liquid burn down your throat, a bitter, woody taste in your mouth. Your lips and nose screwed up in a scowl, and Vander laughed.

“You should see your face,” he said.

“I’ve seen less pleasant things,” you joked as the burn in your throat faded.

“I’ll drink to that,” Vander responded, draining his glass.

You pushed yours away with a frown. “I won’t.”

He chuckled again, “More for me,” he said, taking your glass and pulling it toward him. After a moment of not completely uncomfortable silence, he spoke again. “Despite your griping, you’re good with the people,” he observed.

“Comes with the territory I guess,” you shrugged. “All the politics up top and my job…” you trailed off.

Vander stroked a hand over his beard as he swirled the glass idly. “A teacher, eh?” He asked. “Did you like it?”

You sighed. “It was the best part of my life,” you told him, that faraway look taking over your expression. “Those kids… they were everything to me.”

He nodded in understanding. “They’re all the more foolish to let you go,” he said, tipping his head back and draining your glass. You looked down at your hands folded in your lap, fighting to keep all your emotions you’d been white-knuckling at bay. “You don’t have to talk about it,” he said. “But you can if you want to.”

“I think it’s best left in the past, now.”

A/N: Let me know if you enjoyed! And as always, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Have a good day/afternoon/night, my loves! <3

Tag List: @growls-like-thunder @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @hwalovs

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bookwormjust · 5 months ago

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Imagine: The Cauldron’s Wrath and Azriel’s Love

The King of Hybern’s war camp was an imposing sight—a dark, foreboding landscape filled with enemies who reeked of cruelty and malice. The tension in the air was palpable, each breath feeling like a struggle against the oppressive weight of impending doom. Your heart pounded as you stood with your sisters, Nesta and Elain, on the raised dais where the Cauldron loomed, its dark, ancient magic swirling ominously.

Feyre stood beside Rhysand, her expression a mix of defiance and desperation as she tried to bargain for your safety. But the King of Hybern’s smug, cruel smile told you everything you needed to know—he had no intention of letting you leave unscathed. The chains that bound your wrists bit into your skin, a painful reminder of your vulnerability in this twisted game.

The Inner Circle was assembled, their expressions grim as they watched the King’s cruel spectacle unfold. Cassian was bleeding from a deep gash on his shoulder, his wings battered and dragging on the ground. Azriel, your mate, was barely standing, his shadows clinging to him like a shroud, the pain in his eyes mirrored in the unsteady way he held himself upright. His usual calm composure was fractured, the terror of potentially losing you visible in every taut line of his body.

“I want my sisters back!” Feyre shouted, her voice laced with fury and fear as she tried to appeal to the King’s vanity, offering herself as a willing participant in exchange for your lives.

But the King only laughed, his voice dripping with derision. “You all will learn the cost of defiance,” he sneered, his gaze sweeping over the three of you before settling on Azriel, who met his eyes with a deadly calm that promised retribution. The King’s smile widened, enjoying the power he held over you all.

Elain was the first to be forced into the Cauldron. She screamed as the magic consumed her, the ancient power pulling her under. The Inner Circle watched in horror, powerless to stop it. Then Nesta was dragged forward, thrashing and spitting curses, her defiance only spurring the King’s sadistic delight. The water churned violently as Nesta was thrown in, her screams mingling with the Cauldron’s terrible hiss.

Your turn came far too soon, the guards’ grips tightening as they pulled you toward the Cauldron. You fought against them, the primal fear of death making your heart race. The cold stone of the dais scraped against your knees as they forced you closer, the chill of the Cauldron’s dark power seeping into your bones.

“Wait!” Azriel’s voice cut through the chaos, filled with a desperate command. He lunged forward, but his injuries slowed him, and the guards pushed him back. Rhysand tried to intervene, his power crackling around him, but the King’s wards held firm.

You looked over your shoulder, your eyes locking onto Azriel’s. There was so much unsaid between you—so many words of love and promises of a future that you hadn’t yet spoken. The bond between you thrummed with a wild, frantic energy, the connection a lifeline in the face of what was about to happen.

“Azriel,” you whispered, tears welling in your eyes as you were dragged closer to the Cauldron’s edge. His name was a plea, a promise, and a goodbye all rolled into one. The world seemed to slow, the roar of the Cauldron and the King’s laughter fading into the background.

Azriel’s expression was a mask of agony and fury, his shadows swirling around him in a frantic storm. “I’ll find you,” he vowed, his voice breaking. “No matter what, I’ll find you.”

The guards didn’t wait for another moment. With a rough shove, they pushed you into the Cauldron’s depths. The water was freezing, the shock of it stealing your breath as you were pulled under. Darkness closed in around you, the Cauldron’s magic a suffocating force that tore at your very essence. Pain lanced through you, every nerve ending screaming in agony as the ancient power tried to reshape you.

You fought against the pull, every instinct screaming to survive, but the Cauldron was relentless. The pain intensified, blinding and consuming, and for a moment, you were certain you wouldn’t make it out. Your vision blurred, the edges of consciousness fraying as the magic continued its brutal work.

The bond with Azriel was the only thing that anchored you. Even through the haze of pain, you felt him reaching out, his presence a beacon in the darkness. His voice, strong and steady, cut through the chaos, a lifeline that you clung to with everything you had.

Stay with me, he pleaded through the bond, his voice tinged with desperation. Don’t let go.

But the pain was overwhelming, a crushing weight that made it hard to breathe, to think. You felt your body breaking apart, the magic tearing at you from the inside out. And then, just as suddenly as it began, the pain stopped. Silence fell over the world, the water of the Cauldron stilling around you.

You drifted in that void, caught between life and death, the faint tug of the bond with Azriel the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. You could feel his fear, his rage, and his love, all mingling together in a maelstrom of emotion that pulled you toward him.

Then, slowly, you became aware of the world again. The water churned, and you were thrown from the Cauldron’s depths, gasping and shivering on the cold stone. You coughed, the taste of iron and salt lingering in your mouth, and your vision slowly cleared to reveal the horrified faces of the Inner Circle.

Azriel was the first to reach you, his wings unfurling to shield you from the world. His hands were gentle but frantic as he checked you over, his shadows swirling around you both protectively. “You’re alive,” he breathed, relief flooding his features as he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you in a desperate embrace.

You clung to him, your body trembling from the aftershocks of the Cauldron’s magic. “I thought… I thought I wasn’t going to make it,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

Azriel held you tighter, his wings forming a protective cocoon around you both. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Around you, the Inner Circle moved quickly. Rhysand and Feyre confronted the King of Hybern, their combined power crashing down on him like a tidal wave of fury. Cassian, despite his injuries, had fought his way to Nesta and Elain, his protective instincts as fierce as ever.

The King’s forces crumbled under the onslaught, the battle turning in your favor as Rhysand unleashed the full wrath of the Night Court upon Hybern. The King’s smug arrogance evaporated as he realized he had lost control of the situation, the once smug expression twisting into one of fear and disbelief.

Azriel’s grip on you never wavered, his wings a constant barrier between you and the outside world. You could feel his anger simmering beneath the surface, not at you, but at the King and the horror he had subjected you to. The memories of his own traumas, of his brothers and their cruelty, echoed in the way his hands clenched and the way his wings tightened protectively around you.

“I’m here,” you whispered, your fingers brushing against the soft feathers of his wings, grounding him. “We’re both here.”

Azriel’s eyes met yours, a mix of anguish and relief reflecting in their depths. “I thought I’d lost you,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve never been so scared.”

You leaned into him, pressing your forehead against his, letting the bond between you pulse with the warmth of your shared connection. “You didn’t lose me,” you reassured him, your voice firm despite the tears that still lingered. “You saved me.”

In that moment, as the battle raged on and the King of Hybern’s forces crumbled, you and Azriel found solace in each other. The Cauldron’s magic had tried to break you, but it had only made the bond between you stronger. The world might have been chaos, but within the safety of Azriel’s wings, you felt whole and protected.

As the Inner Circle regrouped, victorious but worn from the fight, Azriel kept you close. His protectiveness was as fierce as ever, his eyes scanning for any lingering threats. But for the first time since the battle began, you felt a sense of peace, knowing that no matter what came next, you and Azriel would face it together.

You were his mate, his equal, and nothing—not even the Cauldron’s wrath—could tear you apart. And as you stood together amidst the aftermath of the battle, surrounded by friends and family, you knew that the future, though uncertain, was one you would face side by side with the one person who had always been your anchor, your protector, and your greatest love.

#azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel x female!reader #azriel x reader fluff #azriel x oc #azriel x you #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #acotar x reader #acotar reader imagine #Spotify

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atzfilm · 7 months ago

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— 『 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋; 𝐨𝐭8 』 [nine.]

— 𝚠𝚘𝚗 • 𝚍𝚎𝚛 • 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕, adjective. having someone who serves as a pillar in your life, who offers a sturdy place to lean in times of trouble. somebody you find yourself thinking about constantly and are completely infatuated with.

❝humans were such strange creatures. wretched in their mere existence. none of the eight were ever truly interested in them until they found you. they just find it strange that despite their status and rank, you'd rather spend time with your lover. that isn't much of a problem, though. one they can fix with ease.❞

— pairing; ot8 (general); 2.78k

— chapter warnings; death, death mentions, murder mentions, slightly descriptive almost-drowning, murder (?)

〘ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ, ᴍʏᴛʜ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜰᴀᴇʀɪᴇꜱ〙(m.list)

FIC WARNINGS: murder, manipulation, blood, blood drinking, torture references, dark magic, kidnapping. this series is very dark, if you're uncomfortable with the subjects listed do not read. warnings will change but be listed in each chapter. there is no tag list for this series.

Chapter 9:

You never really considered how it would feel to freefall from a cliff. Movies described it in such a way that you thought it wouldn’t be as terrifying as it actually is.

The descent seemed to be as long as it was short. The wind tears at your clothing, air pulled from your lungs as your body whips around through the gusts. The noise fills your ears, breaths barely taken. There is no time nor chance for fear at this point. You can’t even scream, the world spinning around you, chest tight as you plummet further and further into the raging waters below. The speed seems to quicken almost instantly, your legs breaching the surface of the water first. Almost instantaneously, the water engulfs your body, the impact pulling you further and further beneath the dark depths of water. Your hands claw at the waves, desperate to pull yourself back to the surface. But your impact just continues to pull you further and further below the depths, the sky just above the surface darkening the further you’re dragged down.

Something grips your ankle, and you look down. Her face is beautiful, scales shining up at you, eyes a clear luminescent color as she smiles, her mint teeth sharp. Her fingers wrap around your ankle tighter, dragging you further and further beneath the water. A sweet tone fills your eardrums, whispers echoing in your head. The pain of being unable to breath subsides, a warmth flowing over you despite the cold temperature of the water. You can feel yourself succumbing to the salty water that fills your mouth, your eyes fluttering as you're dragged further and further beneath.

A bubbling pain shoots through you as your eyes flutter, a screech in the water forcing your eyes open again. You look down at the mermaid, her pretty face twisted in pain, red blood spilling from her chest as she drops your ankle from her grasp. The pain swallows your body whole, as if it’s on fire beneath the surface of the ocean. You’re not controlling yourself entirely, your legs forcing you to bullet through the water, breaking the surface of the ocean. You don’t quite get the chance to cough or breathe air, lines of pain shooting out of your back, ripping skin. Water sputters from your lips as your body flies through the air and finally hits ground again, harshly, water spat against the sand as your fingers - is it your fingers? - grip the earth beneath them.

Your body is still burning as you cry out, tears forcing themselves down your cheeks.

You gasp, sobs echoing around the small beach, the pain unbearable in comparison to drowning. But just as it comes, it disappears almost as fast, the tension in your body completely disappearing. Your throat is still dry as you cough, but you can breathe now. You look down at your hands, your fingers back to normal, as if nothing happened at all. Your mind is trying to catch up with what just occurred, but nothing comes to head. Nothing that can explain what just happened to your body.

You look back at the water, mind moving back to the mermaid. Could she be dead? You see nothing at the top of the water floating, no evidence of what just happened. Your mind thinks back to months ago, a dead Seelie’s blood covering your fingers, your memories gone just as they are slowly disappearing now. Seonghwa’s warning seems more serious, more real now. Has he truly been right this whole time?

“You survived.”

Your head whips to the side, Hongjoong strolling closer and closer to you. “San” is not far behind, the corpse-like man showing a bit of color in his skin. His eyes are still empty, not truly there as they stop in front of you.

Hongjoong crouches down, his eyes roaming over your body. “You are alive-”

Your hand reaches out, fingers gripping his neck as you stand. Your mind is panicked, something else controlling you as you hold his body tight, strength unlike your own unwilling to let him go. Hongjoong’s grin only widens, eyes flicking between yours as you hold him.

“You seem upset, kumiho.”

“San” moves closer to Hongjoong, but the Unseelie holds up his hand, stopping him in his tracks.

A deeper tone, almost alien like, escapes your lips. “You are not wise, leader of Unseelie.”

“I wanted to see if you were truly real, kumiho. If your spirit truly has taken this human as your vessel.”

You feel your lips turn, the voice continuing. “You tread on thin ice, young one, meddling into matters that you do not belong in. You are lucky she is fond of you, or I would have pulled your soul from your immortal body long ago.” Your hand drops him to the sand below. “I allow her to be with your clan for her protection, leader of Unseelie. Do not provoke me again.”

You feel your body become your own again, exhaustion rolling through you. Hongjoong’s laugh echoes around the area, his head turning to San.

“Did you see that?” He tells him. “Kumiho are truly real,” he laughs again, running his fingers through his hair. “And it has allowed us to be in the company of her vessel,” Hongjoong’s eyes flick down to you, roaming your face. “Why are you so special to hold such a sacred one inside of you, y/n?” He murmurs to himself.

“Fuck you, Hongjoong,” I say.

His lip lifts higher. “The kumiho said you are fond of me, y/n. It is inside of you, in your mind, it couldn’t possibly be lying. No need to pretend to hate me.” He leans down, eyes flicking over your face. “You are quite a human, aren’t you?” He glances at your back, shaking his head. “Your clothing is barely hanging off of you, the wings truly ripped your shirt to shreds. San,” Hongjoong turns to him. “Carry her back to the house.”

San barely blinks as he lifts you from the ground, his cold grip on your body causing you to shiver as you’re pressed against him. Your eyes flick up to his, but there is nothing there - no emotion, nothing. Your throat tightens, unable to speak as you’re helped off the beach.

—

You stare at yourself in the mirror, turning around and glancing over your shoulder at your back. Two thin lines, barely visible, stretch from your shoulder blades to just above your pants line, look back at you. It is not painful at all, but seeing it there, knowing that wings ripped from your skin… it only makes your stomach twist.

Should you speak to Mingi about it?

You grab your shirt and pull it over your body, covering up the skin. Hoping to somehow push the thoughts away. Hongjoong and San disappeared just as you hit the tree line, the other Unseelies surprisingly not leaving their rooms as you enter the house. A part of you wonders if Hongjoong would ever tell any of them what happened on that cliff, or if he would keep it to himself. Though you doubt the latter - he’s too cocky to not say that he was right about you.

A soft knock on your door pulls you out of your thoughts, the door opening before you can ask who it is. Yeosang stands there, his eyes flicking over you before glancing away. His face is unreadable as usual, black locks covering most of it as gaze flickering to the floor as he speaks. “Do you have a moment?” he asks.

“Yes-”

He enters the room just as you open your mouth and shuts the door behind him, whispering a cantation as it locks. He turns to you, eyes roaming over your body before landing back on your face. “Hongjoong told us about your… trip.” He says simply.

“About him almost killing me?” I say, scoffing.

Yeosang’s expression does not change, though you think you see his lip twitch slightly. “Seonghwa heard about it, he still wants us to get rid of you.”

You’re not too sure as to why Yeosang is bringing this up, his sentences seemingly unrelated to one another.

His eyes watch yours carefully before he speaks again. “Mingi has given you healing potions.”

You’re sure if it were possible, your face would be in the shape of exactly three question marks right now. “What are you getting at?” you ask.

“Have you used it?”

I shake my head, pointing to the sack on my desk. Yeosang walks over, opening the sack and examining the bottles. He opens it, dipping his finger in it before smelling it. He hums, turning to look at you. “Seonghwa changed the potion. This would have killed you.”

My brows furrow, “What? How did he-”

“Seonghwa wants you gone,” he says, taking the potions and spilling it on the floor. It seeps through the wooden boards, a hiss echoing around you. “You need to be careful, he will take any chance he gets.”

You watch him curiously before speaking. “He is part of your spark, you respect him. Why do you care what happens to me?”

Yeosang’s eyes rest on yours, a flicker of pain passing through. “Because San did, and I will not allow his death to be for nothing.” He places the potions back in the bag, putting it back on your desk. “Be careful with what you eat, and I will do my best to prevent an untimely death.”

This Unseelie is curious indeed.

The familiar voice echoes in your head, your own mind pulled away from you. The moment barely lasts a few seconds, the intrusion gone.

Yeosang’s eyes widen softly, and you suddenly remember what he said a few months prior: “I can only hear what you want me to. It’s quite complicated. No one but me can pick up on stray thoughts, if you were worried about any of the others somehow picking up on what you’re thinking. That one I heard just now slipped because you were so in tuned to me.”

“You did not say that,” Yeosang states, eyes flicking between yours.

You nod.

He keeps his gaze on yours briefly, before looking away. “I do not want you dead, y/n, despite how much fear I may have for your existence. And… Hongjoong is right. You are important and valuable to us, we cannot hand you over to anyone else. So I will protect you, and the kumiho within you to the best of my ability,” He turns to you, expression solemn. “That I can promise.”

