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shaisuki · 7 months ago

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❝ PRETTY WHEN YOU CRY. ❞

✞ FEATURING. BULLY! GOJO SATORU AND GETO SUGURU

▶SERIES MASTERLIST

CONTENT WARNINGS. angst + blackmailing + name-calling + flashbacks

NOTES. i'm sorry if you're not being tagged, tumblr have a limit for tagging in a post. thank you all again for the comments.

SYNOPSIS. they meet you now after three grueling years and one thing's not changed. is that you still look pretty when you cry.

the chair make a scraping sound as you dragged it to make space for you to get up. standing, you were about to walk out but you stopped. their words and yours ringing through your ears. i'll think about it. that's the most stupid response you ever caught yourself saying. who were you kidding? yourself, maybe. what difference would it make with their words. what kind of making up they can do for you to bury it to puke.

you were too forgiving. that's why they abused you. that's why every tear drop is a smile to them. your pain is nothing to them. that every welts you have in your body, the bruises and the blood spilling when they bite too hard are feeding to their sadistic fantasies and when you got away from that, they've come back to haunt and wanting to reconcile for the damage they put you.

geto puts you the worst of it and gojo is just the same. the same men sharing at your table waiting for your answer. their faces brightening up when you said you'll think about it. what's to think about it when the damages been done and you're too broken to fix what they have done.

slowly, you turn around to meet them still sitting. “there's nothing to think about it.” you began.

their faces morphing into a shock and one you could not describe. “easy for you both to say about reconcilation and forgiveness when you put me through hell.” your voice trembles and you're afraid it would betray you to speak up.

“while you partied hard that night, i was laying in my supposedly death bed. i wished i died that night but i didn't, lucky right?” smiling mockingly, voice dripping with sarcasm and you giggle to yourself like you didn't understand you anymore and your voice died down.

“why did you have to put me in such misery, suguru... satoru?” you asked them, tears slowly dripping from your eyes without you realizing like the days where after they've fucked you, you find yourself staring in nothingness.

“it's because i am fat and ugly and either of you giving me attention will make me feel good about myself being desired? tell me, satoru, suguru. you two were always good with words, explain it to me.” you said it barely a whisper, your voice strained with resentment.

“it's my fault too, you know. i should have let you two released that video. me being called a slut by my peers and a disgrace to my family would be a temporary shame and maybe i won't be living in this eternal suffering and i would be out of your hair and you can't control me no more.” closing your eyes, more tears poured. letting out shaky breaths and you hate yourself for being so weak and stupid. you should have done that. a sex video being circulated online and having a scandal would take days, months top to die down and that was the easiest course for them to leave you alone. it would have ended your misery and you wouldn't be involved with them no more.

the younger them would have laugh at your situation. take pleasure at you crying and would have mocked you for being such a crybaby but this one is different. they were scum and as if they didn't change in the course of the years to take you lightly.

the sight of you crying should have brought them joy but it doesn't. instead with a feeling gnawing in their gut. heart being wringed from how tight it was being squeezed. since when they have learned to grasp this new found sensation of being able to recognize what you were feeling. was it the day when they see again after three years of agonizing wondering where you are and seeing you alive and well and this revelation of being burdened by the unsaid feelings that took you courage to tell them about it.

speechless you are when they took your voice and taught you to turn a blind eye to whatever they did to you and you see them for what they really are or you already have seen them a long ago but you can never speak of it. arrogant and selfish. condescending and sadistic. a touch of being merciful when they wanted it.

standing up from where they sat, without hesitation they approached you. suguru in front while satoru was in your behind. their arms being wrapped around your body. trapping you between their bodies.

“don't you touch me! you both disgust me!” a sob racked throughout your body. angered from how they think they could touch your freely like this. squirming as your fist reach suguru's chest. trying to break free from their grasp and just like the old days when they used to encased you with their bodies, your flight is proven to be useless. “let me go!” a pained gasp escaping from you.

a shiver went down through your spine. goosebumps rising all over your body. suguru's lips are in your ears. “i know. i know.” he whispers. “forget about us asking you to forgive us. you don't have to but let us prove you that i-we have changed. let us, please (y/n). that's all is ask of you.” that was a first you thought. you never heard suguru to be pleading to you when it was the opposite of it and you were the one who is pleading for the times back in college.

satoru's face are buried in the crook of your neck. “that's also what i ask, (y/n). please.” gojo murmurs and you blinked in many times. trying to process who the hell they are to asked you of this. “leave me alone and let me go!” but it wasn't that easy as their hold tightens on you like a boa constricting its prey the more it moves. “i'm sorry, we'll let go once you accepted it.” satoru told you.

sobbing you let out a faint yes before scrambling to get out from their hold. “i need to go now.” you said but suguru grabs your arms and you dared to meet his gaze and there's the purples of his eyes. once that you learned to love. your tears are reduced to droplets and suguru gently wipes it with his thumb. cupping your round cheeks stained with dried tears. “i need to go now.” you repeated and geto gathers the files you have brought for the meeting of your supposed client. stuffing it in your suitcase and you left without giving them a second look.

the doors opened for you and you left. bad habits don't die. when you find yourself troubled you let your feet think where will they bring you with your mind absent for any rational thinking and it only got you of tranced when your phone have been ringing for the past minutes.

you were too distracted to read who's the one calling you and without hesitation you pressed the call button. there's the voice in the other end of the line belonging to nanami. your confidant who helped you get through the worst happenings of your life.

“nanami?” your voice came as hoarse and then a sniffle following through. hearing your sniffles from the other line nanami already knows what you were feeling. “are you crying?” he asks and then there's a sniffle and a sob. he didn't know to ask further. “where are you?” there's a brief silence.

looking at your surroundings it looks like you were in a secluded part of tokyo. the greeneries are present and it was quiet too. “i-i don't know, nanami. i'm kind of lost.” you confessed to nanami and nanami sighs. “stay where you are.” he tells you and you replied with okay.

after describing your surroundings he finds you in a nearby shrine. “(y/n)?” he doesn't need to call you to know it was you. from your corporate attire hugging your plump body and that posture, he knows it is you. turning around he was never prepared to see you looking like you were back in the day where you lay in bed crying.

your voice crumbles and all the strength in your body left you upon seeing him. “what happened?” dropping his suit case without a care in the world to approach you. “i-i meet them.” your voice trembling and he does know who they are. his once concerned expression in his face turned cold upon hearing who you were implying. “did they touch?” cause if they did. jail would be a good place to cool his head. “yes but they wanted to reconcile with me.” you were distraught and nanami thinks how strong you are for standing up for yourself with your former bullies even in this form.

he didn't say another word and came holding you in his arms. your head pressed in his chest where you felt the safest cradled in his arms. his scent comforting you and that's where you cried. nanami doesn't mind of course. for you he would bleed himself dry.

too bad that you can't be with him.

“ah, here they are. the two idiots.” the brunette doctor they have been friends for years greeted them with mock enthusiasm.

“hey there, shoko.” gojo greeted her and shoko lights her cigarette.

“do what i owe you two to drag me in my precious break.” exhaling the fumes of her cigarette while looking at the distance.

they asked her to meet them in one of the places where they usually frequents. a cafe that have a balcony that overlooks the busy streets of tokyo.

“she's back, shoko. alive and well.” shoko raises a brow at them. not believing them for a second but the looks from their faces told her another story. “how you know that. i hope you didn't forced her to meet you two.” the two remained silent and shoko rolls her eyes. “damn assholes you two, classic shit you two pulled again. didn't learn your lesson.” she commented.

“we have to, shoko. she won't meet us.” gojo complains to her. this fucker acts like you forced him. there's no saving these two and shoko wonders how long since she's been putting with these two's bullshit. “how did it go?” she asked, watching as the smoke dissipates in the air.

“she was crying.” suguru replied to her. “that's it? cause if i was her you two wouldn't be leaving that room alive after what you've done to her. hadn't you ruined her life enough?” this is shoko and shoko ieri doesn't beat around the bush.

suguru chuckles. watching his reflection in his cup of tea. “harsh, shoko. we just wanted to patch things up.”

shoko paused. “patch things up? you're more stupid than what i think of.”

he smiles and suguru thinks of you earlier. close he is to you and all he can think is that face of yours. crying and that tears streaming down your face. sick he is for thinking but it sure dig some buried feelings. the softness of your body in his fingertips and hearing your voice again it made him sick. that he just wants you to be his again.

“any advice, sho?” satoru asks her out of the blue.

“my advice is to leave her alone. she doesn't need another reminder of you two.”

“she's working in my company.”

“ha-ha. deep shit you are. life seems you to bring you three closer huh?”

and shoko squashed the cigarette in the ash tray. “i won't meddle in this shit you two are digging. friends we are but you are crossing a line. leave her alone.” shoko warns them before glancing at her watch. “you're keeping me here longer and my break's about to finish. see you two again.” shoko left them. her white lab coat disappearing as she turned a corner.

satoru missed you. even forcing you to accepting the terms earlier it did gave him hope to get closer to you again. feel you and touch you without the stuff they been doing to you when they're young and stupid. it won't be easy. he knows that and what's his money and influence if he can't get you. he was willing to sacrifice things. just say the word and he's going to give it.

they all have one thing running in their minds that day and the days to come. you. it was only you.

TAGLIST. @missakward123 @lupitalove @i00bear @socialanxietyvictim @tourmalxine @labelt-san @ghostlyworld @kashxyou @chiiiiiiiiiiifuuuuuuuu @cute-sucker @skii-high @boyimjustaloserforyourlove @jossayuuu @bubblesandsand1-0 @ply4vnce @witchymermaid12 @luna-v-roiya @mariyumemi @sinfullygay @higurumapet @kvk6433gkcigv @s-j320 @bts-skz @imcreepininyourheartbabe @hazzelle-kento @cashcadaver @n1vi @kiruupon @vebbiewuzhere @its-princessmara @ssetsuka @unicornqueen05 @idkwhattfimdoinghere2 @sunnytyun @tomriddles-wh0re @ya-mamaaaaa @wateriswhatiam @red-writes @saltyladyflower @greyclouq @bahurani @lovayle @okayiamkassandra @sealikesushi @sanzuandmike @spicana @luvsymai @uniquenicefangirl @ushijimaschubbs @lansy-4 @aesonsgirl @eggieshiteru @jellibean2018 @uchihabucketlist @sunaemoby @cupidscourt @divinedolliebun @rottmntrulesall @mmeharuno @sleighter @haesify @desperadaparasapagmamhal @ichikanu @daytej @0honeylemonade

#♱ ⋮ shai's works⸝⸝#chubby reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x chubby reader #jjk angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #gojo x reader x geto #anime x reader #anime x chubby reader #x reader #x reader angst

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zais-zafu · 7 months ago

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🫧 every manifestation technique & when / why to use it 🫧

this post is going to focus on law of assumption techniques. since there are a lot out there, I figured creating this post will help in knowing which techniques suit u and for what situations to use.

btw, you can find my routine for manifesting here. now, let's begin!

🫧 building ur self concept (sc)

creating a new identity or theme around yourself where you know you are powerful, limitless, and worthy of all your desires.

this is more of a framework than a technique since it relies on different techniques, such as affirming and journaling to acheive it.