—

His fingers grace over the thickened, scarred skin. Tough and rubbery, cold. Nothing like what he once was – lively, warm, full of happiness. Now the Seelie – can he even call him that? – in front of him is merely a shadow of what he once was. Empty eyes, solemn stare. He has attempted to get words out of him, to make him speak, but nothing. His eyes do not even blink. He listens to Hongjoong’s commands, sure, but that is all. He is nothing. An empty shell, almost.

Hongjoong cannot show him to the others. He is not afraid of their reactions. He just would rather not deal with the dramatics of his choice. Necromancy is a skill he has never quite mastered, once that even San himself has told him would never end up the way one desired. But… he could not just leave him dead. Not after everything. It is selfish to pull his soul back, but Hongjoong is an Unseelie. The leader of Unseelie, in fact. Selfishness is embedded into his very soul. What kind of faerie would he be if he ignored it? A smaller part of him wonders if he has forgotten to put the soul back into its vessel.

“Speak.”

Hongjoong stares, waiting for something. Anything. But San only looks at him, his eyes glazed over, mind empty. Hongjoong grips the wooden table beneath the corpse, withered beneath his endless pounding of his fists in frustration.

“You are San,” Hongjoong says, eyes flicking between his. “You need to become him again. This is not a request, it is a command. Speak, San.”

San does not even twitch at his words. Hongjoong rubs his forehead in mild irritation, stepping away from the table. He has tried it all – potions, incantations. He has even poured dead Seelie blood down his throat. But nothing. His eyes flick over the body. He is ashamed to say it, but he did test the pain tolerance level of San. He even sliced a finger, but nothing. Not even a wince.

Hongjoong stares down at him, willing him to speak. To say something. But there is nothing behind those eyes. He thought necromancy would work better, that maybe he’d have to have San feed on living beings to survive. But nothing like the person that is in front of him now. Not so… nothing.

He leaves the shell behind, locking the doors with a flick of his hand before entering the common area. Mingi has you training with him again outside, Hongjoong eyes roaming to the two of you. Yunho watches as well, leaning against a pillar, deep in thought.

“You should assist him,” Hongjoong says, stepping next to him. “Surely he needs help taming that kumiho.”

“You have hidden information from us.” Yunho says, his gaze still cast on the training. “When will you spill your secrets?”

Hongjoong’s face reveals nothing. “I hide information from all of you all the time. You would have to be a bit more specific, Yunho.”

Yunho's gaze shifts to the shorter man. “What were you doing while we were fighting for our lives? What could have possibly been so important that you did not come?”

“That is my business.” Hongjoong hides his relief, his biggest secret locked just behind a few wooden slabs and spells.

“You do not trust us with it?” Yunho inquiries, his voice tense. “How much longer will you do this?”

“Until I need to.”

“We are your spark, your chosen mates. Why do you continue to distrust us? Is it because of Yeonjun–”

“You have been educated on his name only being brought up when necessary. Do not speak it again, Yunho,” Hongjoong's lips are tight.

Yunho’s eyes flicker across his face, taking in his expression. Hongjoong is ever so neutral, not even a flicker of emotion crossing his face. Another would think that he is just upset, maybe uncaring. But Yunho has been with him for hundreds of years - he knows when one’s face of neutrality is something deeper, harsher. Yunho steps closer to him, his height a head higher than Hongjoong’s. He has never used it this way - to intimidate, to threaten. But now, with the thought of such a decorated secret being hidden from him, he cannot help himself.

“Fine. Keep your secret, Hongjoong,” Yunho says after a moment. “But do not expect us to trust your words ever again.”

“I cannot lie, Yunho-”

“You have lied to us plenty, Hongjoong. Not releasing the truth, not speaking about it, is one of the biggest falsehoods of all.” His hand drags along Hongjoong’s jawline, sliding down the curve of his neck. “You will regret this conversation.” He pulls his hand away, glancing once at Mingi and you sparing, before leaving the room.

Hongjoong’s swallow is a bit shaky, his feet cemented in its spot.

#fic: wonderwall #ateez x reader #ateez angst #hongjoong x reader #san x reader #yunho x reader #mingi x reader #jongho x reader #wooyoung x reader #seonghwa x reader #yeosang x reader #ateez fanfic

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90ekz · 1 year ago

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“WE AINT GOOD-GOOD, BUT WE STILL GOOD”

debrief: when your ex-boyfriend ony comes down with a cold, you clock into your nurse shift, as well as resolving some old feelings.

tags: black!fem!reader, sickfic but like.. not, use of the n word, make-ups and break-ups, you make ony nervoussss 🥹, implied eremin (i love them), pure fluff, healthy communication cs ik some of y’all be bashin niggas heads in

an: bringing in the new year with some fluff !! i love you guys, and may 2024 bring everything you desire in abundance <3

ex-boyfriend!ony who was so heartbroken when y’all split, but knew it was for the best. he didn’t wanna drag you down with all his mess, (even if you insisted over and over that you were okay) and you were busy trying to get your masters. even through this, close contact was kept, and y’all leaned on each other for support.

that’s why it was such a shock when connie and jean had let it slip that he’d been sick for 3 days. you sat on the notion, wondering why he didn’t come to you or even say anything, and waited for a call, but when none came after a few hours, you were dialing his number harshly into your phone and letting it ring with a scowl on your face.

“onyankopon.” you spit over the phone, hearing him sputter at the use of his full name. dull music played in the background, and you could swear you hear other voices, hushed.

“h-hey mama, what’s goin on?” ony refused to let his composure slip, all his boys were over and he had told them that he had stopped fuckin’ with you. they all opted to come over to chill (smoke) even while he was down with a real bad cold. he caved and took a few hits before deciding that his lungs weren’t strong enough right now, and passing the spliff to connie wordlessly.

“you got something you wanna tell me?” you sat patiently, giving him the opportunity to tell the truth before jumping to conclusions. maybe there was a reason for it, everything happens for a reason, right?

“uh…nah i been chillin—hold up.” your eyebrow jumped at his labored breathing mixed with the sound of him hushing someone in the background before pressing the phone back to his ear. “anyways. im good, nothing to tell you, im cool. you cool?” your suspicion grew at his constant throat clearing and groans.

“you a damn lie.” before he could even respond, you were hanging up the phone and two beep sounds rung in his head. he tried to call back twice before getting a notification that you’d left home and were on the pathway to his house. the drive was only about 10 minutes, and knowing you, you’d be here in 5.

“aw shit—all y’all gotta go.” ony stumbled to his feet, ushering connie, eren, armin, and jean out of their seated positions and towards the front door. “man i was just getting high, the fuck goin’ on?” eren mumbles lightly, placing his jacket around armin’s shoulders and finishing packing his bag.

“someone’s coming over, c’mon.”

“who bruh?”

“y/n nigga, i think she knows im sick. y’all gotta go, now.” the whole group erupts in protests of ‘i thought y’all were done’ and ‘don’t kick us out for that, man!’ but ony didn’t care. he hadn’t seen you in person for a while, and he still needed to cover his tracks. the whole group rolls their eyes, save for connie and jean, who looked like they’d seen a ghost.

“connie, jean, why y’all look like that? what did y’all do?”

“it was him!” jean points to connie, completely throwing him under the bus. connie almost protests until he sees the sour look on ony’s face, and they’re scattering out the door with ‘im sorry’s’ flaking from their lips, leaving armin and eren to snicker under their breath.

“you said you were done with her, why now?”

“as much as i would love to give you an in-depth synopsis on my relationship status, i really don’t have time for allat right now.”

eren rolls his eyes, his attitude shown clear on his face. he wasn’t the biggest fan of ony’s relationship with you, considering that he’s the one who has to hear all the bullshit between you two. armin intertwines his pinkies with eren, an easy soother to his irritation.

“if i have to hear about this shit later, i’ll kill you.”

with reluctance, the couple left—armin apologetically excusing eren’s rudeness—and ony was left to spray fabreeze for the weed smell, and splash cold water on his face to hopefully extinguish his up-ticking fever, just in time for your harsh knocks to come on the door.

ony opened it, albeit barely enough for you to see his flushed face. he was feeling real feverish now….

“you ain’t tell me you was coming over.”

“i don’t have to tell you. open this damn door and stop playin wit me.” ony gulps as he unlocks the chain on the door and sees you fully. all you had on was his hoodie that he was sure you said you were gonna give back, and some nike pro shorts that he couldn’t see. you held a bag of unknown contents in your hand. you eyed him up and down before stepping inside like you owned the place.

he loved when you did that shit, this man is down bad.

you twirled the string of his sweatpants between your freshly done nails, and ony swears his temperature went up 10 degrees. you had this look in your eye that was the epitome of concern and irritation having a fist fight.

“so when were you gonna tell me that you were sick?”

“i wasn’t. i didn’t want you to worry about it, but the opptastic duo just had let you know, i guess.” ony followed as you proceeded deeper in the house, but you paused as you entered the living room. your eyebrows furrowed and your nose crinkled.

“what’s that smell?”

ony gulped, just playing shrugging and playing dumb. the cloud of fabreeze hadn’t really covered the weed smell all the way, and he was sure that you were about to bust him for smoking while he was sick, and he really wasn’t tryna hear all that at the moment. he was ready to get in his bed (preferably with you in it..)

“do not play wit me, what is that japanese cherry blossom shit im smelling?” you threw your keys and bag down and paced around the living room, flipping over pillows and looking under couch cushions. ony protested, promising that he didn’t know what you were talking about, and thought to himself that you were just smelling yourself.

until you pulled an empty cart refill wrapper from beneath the cushion.

aw shit.

you looked at him like he was a dumbass—which he was—before watching him smack his teeth and snatch the wrapper from your hand begrudgingly. the words “CHERRY GLAZE” in bold lettering burned his eyes, before vaguely remembering that armin had switched out his liquid before he’d left.

ony teetered on the truth, but he knew you’d be pissed about him having his boys over when he was clearly sick, so he settled on a lil white lie.

“oh, that’s uh—that’s some of my old shit.”

“if i’m recalling correctly, aren’t you the one that said that you didn’t like smoking that ‘fruity shit’?” ony cleared his throat—in a way he only does when he lies—before just grunting in response.

“and even if you didn’t say that, you hate cherry flavored anything, so that begs the question… what bitch was smoking this shit on your couch?” you jabbed your freshly done pointer nail into his chest, feeling his breath stutter under your touch.

he was caught between a rock and a hard place, and figured he’d just tell you the truth, even if you’d get mad.

“basically, the boys came over and eren brought his lil boyfriend or whatever he is—”

“wait, eren’s gay?”

“apparently. anyways, his name is armpit… or was it arm and hammer… whatever sum like that, and he was smoking his cart and replaced the liquid on the couch and i guess the wrapper fell between the cushions. no bitches were over here, i swear.” ony holds his hands up in defense, reassuring you that he was telling the truth. you smiled, as you believed him regardless. you knew he didn’t roll like that anyway.

“bae, relax. i believe you, i was just tryna see you sweat. just sit down, i bought you some soup.” you smiled at him with all your teeth, and ony was sure that he fell in love all over again. he missed you more than words could explain, and he just wanted you to come home again.

he finally let himself relax and he slumped onto the couch, his headache hammering against the back of his eyes. you took a seat on the ottoman next to him, unpacking his favorite potato soup and crackers. you crush up the crackers in the soup and stir, just like he likes, and unscrew the cap of his blue fanta.

“i think—no, i’m already in love with you. i dont think i ever stopped.” ony mutters as you spoon feed him and he has the urge to cry. you were always so gentle and caring with him, and you’ve never stopped, regardless of what the relationship status was. that’s what he loved most about you—it didn’t matter what happened between you too, if he needed you, you were there.

he missed you so, so bad.

“stop talking with your mouth full, you’re gonna get soup on your new carpet.” you attempted to brush off his words, and the way that they were making your face heat up.

“fuck the carpet. i’ve never been so serious in my life, mama. i love you more than you know. ‘just want you to come back to me.”

you two broke up because you mutually needed space and time to yourselves. it was an agreement, yet neither of you committed to it for more than a week. before you knew it, you were back texting him good morning, as he was texting you good night. all you wanted was to be his girlfriend again, but you wanted to give him the space he needed.

you set the spoon and soup aside, watching the way ony’s deep brown eyes twinkle under the low light of the living room.

“ony, i want to give you your space, that’s the whole reason we broke up to begin with. you deserve that.”

“i had enough space. you not living here no more, not being up under me when i sleep, not kissing me when i wake up, only seeing you at parties, that’s space, and i’m real tired of it,” ony laces his fingers with yours, kissing the back of your knuckles as he used to do.

“i want you back. i want you back in my face all the time, i wanna wake up mad cause you took all the covers, but then it goes away when i see how cute you look all bundled up. i want my initials on your nails again, i want you. i need you, baby. come home to me, please—“

“okay, okay! that’s enough, you’re embarrassing me!” you hide your head in the crook of his neck, suddenly feeling bashful about the way he was relaying his apparent undying love to you. everything he does flusters you still. you don’t miss the way his hands grasp you even tighter than they used to, if that’s even possible.

“i just want you to promise me that i’m not hurting you.”

“you could never. my perfect girl would never.” ony places a kiss on the top of your head, making sure to hold you even tighter. you choose not to mention his sniffles at the current moment, and let yourself be lost in his love.

“i missed you too, ony.”

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sorceresssundries · 8 months ago

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Dark Desires

A smutty one-shot based on a prompt from this list. I'll tell you the prompt after.

Pairing: Gale x Fem Tav/Durge

Summary: Tav (Durge) is tired of Gale veiling his darker desires and limiting his potential.

Warnings: SMUT. SMUT SMUT SMUT. Dark(er) Gale.

Word Count: 3.1k

The day had not gone well.

They were all tired, bruised, and sweat-soaked from hours of scouring the abandoned adamantine forge. Exhaustion weighed them down and was pressing heavily on already delicate tempers.

They had set up camp in the bowels of the ancient, destroyed temple of Shar. The heat from the lava spluttered below them, the remains of once-worshipped idols now reduced to nothing more than a burning, molten sea. The hisses and pops of the lava echoed out into cavernous depths, its glow casting eerie, dancing shadows on the cracked stone walls, painting the temple crimson and black.

Tav sat outside her tent, head throbbing with a dull, pounding ache, as though her lost memories were closed knuckles trying their best to beat their way to the front of her mind, threatening to burst her skull apart into a white-hot flash of violence. The heat was not helping her mood. It made it tough to think clearly. The stifling warmth clotted the atmosphere, making each breath feel sticky as it was dragged into her lungs. She craved clean air. A clean mind.

“Might I have a word?” Gale’s posture was stiff, his tone formal as he approached her. They were the only two in camp, the others had headed out in search of much needed supplies, and Tav had hoped she would be able to spend a few hours in peace. She had no real desire to speak to him right now. She was tired and aching, the battle earlier had taken a lot out of her.

They had scraped a win by the skin of their teeth, and only because her magic had bloomed outwards in a rage of fire, lashing whip-cracks of flame in all directions, injuring Lae’zel and Wyll in the process. She hadn't done it intentionally; the power fizzing through her veins sometimes had a mind of its own. That raw, uncontrollable magic combined with the pressing urges that haunted her made for a dangerous mix. It had gotten them out of numerous sticky situations but had also caused significant damage along the way.

In the moments that followed, where the air still crackled with her magic and danced over her skin, she had locked eyes with Gale, and the desire in his gaze could have pulled a city from the sky.

He stood before her now and cleared his throat, as though to dislodge his words.

“I once read a book that explained in some detail…”

“I don’t need one of your lessons right now, wizard” she sighed, standing, rubbing her temples with weary, calloused fingers. She glared at him, and noticed his expression shift from awkward to angry. The heat was clearly getting to him too.

“Well, maybe if you applied some basic discipline to that inert, crude magic of yours, sorcerer, we would be less likely to encounter the problems we faced today.” His tone was scolding, condescending. She hated when he spoke to her like this, it enraged her.

“We survived, didn’t we? If it wasn’t for my crude magic then you’d be nothing more than a crater and a cloud of red mist. Not even the weave would have been able to stitch you back together.”

Gale's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “Survival isn’t the only metric of success, Tav. The reckless use of power comes at a cost. Lae’zel and Wyll bear the scars of your uncontrolled outburst. We need to find a balance, a way to harness your strength without endangering the group.”

Tav’s frustration bubbled beneath the surface, her head pounding even harder. She knew Gale had a point, but the constant pressure to control something that felt as wild and untamed as a storm was suffocating.

“And what would you have me do? My magic isn’t like yours. It doesn’t follow rules or commands. It’s a part of me, and sometimes it reacts without my say.” He was about to come back with a cut from that bladed tongue of his, so Tav kept going before he spent the next half an hour admonishing her. “And maybe if you were a bit more reckless and free from your harness, you could cast magic without having to think about your dusty books and your precious ex-lover first. Might make you a little quicker off the mark.”

“Mystra is the source of all magic, including yours I might add!”

“My magic is my own.” Tav said steadily.

“By Mystra’s grace.” Gale muttered under his breath. Tav was getting tired of his immovable, relentless devotion. It was becoming tiring.

“The weave may be hers, but our mastery of it is not.” Tav took a step towards him, she could smell the day’s musk clinging to him, mixing with the thick heat in the air. She could practically taste the scent of him on her tongue. There was a bead of sweat which slid down from his brow in a slow trickle. “You should let go a little, see what happens if you’re a bit more… primitive. There is life outside of Mystra’s palm, you know.”

She was standing so close she could lean forward and run her tongue along his collarbone. She ached to do so. This man needed undoing.

She had seen the way he looked at her, when the darkness called and her lips flashed from smile to sneer. When the bloodthirsty whispers poured promises of power into the whorl of her ear and she felt suddenly unstoppable. Her muscles would tighten and breath run ragged, and she would catch his eyes - a pretty creep of darkness stirring there to match her own. He hungered for her. He just wouldn’t admit it.