I think it is worth mentioning improving your sc cos I believe that it is the foundation of powerful manifesting, yeah some might say "you don't need a high self concept to manifest" & I am not here to disagree w u but consider this: u believing that ur sc doesn't matter is literally part of you sc so u are essentially affirming for sc every time you say that

"you don't need a high sc to manifest" is equivelant to "I am enough as I am" and "I deserve everything I want, just because," which are sc affirmations.

🪷 use this if you wanna

work through your limiting beliefs

instead of having to affirm for sp, friends, family, etc. all the time, why not fix your self concept around love and step into your worth once and for all?

become an automatic manifestor of good things

think of successful people who've never heard of loa, how did they do it? they built an amazing sc about themselves. that is what we call confidence or charisma.

become happier, more confident, and stable/at peace

also, improving one's self concept is a foundation of therapy, coaching, and other non-loa disciplines that are concerned with improving one's life

🫧 affirming & affirmation tapes

repeating postive statements through thinking them, saying them (affirming), or hearing them (tapes). could be done with focus / feelings (focused affriming) or without (robotic affirming).

🪷 use this if you wanna

focus on a specfic desire & aligning to it

sc is general & that's great, but affirming is better if you wanna be specific

reprogram both the conscious and the subconscious

this method helps reprogram the subconscious through repetition but also your conscious through discipline and observing your thoughts meticulously

regulate your nervous system + be reminded that you already have it

I will talk more about regulation later, but affirmations can help you when you are feeling anxious or doubt since they divert your focus and serve as a good reminder of that which is true.

use an effortless way to manifest

affirmations are the easiest method to try because you can do it anywhere, anytime, and anyone can use them (if you have trouble visualising)

🫧 mirror work

basically you face a mirror and speak your affrimations, typically done around topics such as self worth/love

can be done using a timer or a pre prepared script or for however long you want

🪷 use this if you wanna

build your relationship with yourself

mirror work is one of the most effective ways to build your foundation of self love. it will help you get used to how you look, your smile. & it will also build your confidence

speaking the affirmations while facing yourself creates a deep connection with yourself and the words you speak. I really can't reccomend it enough cos each session will have you feeling more loved, limitless, & grateful

work on your self concept

since mirror work deals with self love & confidence topics, it really helps build your self concept.

and ofc you can speak your desires affirmations when doing mirror work, but even that feels different. it will feel like speaking worth and confidence into yourself, which ultimately builds your self concept! (esp. in that specific area of manifesting, for example money, love, beauty, etc.)

feel your affirmations

you don't have to feel them real, but it does make things easier/faster. speaking to the mirror helps the affirmations actually reach you + makes them feel personal

🫧 subliminals

they are affirmations layered over another sound so they become inaudible & pass right through to your subconscious mind

🪷 use this if you wanna

have 'unrealistic' & fast results

since this technique deals with your subconscious mind which readily accepts whatever it is given, the results are much faster & mindblowing

listen to affirmations but can't or don't want to

so if you're busy with life and can't find the time to affirm or if you wanna multi-task (practice loa + work), you can use subliminals since you can play them in the background whil living your life

you will also find that they work as an excellent manifesting tool as they don't require effort, focus, or intent for them to work

saturate your mind with mulitple topics

this is one of the techniques to use if you have mulitple things you wanna manifest but wanna affirm for all of them since you can listen to as many subliminals as you want

+ a single, very short subliminal can list out numerous benefits since it also utilises layering and speeding up the affirmation to allow for more repetition to occur

🫧 scripting

basically, repeatedly journaling about what you wanna experience as if it already manifested

🪷 use this if you wanna

visualise but prefer thinking in words

I use both visualistation & scripting. both have their perks. sometimes scripting helps me soak myself into the narrative, it helps me understand what I want & how the materialisation of the desire will look like.

it really helps me get into the zone since I love journaling like I am talking to someone about all the good things that already happened

(the interview method could serve as a link between both scripting and visualising & it is a method I really like!)

🫧 inner & imaginary conversations

along the same lines, you can utilise inner conversations (basically positive self talk) or imagined ones (basically the interview method)

ngl, I love talking to myself & it is probably how I used to manifest a lot of things before I learnt of loa.

I also like using ai. basically I open a chatbot and have a conversation with it about my desire like I alr have it, rampage with it, or practice gratitude using it

🪷 use this if you wanna

use a fun way to manifest

we all love making scenarios in our head, so instead of having imaginary arguments in the shower, make these scenarios/conversations favourable to your new story

work on/correct ur mental diet

your mental diet refers to the collection of natural thoughts that you think throughout the day.

the difference between a good & a bad mental diet is the difference between an optimist & a pessimist, a confident person & an insecure person

if you watch the inner conversations you have intently and correct it whenever it doesn't algin with what you want, you will start having better thoughts involuntarily, which will help you automatically & instantly manifest good things into your life

🫧 visualisation

basically daydreaming with intent, so you decide what you want to visualise (usually a short scene so you can loop it) + practice experiencing it from the first pov to generate the feeling / idea that you are truly experiencing it

I know some don't like visualising cos they can't do it, and I want y'all to know that visualisation is a practice. it takes time to be able to visualise vividly and feel like it real, so practice! you might not be able to do it at first but you will get better with time.

for me, my visualisations used to be much more hazy, unclear, and mostly audible but now I can see & feel with my five senses what I wanna visualise + before, I was only able to visualise in 3rd pov but the more I practiced 1st pov, the more naturally it started coming to me

there are several other visualisation techniques to apply, such as SATS, mind movies, and vision boards. I will talk more on them later.

🪷 use this if you wanna

understand what u desire much deeply

like scripting, this method helps generate feelings, which could help aid you in understanding what is it that you want to manifest & why, like what is the real end goal here?

live in the state of wish fulfilled

our minds can't tell the difference from between a real image and imagined one so vividly visualising helps in impressing the subconscious mind into believing that it already happened.

it also allows you to have fun in imagination, experience the good feelings that come with your desires with just the power of your mind, and thus helps you stop relying on the 3d for validation; thus you are now in the state of wish fulfilled!

🫧 SATS

this is a specific form of visualisation that Neville coined & you do it right before sleeping, aka the State Akin To Sleep or SATS

what is most important about it is to do it until you sleep, you live the scene as if it is real, and you loop it.

there's a variation of it called the lullaby method, which is about repeating a single affirmation until you sleep. this can be helpful to those who prefer affirming over visualising (but like I said u can always get better at visualising!)

🪷 use this if you wanna

manifest insanely quickly, for emergencies, time crunches, etc.

this method is basically a shortcut to your sub mind. so when I say it works insanely fast I mean it, like you will see results the very next day.

I like to use specific scenarios / manifestation that I want to happen super quickly

be efficient

this method is quite efficient due to the short time it takes to do (just a few minutes before you sleep) compared to the results you get.

ease the resistance

you might find that you have specific topics or concepts (such as revision) that you feel are "harder to manifest." SATS can be a great technique to use in that case since it impresses the subconscious much more easily, allowing you to feel less resistant / dysregulated.

🫧 mind movies / vision boards

a vision board is a collection of pictures which includes the experiences / things you wanna manifest. I have a whole post on how to create much more effective vision boards that you can check out!

a mind movie is similar to that but, instead of a board, it is a video of these pictures with narration, affirmations, or music accompanying it.

🪷 use this if you wanna

have preestablished visualisations created for you

instead of starting to visualise from scratch you can use those techniques as inspo + you can (esp. w the mind movie) just watch / look passively consuming the pictures, without having to actively imagine anything

incorporate visual subliminals

the post I mentioned above talks about visual subs in vision boards but basically you can add affirmations in low opacity, small font, or ones that quickly disappear, which you won't consciously see but your subconscious mind will register them.

provides the added benefit of incoproprating subs.

🫧 list method

you create a list of all your desires and then you affirm for the entire list using affirmations such as "my list manifested," "I have everything on my list," etc.

🪷 use this if you wanna

affirm but got numerous desires

instead of affirming for each of the million desires you got, affirm for your list. it will help remove some of the anxiety with feeling like you are not affirming enough for a topic or the dreadful choice paralysis of what you need to affirm for next.

script in a bullet point format

the list method is similar to a very simplified script, but you seperate the desires using bullets.

🫧 nervous system regulation (nsr)

this is not one technique, rather, it encompasses a lot of healing practices such as journaling, eft tapping, meditation, exercise, breath work, etc.

🪷 use this if you wanna

stabilise & ground yourself so you can feel happier and more peaceful

these techniques help you feel in alignment and be in the state of wish fulfilled

it can also help when you are experiencing upleasant feelings or unhelpful old stories

become more grateful for what you have

when your mind is cluttered and you trying to manifest desperately, it could cloud you judgement from seeing how beautiful your life is rn. NSR aims to remove that clutter and allows you to see reality for what it truly is: ever changing and honestly really not as bad as you make it out to be

as long as you are doing fine in this present moment, you're good (would recommend reading the Power of Now for more)

better understand your thinking patterns and any unconscious core beliefs

sometimes we wanna work on building a better self concept, becoming better people, understanding ourselves, or being much happier but we just don't know what exactly is holding us back,

NSR can help you with that, as you allow your mind to speak for itself or allow yourself to relax into your body you can better understand yourself and what you need to change.

🫧 void state / self hypnosis

they mean similar things as far as I am aware, which is the meditative state where your body is asleep but your mind is awake and receptive to whatever affrimations it receives

🪷 use this if you wanna

relax

it could serve as a great nsr technique, I personally used self hypnosis a lot before learning of loa because I found it hard to relax and short meditations weren't effective.

now I am able to relax so easily that I can do short meditations + a lot of health problems born out of chronic stress have disappeared

become highly suggestible

like I said your mind is awake but has slowed into a relaxed state, allowing it to accept any affirmations or assumptions it hears without judgement, it won't deny whatever you are saying to it & will accept it as truth causing you to shift/manifest instantly

🫧 revision

revision is technique used to 'revise the past,' which is not only about changing how you look at your past, but what actually happened too. there are numerous stories of people revising death and other unfavourable situations so it is quite powerful. I don't personally use it a lot (beyond affirming once for what I wanna revise) because I prefer focusing on the present (& the future)

🪷 use this if you wanna

change the past

pretty self explanatory, just affirm, visualise, and meditate on the revised story until it shows up

change your (limiting) beliefs & state

like I said, part of revising is changing your idea about what happened, this happens through changing your beliefs to know that time is a construct and that changing anything, at any point of time, is possible + shifting your state (feelings + thoughts) about what happened

self regulate

since you're shifting your state around something unfavourable, you're practicing regulating your mind + body & actually shifting to a more relaxing and fulfilling timeline

affirm in past tense

honestly affriming in past instead of present tense feels really powerful sometimes so even if you don't wanna revise anything, just affirming in past tense can make the affirmation sound more natural, like it has always been that way

🫧 acting as if

acting as if is basically thinking, feeling, and behaving like the person who has all of your desires aka your highest self. this is one of the most basic ways to building SC and it is a fun way of roleplay that will help you become the best version of you automatically. one thing I like about this technique is that it helps in detaching from the 3d and understanding that it is not the world that has to change for you to be happy, but rather you (your internal state has to change)

🪷 use this if you wanna

stop self-sabotaging

when you start acting like the desired version of you, you will come face to face with all the ways you're NOT yet being that version of you, which is the first step to stop being sabotaging your own success. through journaling and other techniques, these unfavourable habit of thinking, feeling, and behaving will be dropped

prepare yourself to be the person who can and will live this life

in relation to self sabotage, sometimes we subconsciously don't feel ready for all of the success and happiness we want. we don't believe we're worthy of it. as a result, we don't allow it to happen. but if you already lived as that version of you who you believe would have achieved it you will build a very solid self concept that such doubts and fears won't hold any truth any more.

detach

like I said, when you live as if this is your dream life, you realise that your dream life is not the keeper of your happiness, but rather it is you. you decide if you want to be happy, you decide if a circumstance has any meaning, whether positive or negative.

get better at visualising

in my experience, acting as if allows me to better visualise since I am seeing the world from the eyes of the highest version of me. it feels like my daydreams automatically align to what I wanna visualise and I can visualise at any given time of day, with my eyes open even

this all for the techniques, hope you enjoyed this post. I got an epiphany for it last night at like 2 am and started writing lol

on a last note, I'd like you to know all of these methods are connected and can overlap so make sure you are nourishing each area of manifesting (sc, alignment to desires, nsr, etc.) to live a fulfilling life while also getting what you want!

🫧 see u soon, loves 🫧

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barbieaemond · 1 year ago

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A curse for a curse

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x wife!Reader

Warnings: angst, sub!Aemond, smut, oral sex (f and m receiving), overstimulation, orgasm denial, p in v, chains kink (idk if that’s even a thing but it’s there)

Word count: 8.5K

Author’s note: PLEASE READ THIS ->There's a little canon divergenge as in Rook's Rest is not happened yet, so Aegon is King and Aemond went to Harrenhal. Based on a request I got for sub!Aemond.

Taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @ashovertheriver

Harrenhal tastes like curse and smoke when she enters the blackened and ruined walls.

She is sure, as she is sure that dragons are real, that this place has been cursed over and over since Balerion and Aegon the Conqueror proved that not even stone was safe against dragonfire.

The air is heavy in her lungs, as breathing through a thick layer of wool and her steps echo down the corridors in a strange way; it seems like a never ending sound, echoing through the walls and many lost ages.

But her stride is steady, her eyes fixed on the doors of the Hall of One Hundred Hearths where she is sure to find him, where she will end this thing for which she has no name, and yet it is draining her, wearing her out like a starved leech.

“When is Aemond coming back?” the Queen Mother asks, and then little Jaehaera asks the same question, even Helaena, in those rare moments of clarity, wonders about her brother. And each time, she doesn’t know what to say. Her lip grows stiff, her jaw clenches and she wonders obsessively from dawn till dusk. What is he doing there?

Why has he not returned now that Harrenhal has been taken?

What is he doing with that bastard woman?

“They say she’s a witch.” King Aegon says with his glassy eyes, putting down his cup as he looks around to choose a target on which to pour his anger. Wine seems to not work anymore, it is not enough to quench his thirst for revenge, and unfortunately, she happens to be the easiest mark.

“He killed everyone in that gods-forsaken place. Everyone except the witch.” He leans forward, watching her with amused anticipation just like a child who waits for his favorite toy to break. “Why did he not do it, sweet good-sister?”

He wants her to snap, and surely something does snap inside her, but she refuses to be humiliated like this.

“I do not know, your Grace. Perhaps my husband learned the Gods’ mercy and decided to spare a woman.”

His chest shakes violently as he laughs, and there’s nothing more humiliating than his laugh, not even the whispers traveling all the way from the Riverlands.

He’s taken her as his prisoner, keeps her in his chambers.

She has utterly bewitched him.

Every word is a stab to her heart and every time his word reaches her through a raven, the wound splits more open and festers.

He does not mention the bastard witch. He says nothing on the matter. He informs her of the war progressing, tells her he will come back soon.

Soon.

Soon was two moons ago and he’s still there.

It doesn’t matter anymore, she thinks as she reaches the doors of Harrenhal. Soon is now.

The look on Ser Criston Cole is almost comical as two soldiers open the doors of the Hall of the Hundred Hearths. “Princess?”

She immediately looks around, but there’s no silver in that huge black hall.

“What are you doing here?” the Hand asks, walking to her “It is not safe for you—”

“Where is the Prince?” she cuts him off, her tongue hitting her teeth like a blade cleaving the air.

Ser Criston looks puzzled for a moment, and even if she doesn’t show it, anguish twists her gut. But then he says “The Prince is not here, your Grace. He’s out, on the battle camp.”

She looks at the soldiers in the room, watching her like some kind of weird creature—a lamb in a den of wolves. That is no place for a princess, no place for a woman. And yet, it is precisely her place.

She belongs to his side. As he belongs to hers. It’s what she’s been telling herself for two moons of sleepless nights.

She should have come here with him in the first place, war be damned.

“Leave, please.” She orders the men “All of you. I need a word with the Hand.”

They may not be used to taking orders from a woman, but they immediately leave the Hall like a pack of unruly children.

The thud of the doors is like some kind of curtain falling and she is finally free of this act, free to snap.

“What is going on here, Ser Criston?”

He shifts on his feet, looking down, looking utterly incapable to answer her question. “The situation in the Riverlands is quite delicate at the moment—”

“I don’t give a shit about the war, Ser Criston.” She almost hisses “You are perfectly aware of what I’m asking.”

His mouth shuts and she resists the urge to use her hands as talons to part his lips and grab the truth from his throat.

“What is going on between Aemond and the witch.” she states, she is not asking.

The Hand sighs deeply and takes a step closer. His whole demeanor changes, becomes confidential, almost fatherly. “My Princess, you must not believe the foul whispers that have been spread.”

She feels a glimmer of relief blooming in her heart, but not strong enough to relinquish the leeches sucking at her bones. “What should I believe then?”

“It’s true. The Prince spared her life.”

“Does he keep her in his chambers?”

“What? Seven Hells, no. She has her own chamber. A little room in the wing intended for servants.”

“Did she ever visit his rooms? Alone?”

Ser Criston looks down for a moment, his lips contracting. “You must understand, my Princess. There are no servants here.”

The wound between her ribs cracks open.

There are no servants here. Did she help him dress? Did she help him bathe? Did she do all the things she used to do? All the things only she was entitled to do?

“I want to see her.”

“Princess, it is not wise.”

“I believe it is very much wise, Ser Criston, since my marriage is at stake here.”

Ser Cole sighs again. “She’s…dangerous, my Princess. She’s eerily persuasive.”

“So, you think it’s true? That she’s a witch?”

“I’m not sure about her powers, my Princess. All I know is that…one of our soldiers spat in her face when she was still a captive by order of the Rogue Prince and she just…murmured something to this man.” He swallows lowering his gaze and takes a deep breath. “The next day he ripped out his own tongue with his bare hands, bleeding to death.”

Disturbing as these words can be, she keeps a steady and cold face.

“She claims she can read the flames. That they speak to her, that she saw all of this happening—the Prince coming here. She claims she saw the fate of the war.”

A long silence stretches between them, but however right the Hand’s reasoning may be, she is not keen to let magic and superstitions take what she has come here to retrieve. “Take me to her.”

Ser Cole stalls for a moment, trying to make her give up by merely looking at her. But at last, he caves. “As you wish, my Princess.”

Her room is completely bare, save for a hearth and a bundle of dirty covers and a pillow thrown on the ground.

She enters and the air feels even heavier, more cursed. She feels it like something weighing on her shoulders, drying her throat.

There’s a woman sitting before the fire, clad in rags with long black hair falling down her back. She seems to register the door opening and closing only minutes later, as if she was too focused on her fire staring. But then she turns her head and looks at the woman before her with a strange smile.

“Alas, you have come.”

The Princess blinks quickly, watching the woman stand up and walk closely to her, chains on her feet and hands. She feels something unsettling under her skin, behind her eyes, as if she can’t stop looking straight into the green eyes of the witch, not even if she wanted to.

“You must be Alys.” She says, quickly scanning the witch before returning, inevitably, like a magnet, into her bright green eyes.

The woman, whose age is impossible to determine, keeps her smile as she looks at the Princess from head to toe. “You are exactly as I saw you in the flames.”

“That will save us some time, then. No need for introductions.”

“No. I know who you are.” The witch says, curling her cracked lips some more “I can see his mark on you.”

“His mark?”

“Yes.” She says, unnaturally widening her eyes. “He leaves a mark on everything. Things, places, people. Much like me, I’d say.” From her throat gushes a high-pitched laugh, jarring and spiteful. “We have much in common, the Kinslayer and I.”

The way she utters the last words makes the Princess grind her teeth, as if they were…what? Friends? Allies?

Lovers?

“Have you been in his chambers all this time?” she finally asks and the witch has the boldness to roll her eyes. “Is that the only reason you’re here? To know if he cheated on you?”

“Answer my question.” The Princess orders.

“Darling, If I wanted to fuck him, I would’ve done it ages ago.” She starts laughing again, grinning mischievously and then she sighs. “You left your mark on him as well. I can feel you in his head. And you are so heavy.”

She doesn't know what to make of that. There is not a single reason why she should trust her word. And it's not just the alleged powers this woman may possess. It's her whole demeanor. Haughty, even though she is a bastard. Mocking, as if she looks at the young woman before her, and sees much, much more.

“Just as you, I’d say, since he’s forsaken his family and his wife to do whatever you’re making him do it with your witchcraft.”

She bursts out laughing, so loud that the Princess flinches and takes a step back.

“I’m not making him doing anything. I can’t play with his head. He’s too stubborn. I did not curse him, sweetheart. Your beloved prince is already accursed.”

“Then what do you want? Gold? Lands?”

“I do what the flames command. I serve no God, no King, no Lord. And neither does your husband. It was his choice to see.”

“To see what?”

“What the flames choose to show. I know how this war will end. I know which color will stain the other for good. I know who will sit on the Iron Throne.”

The Princess furrows her brow, confused and puzzled, apparently pleasing the witch who smiles again and nods. “Oh yes, he will make a sight to behold wearing the Conqueror’s Crown.”

Who? Aemond? On the Iron Throne?

“So that’s how you’re keeping him here. With visions and fantasies.”

“He asked me to. At the moment I’m more valuable to him than all his generals and soldiers put together. Besides, I know how to deal with him.”

The Princess almost laughs at this. “I see. You think you can handle him, don’t you? A wild dragon for you to tame, is that what he is for you?”

“Well, I’m not denying he’s handsome enough to please my eyes.”

“And once you have tamed him, what will you do? How will you handle him when you scratch the surface, and you see the neglected son? Lonely, misunderstood, maimed. The boy no one cared for.”

It is the first time the witch does not have a quick biting answer. It makes the Princess rejoice.

“All your witchcraft won’t be enough to handle him.”

The witch falls silent. There is a distant look in her eyes as she observes the Princess and the more she stares, the more the younger woman feels dreadfully uncomfortable. She starts to feel something in the back of her mind, like a gentle abstract push.