She would have to make him.

Tav met those dark eyes now, where lust for power and lust for her swirled together into a potent pool she wished to drown in.

“I could help you let go, show you what real, mortal pleasure looks like. I could make you forget your Goddess for a little while. Perhaps even forever.” Tav’s voice was a siren’s song in a ceaseless ocean, and he was rock-strewn and desperate.

He swallowed thickly.

Gale liked to play the hero, but Tav saw through his façade, the veneer that masked a core of ambition and hunger. He cloaked himself in ideals, but beneath the surface, there was a darker drive that mirrored her own. Gale's ambition, though veiled in scholarly pursuits and noble causes, resonated with the raw, unbridled power that surged through her veins. They were kindred spirits, both dancing on the edge of control, both forged in the same fire.

They could be unstoppable, the two of them. There was enough power there to crumble the Absolute into dust. Not just the Absolute - anyone who stood before them. They could be more than gods; they could be whatever they wanted.

His fingers moved to trace featherlight over the sharpness of her jaw. His mouth was parted slightly and she could see the flash of his teeth, the curve of his tongue which she wanted to taste with her own.

“Tempting” his voice was lower now, rougher. “But i’m afraid with my condition as volatile as it is, any undue… excitement… could tip it over the edge.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, I don’t believe it. Look at you now. Face flushed, chest heaving, provoked, heated. And you’re fine. I’ve seen you, mid-fight, full of adrenaline, when you make fire rain and lighting strike and the flash of light makes your smug little smile dance. You like it. And that level of excitement hasn’t destroyed you.”

She reached out to trace the lines of the orb on his chest, exposed by his low-cut, loose robes, a necessity in the heat. Her fingers felt the indentations in his skin, the shallow, bruise-coloured carvings where his sweat gathered. She brought her damp, salty finger to her mouth, tasting the mingling of sweat and magic.

“I think you could handle it.”

His breathing was laboured, the hotness of it combining with the stifling air of the forge. “You would risk blowing us all to pieces, for what? Some mortal indulgence?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

The silence burned between them, and Gale was caught between desires. He wanted her, but there was a voice telling him it would be a mistake. With his heart pumping so furiously and his head buzzing with the thought of Tav’s skin against his tongue, he did not know if that voice was his own - or that of his Goddess.

“Did she ever fuck you?” Tav’s voice was mocking, desire scorching the corners of her words until they smoked.

“What Mystra and I shared was beyond fucking, I can assure you. You wouldn’t be able to understand the depth and intricacy of out…”

“So.. no?”

Her words were a lilt, a song, an invitation. She reached out her fingers to brush against the glint of silver nestled in the sweat-damp curls of his hair.

“You’re playing a dangerous game. Meddling in things you know very little about.” He was speaking so softly now that each word was almost a whisper.

“Oh? I’d say I understand you better than you think. You tried to win a clever game against a God, and were surprised when she outplayed you. You wanted to match her power, and she cast you aside, seeing you for what you truly are. Another Karsus. An ambitious fool with an ego big enough to think he deserved to equal her power. That darkness in you had to cling to something Gale, It’s just feeding off what was already there.”

Something which was pulled tight, snapped.

“Go fuck yourself.” He purred, gaze glowering. There it was. That beautiful dark flash she loved so much. Tav had never heard him so blunt, so lacking in his usual verbosity. He hid behind his carefully constructed sentences like they were city walls, and now there was naught but crushed bricks and spite.

He walked away, finished with her. But Tav was not finished with him.

“Fuck me yourself, you coward.”

Coward.

The word ignited him. A second of final uncertainty was banished forever as he strode back to her wordlessly, blazing. He grabbed her waist, clutching her almost painfully as he kissed her the way he had fantasised about every time he saw her bursts of unbound, fiercely beautiful power. She was crimson in a world where he had only known soft violet.

There was no romance or tenderness, no promises of endless devotion or nights of a thousand pleasures. They didn't dance together in the sea of night, letting the weave morph them into ethereal, matterless energies. There was sweat and tongue and heat, pain that tasted like pleasure. Gale's moans were cracked and heavy as his teeth grazed Tav's neck. He could feel her heartbeat, hard and lustful under his tongue, pulsing all her mortal blood around the body he craved so desperately. Her hand was ungraceful as it tore apart the laces of his trousers, pushing down to find him unabashedly hard and wanting.

Tav smirked against his lips. "If you want something, you should just take it."

He grasped her hair hard in one hand, pulling her head back to look at him. Her pupils were lust-blown, her lips swollen from their bruising kiss.

"I intend to."

He tore the flimsy camp shirt from her, and Gale wasted no time in palming her bare breasts. He groaned at the feel of them, slick with her sweat, their weight and warmth driving him to the edge. He pushed them both to the ground ungracefully, his mouth moving down her body with such force and fervor that his lips and tongue left bruises. He wanted to fuck her recklessly and relentlessly, but first, he wanted to undo her completely.

He unceremoniously pulled down her trousers and underwear, feeling his cock twitch harder at the silken sight of her. The second his tongue tasted her cunt, she growled. He paused to look at her, writhing and helpless beneath him. Finally.

“Look who’s suddenly out of clever little words.” He murmured, breathing hard through his nose, her scent caught there. “Nothing to say to me now, hmm?”

“Gale,” was all she could manage, her sharp edges dulled. The plea in her softened voice made him drive his tongue back into her even harder. He was the one taking her.

Tav's hands clawed at the ground, her back arching as he devoured her. Every touch, every flick of his tongue sent shivers of pleasure through her body. She was unravelling, her mind a haze of lust and need. She pulled at his hair, guiding him, urging him on, her moans growing louder, more desperate.

He thought he would burn out from the heat alone. The sticky air clung to him like wet, heavy clothing. He felt so smothered with tacky humidity he could drown in it. They were both soaked, their sweat indistinguishable, their tastes mingling. Gale had once believed that the melding of minds and souls was the closest he could be to someone, but he was wrong. Here and now, with Tav, burning for and with each other, it felt like they were flames from the same ember.

She tasted like nothing else. Like sweat and salt. Like the first meal after a day of starving. She was red meat and bold wine and the ocean and something completely indescribable. She was a meal he wanted to indulge in completely until he was gorged. Tremors began to flicker through her legs, and her hips twitched more forcefully, pushing his nose further into her. He thought he might suffocate—let him, he thought. If he died with her scent in his lungs and her taste on his lips, so be it.

“Come. Now.” He said against her, the low thrum of his voice a vibration. Her hands clenched so tight in his hair her nails dug into his scalp, and he hissed as she came, bucking like an untamed animal as he did his best to keep her hips still while she rode his face into oblivion.

“More,” she gasped as he moved up to kiss her messily, his face soaked with her.

“Like this?” he growled as he finally thrust into her, his fingers digging into the supple flesh of her thighs. He pushed her legs upward, pinning her completely beneath him. He wanted her to feel all of him, to rub against her clit as he slammed into her.

He was tired of her acidity and sharp tongue; he wanted to douse her in pleasure until she was a wrecked woman who couldn’t string a sentence together. He wanted to fill her mouth with his cock just to stop her talking, to see her eyes water from the fullness of him as she gagged on him. And she would love every filthy minute of it, he knew, until he spilled himself down her throat, his hand tight in her hair.

He wanted to taste his own seed on her tongue. He wanted her to taste herself. He wanted to fuck her so deeply, and come inside her so fully that those two tastes became one.

She was intoxicating. Not only could he taste and feel her mortal flesh twitching and pulsing beneath him, he could feel the sensations dancing over his own skin. His cock throbbed, coated in the slick of her arousal. Caused by him. His breath was erratic, his usual reliable words lost in the bonfire of her.

She was infuriating. She was selfish. She was dangerous.

She was his, and he called out her name from the thought.

Her response was a mix of a moan and a cry, her nails raking down his back, her eyes half-closed in pleasure. He leaned down, capturing her mouth in another melting kiss, swallowing her cries as he thrust deeper, harder. His hands roamed her body, memorising every curve, every shiver of pleasure.

He could feel her nearing the edge again, her body tightening around him, every muscle coiling with anticipation. With one hand, he reached between them, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. The sensation sent her spiralling, her climax crashing over her with a force that left her trembling and breathless. Her moans turned to cries of ecstasy, her nails digging into his back as her body shuddered violently.

He watched her face contort with pleasure, her eyes glazed and lips parted, and it spurred him to thrust harder, deeper. His fingers never stopped their relentless motion, drawing out her orgasm until she was a quivering mess beneath him. He could feel her pulsing around his cock and he knew he was close. The sight of her coming undone, the sound of her pleading for more, was enough to push him over the edge

With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside her, his own release tearing through him. He groaned her name, his voice thick with passion, as he filled her, their bodies locked together. His fingers continued to work her, drawing out every last tremor, until she was left panting and spent.

He collapsed onto her, their sweat-slicked bodies pressed together, his breath coming in ragged gasps. For a moment, they lay there, tangled in each other, the air around them heavy and hot with the scent of sex. Slowly, Gale lifted his head to look at her, his eyes dark and glinting. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch surprisingly gentle after their ferocity.

“See,” she panted, “I told you you could handle it.”

He rested his head against her neck, wordless. His clever, moral little thoughts had burnt out in the chaos of her, and all that was left was the ambition she had stoked.

“There is so much more to life than what she offers,” Tav breathed. “A whole other, messy, mortal world out there, with more power than your Goddess was willing to give you.” She paused, her voice a whisper against his ear. “But I am. I would give you everything.”

Gale met her gaze, his eyes searching hers. For a fleeting moment, he swore he caught a flash of red within them. They were so close, their faces almost touching, that the same flash of red reflected in his own dark stare.

“Show me”

The prompt was...

"Go fuck yourself"

"Fuck me yourself, you coward."

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 durge #the dark urge #dark gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale fanfic

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redflagshipwriter · 5 months ago

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Halfa Cass ch 10 pt 2

masterpost

Gotham was a closed fist that night, tense and ready. Black Bat gleefully swung out to match it.

Before they even left the batcave, Barbara Eyes called in to tell them that there was a hostage situation. Black Bat and Robin cleared out the civilians trapped in the building while Batman riddled the SillyMan. Batdad was still glowering at the truck to take SillyMan back to Arkham when a fire broke out in an apartment complex.

Sad.

Robin was too little to drag grown people out of windows, so he worked triage as Black Bat evacuated residents and hunted for pet cats. The fire trucks arrived. The blaze went out, but the building was still dangerous. Black Bat kept an ear open and paid attention to Robin through comms as she made sure everyone was out into the night air. He found the people with carbon monoxide poisoning and he gave strict instructions and he said, “Move! You, when the ambulance arrives, call for an AED.”

Black Bat moved.

The chihuahua in her equipment pouch quavered and shook, because he didn’t know that Robin was too 8-years-old to administer the correct pounds of force for CPR. The cat clinging to her front yowled a war cry and dug 20 toes into Cass’s armor. Good cat. They all went down the outside of the building together to where Robin was starting CPR. He glanced up at Black Bat as she arrived. Rhythm? Perfect. Depth? Not enough.

Again, Robin is small. Human body is the limit. Weighs about 50 pounds. Baby birds have light bones.

“Trade,” she said tersely. “Cat.” The dog was secure enough.

Robin professionally took the cat and Black Bat did chest compressions. An old man wailed, hands in his thin hair. The old lady laid there on the cement in a sooty house coat with bony, bare feet. Air puffed out meaninglessly with the lung massages. Robin leaned forward to do the breaths, cat held against his chest and cradled carefully with one hand.

Black Bat focused. Bone in the chest cracked under her hands. She grimaced, the expression hidden under her mask. If only she could reach in and directly massage the heart. She would give it the squeeze that would bring grandma smokey lungs back and the old man would stop crying, crying, crying–

Her hand slipped.

She stopped.

Black Bat looked at it. Her wrist was poking out of the victim’s chest. No blood, no broken skin, no force. Strange feeling, like being in fog and jello. She flexed her hand carefully and it brushed through bone and veins.

“How convenient,” said Robin. “Can you apply direct stimulation?”

She felt for the heart. Found the depth. Wanted it. Yes! Black Bat grasped carefully, butterfly-gentle.

It worked! Holy shit! Black Bat laughed incredulously. “Moving!” she said.

Robin held his hand up to check for breath. “She’s breathing,” he reported, so pleased. We did it. We have done the only thing that matters. He had? No curiosity as to how she had done this. She had big sister powers, that was how. Haha, Robin. So cute.

The man started to pray, little things like “Thank you, sweet lord, thank you, thank you.”

Black Bat stood up, looking around for something soft and warm. The lady had bare feet. She would be cold.

Fortunately, she saw the blue lights of the first ambulance arrive. She waved it over. A line of others were right behind it. The people who Robin had arranged for triage reported for treatment.

“I request that you do not speak of this,” Robin said tersely to the old man. Good bird. “It would be very inconvenient for Black Bat if the criminal element understood her full capacity. I, in turn, would make life very inconvenient for you-”

“Have a good night,” Black Bat interrupted. She reeled Robin away, found someone who knew the dog, and barely remembered that Robin had to give the cat back as well. Once this was done, they went back on patrol. Cass felt like she was in a dream. Maybe? Maybe being a dead little girl was a good thing.

There was a carjacker working busy-bee, there was a mean man shoving his boyfriend into a wall outside a club, there were a dozen little fights. They should have been too busy to deviate from patrol. But Cass felt a restlessness in her chest to go back, back to the mechanic. More than before, she felt full of strange energy and possessiveness. This was her Gotham. It was her territory. Pretty mechanic girls can’t go put magic guns on her street: it is rude.

So Black Bat stopped in a private place to consult with Robin, using talking hands. No voice: no Batdad weighing in.

Robin agreed.

Yes!

They went.

If it was anything like the other night, Miss Jacqueline would be asleep on her couch. They would sneaky in and loom until she woke up. Then, they would fight.

Or talk. Whichever.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #red halfa cass #dead silent

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mediumgayitalian · 9 months ago

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“Man overboard!”

Annabeth does, in fact, understand that such a cry warrants hastiness. Hurry, even.

“Man overboard! Man overboard!”

Most men, after all, cannot swim, and if the whispers are to be believed then this particular man is not even conscious to try. He is no doubt in peril, and the Fates have a stronger hold on his thread with every passing moment.

“Make way! Man overboard!”

If she is jostled one more time, however.

“Man overboard! Lower the ladder, man overboard!”

Should even one more crew yank her back away from the walls of the ship, patting her on the arm as they shove her ‘somewhere more befitting for such a finely dressed lady’.

“Hook it around him, for the gods’ sake, man overboard!”

There are going to be several more men joining him.

“Clear a path! Clear a path!”

She makes it, finally, to the rail unimpeded enough to lean over and see the man who, she has heard, has fallen overboard. He clings like dark-haired Danaë on the waterlogged hope of a wine barrel, bare back burned from the sun, nose nearly dragging along the friendly swirling waves. His dignity is covered, barely, by a torn, bloodstained cloth, and his tanned skin is crisscrossed with raised white scars.

He is handsome.

She stumbles back from the hull, face burning. And absurd thought to have. She seeks out deliberately a close-cropped head of blond hair, smiling tersely when Captain Grace meets her eyes, offering her a nod.

“Straight line,” she murmurs to herself, pulling back her shoulders.

She gives the men plenty of distance as they haul the downed sailor up from the depths. It irks her, really, to be following their orders, but to help or to offer it would mean more of the jostling, the pushing. More grimey hands irreparably staining the fine silk of the new dress Mother had sent her with.

It takes the crew an embarrassingly long time to haul the man up, even though Annabeth can see, as one of the bulkier men wraps a limp arm around his shoulders, that he is slight. He has the shoulders of a swimmer and the leanness of a scavenger, but his frame is small. In fact she is almost sure that upright, they would stand shoulder to shoulder. Perhaps an inch on his part, nothing more.

She realises, with a start, that the crew is staring at her, and forces her second blush of the day back from whence it came. She meets the expectant states with a tilted chin and hard eyes, drawing her skirts and clicking her heels against the groaning deck.

“What,” she snaps.

“He’s unconscious, my lady.”

“So? Place him out of the sun, have someone monitor him.”

The crewman supporting the unconscious man — truly, Annabeth needs to learn these men’s names; it would be easier if any of them spoke to her at any time other than to ask if the sun was making her feel faint — shifts from foot to foot.

Well.

Foot to peg.

“Yes,” he says eventually. He makes some sort of vague gesture with his hand, stepping forward. “Er — our thoughts exactly, my lady.”

Still, no one moves. The unconscious man’s head lolls, pitching his whole weight forward. Another sailor lunges forward to catch him, readjusting him so he’s steady.

Still, no one moves.

Annabeth shifts to face her betrothed. He winces under her sharp look, hand coming up to run the back of his neck.

“He may fare best under your care,” Captain Grace says hesitantly. “The bunks are unfit for someone in his condition. And my men can be…rough.”

“Choose your words carefully, Jason,” she warns.

Grimacing, Captain Grace plows on. “I mean no offense, my lady. We have no other women on the ship. Your cabin is cool and sheltered and I know you enjoy those weaving projects in idle time. He will not require much more than an eye to ensure he does not pass in his sleep. I can think of no one more capable to watch over him.”

The doctor, for starters, Annabeth thinks. Drunk as he is, the sickly rescue should be his charge; nursing him should be his task.

The crew doesn’t even glance at him, though. He stands happily to the side, red-faced and cross-eyed, bottle dribbling from his trouser pockets, and Annabeth fights the urge to bare her teeth.

“Whatever you believe is best, Captain,” she grits out. She glares at the crew, pausing on each man until he squirms under her gaze. “Do not leave him to soak my sheets.”