“Ser Criston." she says suddenly, swallowing but keeping a collected mask. "The keys, please."

“Your Grace, Prince Aemond will not be ha—”

“I’ll deal with Prince Aemond.” She says, looking straight at the witch and the ghost of a superb smile hovers on her lips “I know how to handle him.”

The Knight slides the keys from his armor and hands them to the Princess. She is ready to free the witch’s wrists, but she stops, locking her eyes on Alys. “There is a carriage outside. And some guards who will do whatever Ser Criston will order them. Take it and go wherever you want, there’s even gold in the—"

“I told you, I don’t want—”

“I don’t care of what you want!” The Princess snaps, raising her voice, and the pushing dissolves. “You live to serve the flames? Fine. Do it elsewhere, far away from us.”

Alys shuts her parched mouth, and simply nods. “As you wish, Princess.”

She removes the shackles from her feet, and then from her hands, holding the chains between her fingers. Alys touches her hurting wrists, before tilting her head down in some kind of bow, or maybe a mocking gesture. The Princess cannot bring herself to care.

The witch makes her way past the younger woman but at last, she stops for a moment, leaning back her head of dark curls to say “I did touch him, just once. He put a knife to my throat.”

Vhagar likes to nestle on the burned blackened towers of Harrenhal, like some kind of dreadful reminder of the legacy of ruins and ashes Balerion the Dread has unleashed on this cursed land.

Aemond enters the castle walls with his circle of counselors and generals. They crowd on him like bees with honey and he knows why. He knows that most of the time they don’t have a clue what they’re talking about. They hang on his lips and jump like little good soldiers, jostling with one another in the hope of gaining something more when the war ends. A land, a title, one of them had even had the guts to offer a daughter to marry.

“I am not sure of what you are implying, my Lord.” He had said to the Lord with a dangerous black glint in his eye, as the fool thought it was wise to remind the Kinslayer that he and his wife had had no children yet. “Whether you are insulting me or my wife. I am sure of one thing, though. You will shut your hole before I take your tongue and feed it to my dragon.”

There were no more talks of unwed daughters between those walls.

“My Prince, if you allow me—” one of them says as they enter the Hall of the Hundred Hearths “We should give the lords who pledged for the Blacks more time to consider—”

“I gave them enough.” He says turning with a glare, looking even taller than he is, with his silver armor streaked with gold and the long green cloak. “They will pledge to my brother before dawn or I will bring dragonfire to their lands. Then we shall see where their loyalty lies while they burn to the crisp.”

They all shush and Aemond almost thanks the Gods for this brief blessed moment of peace. He ponders for a moment and then looks at a young soldier behind him.

“Summon the witch.” He orders “Bring her to me.”

He looks down to remove his riding gloves but out of the corner of his eye, he sees that the boy is still there.

“Uhm, my Prince, the witch is not here anymore.”

“What do you mean she’s not here?”

“S-she left, your Grace.”

The last word does not even leave his mouth the poor soldier feels a hand around his neck and the Prince is easily lifting him from the ground as if made of feathers. “You let her flee?!” he rages with his eye blown wide.

“I-I did—not your Grace!” the boy manages to croak while he’s choking, legs kicking like a chicken in the butcher’s hands.

“He’s right. I did.” Her voice cuts through the air and Aemond turns his head in a blink, looking positively stunned to hear his wife, to see her there.

He lets the soldier boy go and stares at her on the threshold of the huge Hall. He blinks with disbelief, as if he’s finally able to see after days and nights spent in a cloud of fog. Something shifts inside him him—something that has been wandering ceaselessly day and night, lifting the weight from his shoulders, from his black heart. Not Harrenhal’s weight, not Alys’. A weight far darker, a curse far more dangerous.

“Out.” he orders the Lords “All of you.”

They obey at once, scattering down the Hall only to stop for a moment before the Princess, to pay their respect.

The doors close but she stays on the threshold. His eye roams on her figure, once and then twice. He has never seen her wearing such a simple dress, easy to disguise her noble roots, her royal ones. And even though the mere sight stokes almost three moons of ugly and burning desire, it only makes him angry. It only makes him ashamed.

“What in the name of the Seven are you doing here?”

She walks to him and without uttering a single word or even sparing a glance to him, she begins removing the heavy armor plates from his body.

“What are you doing?” he asks with deep wrinkles on his forehead.

“My duty as wife.” She replies sternly, holding his arm “Or did you forget you had one?” she looks at him and sees rage blazing behind his eye—rage and maybe a tinge of hurt.

“Am I doing it right?” she asks removing the armor plate from his forearm “Was your witch friend better than me?”

The metal clatters on the ground as he grabs her arm, hard, pulling her close. “I asked you a question. We’re at war and you go strolling around the continent? Have you lost your mind?”

She tries to wriggle herself out of his iron grip, unsuccessfully as always. “How strange, that is a question I should ask you.”

“Enough.” He says grinding his teeth, digging his fingertips into her skin until her mouth twists with pain.

“Enough was two moons ago, Aemond. When you were supposed to come home, to your family, to me.”

“In case you didn’t notice, we’re at war, my dear wife. Things in war don’t go exactly as you planned them—”

“Oh spare me!” she cuts him off, freeing herself “Spare me the war talk, that’s all I’ve been hearing from you.”

“What did you expect exactly? Love letters?”

“I expected what I deserved. To know the truth. You have not mentioned her. Ever, not even once. Do you have the faintest idea of what I’ve been through all this time? Of all the dirt they have been spreading behind my back?”

“I don’t want to hear about it.” He says turning his back on her, as if he had not done that enough.

“No, you will.” She promises, circling him to look straight at him again. “They said you were so besotted with her to deny her leaving your chambers.”

“I don’t want to hear about it.” He says again, closing his eye for a moment.

“They said, and this was from the wretched mouth of your beloved brother, that you put a child in her womb since I was not able to give you an heir.”

“I don’t want to hear about it!” he shouts, and she knows she hit a nerve there, because he never shouts.

“Why? Does it make you ashamed? It should. I had to hear all of it. I had to endure it while you stayed here playing fortune teller with your witch whore.”

His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath and raises his gaze to look at her, dead serious. “You know nothing about her powers. She saw many things, happened precisely as she predicted. I needed her. I needed her powers and you had no right to send her away.”

“You needed her?” she repeats, pale with utter disbelief. “You needed her for what? For her to tell you how good you’ll look wearing the Conqueror’s Crown? To feed you with fairy tales while we risk our lives staying in the capital, unprotected because Dreamfyre can’t fight and Tessarion is still in Oldtown. What if the Blacks decide to attack us now? They have a dozen of dragons, we have only Sunfyre.”

“The Blacks will not attack.”

“Did she tell you this? Did she see this in the flames?” she can’t fight back the contempt curling her lips “Are you listening to yourself? Flames and visions to win a war? You poor fool.”

“Watch your mouth, woman.” he seethes “You don’t talk to me like this.”

“Or what? Are you going to chain me up? I kept her chains, you know? I thought you’d like a token of your time with the witch.”

“Did you come here for this? To make a scene like some common girl who feels threatened by another woman?” his lips turn upwards, curling and twisting with ugly deprecation “What do you think you know about the war? What is your contribution while you lie around in a lavish castle waiting for me to come back and fuck you? I’ll tell you. None. You can’t even perform your duty to give me an heir. And you come here to lecture me?”

The wound is rotting from the inside and he’s pouring salt on it.

“I came here for my dignity. As a woman, I have nothing else. I came here for your mother, who I fear will go mad with worry just as your sister. And lastly, to tell you that I’m with child.”

Aemond stills completely, so much that she thinks the witch’s curse is hitting him right now, no matter how far she is, turning him into stone.

“But it seems utterly irrelevant to me right now. So, go. Hurry! You might still find her.”

She moves to leave the room and he does it at the same time, trying to reach her, to stop her, but she flinches as he tries to touch her, battling his hands away.

Aemond utters her name, softly, and it makes her stomach turn.

“I will leave at dawn.” She informs him with a blank face “I won’t disturb you and your precious war any further. Fret not, husband. I will stay in my lavish castle like the good soldier I am, waiting for you to come back and fuck me.”

This is place is not only cursed, but it is also so freezing cold that she wishes for one of those direwolf furs the Northerners use to wear as she sits before the hearth in what she assumed to be Aemond’s chambers. The room is large, even larger than the ones they share in the Red Keep, but it’s completely bare and almost ominous with its black walls that stink of ash and smoke.

A cursed place, fitting for a cursed woman.

She has been for quite some time. Because she chose to stay by his side, because she chose to love him.

“We could turn to a Septon. Annulments are rare but possible. You cannot remain married to a Kinslayer, it is the highest of sins.” Her father had said in a letter, in the aftermath of Lucerys’ death.

As if she could leave him, as if she could turn her back on him and marry another man.

As if he hadn’t left his mark on her.

She thought the Gods had cursed her for good, that was why, however much they tried, she couldn’t bear his child.

“A child is the highest of the blessings from the Gods.” Her mother had said during one of her last visits to the capital “How can they bless your union with a man so accursed?”

And yet.

She is impatiently waiting for the sun to set. Even if her limbs have never been so heavy, as much as her heart, she finds no reason to stay here, not when she can’t stand even the sight of him. But of course, how can there be peace in such a cursed place?

She hears the door opening. She knows his gait. She wished to hear it for two moons as she lied alone in their bed.

She hears him approach until he is beside her, but she does not look at him. She only sees his arm holding out a small tray.

“Eat.” An order, not an invitation.

She doesn’t even bother to look at the food, keeping her cold gaze on the fire. “I’m afraid I lost my appetite, dear husband. You can thank yourself for that.”

She can feel his eye piercing, burning her skin, the air coming from his nose short and harsh.

“Eat or I’ll feed you myself.”

She doesn’t bother to even answer this time.

Aemond stares at her, waits for her to look at him, he needs for her to look at him. “Is it true?”

“What?”

“That you’re with child.”

“In my husband’s lovely words, I lie around all day so I guess I’m capable enough to notice if I miss my moonblood.”

He leaves the tray on the stone mantelpiece, noticing a pair of chains lying there, and then looks down at her. “You will stay here with me.” Another order.

Another rejection. “I will not.”

“Yes, you will. You are not going anywhere, not in your condition.”

“I see. Now I’m worth something to you, am I not?” and finally she looks up “My duty is fulfilled, my womb is finally swollen. It’s a shame your witch left, we could have asked her to look in the flames and tell us if it’s a boy or a girl.”

Aemond lowers his shoulders and grabs her chin with the same cruelty he is used to brandish his sword, tightening her cheeks to prevent her from uttering another word. “I said enough.”

He watches as she tries to escape his grip, pushing his shoulders as her eyes grow more and more scornful, and he knows he deserves it. But that ugly thing breaks, snaps like a thin rope pulled too tight.

His mouth is on hers, fingers squeezing her cheeks to force her to take his kiss, which is not really a kiss, but more of an act of war, a relentless and rather quick siege, because she was already starving. She opens his mouth and this alone makes him whine with relief as his tongue slides between her teeth. Her hands grab his doublet collar, knuckles turning white and she angles her head, only to bite his lip hard enough to draw blood.