They leave him, instead, sprawled on the wooden floorboards.

Annabeth scowls.

A four week journey, her mother had told her. Barely a month at sea, with plenty of stops on the islands dotting the paths and a stack of journals for her research. Captain Grace’s vessel is exceptionally well-stocked and custom built by the brightest of his father’s engineers; so smoothly is it claimed to flow through the water that all aboard her will scarcely feel even the roughest rock of the waves.

A sharp veer to the side has Annabeth stumbling, nearly crushing herself under the man’s dead weight.

“Smooth,” she grumbles to herself, huffing as she drags him back upright. His skin is alarmingly cool from the bite of the water, and still slick. It takes her four tries to force his arm back over her shoulder, slippery as it is. “Top model, they say. Well, what a purse of lies that is. I could design a better ship in my —” she huffs, yanking him the last few feet towards her bed — “sleep.”

She could be more gentle with him, she supposes. If his head or spine is injured then her rough handling will doom him. But, well, penny, pound, et cetera. If he has a head injury and the waves haven’t killed him, her light tossing won’t, either.

Probably.

She deposits him on top of her quilt and then stands at the foot of her bed, hands on her hips, toes tapping. She tilts her head slightly to the right. Narrowing her eyes, she tilts it to the right. She wrinkles her nose and squints her eyes.

She can’t be faulted for her earlier thoughts, she decides.

He has a strange kind of charm to him. The same magnetism present in the performers of her mother’s court; men and women who gather in bright clothing and perform tricks and tease the audience, riding the thin line between furious huffing and uproarious laughter. Troublemakers, with enough skill to balance the line. Thin, twitching fingers and smile lines in the corner of his eyes, thick but maintained brows and dramatically bowed lips.

With a sound so great it rivals the billowing coal engines down billow, the man snores, trail of saliva trickling down his chin.

How revolting. Annabeth finds her lips twitching upwards and resets them deliberately into a graceful line.

Yes, he is the alluring kind. She wouldn’t be surprised if he turns out to be some kind of thief, or a cast-out stowaway. A wisecracker who pushed the envelope an inch too far.

She stalks over to the windowed wall of her tiny cabin, wrestling it open. The immediate relief of the sea breeze has her gasping, resisting the urge to stick her head out and bask in the cool air. That would be undignified, even if her room as become unbearably stifling with the presence of another person in it.

Gods, she is lonely.

She had hoped at least to have one of her ladies accompanying her. It would have been a little more bearable, the company, cramped as her cabin would be. On this ship now she is bored nearly to tears from sunup to sundown every day, barred from even the most menial of tasks that could upset her delicate womanliness and bereft of even a child to argue with. The crew tiptoes around her like she may crack to fine shards should they so much as offer her more than a fine morning, my lady, or the sun suits you quite beautifully, did you know, and Captain Grace loves nothing more than extended silences. In all honesty she only gets to talk to the ship’s mechanic, who, vulgar as he is, at least talks to her as he would anyone else on the ship. Sure, she can only stand so much of him at a time, and he’s been banned from breathing in her direction since the very first day of their expedition, but if she happens to be in the ship’s engine room as the same time as he is, then it would simply be impolite to ignore her.

Not that Valdez cares much for rules. Or her preferences.

Desperate times, et cetera, et cetera.

Knowing the deck will be too crowded for her to slip down below unnoticed, she settles down onto the old, rickety corner-desk with a sigh, cracking open her journal. Except for a string of blotty doodles along the edges, the paper is devoid of anything, as barren and numb as her mind feels. She understands, dramatic as it is, why so many sailors return from their voyages mad; why pirates and navies alike sail with crews. Even a day on the empty, open ocean without someone to talk to is maddening. She feels as if words flee from her vocabulary with every minute she doesn’t use them. What is there to do, on this stupid boat, besides sleep and eat and mope? She wishes she was allowed to steer the vessel, or watch from the nest. Not stimulating jobs, true, but jobs, at least. She has not sunk so low as to long for a deck-scrubber, but she is dangerously close. She can feel it. Another week at sea without much more than a loom and a needle and her mind will leap into the waves, she’s sure, abandoning her to the dull tedium of the stagnant clouds. The knowledge that she has three weeks left until they reach Lord Dyeus’ kingdom could make her break down into weeping, should she dwell on it long enough. By the time she returns to civilization she may no longer be suited for it.

A rustle sounds behind her, followed by a cut-off snort.

“…Somehow, I don’t think I’m at sea anymore.”

Annabeth yelps, nearly falling right off her chair. She scrambles upright, or tries to, but her stupid petticoats get caught up around her ankles and nearly send her toppling again, this time with even less of her dignity. It is only with sheer force of will that she manages to force her spine straight and upright in perfect time to meet the most gorgeous, sea green eyes she has ever seen.

“You drool when you sleep,” she informs him, darkly satisfied when the amused twinkle fades from his eyes in favour of a flat glare, hand coming up to swipe at his chin.

“I don’t suppose you could tell me where I am,” he mutters as the minutes stretch on.

Annabeth snaps her gaze back up to his face, wishing desperately her cabin had a second window.

“Captain Grace’s ship.” She swallows stiffly, collarbone suddenly itchy. “On route to the Kingdom of Lightning.”

The man’s face pales, long, calloused fingers twitching into fists.

“The ship carrying Princess Annabeth?”

Her mouth dries even further. “…Yes.”

“Someone needs to summon her, quickly. I have news. I — I come from Pirate Jackson’s ship — they threw me off board to drown.”

She knows, immediately, why he tells her this. Why his eyes go round with desperation, why his hands twist, why he has developed a sudden, scrutinizing interest in the view of the sea from outside her window, throat bobbing with every heavy suggestion.

But all hypotheses must be tested.

“Why?”

He meets her gaze, green eyes an exact mirror of the roiling sea around them; layered, stormy, and deeper than the darkest of trenches, wider than the night sky.

“Because they want to know her location. And I refused to give it up.”

———

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aspenmissing · 22 days ago

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Hello :D Can I request a Silco x fem!Reader in the scene where Vander is drowning Silco and after Vander leaves she runs to the water and helps him out and like drags him to shore and has to wake him up? Super super angsty but eventually Silco wakes up and they like swear to get vengeance on Vander? Tyyy 🫶🫶🫶🫶

ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ʜᴇʀ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ || ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ/ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ? || 2865 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛᴇᴅ ᴅʀᴏᴡɴɪɴɢ, ᴄᴘʀ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ɪɴꜰᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ (ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇᴅ, ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟ?)

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ! ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ꜱᴘʀɪɴᴋʟᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴏᴜʀ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀᴛɪꜱᴇᴅ ᴍᴀɴ.

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ

The water was murky, thick with the residue of violence, and Silco's body felt as though it were sinking into it, weighted by the blood loss from the wound in his arm. His vision blurred, every breath a struggle, each one shallow as Vander’s grip tightened around his throat, forcing the life out of him. His lungs screamed for air, but Vander’s unrelenting strength crushed his windpipe, cutting off the oxygen. The pain in his chest was unbearable, and his legs kicked weakly beneath the surface, trying to keep him from drowning. The world around him grew distant, as though he were floating outside of his own body, powerless to stop the inevitable.

The sharp, fiery sting in his arm was the last flicker of hope that surged through him—his knife. His fingers, slick with blood, grasped for the handle. With what little strength he could summon, he stabbed upwards, plunging the blade deep into Vander’s arm. The impact caused Vander to recoil, momentarily releasing his hold, just enough for Silco to gasp, a strangled breath escaping his lips before the cold water pulled him under again.

It wasn’t enough. The darkness was coming for him.

But in the haze of unconsciousness, just before he could surrender completely to it, he felt a pull. A hand grasping his wrist, strong, steady, and urgent— pulling him upwards with a force that startled him from his foggy daze.

His body, too weak to resist, was lifted from the depths of the river, the cool water no longer enveloping him. His chest burned, his limbs heavy, but the grip around his wrist refused to let go. The faintest image of Y/N materialised through his blurred vision—her face, determined, filled with the fire he’d come to recognise so well. She was pulling him toward safety, her strength a comforting contrast to the helplessness that threatened to consume him.

"Y/N…" His voice was faint, like a fragile whisper, the words not even reaching her ears. It didn’t matter. He didn’t have the strength to keep fighting.

With her hands trembling and her heart pounding, Y/N dragged him toward the shore, each movement frantic, as though time were slipping away. Her breath was erratic, her hands shaking with fear and urgency as she pulled him onto solid ground, her desperation palpable in the way she moved.

He was unresponsive, limp in her arms, his skin pale and his breath ragged. Panic began to claw at her chest, threatening to tear her apart, but she couldn’t—no, she wouldn’t—let him slip away. Not like this.

"No, no, no!" Y/N gasped, her hands trembling as they slapped against Silco’s damp face, trying to rouse him. His skin was cold, his pulse faint, and the terror in her chest bloomed, suffocating.

"Silco, please!" Her voice cracked, desperate, almost pleading. "Don’t do this. You promised you wouldn’t leave me... Don’t you dare leave me, not now. Not after everything we’ve been through."

She positioned herself above him, pushing herself into him with all the urgency of someone who couldn’t let go. The pressure of his chest beneath her hands seemed to crush her own heart. She had to save him. She didn’t know how, but she had to.

“Come on, Silco… please… please, don’t leave me. I need you…”

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away, focusing on the task at hand. She pressed her lips to his, forcing air into his lungs, giving him what little strength she had left. Her hands moved in rhythm, desperate, trying to revive him. The panic in her veins burned, her body screaming at her to stop, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Not until he woke up.

His chest didn’t rise. His body lay still, and her heart dropped deeper into her stomach with every failed breath.

"Silco, please... don’t do this to me…" Her voice trembled, a raw cry slipping from her lips. She pressed her palms harder into his chest, the rhythmic motion of CPR becoming automatic, her own body weakening with each pump. She could feel the exhaustion creeping up on her, but she ignored it, her focus unwavering. She couldn’t give up. Not now. Not with him.

And then, when she thought she might collapse from the strain, there it was—an inhale. A violent, gasping breath that shot through him, water spilling from his mouth in a torrent. Silco coughed, choking on the water that had filled his lungs, his body shaking with the effort to expel it.

Y/N’s arms wrapped around him immediately, pulling him into her chest as if he were the most precious thing in the world. Her fingers cradled his face, brushing his damp hair back from his forehead, her heartbeat a steady thrum in the silence that followed.

He coughed again, his grip around her tightening, his fingers digging into her skin as though he were anchoring himself to her. His breath was still ragged, his chest heaving, but the life was back in him, and that was enough for Y/N. Her heart swelled with relief, but there was still something in her eyes—something fierce. Something unforgiving.

“You’re alright,” she murmured, her voice softer now, a gentle promise in the midst of the storm. “You’re safe now.”

Silco’s eyes fluttered, barely open, and the roughness of his voice broke through the fog in his mind. “Y/N…”

The whisper of his name felt like a balm to her frayed nerves. She leaned in, pressing her forehead to his, her fingers tenderly stroking his jaw.

“You’re going to be okay,” she said, the words meant more for herself than him. She pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, but it was clear he was too weak to speak for himself.

But she couldn’t help it. The question slipped from her lips, even though she feared the answer. “What happened, Silco? What did Vander—?”

Silco’s face tightened, and the moment of peace shattered. His eyes clenched shut, pain resurfacing. He drew in a jagged breath before his voice came through, barely more than a strained rasp.

“Vander… he—he nearly killed me.” His chest shuddered with the admission, his body too weak to support the weight of his words, but there was a bitter finality in his tone.

Y/N’s heart burned with the knowledge of what Vander had done—what he’d tried to do—and her grip on Silco tightened. Her jaw clenched, fury radiating off her in waves.

“No…” she whispered, though the word felt too small to contain the depth of her fury. “Then we’ll make him pay. I swear it. I’ll make him pay for this. I’ll make sure he never does this again.”

The fire in her voice was unmistakable, and despite his weakened state, Silco could feel the conviction in her words. He knew she meant every syllable. Her hands held him steady, cradling him with an intensity that conveyed not just care, but a promise of vengeance.

Silco managed a faint smile, the corners of his lips twitching upward, though his eyes remained heavy with exhaustion. “I know… I know you will. We both will”

As Y/N held Silco close, the steady rhythm of his breath beneath her hands allowed her a fleeting moment of relief. The world around her, once filled with chaos and fear, softened as she realised that he was alive, breathing—safe for now. But there was still the weight of everything that had just happened pressing down on her. She couldn’t let her guard down yet, not entirely.

Her fingers moved instinctively, tracing the outline of his face, making sure he was really there. But as her hand brushed past his temple, she felt the telltale dampness of the cut around his eye. It had been a brutal blow, but what struck her next was the heat radiating from the wound, a sickly warmth that made her stomach turn.

She gently cupped his face, bringing his damaged eye into her view, her heart sinking as she took in the extent of the injury. The gash, still raw from the previous fight, had been worsened by the muck and filth in the water, now infected, swollen, and oozing an unsightly mix of blood and grime. The once sharp and calculating gleam in his eye had dulled, replaced by a feverish, almost lifeless look as his eye struggled to stay open.

“No…” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling, not from fear this time, but from the crushing responsibility she now felt for him. She pressed her palm gently against his face, her thumb brushing over the infected area, the weight of it unbearable.

"Silco…" Her voice cracked slightly, and her brow furrowed in deep concern. "This needs to be treated—this is dangerous."

He blinked sluggishly, his eye fluttering beneath her touch as if he barely had the strength to keep it open. Silco’s lips parted as he tried to speak, but his words were a broken whisper, barely audible.

“It’s nothing… just a scratch.”

Y/N felt a surge of anger at his nonchalance. He had nearly died at Vander’s hands, and yet he was dismissing something that could make it worse. She couldn’t believe how careless he could be, even in such a weakened state. But she understood it—she knew the battle he’d been fighting, how he always pushed his own limits. He was stubborn, and it made her heart ache.

"No, Silco," she said firmly, her voice low but full of intensity. "This is more than just a scratch. You need to rest and get this cleaned up before it gets worse. I won’t let you suffer any longer than you already have."

Her fingers traced the contour of his face again, her eyes not leaving the wound. She could see the infection spreading, the redness now creeping further into his skin, and it sickened her that he had to endure this after everything else.

“Don’t you dare underestimate this,” she added, her voice unwavering. She gently, but firmly, took his head in her hands, tilting it slightly to get a better view of his face. "Vander’s not the only one who’ll pay for this. You are going to make it through this, Silco."

Silco’s lips parted in a faint, dry smile, the ghost of his former self flashing through as he attempted to reassure her with words that felt too small against the gravity of the moment.

"I’m not going anywhere." His voice, though weak, still carried that familiar determination, the flicker of the man who had never once been truly defeated.

Y/N, however, couldn’t shake the fear that lingered deep in her chest. This wound—this infection—could be far more dangerous than any battle they’d faced before. She wouldn’t let him slip away from her, not to something as insidious as an infection. Not when she was so close to him. Not after she had fought so hard to keep him safe.

"Stay with me," she urged softly, her voice gentler now, even though her heart was pounding. "Just stay with me, Silco."

She could feel his grip tighten on her, his fingers curling into her skin, anchoring himself to her. Despite the weakness in his body, there was a silent promise in that hold. He wasn’t ready to give up—not yet.

Y/N’s heart swelled with a strange combination of fear, relief, and unwavering determination. She wouldn’t let him go, not while he still had that fire in him, that promise in his heart. She would stand by him, and together, they would overcome this. She would find a way to fix him, to get him back to himself.

Her gaze shifted back to his infected eye, and she swallowed down the bile in her throat, brushing his damp hair back gently.

"We need to get you cleaned up," she muttered, looking around the desolate space for anything that might help. "I’ll make sure you get through this."

He closed his eyes, allowing himself to rest in her arms for just a moment longer, before his voice, though faint, returned.

"You always know what to do, Y/N..." he whispered.

Her breath caught at his words, and she nodded, her lips quivering slightly, though her resolve remained strong. "I’ll always take care of you, Silco. No matter what."

With a steadying breath, Y/N carefully helped Silco to his feet, her hands sliding beneath his arms, offering whatever strength she could to keep him upright. He was weak, his legs unsteady, but he didn’t resist—his body too tired to do anything but lean into her. She felt the weight of him, the gravity of everything he had endured, and her resolve hardened. She wasn’t going to let him fall, not again.

"Lean on me," she murmured, her voice soft but firm, her hands steadying him as his body leaned heavily against hers. "Just a little longer. We’ll get you somewhere safe."

Silco’s breath was shallow, his head still spinning, but he trusted her. He always had. His arm draped weakly around her shoulder, his fingers curling into the fabric of her clothes, a gesture of dependency that spoke louder than any words. One of Y/N’s hands gripped his arm tight, anchoring it around her as she wrapped her other arm around his waist, the tension in her body unwavering as she supported him with every step.

As they moved, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the weight in her chest—the edge of fury that gnawed at her insides. It wasn’t just worry for Silco anymore. It was hatred for what Vander had done. The older man’s actions had left a mark on Silco’s body, on his soul, and Y/N couldn’t—wouldn’t—forgive that. The thought of Vander—the man who had once been a friend to them—gnawed at her insides, twisting like a dagger. He had nearly killed Silco. Nearly taken him from her forever.

"No more," Y/N muttered under her breath, her jaw tightening. "This ends now."

She could feel Silco’s presence next to her, the weight of him leaning into her, and his breath steadied, though still ragged. His weight was more than just physical now—it was a promise. He was still here, still fighting, and she wouldn’t let his fight go to waste. She would carry him if she had to.

“Stay with me,” she urged quietly, her voice soft but filled with an undeniable command. “We’re getting you out of here.”