He winces as he pulls his head back and sees her licking her lips, a dead distant look in her eyes. But her hands move, gently, through his silver strands. "My words are but blunt knives on you. I must hurt you in the only way I can."

“I did not touch her.” He says like an oath “Ever.”

“I know you didn’t.” she reassures him, but her eyes stay distant, as if even being this close now, they are also miles and miles apart. “Maybe it would’ve been better if you had.”

“Did you want me to fuck her now?”

“I wanted you to need me, not her.”

His eye is on flame, rage and shame dancing together, but it’s not aimed at her. He finds that the only person on the receiving end is none other than himself.

Something dies in his eye, his shoulders slump and his head falls forward, hiding what no one would dare even think of seeing on the stern, cruel face of Aemond One Eye.

He kneels before her and lays his head on her belly, catching her off guard. She can't see his face, and yet she has it before her eyes, clear and indisputable as something carved into stone.

The surface has never been so frail. She doesn’t even need to scratch it, she only has to lift it.

No man is so accursed as the Kinslayer.

She had thought it true enough, but what about Aemond’s curse?

“I know you feel guilty.” She says, or rather whispers, as if she’s being blasphemous by accosting such a word to such a man. “I know you feel guilty for Jaehaerys. For Helaena.”

His answer is mute, but it’s the loudest confession she could get.

He fists the fabric of her gown between his hands, knuckles turning white on the verge of breaking. She feels him nestling further inside her, like a child, and she closes her eyes for a moment, placing a hand on her wound to stop the bleeding, and leans over him, sliding her hands on his back, softly but firmly, as if helping him to stay whole, as if preventing him from breaking into pieces.

Aemond didn’t believe in curses.

He did not regret, not even for a moment, the murder of Lucerys. He did not care that the Gods had turned their backs on him. They had done it a long time before. He did not care of how people called him, of how they would baptize him in the annals of his lineage.

He had started to care, to feel guilt, after he actually killed his kin.

For he had killed Jaehaerys, he had killed Helaena.

Kinslayer. Kinslayer. Kinslayer.

In his head, he heard that word with his mother’s voice, with Aegon’s, Helaena’s.

He found some kind of peace, of solace, only in his wife. But then the war was calling and he fled to Harrenhal. It was his duty, it was his way to try to make things better, to get revenge.

He had taken Harrehanl back and he knew he should have come home. But then the witch, the very same who had forced a man to rip out his own tongue, had spoken to him, talking about visions and flames, of predictions that happened to be alarmingly accurate, of him sitting on the Iron Throne with the Conqueror’s Crown on his silver head.

And he saw an opportunity, however blurry, to set things right, as they should have been in the beginning. He saw a way to get the upper hand in this war. And furthermore, as much as he did not realize it, he had found a way to stay away from the Keep. He would rather dare with witchcraft than return home and hear Helaena's wails cutting through doors and walls, and through his heart.

But next to the guilt had come the shame, for he had turned his back on his wife, for he could imagine the filth their enemies and non would spread, like shit flowing in the sewers.

He had tried to confine her to the back of his mind, but she became heavier and heavier as the days passed, along with the scarce letters in which he never mentioned the Rivers bastard.

She, of course, had sensed it immediately.

“You can’t win this war if your mind is elsewhere.” She had said one night, on one of his visits to her room.

He always stayed on the threshold, arms laced behind and poorly disguised distrust stretching his features.

“I told you to stay out of my fucking head.”

“You need not worry, my Prince.” She retorted with a chilling smile “I can’t play with your head. It’s too heavy…and ugly. And this woman…oh, she’s eating you alive.”

The witch is gone now, and yet she is still there.

She lingers on the walls of his chambers like a ghost, she imposes a wall between him and his wife and perhaps neither of them is strong enough to climb it. So, for days they just circle one another like wounded animals.

The Princess is staying with him of course. He has forbidden her to leave his side and she has caved, on one condition though. She has given him three days to deal with the Riverlands and then they will go home, together, where they are needed, where the mighty dreadful Vhagar is needed.

The day before their departure, Aemond returns victorious from the Riverlands. He has gained the allegiance of the lords in a way Visenya Targaryen would be proud of.

He will never forget the Lords' faces draining of color, probably pissing themselves, as Vhagar roared a war chant in the sky, and tongues of fire brushed the lands as warning.

He enters the chambers quietly and sees her crouched on the floor as her hands dig into a drawer, pulling out papers that she carelessly drops to the ground. Aemond closes the door firmly, announcing his presence, and she looks at him for a single moment before sighing in defeat, closing the drawer.

“Looking for my love letters?” he teases, for the first time after days of loud silence.

“I was looking for ink, actually.” she says looking below a paper left on the table. “Besides…love letters from you? Ghastly.”

He can’t fight back the smirk curling his mouth as she walks close to him and begins removing the armor. He looks at her face and she’s stern, almost rigid in her gestures, in the way she touches him, as if she despises doing it and yet she can’t help herself.

He doesn’t have a clue.

He doesn’t know that her stiffness has nothing to do with contempt. He doesn’t have a clue of how much she aches for him. Of how much she wants for him to take her, fast and rough, as he often used to do, because she can’t stand to be treated like some porcelain doll to be cocooned thanks to his child growing inside her belly. She wants to be more than that, she demands to be his wife again.

“Have you eaten?” he asks her, gently, and she wants to break something.

She can’t stand it anymore. She can’t stand all the questions.

Did you eat? Did you rest? Did you sleep?

“Is this how is going to be from now on?” she asks looking up “You acting as if you are my maid?”

He clenches his jaw and his face turns stern just like hers.

“First you accuse me to have forsaken you and now you don’t want my attention. Make peace with your mind, wife.”

“I want you to be my husband.” She says getting close to him until she smells dragon and ashes.

She wants to bathe in it. “I want to be your wife.”

Aemond’s eye lingers down on her throat, on her constricted chest, and his lips part. “You are.” He vows, locking his eye on her.

“Prove it.” She whispers tilting her head with a challenge dancing on her parted lips, hovering against his.

He is one breath away from swallowing her whole but he stops, melding their breaths in one, and he grins. “Are you going to bite me again?”

“As if you didn’t like that.”

A moment later his teeth sink into the soft flesh of her lip, her neck. His hands are everywhere, frantic and needy. She can feel he’s restraining from holding her too tight, but she wants, no, she needs more. She wants him in her bones.

They move without logic, clinging to each other, trying to assert dominance on one another. He grabs her wrists and forces her down on the chaise beside the hearth. He is looking at her in the same old way, as if he’s blind to anything else. She aches so much for him that she’s breathing hard, the word please climbs her throat, slides on her tongue, but she will not beg for him.

In all truth, she doesn’t have to.

He kneels on the ground like a pious man at the altar, and she hikes up her skirts, spreading her legs to place them on his shoulders, heels pressing on his back to bring him close.

“You know what you want, don’t you?” He teases with a feral grin.

“Curse you and your hideous smirk.” She says sliding on the chair to bring her apex close to his overly talkative mouth.

“You love my smirk.” He says grabbing her thighs to secure them around his face. “Besides, I’m already cursed.” He leaves a red mark biting on the soft skin of her thigh, looking straight at her and how she startles, whining in half pain half pleasure.

She catches a glimpse of the sapphire glinting between her thighs before her eyes fall shut and she moans unnaturally loud as he licks a stripe along her wet folds and up to her apex.

She is trembling with anticipation, with arousal that pools from her, glistening his mouth and nose. Her hips begin bucking against him and he moans contentedly as he buries his tongue inside her, lapping and tasting like a starved beast.

Her breath grows shorter and shorter for how close she is already, so much that he stops to look at her with a spiteful grin. “Already? Gods, you must have missed me terribly.”

“Shut up.” She whispers hoarsely and pulls herself up just enough to grab his head, pulling his hair to force him to take where he left off. Her hips are rocking on their own against his face, nails scratching his scalp harder and harder as she comes undone in his mouth, while he hums with pleasure, drinking of all her. Eye fixed on her as he watches her throw her head back, spasming and trembling with a loud moan.

Her back hits the back of the chaise as she catches her breath and looks at the black ceiling in a moment of pure bliss. Two moons of anguish are but a distant memory, her mind is foggy, she doesn’t even remember the face of the witch.

He dismantles her legs from his neck and she looks down at him, cheeks red, watching as he climbs on her, unbuckling his belt.

“No.” she says, and she stops his hands. “Do you think I would make it so easy for you?”

Aemond looks at her, half puzzled half curious, and then she pushes him down, overturning their positions so now she’s sitting on his lap, feeling all of his hard length against her.

“It’s my turn to prove it.” She says raising an arm that goes on the mantelpiece behind them.

“Prove what?”

“That you’re my mine.” She promises, and Aemond hears the distinct sound of metal clinking.

She lowers her arm and he sees a pair of chains between her fingers. He is bold enough to smirk at her. “I thought you were the one who wished to be chained.”

“I’m not the one in need of a lesson.”

She grabs his wrist but he easily pulls away. “What if I don’t want to?” but there’s an intriguing glint in his eye, on the edges of his arched mouth.

“Then who will take care of you?” she asks with fake innocence, grinding on his cock, and she smiles as the air comes out of his mouth in a hiss. “Are you sure your hand will suffice?”

He looks at her with challenge, breathing slowly through his mouth, and he caves.

“Chain me.”

She smiles darkly and grabs his wrists, fastening the chains and then locking them to the sides of the chair. She stands and grabs his legs, sliding his back further down.

She notices his eyebrow rising and she looks at him. "I want you to be comfortable. I'm afraid this will not end so soon."

He swallows with anticipation and watches her as she slowly climbs back on top of him and begins to unbutton his doublet., pushing the fabric aside to reveal his diaphanous pale chest and her hand slides over it, over his ribs, stomach, and navel, halting his breath.

Her lips hover against his, swallowing his shallow breath, but suddenly her head dips down, leaving a trail of little heated kisses on his neck, on the planes of his chest.

He watches as she does that, feeling her lips like burning embers marking his skin. Her eyes lock on him and she opens her mouth engulfing one of his nipples, circling her tongue around it. He tilts his head back, lips parting to let a puff of scorching air out, and then she's grazing her teeth over the soft pink skin.

The chains metal clink as he winces.

She grins pulling herself up and slides a bit down his legs with her bottom, so she has open room to his belt. She begins unbuckling it, looking at him, watching the glare he’s giving her.

“I can’t tell whether you want to kill me or fuck me.”

“I need you to fucking do something.”

“Like what?” she asks, palming his cock through the fabric “Tell me, husband. I may grant your wish.”

He rocks his hips in one slow movement, trying to feel every inch of her hand, but it’s a faint touch that only makes him ache for more. “Move, grind on me.” His voice is imperative as always, but his tone is different—all heated and husky.

She frees him of the constricting belt and breeches and lays on him, releasing a blissful sigh when she feels the hot hard flesh colliding perfectly against her core. The chains clink again as he tries to move and she smiles, caging his snatched waist between her legs.