Her hands held him steady, one at his waist and the other clutching his arm, each step slow but deliberate. He leaned more heavily into her, but she didn’t mind—she didn’t want him to feel like he was fighting alone. As they moved, there was a shared understanding between them. He trusted her to be his anchor, and in turn, she would never let him go.

“I’m not leaving you,” she whispered again, her voice resolute as she tightened her grip on him. “Not now. Not ever.”

They reached a secluded corner where the sounds of the world seemed to fade, and Y/N eased him down onto a makeshift seat, her breath still shaky but her determination unchanged. She knelt before him, her fingers brushing his damp hair from his face, her heart breaking all over again at the sight of him—worn and broken, but still with her.

But then, her gaze shifted to the wound near his eye—the infection festering beneath the surface. A rush of frustration surged through her chest. Silco was always so stubborn, so unwilling to yield to anything, but this wound—this infection—could be the one thing that could truly break him if it wasn’t treated. She couldn’t let that happen. Not after everything.

"You need to rest for now, but I’ll clean you up as soon as I can," Y/N said, her voice steady, though her emotions threatened to rise. She tried to add her usual teasing tone, but it felt strained in the moment. She was too focused. "You’re not getting out of this that easily."

Silco didn’t reply immediately. His gaze softened as he looked at her, and for a moment, the usual sharpness in his eyes faded. Instead, there was vulnerability there—a quiet trust. His voice was hoarse, but the gratitude in it was undeniable.

"I’ll survive," he said, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. "For you."

Y/N’s heart clenched at his words. She nodded resolutely, brushing her thumb across his jawline, almost absent-mindedly as she began to prepare herself to tend to his wounds. She wouldn’t allow him to slip away—not after all they had been through.

"You’ll survive, Silco," she said firmly, her gaze never leaving his. "Because I’m not letting you go."

Her mind briefly flickered back to Vander—the man who had caused this, who had nearly taken Silco from her forever. But for now, her focus was on Silco. She had a promise to keep, and that was all that mattered. She would get revenge. Vander would pay for this.

But for now, Silco was alive, and as long as he was, Y/N wouldn’t stop.

#Arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fluff #silco x reader #silco x you #silco x y/n

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webslinger-holland · 10 months ago

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Nearly Drowned | Hunter from The Bad Batch

Summary: Going down with the cruiser, Hunter saves you from nearly drowning.

Warning: spoilers from episode eleven, the title gives you a pretty straightforward warning, mentions of reader not having a pulse/heartbeat, our sergeant performs CPR to save a life, also...mutual pining and kissing

Pairing: Hunter x Fem!Reader

Type: Oneshot

Word Count: 1.3k words

It was a mistake to think you could make it into the cockpit before the cruiser crashed into the water. You had held on just a moment longer than anticipated, but once your grasp slipped, your body fell into the state of free fall.

The exact moment your body struck the water, all the air was knocked out of your lungs and replaced was frigid water. The waves quickly engulfed your entire body, roughly dragging you deeper with a force that couldn't be fought. You tried to resist the initial pull with arms failing desperately to bring yourself to the surface. But the fall also managed to steal a lot of your energy and you fought weakly against the water.

All that remained was a spike of fear; more water began filling your lungs until you couldn't breathe anymore. You felt yourself sinking deeper and deeper into the depths of the ocean, surrounded by the water's darkness.

At some point, your body stopped fighting against itself. You grew too weak to move your arms and legs. The soothing movement of the water lured your mind into the state of unconsciousness without your willingness. Your eyes grew heavy as you drifted deeper; your mind succumbing to the darkness just as your body was.

A mysterious arm had wrapped around her waistline and began tugging the body towards the surface of the water. The sergeant fought bravely against the water's clutches, straining to hold his breath for just a little longer. He needed to save her even if it was the last thing he did.

Just as Hunter broke through the surface of the water, the sergeant desperately began gasping for the oxygen to refill his lungs. He sputtered slightly as the waves lapped against him. He held her body tightly against his own, double checking to make sure her head was above the water. He treaded water with her in his arms.

It was an incredibly long swim back to the shoreline, especially when guiding an unconscious body alongside him. He had to have been at least half a mile out from the shore when the cruiser went down. He swam to the best of his ability.

Once Hunter's feet found the solid purchase of smooth sand, he quickly readjusted her body in his grasp. He held her up with both hands as the water line sank lower with each step. The waves helped encourage him to draw closer to the shore until he was basically crawling out of the water.

With great caution, Hunter lay the unconscious body onto the top of the sand. He hadn't even bothered to pull the both of them out of the water all of the way; the waves coming to gather around her shins, but never traveling past that point. He quickly turned her over until she lay on her backside.

After mindlessly ditching his helmet into the sand, Hunter quickly began undoing the vest that clung to her chest. He needed clear access to her chest if he was going to save her. Any regular person would have leaned down to press their ear against the unconscious person's chest to see if they were breathing or if their heart was beating. But Hunter didn't need to do that.

Hunter knew she wasn't breathing. It pained him even more when he couldn't hear her heartbeat.

Without thinking, Hunter went to open her mouth wide with two fingers. He pinched her nose shut and leaned down to press his mouth against hers. He breathed two puffs of air into her mouth, pulling away just a moment later.

With shaky hands, Hunter intertwined his hands together and centered them on her sternum. He began to administer chest compressions, counting them in his mind. He briefly glanced at her face with the hopes that she'd come back to him, but he only cursed under his breath at her motionless form.

After a number of compressions, Hunter had to give her more breaths of air. As his lips pressed against hers again, he tried to ignore how cold they felt. He breathed into her with a silent plea.

Drawing away, Hunter returned back o his spot beside her. His hands came to the center of her chest, continuing to do chest compressions with rough presses. He silently wondered if the skin beneath his hands would bruise.

"Come on. Come on," Hunter whispered more to himself than anything. He fought against the tears that threatened to fall from the corners of his eyes. "Come on, mesh'la. Don't leave me now," Hunter begged.

His hands moved skillfully with each compression; his lips molded against hers to introduce air back into her lungs. He squeezed his eyes shut to block out his own pain, pleading now more than ever for her to come back to him. His desperation grew with each passing second until...

A strong joint forced your body back into a conscious state of mind. You began coughing up water, which flowed out of your mouth freely. You weren't able to register the hands that grabbed you. and rolled you onto your side in order to help you expel the water from your throat. Those same hands began to brush the wet strands of hair from your face.

After coughing up the water in your lungs, you were slow to roll onto your back once again. Your throat burned badly and your chest was incredibly sore, which you imagined was from breathing in so much water. Once you were able to regain your composure, your eyes fluttered open and weakly took in some of your surroundings.

Carefully, you eased yourself into a sitting position with the help of those mysterious hands. You winced at the soreness you felt throughout your body. But all your worries disappeared as your eyes landed on the person who had saved you from the water's deadly clutches.

"H--Hunter?" Your words came out raspy and dry. You furrowed your eyebrows in slight confusion. "I--Is that you?"

He was certainly a sight to behold.

His hair was drenched from the waves with strands of hair clinging to his face. A few stay beads of water rolled down the length of his nose, dripping over the edge consistently. His chest heaved under his armor from the adrenaline that spiked through his veins.

All of the sudden, Hunter took your face into his hands and held you there tightly. He looked ever so deeply into your eyes, searching for any signs of pain or misery. But all he found was the exhaustion from nearly drowning.

"I--I'm fine," you tried to reassure him breathlessly. You gave a wave of the hand to dismiss his worry; your hands moving up to clasp his wrists with the intent of pulling them away from your face. But he didn't budge.

His lips didn't hesitate to capture yours in a needy manner. He stole your breath away, which was the second time that happened tonight. With bodies pressed together heatedly and lips moving a sync, the both of you breathed heavily against one another. His hands moving to circle around your waist and draw you into closer to him.

His mouth moved with such feverish desperation, claiming dominance over you. His tongue pressed between your parted lips, searching and exploring whatever he could reach. You moaned against him, which prompted him to pull away from you so that you were able to catch your breath.

Panting heavily to regain your stolen breath, you searched his eyes for some type of explanation to his sudden expression of love. His dark and heavy eyes eventually met yours; his shoulders heaving dramatically with his own breaths. He held your body close to his as if he was threatening the world to try to take you from him again. Because the world won't succeed.

"Don't...you...ever," Hunter pronounced each word carefully so that you'd hear him clearly. "Scare...me...like that...again."

The deepness from his voice and the threatening look in his eyes made you agree to his demand. You didn’t even want to think what would happen if you dare oppose him.

THAT WAS MY SHORT ONESHOT! HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED IT!

#the bad batch #star wars #the clone wars #tbb hunter #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter oneshot #tbb hunter angst #tbb hunter fluff #tbb hunter x you #tbb hunter x y/n #tbb spoilers #bad batch hunter #the bad batch season 3 spoilers #wet haired hunter

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red-phantom-0 · 1 month ago

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New Beginings

-> Arlecchino (genshin) inspired reader ( reader is also addressed as arlecchino) aka ur basically arlecchino in this imagine

-> Jason todd wakes up in a forest , abandoned and confused as he comes to terms with his painful resurrection until he's adopted by someone named 'father' . All goes well until his adopted family finds him and wants him back.

Platonic relationship!!

Jason’s POV

Blood . Blood and the smell of burnt flesh sticks to me like a plague , it follows me like a predator and tightens its sharp fangs around me . I feel utterly hopeless and I wander around aimlessly. Trees as tall as the sky surround me and the only living creature here is myself and death himself . Twigs and leaves stick to my bare feet as I trudge through the greenage . I roamed for god’s know how long but my swollen feet carried me to a lake. I collapse onto the ground and hover above the water - and that's it

That's when I saw him. Dead green eyes stare right back at me , his skin is pale like the dead and his hair - his bloody hair had a mocking white tuff at the front . He - no I scream , filled with pain , anger , confusion , frustration . That is not me - he is not me . My once boyish innocence was robbed and replaced with more manlier features , chubby cheeks replaced for high cheekbones that could surely put any male model to shame but he looks so dead .

His eyes and his complexion are that of the dead maybe because he was supposed to be . In his screaming agony he slammed his hands into the water resulting in him recoiling , the excruciating pain practically ate him alive . He looks down at his hands and he almost vomits . His palms were covered in a deep purplish bruise that practically stung . He lets out another scream mixed with a cry , why - why must it be him ? What did he ever do to deserve such a cruel faith , a faith meant for those condemned to hell ? Maybe this is hell - his own personal living hell . He cries into the grass like a pathetic child as he recalls the distant yet agonizing memory of a bomb ticking and the overwhelming feeling of fire consuming him .

So why - when he was finally put out of his misery did nature drag him back from the depths of the abyssal darkness into this hell . He was just angry - at himself , at the world and at batman. Why must only he suffer ?

He continues crying until he hears a twig snap . Like a wounded animal , he immediately seized his movement and began looking around frantically . The air around him grew cold and quiet . His frantic eyes scanned everywhere until it landed on the figure in the distance . He watches as she approaches him with deliberate steps . He could feel his own anxiousness bubble up within him but still - he gets up , relentless in backing down now . He stalks her , shooting her a glare yet she gives away nothing wearing a blank face.

She stops at an arm length poised. Her white hair dances in the blowing wind yet her eyes - piercing black eyes with a haunting red ‘x’ for an iris - a promise of a terrifying demise . Silence envelopes them both as they observe one another . “ You’re hurt, “ she says with a deadpan tone . Anger consumes him , she is just like him - just like bloody Bruce Wayne , his so-called father , cold and unmoving as if they were above everyone else.

He snarls and lunges at her but she swiftly kicks him in his chest , her sharp heel digging into the sensitive flesh of his back. “ Let go of me you bloody wrench” he curses as he squirms - he couldn’t give up not yet , not ever - he refused to give in. “ Stand down child you are hurt “ she says and to push her point further she presses her heel further into his back. He lets out a cry but manages to grab ahold of her leg and throw her into a nearby tree.

She manages to balance herself by using her heels to ground herself . Jason , seeing this, starts running in her opposite direction . He weaves in and out of the prickling branches - not minding the way they claw into his back and face leaving behind raw marks . He huffs as he jumps over a fallen log but is cut off guard when he hears footsteps behind him . He risks a peak and no doubt - she is following after him .

He huffs - frustrated , tired and frankly done with this ordeal but he continues to dart in and out between the trees . Jason makes a move to dart behind another tree when she leaps in front of him - absolutely startling him to death . He attempts to turn around but she delivers a swift kick to his head and suddenly , he feels himself go under.

Arlecchino's POV

She watches Jason’s crumbled form laid out on the red velvet cushions of the car through the rear mirror . She has no shadow of a doubt that the young boy is a mess but that doesn’t deter the parental instinct of protecting him . This wasn’t her first time meeting a child in such a roughed up state - her orphanage is filled with them but she has never ever heard a child scream in such agony . Before all of this - she was simply driving back home - her children eagerly awaiting her return to start dinner but something in her gut told her to pull aside and investigate . It was highly irrational and utterly dangerous but she was glad she did it because when she stared at the sweet boy laying in her backseat - she knew that she had to take care of him.

It wasn’t too long after Arlecchino arrived at the house of hearth - a mansion carefully tucked away into a tall mountain , vines practically climbed on the limestone walls of the castle-like mansion and its black gates while the black roof wore crow trimmings . Arlecchino carefully manoeuvres her car around the fountain , parking the car in front of a sea of cobblestone steps . She steps out , carefully fixing her coat as a crow flew down and landed on her shoulder .

“ Inform the children that we have a new guest” she says calmly . The crow nods at her before flying off . Moments pass before Arlecchino opens the back door and carefully picks Jason up bridal style . She leaned his head into the crook of her neck and began ascending the stairs . Despite the dreary , abandoned look the House of Hearth adorned outside - the inside was filled with laughter and warmth.

As soon as she stepped into the threshold , she can hear plates and chairs being rummaged around and the sound of children laughing and talking . She ascends another flight of stairs before stopping in front of a door . She lets out a gentle hum and the door is opened by another crow , wordlessly , she enters the room and lays Jason onto the bed . The crow perches on the bed post as it eyes her tucking a blanket over him .

“ Watch over him and summon a healer to treat his wounds ….. When he wakes up please alert me immediately “ she orders . The crow croons as it watches her leave .

Jason’s POV

He grumbles as he sinks further into the warm , soft feeling under him - he feels ease for some reason and then that's when the memories of last night jolts him awake . He sits up - still groggy from sleep as he examines his area . He determines he’s in a bedroom as he observes the dark green wallpaper that covers his room , an antique wooden desk and chair is tucked away in a corner and a matching antique wardrobe and vanity sit opposite the room . The room had wide , white windows that were framed by golden curtains - this was definitely something from those dark academia books he used to read in his youth and he hates to admit it but it's all nice .

Jason examines himself - his arms and torso were wrapped in bandages and he was only dressed in grey sweats . So this wasn’t some sick concoction of his mind - all of yesterday did happen. Jason felt lost - he felt so unsure of what to make of the situation anymore , of his feelings anymore - he’s now stuck in a body that doesn’t even feel like his - nothing doesn’t feel like his anymore - he feels like a puppet just being stringed on by his cruel master .

His inner turmoil is suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door . Jason holds his breath for a moment as the door opens and the same person from last night walks in - Jason observes her , she’s dressed down in a black work shirt and black slacks but her white hair cascades down her face and he finally realizes that she has streaks of black and red peaking through , her hands were black as if they were stained with ink but something tells him it’s more to it , he observes that she wears minimal jewelry and makeup not like she needed any - the woman before him looked ethereal .

“ Good Morning “ she greets him as she sits at the edge of his bed . Jason straightens but makes no move to attack her “ My name is Arlecchino or The Knave but the children of the Hearth call me Father “ She introduced herself . Jason nods , he’s heard of the Hearth , an orphanage for children determined to have no hope or home . “ Jason Todd but I …..used to be Robin “ he trails off . Arlecchino nods . “ I figured you were a vigilante with those reflexes last night “ she says. Jason just nods .

Silence envelopes them. “ Look if you’re going to pawn me off to Batman -” but she cuts him off , “ I’m not pawning you off anywhere Jason , if you choose to stay here or go back to him that’s fine with me , all I ask is that you recover “ Arlecchino says with finality. Jason stills - he feels everything crumble around him - she’s supposed to be fighting no ? supposed to already be gutting him open and delivering him to batman or holding him hostage or hell experimenting on him . Arlecchino stares at him . “ If you are wondering why you’re not in a body bag or what not - that's because mother is no longer in charge of the hearth anymore , although I am not better person but I would not harm a child - albeit enemy or not “ Arlecchino says as she plays around with the singular ring on her hand.

Jason gives her a perplex look , he remembers back in his old Robin days - Arlecchino’s name was #4 on Gothams most wanted - her gruesome murders kept the media buzzing all month around especially when she was allegedly suspected of killing a wealthy pharmaceutical president . He eyed her wearily - she could kill him , he could run away - run away where ? Bruce thinks he’s dead - he was dead - now he's alive and suddenly all he feels is anger.

“ Jason “ Arlecchino calls out as she senses his unease . Jason glares at her . “ What do you want from me - you people resurrect me to do what threatens Batman ? He wouldn’t bloody buy into it because he is a monster that leaves children to die “ he spits out in distaste . Arlecchino looks at him . “ I didn’t resurrect you Jason , I don’t know who or why they resurrected you but I found you and I intend to take care of you until you can take care of yourself .” Arlecchino says firmly .

Jason stares at her . Moments of silence passed between them until he finally asked , “ Why ? Why care so much ?” .

“ Because that's what a good father does , he cares, “ Arlecchino explains . Those words hung heavy in the air . “ Breakfast would be served to you , you are free to explore though it is advised you rest , if you do need me ask one of the crows and I shall come to you “ Arlecchino says before walking out and closing the door to his room softly.