Aemond is panting quietly, trying to get a grip on his own body but he finds it’s a useless fight when he’s so hard it’s starting to hurt.

But then his wife seems in favour of granting him some mercy. She starts grinding on him and his lips part some more, panting loudly this time, as he feels, and hears, the beautiful obscene sounds her wet flesh is making rubbing on him.

“Lift up your skirts. Let me see.”

She stops grinding and he almost whines with annoyance, moving his chained wrists in a useless attempt to grab her waist and force her to move again.

“I don’t like that tone, husband.” She says, and her voice is husky as well, her breath labored “Ask nicely.”

Aemond is silently starting to regret this whole thing. Patience was never one of his virtues, if he even has virtues. He’s completely at her mercy and cannot do anything but comply.

“Please. Lift your fucking skirts and let me see.”

“Hmm.” She hums smiling. “Better.”

Her skirts turn into a bundle of fabric around her waist and he dips his chin, looking straight at their flesh as she resumes her torture.

“Fuck” he utters, his eye growing heavy but he keeps looking, and he doesn’t have a clue whether it’s the rubbing or the mere sight of her coating his cock that draws a moan out of his throat.

“Do you see how I much I’ve missed you?” she asks hoarsely, grinding more and more firmly.

His head hits the back of the chair as he keeps panting and rocking his hips against her, lifting his waist as if desperately trying to slide inside her.

“I touched myself every morning. I woke up all wet and aching for you. And where were you? Here, plotting with your witch.”

“Enough of that fucking witch.” he croaks, a sheen of sweat is ghosting on his forehead. “Faster.”

She does the opposite. She stops altogether. And this time, he can’t do nothing to muffle the whimper gushing out of his trembling mouth.

The Princess tilts her head, savoring each moment, and soon his piercing glare comes back even sharper. “Once I’m free of these fucking chains, I’m going to fuck you senseless till morning.”

“Unless you are still chained to this chair in the morning.”

He watches as her hands hover on his thighs, a feather touch that drives him mad, that makes his hips buck uselessly. His lips twist, swallowing a plead his pride won’t allow him to let go.

But she hears it nonetheless, in the way his fingers flex and twist, in his chest raising fastly. It may suffice, but it doesn’t.

“Stubborn, are we?” she teases, just like her hands, barely touching down his navel. “Your witch got it right. She said you are too stubborn, that’s why she couldn’t play with your head. She couldn’t handle you.” her fingertips finally dip down and she can see the silent plead in his eye.

“I can, though.” her palm brushes the tip and he whimpers, again.

“Please…” he whispers impossibly low, too low for her liking.

“Louder, my love.”

His mouth twists again but the need, the ache is so heavy that it burns out all the pride numbing his tongue.

“Please…” he begs freely “Please, touch me.”

A groan rolls out of him as she finally grabs it, squeezing softly before starting a slow rhythm up and down. He pants loudly, hips moving on their own as he tries to fuck her hand with a steadier pace. “Don’t rush it.” she scolds him, placing a firm hand on his waist to stop his frantic movements.

“I can’t take it…let me come…”

“Already? Gods, you must have missed me terribly.”

“You’re cursed, woman.”

“Takes one to know one. A curse for a curse.”

She looks at him, hair all ruffled and sweaty on his forehead, a painful pleading expression twisting his sharp features and she smiles victorious. “I have half a mind to leave you like this.” She says and for a moment, he dreads she’s being serious.

“Luckily for you, I’m just as greedy as you are.”

In a swift moment she nestles between his legs and he’s moaning loudly before he even has time to register anything, except her lips locking around his tip, sucking so harshly he thinks she’s going to utterly drain him.

She starts a steady pace, just as he likes it, taking all of him, down to the base untili it hits the back of her throat. The chains clink and clink against the chair as he twists his wrists, bucking his hips harshly to fuck her mouth as deeper as he can, enthralled by the lewd sounds she’s making.

“Gods, yes…” he moans watching carefully as he slips in and out of her “Yes…just like that, just a little more…”

She feels him tense inside her mouth, she feels him tense all over and she knows he’s dangerously close. She stops for a moment, licking her lips and looks at him. “Don’t tell me you’re going to break the rule.”

Aemond groans with frustration, not having the faintest idea of what she’s talking about. He isn’t even sure he remembers his own name. He is just blood boiling and bones so tense they’re close to snap.

“What was it again?” she asks “Ah, yes. My seed belongs in your cunt.” She leaves a trail of soft kisses on his hard flesh and he whimpers once more. “My ever-romantic husband.”

“Fuck the rule, you’re driving me mad. Let me come.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Please.” He begs “Please let me come in your mouth.”

The Princess is merciful enough to grant his wish. She engulfs him once more and he moans loudly for how sensitive he is. She picks up the pace and pride washes over her, pooling between her legs, as she sees him writhing beneath her, moaning with his mouth open, eye closed shut and the chains clink like a frantic bell while he twists his scratched red wrists.

He curses and mumbles nonsense under his breath until he stills completely letting out a long and loud grunt, spilling abundantly inside her mouth. She swallows to the last drop, gently sucking the pulsing tip.

The chains are finally still and silent. He’s breathing hard and short with his head thrown back, staring at the ceiling without seeing anything.

That is until he winces, feeling her hand on his sensitive skin. He raises his head to look at her, almost puzzled. She smiles slyly, moving her hand up and down. “Did you think it was over?”

If he did not feel so spent, he would be utterly thrilled and definitely flattered.

“Seven Hells, woman, give me a bre—” words die on his tongue wiped out by a hoarse gasp as she takes him in her mouth again. But this time, she sucks so slowly that Aemond actually whines in pain. And she looks straight at him, while her head bobs, relishing every moment, watching as he comes undone beneath her, babbling pleads, begging her to stop and a moment later to keep going. His voice is breaking, cracking as he whines and whimpers, poised between pain and pleasure.

Soon though, she hears more whines of pleasure than pain, as gets harder and harder in the hot haven of her mouth.

Suddenly she stops, and just stares, savoring the sight before her. The cruel Aemond One Eye, chained to a chair in a mess of sweat and sobs.

“Untie me…” he says, trying to make it sound like an order, but it’s a pale imitation of his usual tone. His words are slow, sluggish.

“You are not in charge here, my love.”

“Then quit the act and fuck me.”

Perhaps, if she wasn’t so equally desperate for him, if she wasn’t leaking between her thighs, she would have prolonged this torture, this excruciatingly sweet punishment. But she can’t take it anymore.

She climbs on him, and it takes her the least effort to let him slide inside her. He slips his back further down that chaise so that his hips are angled just enough to thrust into her, fast and steady.

“Oh Gods—yes!” she moans throwing her head back, frantically bouncing on him.

“D’you miss this?” he rasps, with a tinge of his usual infuriating confidence “Did you think of this when you touched yourself? Missed my cock inside you, hmm?”

She clamps a hand on his mouth to shush him and he bites her palm, thrusting even harder, making her whine loudly until her throat goes dry and her sight go white. They fall in a wild frenzy, utterly intoxicated with each other, leaving bites and marks all over, sealing one inside the other with a curse much more dangerous than any kind of witchcraft.

They come together, as she clutches his head to her chest so tight that he can barely breathe. He rests his head on the chair, slowly catching his breath, and she nestles against him, still sank on him.

He moves his hands to touch her, wincing for his aching wrists.

“Untie me now, would you?” he asks softly on the crown of her head.

“I’m not sure.” She muses against his chest. “I’ve quite enjoyed having you at my mercy.”

“Who said I didn’t?”

She moves her head to look at him, a little smile starting to light up her face and he looks down at her lips, mirroring her.

“Besides, it’s your turn.”

She raises her eyebrows fighting back a smile. “Now?”

“Haven’t you heard? No man is so accursed as me.”

PART III

#a curse for a curse #liv (in la vida loca)#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond x wife reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x wife reader #aemond smut #hotd fic #house of the dragon #aemond one eye

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chuchurio · 1 month ago

Text

“Perfectly fine."

* Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

Synopsis: Gojo becomes your project partner and things don’t go as planned. You distance yourself only to run into him at a party.

Genre: slow burn, a bit angsty, College AU, polar opposites, Gojo making a fool of himself,

WC: 7.1k

Warnings: Drinking. That’s it lol.

You were supposed to be having fun at this party. You’ve been waiting for the weekend to drink and forget your responsibilities. You’re not new to the image of drunk college students and sweaty bodies with the linger of hormones in the air.

It was normal. Everyone wants to unwind, and give in to the haze and blurs that alcohol provides. Sure, a majority of you were drinking under the age requirement but there’s a liberty not many experience when you willingly take a sip of that bitter mixture.

This still fucking sucks.

You drag out a sigh and fix your posture against the wall. You weren’t usually stuck to it, even when people would push and shove. You’d usually be slotted between people, rolling your hips and gravitating toward anyone allowing the rhythm to erase time. This though? Not cool and it hasn’t been ever since he popped up.

He was such an obnoxious idiot that you swore to steer away from him because although you weren’t one for prejudice— he was someone you’d never consider talking to. He’s always been there, and could almost make you believe in that little cliche of red strings.

If there were any romantic feelings involved of course.

That wasn’t the case. .

It started in the communications course you took. The class was just a filler for you, something that was supposed to be an easy pass. You were sitting alone like in most classes you didn’t care much for. Your advisor had said the class would be the easiest ‘A’ you’d receive in the semester, feeling dumb if you didn’t take it. So you did what any person would do for a degree.

The metal chairs had enough space to move but not enough to where you could accidentally touch elbows. It’s a cramped place, but it’ll have to do for a few months. It’s common for students to leave an empty seat for their bags or even just simple boundaries.

God knows you needed a bit of that.

Nonetheless, it was short-lived, a loud thud making your body take a screenshot and your blood freeze. The backpack was thrown carelessly by your feet, already a bad sign. you look up to see who is disturbing your peace.

“‘Voluntarily signing up’ is not what I would call it.” He complained on the phone with a frown, annoyed at the receiver.

The man was handsome. You couldn’t lie, he had a charm to him that didn’t require speech, a little smile and it’d bring a flock of women, blue eyes that you’d poke fun at if it wasn’t for how.. complimentary it was on him? He had nepo baby written all over him.

Best you mind your business.

Good for you.

Then he outstretched his legs over the table, pretty close to your notebook as he continued to yap ignorantly while remaining too close for comfort.

You held back a glare and flickered your eyes over to him, slowly scooting your notebook to the left, deciding to go a passive route. Until he moved them again—

“Excuse me. Can you please not?” You requested softly but he didn’t even offer you a glance. Were you not loud enough? What the hell is this dude’s deal?

He continued to talk without regard to what you asked for – as if you were a fly buzzing along his ears.

This is the part you truly regret. Deep, deep, down.

You harshly shoved his legs off the table, earning a stumbled sentence out of the white-haired guy.

“Fuck– hey! It’s rude to interrupt a phone call!” his gaze fell on you and found your eyes staring right back at him with a smidgen of anger.

Gojo hadn’t taken a glance around the room, too busy being annoyed to take into account who was in the class. All he asked for was a free period. He wanted time to maybe go lounge around the many campus lobbies, give a pretty sight to tourists who’ll be in awe of his appearance, or even bother his friend Suguru about the latest mistakes he made.

Instead, he was placed in a boring ass communications class.

He’s been trying to contact his advisor to fix this shit all week, and he’s been ignoring his calls. He had been ranting to Suguru the whole way, flashing a smile toward familiar faces. To the ones he’d fuck around with at least.

Now he was here, staring right back at your pretty eyes. His tone took a turn from its original annoyance.

“Well, You’ve got all my attention.” his voice was smooth, similar to how a hot pan bubbled cold butter. It could’ve sent chills down your spine.

You rolled your eyes, unimpressed by his facade.

“Watch your legs.” You repeated more sternly. You could feel his eyes scan you — honestly, he’s shamelessly moving his gaze up and down your figure. Your eyes narrowed at the blatant stare.

He chuckles, giving you a practiced smile that comes with ease, “Didn’t think it got in your way, faults mine.” He didn’t actually pay attention to what he had done before, his mind set to ask about the woman beside him.

“What’s ya name?”

You make a hum, not giving him a proper answer.

“Okay – mmm, I like it. Easy name to call out for you.” He gave you a wink, only earning a confused look from you. You weren’t picking up any of his bullshit, this was easy to see, you were a good observer after all. If your demeanor didn’t show it, surely your grades did.

Your nose scrunched in distaste, his flirtation crashing against the wall you built around yourself. There was an awkward silence, his smile growing strained as you exchanged opposite expressions. You only sighed and muttered a little ‘Please don’t let it happen again.’

It was disappointing, to say the least.

But not for Gojo. You were pretty but not anything he’d go for initially. He had a large pallet, just not a frequent one to stay with a single option. Why do that when he could get a bit of here and there? He respects the grind you got, he can see it in the way you meticulously toy with your pen, how you didn’t hide your view, flickering occasionally in coordination with the important things around the room. Not people though.

He can be observant too when it benefits him.

After this interaction, there wasn’t much to it. You didn’t think he’d even sit there again with the way things went the first day. To your surprise (and misfortune), he would sit there every class. He learned your name through the professor, explicitly accentuating the syllables in your name. You learned to ignore him, offering hums as responses. He grew tolerable, not likable, but tolerable.

The only thing you two really had was a greeting, the most exchange of words you both had aside from the little banter you shut down. It was the same shit every time too–

“Y/n, the only thing I like about this class, how’s it going?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Perfectly fine.”

It became a common exchange at each class meeting, some days there was more than just that. Regardless, you kept it at a minimum for your sake. You weren’t a bitch, you swore up and down to yourself that you just can’t keep up with his lifestyle.

The first thing you notice; is his popularity. People took the time out of their day not only to say hi to him but to have a full-on conversation. He wouldn’t rush it either, he’d stand outside of class just to wrap it up. You could never have that much attention.

The next thing to catch your eye was the amount of women around him. Again, it’s none of your business – however! When you do run into him, he’s either standing there with charm mode activated or with discomfort. The discomfort is usually when he’s rejecting a girl- again, that’s neither here nor there.

And finally, the biggest problem was; that he was pretty. It might seem like he was harmless, but that’s how he dragged you in. And you weren’t going to be one of them.

All you have to do is stay away from Satoru Gojo, and you’ll survive the class. That plan would’ve gone great if this communication class didn’t require a partner project.

The professor didn’t like you, because ‘GOJO’ is written beside your last name in big fat letters. You had to be cursed, there was no way they partnered you up with him! His name settled beside yours like it was taunting you right in the face. You heard a faint snicker, making you glance in its direction. Gojo failed to hide his smirk, the cough he made couldn’t disguise it. You sat there, trying to make an excuse, your brain and mouth not cooperating to form words but rather sounds.

“So, Y/n, you’re the lucky gal huh?” You looked up at him, slight disgust making him put his hands up in defeat with a lazy smile appearing in defense.

You frantically look around if anyone is just as disturbed by their assigned partner, but no one bats you an eye.

“Fuck.” you grumbled weakly, with a sigh. You’d have no choice anyway.

It was the start of this whole mess.

It was a challenge to meet up at first. You’d text a time, sometimes a day, and his response would be along the same lines.

‘Ohhhh I have practice today’

‘Ahh that was today?? I’m not on campus’

‘I was free buttt I’m tutoring’

That tutoring one was a complete lie to begin with, you caught on after seeing him with girls from the cheer team, sometimes the volleyball players. You had no faith in his reliability.

You’d show up to the library, silently skimming and taking notes on what was needed, the smell of food in the dining hall would occasionally greet you when you studied there. One of these days you were bound to run into him, which you did.

His laugh came to a rough halt, shoes squeaking in a stop too. “Y/n?? Woahhh didn’t think I’d see you here.” He looks surprised, a bit guilty? He should be anyway.

You flicker your gaze to the pretty brunette beside him. She wasn’t fazed by the interaction, continuing to sip on her drink while looking directly at you.

“Yeah.. who’d figure I’d come study… at a library..” you uttered out. He makes a wince, scratching the back of his neck. “I dont have my laptop on me right now…” it was like he was trying to negotiate.

He suddenly perked up, the imaginary lightbulb obvious with the way his demeanor changed. “You can come to my dorm tomorrow, swear I’ll have everything laid out for you,” you narrow your eyes, not convinced.

“I already have most–”

He pushes up his glasses, doing one of his poses (were they timed? You weren’t sure) “I wouldn’t be an amazing partner if I didn't offer, I know.”

That’s how you ended up walking up to his dorm building. Good thing you set things straight beforehand, a little plan for you two to follow.

You had taken the time out of your day to research the information that might align with your points, making a document of the ones that would support your argument. You gave him a few links and met to discuss which would work. It’s as easy as it sounds.

It didn’t go as you thought.

“Gojo please just read this last paragraph so I can take my ass to bed.” You complained, shaking the distracted man to offer a sliver of attention to the listed sources.

He scoffs and lets out a loud dramatic sigh, “I will! I will! Just let me finish this level real quick.”

After a few hangouts, you’d expect him to stop being so childish. You thought that it was one of those things where the person acts like an idiot but is secretly a mastermind of sorts. You’ve been trying to get him to meet up again and it’s been difficult to pin him down.

It’s like everyone wants Gojo for something, Not you though, you’re forced to.

“I have to walk back to my dorm and it's freezing cold–” He wasn’t listening to you. You glared at the white-haired man, irritated.

You couldn’t take it anymore, with a huff you reached for his phone – with much protest – and turned it off.

“Seriously. We need to get it together! I need a good grade!” He only whines and tries to reach for his phone again.

“Come onnnn just let me finish it!” he reached up, making you flex your arm higher.

“No. We’re getting this done–”

He scoffs again, “I’m taller than you don’t forget that.”

He flexed farther than you, his arm pressed against yours as you fought to keep it out of his reach. You’d try to push him off, annoyed he gave it a shot. He does the same, trying to gain the upper hand.

“Dude it’s not that serious!” He huffed out, your arm moving swiftly in the air to keep out of his reach.

“I should be saying the same to you-” You yelp at the sudden weight that toppled over you. Gojo overpowered you quickly, making you fall in defeat. His hand shot out in an attempt to not completely fall on you.

You freeze, staring back at him with a surprised expression. He does seemingly the same with his smile nowhere to be seen.

You blink. He blinks.

He stares. You stare.

After a few awkward seconds, you clear your throat, turning your head to the side to avoid eye contact. Breaking him out of his trance, he swiftly backs up, trying to act nonchalant about the accident.

“I’ll read through it tomorrow.” He said, leaning his back against the small makeshift desk. You sit up, gently scratching the back of your neck. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine.” You reached for your books, closing your laptop and gesturing to his door, “I should like, probably head back–” He agreed almost immediately, helping you pack your things.

But that wasn’t the only time things... Were weird.

A few days later he began to greet you outside of class. It was something small, but it made a difference when the people he hung out with gave him a strange look. You’d only offer a little wave and remain casual or else you’d overthink the way you walk too.

Then he began to frequent the actual library suggestions. Letting him know that you research the topics a few hours before discussing them with him. It was a way for you to think... Until he started appearing for that as well.

You were sitting at a small cubicle-like table, the booths private with the only way in being from the left. He was busy lazing around on his phone, flickering to you once in a while. You were silently reading over the added post, with a sigh. “I don’t know why you keep reading over it, is it that bad?” he asked mindlessly, earning a bit of a scowl from you.

“An A is considered anything above a 93, for this specific project,” you read it out loud, hoping he’d feel the same about it. He just looked at you, before shrugging and going back to scrolling through his phone. “I’ll take a C too.. It’s passing,”

“That’s it?? You’re just conceding that fast??” He raised a brow, looking over at you with confusion, “Conceding is a bit dramatic don’t you think?–” You shake your head and push back your hair from your face as if it’d fix the score details.

He has caught onto that habit, the way you want to be upset but don’t know if to focus on working with the new information or if to let the feeling take over. He sighs and slides over to your side, “Alright what about the rest of them?” You open your mouth to rebuttal, wanting to tell him that it didn’t matter because an A is the only reasonable grade.

“Aht– I said what are the other scores, we know an A is higher than a 93.” You go silent, reluctantly sharing your laptop screen with him.

“92 to 85 is a B, and 84 to 78 is a C,” He nods slowly, listening to you read the score grades for the project. “And a D?” You shot him a glare, making him raise his hands in defense. “Kidding– jeez tough crowd.” He mumbled.

You can see him looking at the scores with the same disdain. He makes a hum, his thumb pressing to his chin before making a hum. “The most you’re getting out of me is a C,”

You gasp, shaking your head, “Seriously?? Not even a B??” Your voice held a tremble, in disbelief at his honesty.

“I can give something in the low 80’s if I try–”

“That’s not even closer to a B Satoru!” You whisper yelled, nudging his shoulder. He dramatically fell back, a whine leaving his mouth. “Have some mercy on a soul like mine, don’t you have some compassion?” He batted his lashes, your stare in disgust as if he were some pest.

“Seriously, I’ll help you out just tryyyy for that A pleaseee” You groaned out, trying to come up with a sort of excuse that’d encourage him. “A deal. Care to give me an offer?” He said teasingly, sitting up and once again interested, hoping you took the bait.

You huff, gnawing at your thumb to think. Something that Satoru would want.. a motivation of sorts.. He already has money and luxuries she can’t even afford.

He was watching silently, he’s grown to find pleasant the way your features would seem alert when you tried to focus. Your brows would crinkle just a bit, lips wrapped around your finger while you nibble on your nail in thought.

“How about.. You do most of the talking for the presentation.. And I’ll do all the slides, you won't lay a finger aside from researching!” You quipped, looking over to see him looking at you silently. He hummed in response, “Hmmm I guess.” He said softly.

That’s when you noticed just how close he was, his leg pressed close to yours, resting his chin against his palm as he kept his eye on you.

He was close, too close for comfort, your body growing warm at the proximity. You swore you saw his gaze flicker down, his words leaving an unkept flutter in your stomach.

“Is there anything else an A can get me?” His voice was low, the question technically innocent. Your body felt otherwise.