True to her word - food did arrive to him , by a crow , the little guy squeaked before he curled up next to Jason while he ate - he would admit it’s very Harry Potter and it shouldn’t be making him happy . Jason reminisces over Dick , Bruce and Alfred - does his family miss him ? Do they look for him ? Think about him anymore ? All questions but no answers . He munches on his sandwich as he also ponders on the earlier conservations . Does she care about him ? Why should she when he’s a nobody ?

Jason gives up but decides to take a walk . He opens the door and is greeted by a hallway , decorated in an off -white wallpaper and covered in vintage paintings . He carefully walks into the hallway , observing through the same white , wide windows that showcase the delicate greenery outside . The crow eagerly follows him , landing on his shoulder and affectionately rubs against his cheek.

Jason wandered off a bit but ultimately sat on a windowsill and admired the outside for a while - he was just contempt with being alone . He didn't know how long he’d been but the crow began to squawk at him and flew down an opposite hall . Jason follows after the crow down the hall and is introduced to a dining room . A large chandelier hung above them , the room had large open windows that let in light , there were rows and rows of tables filled with kids ranging from all ages eating lunch .

Jason awkwardly walks in . People stopped eating to wave at him or even smile , some even greeted him with a ‘ good afternoon ‘ . Jason approaches a table at the front of the room and there , Arlecchino sits at the head table enjoying a sandwich while being surrounded by a bunch of crows . , his own crow landed next to her and squawked . Arlecchino looks up from the crow , to him and beacons him over . “ Jason, come eat with me “ she invites him . Jason walked over to her and sat in the seat directly next to hers . A plate of pasta appeared before him and Arlecchino beaconed him to eat. Jason eyes it but eats it anyways and god did it taste good .

Arlecchino allows a little smile to show on her face before she resumes to her own meal . “ Jason , this is my son Lyney , Lyney this is Jason our esteemed guest “ Arlecchino introduces Jason to the boy opposite him . He flashes Jason a toothy smile and throws him a card of red 8 hearts . “ Welcome Jason it’s an honour to have you here “ Lyney says animatedly. Jason smiled and nodded . “ Likewise “ he responded.

“ So Jason, what are your plans after recovery ?” Lyney inquires . Jason stills and glances at Arlecchino’s way . “ I plan to stay here …. If that's okay with you “ he asks . Arlecchino raised her brow . “ Jason I already told you that you’re welcome to stay as long as you want “ she says with a matter of fact tone . Jason nods , “ I don’t want to be a burden to any of you “ he explains . “ You aren’t and will never be a burden to any of us “ Arlecchino says with certainty . For the first time in a long time - Jason smiles .

5 months later

Arlecchino POV

It has been five months since Jason has come into our lives , it's been a change - a good change for all of this , I watch from my office window and Jason and Lyney play football in the garden with the other boys of the orphanage - safe to say Jason has adapted to us . He’s still closed off , still a bit awkward but nevertheless doing much better than when he came here . Since the five months per his request , I’ve been looking into his resurrection and so far nothing but dead ends , I’ve heard nothing from his father - or should I say batman ? I’m not entirely sure but last week Jason approached me in my personal office and told me about his family’s vigilante life in detail .

At first I thought he was kidding about the robin thing but it turns out that batman has a habit of having multiple robins and he was one of them . I recall him crying after it thinking I’d kick him out of the hearth - being a criminal and all and the fear of him betraying me but I reassured him that I didn’t care about his parentage or his past , that I only cared about the present.

We made some progress on our relationship and he has taken to calling me ‘ dad ‘ which made me happy . I sipped on my tea as I observed the boys until a crow landed next to me . “ Mr.Wayne in front “ It croaked . I spared it a glance as worry course through me , “ Summon for Jason and order the children to their rooms , all crows on guard “ I ordered .

This leads to now - the Hearth was empty save for Jason and myself in my work office . “ Dad - I don’t know what to do, “ Jason confessed as he paced up and down . I observed him . The moment he came in my office and I overlaid the message my son has been a wreck and it breaks my heart . “ Jason , no matter what I won’t let you get in harm's way “ I reassured him . Jason looks at me for a moment before he nods . “ Okay Dad - I’ll face him". He says before sitting next to me . I nod and gesture to a nearby crow to allow Bruce Wayne in.

Jason’s POV

I watched nervously as Dad ordered the crow to let Bruce in . I was shaking , nervousness and anger course through me at the same time , for once my life has been going well since my resurrection and now - now he wants me ? Now he cares about me ? I observed Dad’s face and I could tell she’s worried and I hate worrying about her because she’s always working so hard and she's always making sure all of us are well loved and cared for . I side hugged her as I eyed the door .

“ Dad, I love you “ I confess. I could feel her freeze under my hold and then I began to feel scared because what if she doesn't want me -

“ I love you too son “ she answered back and squeezed me and I smiled at the mention of ‘son’.

The door opens and lord and behold - in walks Bruce Wayne and two other young boys. Bruce looks at me in shock and worry before he looks at Dad and gives him a nasty glare and I swear it takes everything in me to not punch him. “ Welcome , Mr.Wayne to the House of Hearth , I am The Knave, how can I help you ?” Dad says in a deadpan tone . Bruce is still glaring at her but takes a seat in the chair in front of her huge mahogany desk . The younger of the two boys looks around with a snare while the other just stares ahead in boredom.

“ Let’s get to the chase shall we Knave ? You have my son and I want him back “ Bruce states matter of factly. I growl in anger - Now I'm his son ? I release my hands from hugging dad , ready to punch him but dad places her hand on my shoulder . “ Mr.Wayne , while I do agree that he is your legal son , I found him abandoned and lost in a forest and likewise as a parent myself I took him in “ Father said in a deadpan tone . “ According to the house’s clinic reports Mr.Wayne , Jason Todd was found with third degree burn mark on his palms , a concussion and a fractured rib and severely underfed “ father continues . Bruce shoots her a glare . “ Given your track record Knave , I won’t put it past you for inflicting those onto my son “ Bruce says with a glare . I seethe in my seat . “ You bastard, how dare you accuse my father of abusing me -” I shouted angrily .

The younger of the two boys growled at me , “ Are you stupid ? You are being held hostage by a wanted criminal and you want us to believe she wouldn’t hurt you ?” he questioned . His father gave him a look but made no move to correct him. Dad rubs my back and I look at her - scared because I feel like I’m being taken away from her - from my own family and I begin to feel like the same hopeless broken little boy she found in that forest. I want to beg her - beg her to just take all of us away to a far away land where we can all be happy and together but I know it’s not gonna happen - Bruce will not let it happen.

“ Putting aside our opinions , It is purely up to Jason on what he wants and wishes “ Dad says with finality. Bruce pursues his lips at that . “ I want to stay here with you Dad “ I say as I hug her . She hugs me back and runs her hand through my hair - attempting to soothe me . “ My son has made his decision; you may now leave “ Dad says . Bruce angrily slammed his hands on the table . “ Stop manipulating my son you - wench “ he curses out he says angrily . I let go from hugging dad and immediately slap Bruce , “ Don’t you ever fucking cuss my dad you piece of shit “ I say angrily . Bruce looks at me - really looks at me and I can see the anger brewing inside , threatening to spill over . “ Jason, if you don’t come home I won’t hesitate to lock her in Arkam’s Asylum. “ he threatens . The other two boys next to him nod in agreement - and finally I realized their plan - we were outnumbered and I won’t let Dad go there of all places - I need her , we all need her here . I sigh and look at Dad . “ Son don’t do this I don’t care what happens to me but I can get you and the other’s somewhere safe -” Dad starts but I cut her off , “ No dad - I can’t bear to know you get arrested and tortured in there because of me “ I say , somber . Dad shakes her head , “ It’s my job to keep you safe Jason -” she starts but I just embrace her for the last time - my mind already made up , “ Da I love you , goodbye “ I say as tears run down my face . Dad embraces me back “ I love you too and I will see you soon son “ she says softly , her voice laced in vulnerability . Before I knew it - I was ripped out of her arms and was being dragged down the halls by Bruce .

Dad chased after me but the younger boy threw a smoke bomb at her and then we vanished.

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letsgetrowdy43 · 1 year ago

Text

Not strong enough (Rowan's Version)—

reader x usntdp u18 2018-19 team

Based on the song "Not Strong Enough" by Boy Genius

Warnings: Sexism & Men (they deserve the tw)

Ro's 1000 follower celly

Au Masterlist!!

"Black hole opened in the kitchen, every clock's a different time. It would only take the energy to fix it, I don't know why I am"

“She’s the glue,” Jack grinned and looked over to Cole who smiled back at him, “every team has that person who keeps the group together, and for us, she’s that person.” “She’s our everything really” Trevor interjected as the interviewer nodded her head.

The woman wore a red blazer, in her hands were a few cue cards, messy handwriting full of questions covered the tiny pieces of paper as she grinned at the boys sitting on the couch in front of her.

“How about her game? Explain it to me,” she smiled as Alex sat up. “She’s electric, elegant almost with how agile she is,” the other boys nodded, “her IQ is above all, and her playmaking is so effortless.”

“We wouldn’t be half the team without her,” Cole added. “These accomplishments are because of her, none of these records or wins would’ve happened if she wasn’t in that locker room,” Jack finishes off the interview with a grin as the camera shuts off and the industrial lighting goes out.

“That was an amazing boys, thank you,” the cameraman and director said as he shooed the boys out of the room.

★★

"The way I am, not strong enough to be your man, I try, I can't stop staring at the ceiling fan and, spinning out about things that haven't happened. Breathing in and out"

Y/n watched her interview with tears, a huff leaving her lips as she stared at the ceiling in defeat. “What about the boys? You find them cute?” The woman in the red blazer said with a chuckle.

The cue cards of in-depth questions were nowhere to be seen as the teenage girl sat on the couch in her Team USA jersey. Embarrassment filled her face as she looked behind the camera to see the direct, wondering how on earth this question was even real.

“These boys are like my brothers,” she smiled, tone a little peeved as she stared at her hands, “they are my team, the ones I go to battle for.” A semi smile worked its way into her face as she thought back to the past years with the boys, and how life-changing this team has been for her and for her game, “on the ice we are dynamic, and off the ice, they are my best friends,” she answered honestly

That’s about as far as she could make it into the video before having to turn it off.

The boys received such beautiful questions and were given the opportunity to share such meaningful words. While on the other hand, she was painted out to be some narrative

It was total bullshit.

★★

"Drag racing through the canyon, singing "Boys Don't Cry" Do you see us getting scraped up off the pavement? I don't know why I am"

“Give ‘em hell my girl,” was always Ellen’s words to the teen before she stepped on any ice, whether it be a game or a practice. It held such a strong sentiment, and Ellen was such a strong role model in her life.

They were also the first words said to her the moment she got the call inviting her out to the draft combine in Buffalo, her billet mother pulling her into her arms hug as she cried into Ellen’s arms “I’m so proud of you y/n,” she whispered as the tears subsided with the entrance of the boys who had been waiting for this moment.

“Are those good tears or bad tears?” Alex asked as y/n wiped them away. “Good ones,” she croaked as both Jack and Alex lunged at her.

Not only was this the biggest moment of her life, but this was also one of the biggest moments in female hockey history. The first-ever teenage girl prospect in an all-male league, it was overwhelming, but it was the first step in the direction of change.

★★

"The way I am, not strong enough to be your man, I lie, I am just lowering your expectations. Half a mind that keeps the other second-guessing, close my eyes and count"

“A female prospect?” The interviewer mumbled as he looked through his list of draftees. “It’s progressive,” another man with a clipboard mumbled with a shrug as he sipped his coffee.

“It’s unorthodox,” another person mumbled as one of the interns left to go and fetch the girl from the next room over, “politics and sports don’t coexist,” he added causing a few chuckles around the table.

The only female interviewer tapped her pen on the wooden table, her brows raised and her anger levels starting to rise as she looked at all of the men in the room. “You are making decisions for a billion-dollar company, every single decision and movement you make is due to the outcome of the political climate,” she said hastily before the door opened and all of the people in the room stood to greet the young prospect

The older woman’s hand was the first one out for the young girl to shake as she greeted her with a warm smile and a firm handshake. “Please take a seat, we’re so glad to get the chance to sit down with you!”

★★

"Always an angel, never a god. Always an angel, never a god"

Draft day had to of been the most stressful day ever, the NHL reached out a few weeks prior hoping to include her in their “Welcome to NHL” mini-documentary about her experience on the draft day.

Her hand shook as she stared at herself in the mirror, a small smile on her lips as she looked towards the camera. “Ready to make history?” She mumbled as she looked back at herself she fixed her lavender suit jacket.

"Always an angel, never a god. Always an angel, never a god"

Jack pulled her in for a hug as she got down to the bus, his hand cradling the back of her head as he held her tightly, “I can’t believe this is real,” he mumbled as she pulled away with a proud smile.

The second her heels hit that red carpet she was immediately anxious, she spun the gold ring on her thumb as Quinn and her older brother each patted her on the shoulder and sought out to find their designated entrance as she went through the carpet and the media.

“This colour is beautiful,” the interviewer said as she took in the bold outfit. “The man who designed the suit was very adamant that it was my colour,” she mumbled as she unbuttoned the loose-fitting Jacket.

The interviewer grinned, “As most draftees do, are there any little things about this suit that make it personal?” The girl opened her blazer to showcase a listen of names written in a deep shade of violet on the inside of her suit lining, “these are all of the women in my life who have pushed and haven’t received the recognition that they deserve,” her fingers ran over the writing as she smiled.

“These are the women and the role models who have fought for me to be in this place today, and have given me this opportunity to make history,” she nodded and unveiled the other side. A tiny embroidered quote that said “give ‘em hell,” was sewn into the other side, little flowers decorating the message as the interviewer grinned.

“And this is an ode to the woman who went above and beyond, and fought for me to be in this position,” she smiled as the interviewer wished her luck and sent her on her way

"Always an angel, never a god. Always an angel, never a god"

“Hold my hand,” she whispered to her dad, the man pulling the cell phone out of her hand to get her off Twitter for a moment, “people hate me,” she frowned as she looked at her father who shook her head. “People are afraid of change, you are strong you have worked harder than any of the boys in this room,” he whispered as her eyes filled with tears, nodding slowly as she leaned her head against his shoulder, “you are so worthy of greatness, and it'll come when the time is right,” he finished as her attention turned to Gary Bettman who was beginning to walk across the stage.

The boos began, and so did the anxiety.

"Always an angel, never a god. Always an angel, never a god"

One by one her teammates were picked off, proud smiles on her face as they each stopped by her to thank her for everything.

She sent each one of them off with a hug and some choked-up words as they made their way to the stage to live out their dreams. And one by one her dream slowly crumbled, like a glass castle that had been shattered, as the Blues picked their final pick on the second day in the seventh round Y/n felt the emotion rip through her. But instead of cracking, she held her head high and walked out of the arena with the entirety of her family behind her.

The second she was away from the cameras and the fresh air hit her lungs she began to crack.

A sob ripped through her as she sat on the curb, her hands pulling at the roots of her hair, “I was supposed to- I was supposed to make a difference,” she cried as a hand ran over her back. “I'm sorry sweet girl,” Ellen's soft voice sounded as the tears kept coming.

“I worked so much harder than the boys, I trained my ass off, I sat through the sexist interviews, but none of it will ever be enough,” the cries grew louder and louder as she leaned against the woman. “I did everything I could, and I will never meet my dreams,” she said defeated as Ellen held her tightly.

“I know baby, it's unfair, you deserve it just as much as the boys” she whispered, tears staring in her own eyes as she watched the girl who had been a daughter to her shake with a look of distraught on her face.

The girl wiped the underneath of her eyes, her fist finally unclenching as she sniffled, “I will never be enough,” she whispered and looked up to see the photographer taking a photo from across the street too which she just shook her head and sighed.

★★

"I don't know why I am the way I am, there's something in the static, I think I've been having revelations. Comin' to, in the front seat, nearly empty skip the exit to our old street and go home"

The draft had come and gone, and the boys each headed off to the new destinations in their lives. She ended up in Minnesota, as a freshman on the women's hockey team. Division one college hockey had always been on her list of things she wanted to experience, and it was everything she imagined.

It was slow, life slowed right down when she stopped putting that pressure on herself to always be the very best. The girls were sweet, but they knew what she had gone through during the summer, some a little envious, some a little sorrowful to know the struggles that she'd endured in the pursuit of her possible professional career.

The boys called often, to tell her about the little things, shared what their lives now entitled, whether it be in the league, or in university, wanting their favourite girl to know that they were always thinking of her.

Jack was a constant call in her life, a rookie who now carried the burden of being one of the potential greats. "It's really not all as great as they paint it out to be," he mumbled tiredly. It kind of felt like a stab in the heart sometimes, for him to be so ignorant to the pressure she had been other previously and then tell her that maybe she was lucky she would never get to experience the so-called 'torture' he was experiencing.

"Jack, do you know how badly I would kill to be in your shoes right now, to be worthy enough to prove myself to an entire league," she scoffed as the tears started, "do you know how much I wanted that, do you know how much I pushed myself to make it to that draft and then to be turned away after all of that work?" "I know," he sighed. "I don't think you do, 'cause at the end of the day you're calling me to complain about an amazing opportunity," she huffed as she heard the sniffles on the other end, heart squeezing a bit knowing that she was being hard on him.

"I'm sorry, it's just you have such talent, you're just in a slump J," he hummed in agreeance on the other end, "and you're gonna do such amazing things, you just need to push through it." "Should I give 'em hell?" "You need to raise Hell J," she finished her pep talk as he whispered a quiet Thank you and then hung up.

★★

"Go home alone"

She remembers the phone call so clearly, sitting in her dorm in her junior year, moving in only a few days prior as she started to get ready for her classes.

the phone rang twice before she answered the call, and an unknown number appeared on the screen as she stared at the random digits. "Hello?" "Is this Y/n L/n?" "This her," she said with a clear voice, brows furrowed as she held the phone a little away from her face to see if maybe she now recognized the number.

"Great! This is Tom Fitzgerald, GM of the New Jersey Devils," her heart dropped, and she sat up quickly as she looked at her roommate with wide eyes, "we would like to invite you to Jersey for the weekend, Lindy Ruff would like to meet you and have a chat about some sort of deal!" "Of course, I'm free whenever," her hand covered her mouth in shock as she felt the slight tremor of her hands, "thank you for this opportunity Sir," the man hung up the phone as she stared at her screen with wide eyes.

A smile rested on her face as a notification popped up.

My turn to tell you to raise hell! 😈❤️

Jack's number appeared just above the message as she looked up to her roommate. "Holy shit"

Kinda scared to post this 🫣

#⭐️ro's1000followercelly⭐️#neveragodau!!#quinn hughes #jack hughes #luke hughes #umich hockey #trevor zegras #alex turcotte #cole caufield #new jersey devils

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kckt88 · 10 months ago

Text

Kickstart My Heart

Summary:

After his last relationship ended, Aemond decided he was taking a break from women, and it was going well until his sister Helaena introduces him to her new friend.

Warning(s): Language, Angst, Mentions of Past Cheating, Kissing, Smut – Fingering, Oral Sex, Loss of Virginity, P in V, Misunderstandings, Alys.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x Y.N (PAST AEMOND X ALYS)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 7215

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Aemond stood in the dimly lit living room of the apartment he used to share with Alys. The air felt heavy with the weight of their turbulent relationship, a storm that had raged for far too long.

Tonight, however, he was determined to bring an end to it.

Alys sat on the couch, her green eyes fixated on her phone, barely acknowledging his presence. She exuded an air of indifference, as if his existence was merely an inconvenience.

"Alys," Aemond began, his voice steady despite the tumult of emotions swirling within him. "We need to talk."

She glanced up briefly, her expression tinged with annoyance. "Can't it wait? I'm in the middle of something."

Aemond shook his head, his resolve hardening with each passing second. "No, it can't wait. I've had enough."

Alys scoffed, a derisive smile playing on her lips. "What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Aemond replied, his tone unwavering. "I can't do this anymore. I can't be with someone who belittles me, who cheats on me, who takes advantage of me."

Alys's facade of indifference crumbled, replaced by a flicker of anger. "You're being ridiculous, Aemond. You can't just throw away what we have because of a few petty disagreements."

"These aren't petty disagreements, Alys," Aemond retorted, his voice rising slightly. "You've made me feel worthless, you've betrayed my trust time and time again, and you've manipulated me into doing things I never wanted to do. I deserve better than this."

Alys opened her mouth to respond, but Aemond held up a hand, silencing her. "I'm done, Alys. I'm leaving."

With that, he turned on his heel and strode towards the door, his heart pounding in his chest. As he stepped out into the cool night air, a sense of liberation washed over him, filling him with a newfound sense of purpose.

He made his way to his sister Helaena's apartment, seeking solace in the familiarity of her presence.

Of course, his sister welcomes him with open arms, saying he could stay as long as he needed to and as Aemond settle in and began to regain some semblance of normalcy he vowed to take a break from relationships and women.

He had been blinded by what he thought was love and lured into a toxic cycle that had left him broken and disillusioned. But now, as he gazed into the depths of his own soul, he knew that he could not afford to make the same mistake again.

"No more," declared Aemond, his voice growing stronger with each repetition. "I will focus on myself, on rebuilding my life and reclaiming my sense of worth. I will not let anyone else dictate my happiness or define my worthiness."

After that things were going great, Aemond regained his focus at work, he began hanging out with his friends again and he even started back at the gym.

His mantra of no women was doing him the world of good until one day Helaena had dragged him to flower shop where she worked and introduced him to her new friend and every single ounce of sanity flew from his head the moment her saw her.

"Aemond, this is Y.N," Helaena said with a warm smile as she gestured towards the stunning woman beside her.

Aemond's gaze swept over Y.N, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. He felt as though the air had been knocked out of his lungs, his heart pounding fiercely in his chest.

Y.N was breathtakingly beautiful, with long auburn hair cascading down her back and piercing blue eyes that seemed to hold the secrets of the universe.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Aemond," Y.N said, her voice soft and melodious, sending shivers down his spine.

Aemond managed to compose himself enough to offer a polite nod in response, though his mind was reeling with a whirlwind of emotions. He couldn't tear his gaze away from Y.N, captivated by her beauty and grace.

As the conversation flowed between the three of them, Aemond found himself drawn to Y.N's every word, hanging on her every syllable as though it were a lifeline. He couldn't deny the magnetic pull he felt towards her, the way she seemed to light up the room with her presence.

As Y.N stood face to face with Aemond, she couldn't help but be struck by his undeniable presence. Tall and lithe, he exuded an air of quiet strength that drew her in like a moth to a flame.

But it was not just his stature that caught her attention.

Her gaze traced the sharp angles of his face, taking in the striking features that seemed to have been carved from marble by the hands of a master sculptor. Despite the scar that bisected the left side of his face and the eyepatch, there was an undeniable beauty in the symmetry of his features.

Y.N found herself captivated by the intensity of his remaining eye, a stormy grey that seemed to hold a world of emotions within its depths. There was a vulnerability there, a glimpse into the soul of a man who had weathered his fair share of storms.

But it was not just Aemond's physical appearance that left Y.N breathless. There was something about the way he carried himself, with a quiet confidence tempered by a hint of sorrow, that spoke to her on a deeper level.

In that moment, as their eyes met and held, Y.N knew that she had stumbled upon someone truly remarkable. And as she found herself drawn into his orbit, she couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement at the prospect of getting to know him better, of unravelling the mysteries that lay hidden beneath the surface of his stoic facade.

As Y.N stood before Aemond, her eyes cast downward in a gesture of shyness that was unlike anything he had ever encountered before. Unlike the confident and brazen women, he had known in the past, Y.N seemed to radiate a quiet and unassuming charm that drew him in despite himself.

Her timid demeanour stood in stark contrast to the fiery spirit of Floris, the regal confidence of Cerelle or the boldness of Alys. There was a softness to Y.N, a vulnerability that spoke volumes without her having to utter a single word.

Aemond found himself captivated by the way she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the way her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink whenever their eyes met. There was a purity to her presence that stirred something within him, something he had long thought lost amidst the chaos of his past relationships.

Helaena couldn't contain her excitement as she extended an invitation to Y.N to join them at her apartment for a casual get-together.

As Y.N agreed to come over, Helaena shot a mischievous glance at her brothers, Aegon and Aemond, who were lounging in the living room.

"You should see the look on Aemond's face," Helaena teased, her eyes dancing with amusement. "I think he's more excited about this than anyone."

Aegon chuckled, casting a knowing glance in Aemond's direction. "I thought you swore off women, little brother. What happened to all that talk about focusing on yourself?"

Aemond felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment, though he couldn't deny the truth in his brother's jest. "I-uh-it's not like that," he stammered, struggling to find the right words to defend himself.

Helaena laughed, coming to her brother's rescue. "Oh, lighten up, Aegon. Can't a man appreciate the company of a charming woman without it being a big deal?"

Aegon raised an eyebrow in mock scepticism, but the corner of his mouth twitched with amusement. "I suppose so."

With a good-natured chuckle, Aemond rolled his eyes, knowing that his siblings meant well. And as he awaited Y.N's arrival with a mixture of nervousness and anticipation, he couldn't help but feel grateful for their unwavering support and teasing banter.

As Y.N arrived at Helaena's apartment, she clutched a box of delicately decorated butterfly fairy cakes that she had baked herself. The nervous flutter in her stomach only intensified as she stepped through the door, greeted by the warm smiles of Helaena and her brothers.

"Y.N, you made it!" Helaena exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "And you brought your famous butterfly fairy cakes! I can't wait to try them."

Y.N's cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson at the praise, her shy demeanour shining through as she handed the box to Helaena. "I hope you like them," she murmured softly, her gaze flickering towards the floor.

Aegon stepped forward, extending a hand in greeting. "I'm Aegon, Helaena's older brother. It's a pleasure to meet you, Y.N."

Y.N nodded politely, her eyes darting briefly to meet his before retreating once more. "Nice to meet you, Aegon," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond watched the interaction with a mixture of amusement and curiosity, noting the way Y.N seemed to retreat into herself in the presence of his siblings. When she finally glanced up and caught his eye, her blush deepened, and she seemed to shrink back even further.

"Hello, Y.N," Aemond greeted her with a warm smile, his voice gentle as he tried to ease her nerves.

"Hi, Aemond," Y.N replied, her voice barely audible as she fidgeted nervously with the hem of her sleeve.

Aemond couldn't help but be charmed by her shyness, finding it endearing in a way he hadn't expected.

As the evening progressed, Aemond found himself drawn to Y.N's quiet presence, his curiosity piqued by the mystery that surrounded her.

"So, Aemond," Aegon began with a mischievous glint in his eye, "do you think Y.N would be as shy in bed as she is here?"

Aemond's smile faltered, his amusement evaporating in an instant as he shot his brother a stern look. He was not amused by Aegon's insinuation, finding it distasteful and disrespectful.

"Aegon, that's enough," Aemond said sharply, his voice carrying a note of warning.

Aegon's grin widened, unfazed by his brother's reprimand. "Oh, come on, Aemond. I was just kidding. Lighten up."

But Aemond wasn't in the mood for jokes, especially not at Y.N's expense. He could see the discomfort in her eyes, the way she seemed to shrink back even further at Aegon's words. It wasn't fair to make her the subject of such crude humour, especially when she had done nothing to warrant it.

"I said that's enough," Aemond repeated firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Aegon held up his hands in mock surrender, though the smirk never left his face. "Fine, fine. I'll behave."

As the tension between them eased, Aemond turned his attention back to Y.N, determined to make her feel comfortable despite his brother's thoughtless remark. And as he caught her eye and offered her an apologetic smile, he silently vowed to ensure that she felt respected and valued for the rest of the evening.

As the evening drew to a close and it was time to say their goodbyes, Aemond gathered his courage and approached Y.N, his heart pounding in his chest. "Y.N," he began, his voice slightly nervous but determined, "I was wondering if you'd like to go on a date with me?"

Y.N's cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink, but a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "I would love to," she replied softly, her eyes shining with shy anticipation.

Aemond felt a surge of relief and joy flood through him at her acceptance, his heart soaring at the prospect of spending more time with her. "Great," he said, unable to contain the grin that spread across his face. "Is there anywhere in particular you'd like to go? Maybe the cinema, or somewhere else?"

Y.N's blush deepened, but she shook her head. "The cinema sounds perfect," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Alright then," Aemond said, his excitement bubbling over. "How about we meet tomorrow evening at 7pm at the cinema? We can catch a movie and maybe grab dinner afterwards?"

Y.N nodded eagerly, a shy smile playing on her lips. "That sounds wonderful," she agreed, her eyes meeting his with a newfound confidence.

As Y.N departed from Helaena's apartment, leaving Aemond with a heart full of anticipation for their upcoming date, Aegon couldn't resist the opportunity to tease his younger brother once more.

"Well, well, little brother," Aegon teased, a playful smirk dancing on his lips, "looks like you've got yourself a shy little bird there. Are you sure you can handle her?"

Aemond shot his brother a pointed look, his patience wearing thin. "Aegon, enough with the jokes," he chided, his tone firm.

Helaena, sensing the tension in the air, quickly intervened, elbowing Aegon in the ribs with a reproachful glare. "Stop it, Aegon," she scolded, her voice carrying a note of warning. "Y.N is very shy, and I don't want her to get hurt."

Aegon winced slightly at the jab but couldn't resist a playful grin. "Alright, alright," he relented, holding up his hands in surrender. "I'll behave, I promise."

Aemond turned to Helaena, his expression earnest as he spoke. "You don't need to worry, Helaena. I'll be good to Y.N. I promise to treat her with the respect and kindness she deserves."

Helaena smiled warmly at her brother, her eyes shining with pride. "I know you will, Aemond," she said softly, her voice filled with confidence. "Just be yourself, and everything will be fine."

The next day -

As the clock struck 7 pm, Aemond Targaryen stood outside the cinema, his heart pounding with nervous anticipation. His eyes scanned the bustling crowd, searching for a glimpse of Y.N. And there she was, emerging from the sea of people, a vision of beauty in a sun dress paired with a cardigan that hugged her delicate frame.

Aemond couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration as he approached her, his lips curling into a warm smile. "Y.N," he greeted her, his voice tinged with excitement.

Y.N's cheeks flushed a rosy pink at his greeting, but a radiant smile graced her lips as she returned his gaze. "Hi, Aemond," she replied softly, her eyes sparkling with shy anticipation.

Together, they entered the cinema, the anticipation of the evening ahead hanging in the air like a delicate promise. As they settled into their seats, Aemond couldn't help but notice the way Y.N's eyes widened with excitement at the prospect of the movie they were about to watch.

The lights dimmed, and the screen flickered to life, casting a soft glow over the darkened theater. Aemond glanced at Y.N out of the corner of his eye, noting the way she jumped at the sudden burst of sound and movement on the screen.

As the movie unfolded, Aemond found himself more amused by Y.N's reactions than by the film itself. He couldn't help but smile as she buried her face in her hands during the suspenseful moments, her fingers peeking through to cover her eyes.

Unable to resist the urge to offer her comfort, Aemond gently draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close in a gesture of silent reassurance. Y.N tensed slightly at the unexpected contact, but soon relaxed into his embrace, leaning into him with a sigh of relief.

After the movie ended, Aemond and Y.N emerged from the cinema into the bustling city streets, the cool evening air tinged with the aroma of freshly baked pizza. Aemond glanced at Y.N, wondering where she might want to go for dinner, but he was pleasantly surprised when she suggested his favorite pizza place.

"Really? That's one of my favorite spots!" Aemond exclaimed, a smile spreading across his face. "I didn't know you liked it too."

Y.N's cheeks flushed with a shy smile. "I've actually been there a few times before," she admitted. "It's delicious."

As they made their way to the pizza place, Aemond couldn't shake the feeling of gratitude that swelled within him. Unlike his ex-girlfriend Alys, who always expected him to foot the bill for everything, Y.N seemed considerate and respectful.

When they reached the restaurant, Aemond reached for his wallet to pay for their meal, but Y.N gently placed a hand on his arm, stopping him. "Let me get this one," she insisted, her eyes meeting his with a determined gaze. "You paid for the cinema, so it's only fair that I treat you to dinner."

Aemond's heart warmed at her gesture, touched by her thoughtfulness and generosity. "Are you sure?" he asked, wanting to make sure she was comfortable with the arrangement.

Y.N nodded, her smile soft and genuine. "I'm sure. Besides, it's the least I can do after you invited me out tonight."

With a grateful nod, Aemond put his wallet back in jeans pocket, allowing Y.N to take care of the bill. As they sat together, enjoying their meal and each other's company, Aemond couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment settle over him.

With Y.N by his side, he knew that he had found someone who appreciated him for who he was, and not someone who only valued him not for his family name or wealth.

As the evening drew to a close, Aemond walked Y.N back to her small one-bedroom flat, just a few blocks away from where he lived with Helaena. The gentle hum of conversation between them filled the air, punctuated by the occasional laugh and shared smile.

As they reached Y.N's door, she turned to Aemond with a shy smile. "Would you mind waiting here for a moment?" she asked softly. "I just need to grab something."

"Of course," Aemond replied with a nod, curiosity piqued by her request.

Y.N disappeared into her flat, leaving Aemond standing outside her door with a sense of anticipation building within him. He couldn't help but wonder what she was up to, his mind racing with possibilities.

Moments later, Y.N reappeared, holding something in her hands. Aemond's breath caught in his throat as he caught sight of the dragon-shaped pastry she held out to him, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"I made this for you," Y.N said softly, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "It's filled with jam. I hope you like it."

Aemond's heart swelled with gratitude and affection as he accepted the pastry from her. "Thank you, Y.N," he said sincerely, his voice filled with warmth. "I'm sure it's delicious."

As he took a bite of the pastry, Aemond couldn't help but be struck by the sweetness of the gesture. It was a simple gift, but it spoke volumes about Y.N's thoughtfulness and care. And as he savored the flavor of the jam-filled pastry, he knew that he had found something truly special in her – a connection that he cherished more than words could express.

In a daring moment of impulse, Aemond leaned in, his heart pounding in his chest as he closed the distance between them. Their lips met in a gentle kiss, a tentative exploration of the unknown, and in that fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still.

It was unlike anything Aemond had ever felt before – a surge of warmth and electricity that coursed through his veins, igniting a spark that set his soul ablaze. In that moment of intimacy, he felt a connection with Y.N that transcended the boundaries of mere physical attraction, a deep and profound understanding that resonated to the very core of his being.

As they parted, their eyes met in silent communion, the intensity of their gaze speaking volumes without the need for words.

As Aemond and Y.N's relationship blossomed, they found themselves drawn to each other like magnets, spending every available moment together exploring the intricacies of their budding romance. Their days were filled with laughter and shared experiences.

One sunny afternoon, as they lounged in Y.N's cozy kitchen, the scent of freshly baked goods wafting through the air, Y.N suggested that they try their hand at baking a sponge cake together.

"It'll be fun," she said with a smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "And besides, I've been dying to teach you how to bake."

Aemond chuckled, a hint of nervousness creeping into his voice. "I'm not sure I'll be any good at it, but I'll give it a try."

With Y.N's patient guidance, they set to work, measuring out ingredients and mixing them together with care. Aemond couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as he watched Y.N work her magic in the kitchen, her skill and expertise evident in every precise movement.

As they popped the cake into the oven and waited for it to bake, Aemond found himself growing more and more excited at the prospect of tasting their creation. When the timer finally beeped, signaling that the cake was done, they eagerly pulled it out of the oven and set it on the counter to cool.

With bated breath, they sliced into the cake and took their first bite, only to find that it was a little on the dry side. Aemond's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but Y.N simply laughed and reached for the whipped cream, insisting that it would make everything better.

Together, they devoured the cake, laughing and joking as they shared in the simple pleasure of each other's company.

As Aemond and Y.N sat together one evening, the warmth of the fire casting a soft glow over the room, Aemond felt a sudden urge to confide in her, to share the depths of his past with the woman he had grown to love.

"Y.N," he began, his voice quiet but resolute, "there's something I need to tell you."

Y.N turned to him, concern etched into her features. "What is it, Aemond?"

Taking a deep breath, Aemond launched into the painful tale of his relationship with Alys – the belittling words, the constant infidelity, the toxic cycle of breaking up and getting back together.

"It was a dark time in my life," Aemond confessed, his voice heavy with emotion. "I was lost, and I didn't know how to break free from the hold she had over me."

Y.N listened in silence, her heart aching for the pain that Aemond had endured. She reached out and took his hand in hers, offering him the comfort of her touch.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Aemond," she said softly, her voice filled with empathy. "But you're stronger now."

Aemond nodded, a sense of gratitude washing over him for Y.N's unwavering support. "Yes, I have," he replied, his voice tinged with determination. "And I owe it to you, Y.N. You've shown me what it means to be truly loved, and I'll never take that for granted."

As the night worn on and the two of them shared kisses, the unspoken question of what was going to happen next hung in the air.

“I-I’ve never done it before” muttered Y.N shyly as she pressed her face into Aemond’s chest.

“It’s ok. We don’t need to do this, not until you’re ready” replied Aemond stroking her hair softly.

“B-But I want to. I want you to be my first” whispered Y.N.

“Only if you’re sure, I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything” said Aemond firmly.

“I’m sure Aemond. I want this-I want you” exclaimed Y.N as she took his hand and led him to her bedroom.

Despite his experience, Aemond had never so nervous in his entire life, his hands shook as he slowly undressed himself.

Y.N gently tugged off the dress she was wearing and Aemond could feel his mouth watering at the sight of her delectable body.

“I-I don’t know what to do” muttered Y.N her cheeks tinged pink.

“It’s ok-I’ll take care of you” replied Aemond as he directed Y.N to sit on the end if the bed.

“I trust you” replied Y.N quietly.

Aemond smiled as he knelt on the floor, lowering his head between Y.N’s legs.

“Aemond-“ shrieked Y.N her eyes rolling into the back of her head as Aemond’s tongue swept across her slick wet folds.

Y.N bit the back of her hand to keep herself from screaming as Aemond began using his long fingers to tease her entrance.

“Let me hear you”.

“A-Aemond. Oh god. Please” begged Y.N

Aemond pressed two fingers inside Y.N, moving them against a spot that made her entire body shake, his tongue moving against her folds, his lips wrapping around her pearl.

“I know your almost there. Let it happen my sweet. Come for me” whispered Aemond.

Y.N arched her back and let out a scream as her pleasure erupted.

Aemond crawled up Y.N’s body, placing gentle kisses on her skin as he moved higher and higher.

Y.N blushed furiously when she saw that Aemond’s chin was shining with her slick.

“Calm yourself my little bird” murmured Aemond.

“I-I’ve never-” mumbled Y.N putting her hands over her face in embarrassment.

“Was that your first peak?” asked Aemond as he gently pulled away her hands and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.

Y.N blushed and nodded quickly, jumping when she felt Aemond’s cock against her.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go slow” whispered Aemond as he reached down and took hold of his hard cock rubbing it along Y.N’s wet folds.

“Ok. I’m ready” replied Y.N, her heart pounding.

Aemond hesitates for a moment, his brow furrowed.

“I-don’t have a condom”.

“Oh-I have some” replied Y.N.

“You do?” questioned Aemond.

“I bought them from the pharmacy and-“ replied Y.N, her face flushed.

“-It’s ok-where are they?” asked Aemond.

“I-In the drawer” uttered Y.N.

Aemond nodded and briefly moved away from Y.N, he quickly opened the drawer and pulled out the box of condoms.

“Are they the right ones-there were so many different kinds and-“

“-They’re good” replied Aemond as he opened the box and took out a condom.

Y.N closed her eyes as Aemond ripped open the foil packet and rolled the condom down his length.

Aemond leaned forward again and placed a series of kisses along Y.N’s neck, his hand gently cupping her breast before he sucked the rosy bud into his mouth, his tongue rolling around the stiffened peak.

“L-Let me see you” whispered Y.N.

Aemond released her nipple with a soft pop and frowned.

“It’s not a pretty sight-I wouldn’t want to frighten you” replied Aemond.

“Nothing about you could frighten me Aemond-“ breathed Y.N

Aemond hesitated for a moment before he pulled off his eye patch, revealing a sparkling sapphire.

“Beautiful” whispered Y.N as she took Aemond’s head in her hands and placed a kiss upon the scar.

Aemond smiled before he knelt between her thighs, supporting himself above her on his forearm while his other hand guides his cock to her wet centre.

“Oooh Aemond” exclaims Y.N

Aemond slowly pushes the blunt head of his cock inside. Just the tip feels okay but then he’s pushing inside, and it stings, Y.N clenches her eyes shut as his cock fully slides into her, his hips coming to rest against hers.

“Are you ok?” asked Aemond.

“It hurts,” cried Y.N

“Do you want me to stop-I can pull out” whispered Aemond.

“N-No g-give me a moment” whimpered Y.N.

Aemond stops, holding himself above Y.N, she can feel his cock throbbing inside her.

For a few silent minutes, Aemond begins to press gentle kisses all over Y.N’s face and neck, then after the sting has faded somewhat, Y.N gently moves her hips.

“I-I think you can move”.

Aemond exhales shakily, pulling out halfway only to thrust right back in.

“You’re taking me so well little bird,” whispers Aemond soothingly, thrusting again, harder this time.

Gradually he gets into a rhythm, his movements slow but powerful.

Y.N brings her hands up to his shoulders, clinging to him as his thrusts shift her up and down the bed. The wooden frame creaking slightly.

Aemond makes a strangled sort of sound and lowers himself onto Y.N even more, kissing her passionately.

His cock still thrusting in and out.

Y.N kisses him back, threading her fingers through his silky hair.

Aemond breaks the kiss, breathing heavily.

Y.N can feel herself clenching around him as his cock keeps hitting the same spot inside her.

“Ooo Aemond-f-faster. P-please”

Aemond groans as he begins to move faster pounding into her, their skin slapping together.

“Aemond-Aemond-”

“You’re so fucking perfect little bird, mine all mine” growls Aemond.

“Y-Yes, yours all yours” moans Y.N squirming as he pleasure peaks and she explodes.

Aemond lets out a long low groan, his hips bucking wildly. His cock twitching as he spills into the condom.

Aemond’s hips finally stagger and stop. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, resting for a moment before he slowly pulls out.

“Are you ok?” asked Aemond.

“I’m fine” whispered Y.N smiling breathlessly.

In the days following their intimate moment together, Aemond's behaviour began to change, his once carefree demeanour replaced by a sense of unease and agitation. He grew increasingly distant, his mind preoccupied with thoughts he refused to share with Y.N.

As they sat together one evening, the air heavy with tension, Y.N couldn't help but notice the way Aemond's eyes flickered nervously towards his phone every time it buzzed with a new message or notification. She reached out to touch his hand, a gesture of comfort and concern, but he withdrew from her touch, his expression clouded with frustration.

"What's wrong, Aemond?" Y.N asked softly, her voice laced with worry.

Aemond's jaw clenched, his patience wearing thin as he snapped at her in a fit of frustration. "Nothing, okay? Just leave me alone."

Y.N recoiled at his harsh words, hurt flashing across her features as she withdrew into herself, uncertain of how to respond. She had never seen Aemond like this before, his normally calm and collected demeanour shattered by whatever demons haunted him.

As the days passed, Aemond's behaviour only grew more erratic, his temper flaring at the slightest provocation. He withdrew further and further into himself, shutting Y.N out.

Things didn’t improve and a few weeks later when Y.N was walking to work, and she spotted Aemond talking to a dark haired woman.

There was something about the way they interacted that made her stomach churn with unease – the woman's lingering touches, the way Aemond seemed visibly uncomfortable in her presence.

Unable to tear her eyes away, Y.N watched in silent horror as the woman leaned in and planted a kiss on Aemond's lips. A surge of pain shot through her chest, the betrayal cutting her to the core as she struggled to process what she had just witnessed.

Without a second thought, Y.N turned on her heel and fled, the tears streamed down her cheeks, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she fought to escape the suffocating grip of heartbreak that threatened to consume her whole.

Aemond was frantic, all his calls and messages to Y.N went unanswered, his desperation grew, a gnawing sense of dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

Determined to make amends, Aemond made his way to Y.N's flat, his heart pounding with nervous anticipation. He knocked on the door, calling out her name in a voice tinged with desperation, but there was no response – only silence echoing back at him like a cruel mockery of his pain.

Growing increasingly frantic, Aemond tried again and again to reach Y.N, but each attempt was met with the same resounding silence. And as he stood outside her door, his pleas falling on deaf ears, he felt a sense of despair wash over him, knowing that he had pushed her away with his own foolishness.

But it wasn't just Y.N who turned her back on him – even Helaena, his own sister, greeted him with a cold shoulder, her expression tight with disappointment as she refused to meet his gaze.

He had expected her to be upset, but the fury in her eyes was more intense than he had ever imagined.

"What were you thinking, Aemond?" Helaena snapped, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "Y.N saw you with Alys. Do you have any idea how much you've hurt her?"

Aemond's heart clenched at the mention of Y.N's name, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him like a leaden weight. "Helaena, you have to believe me," he protested, his voice thick with emotion. "It wasn't what it looked like. Alys kissed me, I didn't want her to, and I pushed her away immediately."

Helaena's eyes narrowed in disbelief, her jaw clenching with frustration. "Do you expect me to believe that?" she demanded, her voice rising with each word. "Y.N saw you with Alys, Aemond. She saw it with her own eyes."

Aemond's heart sank at the realization of the damage his actions had caused, the truth of Helaena's words hitting him like a punch to the gut. "I swear it's the truth, Helaena," he pleaded, desperation creeping into his voice. "I would never hurt Y.N like that. You have to believe me."

Helaena's expression softened slightly, a flicker of doubt crossing her features. "I want to believe you, Aemond," she admitted, her voice softer now, tinged with sadness. "But you need to understand the gravity of the situation. Y.N is hurting, and it's because of you."

Aemond bowed his head in shame, the weight of his guilt threatening to crush him under its unbearable burden. "I know," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "And I'll do whatever it takes to make things right. I just hope that Y.N will give me the chance to prove myself to her."

As the rain poured down in torrents, soaking Aemond to the bone, he stood outside Y.N's flat, his heart heavy with regret and longing. He knew she was inside, just beyond the closed door, and he couldn't bear the thought of leaving without at least trying to make things right.

With a trembling hand, Aemond knocked on the door, each rap echoing loudly in the quiet of the rainy night. "Y.N, please," he called out, his voice raw with emotion. "Please let me in. I need to talk to you."

For a moment, there was only silence, the sound of the rain pounding against the pavement the only response to Aemond's pleas. But just as he was about to turn away in defeat, he heard the faint sound of movement from inside the flat.

Seconds stretched into eternity as Aemond waited with bated breath, his heart pounding in his chest. And then, finally, the door creaked open, revealing Y.N's tear-stained face, her eyes red and swollen from crying.

Aemond's heart clenched at the sight of her pain, a wave of guilt washing over him like a tidal wave. "Y.N," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. Please, let me in. I need to explain."

Y.N hesitated for a moment, her gaze searching Aemond's face for any sign of sincerity. And then, slowly, she stepped aside, allowing him to enter the warmth and safety of her flat.

As Aemond stepped over the threshold, he felt a sense of relief wash over him, knowing that he had been given a second chance to make things right. And as he closed the door behind him, he vowed to do whatever it took to earn back Y.N's trust and forgiveness,

Taking a deep breath, he began to speak, his voice trembling with emotion.

"Y.N, there's something I need to tell you," he began, his words coming out in a rush. "Alys has been-she's been bombarding me with messages. She told me she was pregnant."

Y.N's eyes widened in shock, her breath catching in her throat as she struggled to comprehend the gravity of Aemond's words. "Pregnant?" she whispered; her voice barely audible.

Aemond nodded, his expression grim. "Yes," he continued, his voice heavy with regret. "But I demanded a DNA test. I couldn't-I couldn't just take her word for it. And she kept refusing, insisting that the baby was mine."

Y.N's hands flew to her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears as the full weight of Aemond's confession settled over her like a dark cloud. "Oh, Aemond," she murmured, her voice choked with emotion. "I-I don't know what to say."

Aemond reached out to take her hand, his touch gentle and reassuring. "I'm so sorry, Y.N," he whispered, his voice thick with remorse. "I should have told you sooner. I should have been honest with you from the start."

“Yes you should have” replied Y.N.

"I refused to believe Alys," he confessed, his voice strained with emotion. "So, I kept insisting on a DNA test. She resisted at first, but eventually, she agreed."

Y.N's eyes widened in realization, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place as she understood the gravity of Aemond's revelation. "That was the day I saw you with her," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond nodded, his heart heavy with remorse. "Yes," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry, Y.N. I never wanted to hurt you. I was just trying to protect myself, to make sure that I wasn't being manipulated by Alys."

Y.N's mind raced with conflicting thoughts and emotions as she processed Aemond's revelation. The image of Alys kissing him, coupled with the news of her pregnancy, had led her to assume the worst – that Aemond was the father of Alys's unborn child.

"Aemond," she began tentatively, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "Does-does that mean you're the father?"

Aemond's expression hardened, his jaw set with determination as he shook his head vehemently. "No, the DNA wasn’t a match" he declared firmly. "I'm not the father, Alys kissing me was just her last desperate attempt to try and manipulate me."

Y.N's breath caught in her throat at his words, a wave of relief washing over her as the weight of uncertainty lifted from her shoulders. "Oh, Aemond," she breathed, her voice filled with gratitude. "I'm so glad to hear that."

Aemond reached out to take her hand, his touch warm and reassuring. "I would never betray your trust like that, Y.N," he vowed earnestly. "You mean everything to me, and I would do anything to prove that to you. I love you"

Tears welled up in Y.N's eyes as she looked into Aemond's eye, seeing the sincerity and love shining brightly within them. "I know, Aemond," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "And I forgive you."

But Aemond wasn't finished yet. With trembling hands, he held up a soggy cardboard box, the remnants of his failed attempt at making her a cake. "I even tried to make you a cake," he confessed, his voice laced with self-deprecation. "But it's all ruined now."

Y.N couldn't help but laugh at the sight of the ruined cake, her heart swelling with affection for the man standing before her. With a playful grin, she knocked the box out of his hand, sending it tumbling to the ground, before throwing herself into his arms and kissing him passionately.

"Aemond," she whispered against his lips, her voice filled with love and gratitude. "I love you too."

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, Aemond and Y.N's relationship blossomed anew, their love growing stronger with each passing day.

And as they stood side by side, hand in hand, they knew that they never wanted to be apart again. So, after much discussion and deliberation, they made the decision to take the next step in their journey together – they would move in together.

With excited hearts and eager anticipation, Aemond and Y.N began the process of finding their perfect home, a place where they could build a life together filled with love, laughter, and countless cherished memories.

And when they finally found the perfect apartment, with its cozy rooms and sunlit windows, they knew that it was meant to be. With smiles on their faces and love in their hearts, they signed the lease and began the process of making their new house a home.

With their love blossoming stronger each day, Aemond felt the time was right to take their relationship to the next level. He knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Y.N, and he couldn't wait another moment to make her his forever.

So on a crisp autumn evening, with the setting sun casting a warm glow over the world, Aemond led Y.N to his favourite spot in the park. As they walked hand in hand, their laughter floating on the gentle breeze, Aemond's heartbeat with nervous anticipation.

Reaching a secluded clearing surrounded by trees ablaze with fiery hues, Aemond paused, his heart racing with emotion. Taking a deep breath, he got down on one knee, his eyes shining with love as he looked up at Y.N.

"Y.N," he began, his voice steady despite the butterflies in his stomach. "From the moment I met you, I knew you were the one. You've brought so much joy and love into my life, and I can't imagine spending another day without you by my side."

Y.N's eyes widened in surprise, her hand flying to her mouth in shock as she realized what was happening. Tears welled up in her eyes as she listened to Aemond's words, her heart overflowing with love for the man who stood before her.

"And so," Aemond continued, his voice trembling with emotion, "I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy. Y.N, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife? Will you marry me?"

The words hung in the air; the silence broken only by the sound of their hearts beating as one. And then, finally, Y.N's eyes filled with tears of joy as she threw herself into Aemond's arms, laughter bubbling up from deep within her soul.

"Yes, Aemond," she cried, her voice ringing out with pure happiness. "Yes, I will marry you!"

And as they stood together in the golden light of the setting sun, their hearts overflowing with love and happiness, Aemond slipped a beautiful ring onto Y.N's finger, sealing their love with a promise that would last a lifetime.

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