Your mouth goes dry as if kindergarten had never done its job to teach you the alphabet, like the letters look more like symbols and you can’t communicate— that type of feeling.

You tear your gaze away, a choked laugh making its way out. “W-We can go to that dumpling stand near campus. It’ll be on me.” You scoot away, your attention diverted elsewhere.

Unbeknownst to you, he was disappointed at your retraction, strangely hoping you would’ve remained in that position.

—————————

Days would go by, forcing him to stay late to study, reaffirming his tone to perfection. He would complain at first, reluctant to show up. You went as far as getting in contact with that pretty brunette he was with last time.

“So.. He’s actually trying to get a higher grade than a C?” She asked with a hint of surprise to her tone. You nod, trying to get her on board with your meticulous plan, “An A to be exact.. I really need the grade..”

“And he agreed to it?” She asked, eyebrow raised. You nod once again, “He’ll focus on speech and delivery, while I do the background stuff.. I just need him to remain concentrated.” His word was something but having extra help wouldn’t be a bad idea either.

“Wow.. is that so?” she trailed off, making you a bit nervous. You quickly reassured the woman, “Are you dating him? Because I don’t have intentions of–” The girl’s eyes widened before letting out a dry laugh.

“That’s not it- I’m just surprised he is promising to try for an A… he’s more of a.. you know,” she makes a little motion with her arm and shrugs, “Go with the flow typa guy.”

You felt a growing embarrassment wondering why you assumed that was an option to begin with—specifically the dip in her stomach while waiting for her response.

You’d come to find out the girl’s name was ‘Shoko’ and thankfully so she did help out to keep him in line. Sometimes he’d come whining, dragged along by the unphased woman, other days she’d manage to steal his phone and hand it to you as ransom. She was great truly.

Eventually, he’d start showing up on his own. Dragging Shoko to your sessions so she could listen to him recite the presentation. You’d both share your laptop even if he brought his own, he would get you snacks and even show you the research and points he found.

Shoko even jokes you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. You want to beat yourself for feeling pride at the thought.

You’re brought out of your thoughts to Satoru calling out your name, “Finally, been repeating your name for a while now– you ready?” He asked with a smile, the sight bringing you another wave of nervousness for some reason.

“Yeaahhh…” you trailed off before shaking your head and making a disappointed hum. He wouldn’t admit it, but he found it rather cute.. The more he talked to you, the more expressive you had become.

Just how far would he go to see it all?

“Hey, we’re prepared. You prepared us very well.” He was trying to ease you, flashing you another smile and a playful wink, “Now let me win it for ya.”

This was it. The outcome was now in his hands.

“I know you will.” You said softly, and somewhere there, you could see the peaks of his ears crimson up, but he’d clear his throat and turn away.

“ ‘kay then, let’s not lose points for showing up late.”

————————

You’re sitting beside Satoru, his body draped across the lounge chair at the library. You’ve been refreshing Canvas for the past 10 minutes, waiting for your final grade to appear.

“I’m sure they’ll post it soon, chill,” he commented mindlessly, his arm lazily nudging you. You shake your head, gnawing at your nail as you wait for the blank line to be replaced with a number.

He kept his eye on you before sitting up and scooching closer to where you sat. He rests his cheek against his hand, watching you silently. Finally, he catches your attention, hesitantly glancing in his direction.

“You okay?”

“I’m.. fine.”

“Just fine?”

You couldn’t help but feel the smile creeping up your face, unable to hide the appreciation for his concern,

“Perfectly fine.” You finally spoke, taking a deep breath and nodding, as if affirming your last statement. He lost your gaze to the screen again, staring expectantly and fidgeting with your nails by flicking them against each other.

He reached for your hand, his touch warm as he stopped you from continuing the nervous action. That alone made you slowly turn to him. You silently stare, unsure whether this squeezing in your chest is a good sign.

He replicated your smile, “You gave the right links, You didn’t stutter, that’s a good grade to me.” he reassured you. You only nodded again, your brain telling you to retract from his hold, but your body didn’t listen. He looked back at you with the same expression, beginning to gently run his thumb across the back of your hand.

“Actually, I was thinking we could–” Your laptop made a happy chime, an email regarding to the updated grades. “It’s in!” You pull your hand away with no thought, leaving Satoru with a slight sulk.

You scroll through the assignments, clicking the ‘grades section and waiting impatiently for it to load.

“Holy shit..” you muttered to yourself, a bright smile forming on your lips.

Sure it wasn’t 100, but a 95? You’ll take it.

Satoru shoves his face a little closer to the screen and a genuine laugh left his mouth at the score. “Didn’t I say you’d be okay?”

You roll your eyes, the smile you wore was more relaxed and relieved. “Yeah, yeah, you were right.”

He leans closer, his expression taunting with the little snicker he made, “That means I winnn” he made a dramatic pose, tips of his fingers to his forehead like he was a know-it-all to begin with.

True.. You didn’t think he’d get the same grade as you but surely opening the site– he got the same score.

“Huh… I guess you do..” You mumbled, biting your lip at the number while he continued flaunting the score.

—--------

It wasn’t a date. You reminded yourself of it constantly; it's a truce, an agreement, a celebration of your passing grade. Even then, You were fidgeting with the ends of your sweater, readjusting your scarf every ten seconds. Not because you were nervous or anything.

“Heyyy You got here before me.” He said with a smile, his breathing fanning out in white puffs. You nod, glancing over to the sidewalk, “Better than one of us being late.” He shrugs, beginning to walk in the direction of the stand.

“How far is it again?” You made a hum, trying to guess an estimate, “About a 15-minute walk or so..” He nods slowly before nudging your shoulder, “Brought your wallet, right? Because I left mineeee” With that tone, it was obvious he left it on purpose.

“You’re rich.” You deadpanned, watching him snicker before making another shrug, “And? Free food is priceless.” You roll your eyes, a little smile forming on your lips.

After a while, you did get used to him. He wasn’t as bad as you thought, for the most part.

“I think this just proves we should be partners for the rest of class?” He suggested coolly, earning a scoff from you and a side eye, “Yeah right.. we had to lock in near the end because of how busy you were.”

He made a dramatic sigh, “You’re keeping me away from success Sweetheart.” The pet name didn’t fall on deaf ears, a tingling spark waking your senses at the sound of it.

“Are you saying I’m a lucky charm?” You asked with a brow raised.

His grin said it all, glancing down at you. “Definitely my lucky charm, yeah.” This was just typical Satoru, his comments coming off as flirty. His charming smile activated, so normal of him,

But when did it start working on you?

You look away, needed after this gnawing sensation has started to make itself known, none of it being good.

There was a time when even looking in his direction made you scowl, where you heard him at a distance and felt exhausted before seeing him.

But here you are. Talking about anything and everything, he’s listening to you, and you’re openly letting him know.

There’s an exchange of words rather than an assumption.

You continue walking down the sidewalk, laughing at another stupid retelling of his daily adventures.

“The scooter did happen to fuck up over a tiny rock and I ended up crashing into a girl scout’s cookie table..” You couldn’t even discreetly laugh, your voice echoing in fits of laughter. He didn’t have to worry about the cold when you had him feeling warm to the corner of his ears.

“You’re obnoxious.” You watch him make a dramatic gasp, hand pressed to his chest.

“I made up for it! I offered to buy the stock they brought but they were convincing enough to make me work beside them.” You cross your arms and nod. “An appeal for their business… I see the vision..”

He scoffed, nudging your shoulder playfully and making you do the same with light banter. It was childish and you couldn’t help but play along.

“You know you didn’t put your scarf on properly right?” He quipped out the topic. You glance down, trying to readjust it. “What? I was just trying to stay warm there–” He makes a hum before stopping in his tracks, taking a spot in front of you. “You won't be able to keep the cold out like that…” he murmured, his voice much lower when he came close.

Your voice grew dim, unable to utter a word as his fingers unwrapped the knitted fabric. His eyes were focused on wrapping it a lot more snugly. “No cold right?” His voice was soothing, kicking out any chill there was before.

“No..” you said softly, looking to the side to keep your heart from dysfunctioning, his thumb pressed against your chin, lifting it to offer a better angle and leveling your gaze. “I’m not there— but here.” his voice was dangerous to you, caught in sight like a deer in headlights. It was the proximity, unable to stop yourself from looking down at his lips. He must’ve caught on because his own flickered down to yours.

His thumb pressed to your bottom lip as if he were questioning the realness of the situation. You didn’t stop him, closing your eyes as he drew closer.

“Satoruuuuu! ‘S that you over there?”

You opened your eyes, the moment cut short.

He cursed under his breath, immediately pulling back. He held a tight smile, his expression complex to decipher. “Ah heyyyy, long time no see..”

You glanced in the direction of the voice, catching a glimpse of a long-haired blonde woman. She was rather pretty, and the clothing she wore defined her figure. She eyed you for a long second, not hiding it at all.

You made an awkward shuffle, pointing to the stand, “I’ll um.. I’ll go get us some.” he opened his mouth to speak, wanting to stop you, but nothing came out. “Yeah.. thanks..” he said softly, redirecting his focus to the blonde, giving you small glances.

You walked over to the stand, making sure not to stare just yet.. eventually you couldn’t help but glance back. The woman was devouring him with a stare, batting her lashes, smiling sweetly, all of the above really.

You felt your stomach twist, forcing yourself to look away. A few minutes passed ordering your food, to be honest that was the last thing on your mind but you had to find a way to distract yourself.

He didn’t mean anything to you.. or that’s what you want to think. You don’t know where this courage had come from, maybe it was the stolen glances or the time spent together, but you felt like things between the two of you could grow different?

You held a soft smile, hearing your name be called close by. The worker handed you the two food trays, giving them a small ‘thank you’.

You made your way to the two, hoping to maybe go eat this at the park nearby, or maybe even at the bench near the campus water fountain, his presence was nice—

“So.. that’s that girl who passed by our cheer practice huh?” The girl spoke, her eyes focused on the white haired man. Her eyes would squint, judgmentally.

“You dating her?” She asked with a pout, and the idea made your stomach flutter in ways it shouldn’t.

“Nahh just a partner for class.”

You stopped in your tracks, your feet growing heavy out of nowhere. Your heart was accelerating in the worst way, trying not to jump to conclusions.

“Then why are you here?” She asked, looking up at him with faux innocence. You could feel mockery in her voice as if she were ready to start criticizing you without even speaking to you.

“Didn’t want to disappoint. There’s just not a lot of me to go around ya know?”

Your heart expands into your throat, body cold when you hear the words leave his mouth. But of course, you forgot.. you weren’t technically friends.

This was a transaction of sorts, he'll cooperate to give you a good grade, in return he gets the grade too. It was such a simple process that you must’ve forgotten along the way.

You aren’t friends.

You guys weren’t in similar groups, your contact list could never double to his, Satoru wouldn’t glance at you if it wasn’t for the required project. It was conventional.

And unfortunately, not realistic. Satoru would never see you for more than a classmate who helped him out.

The amount of fabric didn’t save you from the cold breeze that filled you. There was no wind blowing but you felt like a simple graze would make you crumble into the air.

You backed up, trying to not make a sound on your way out. Even if they did hear your feet hit the cement, he wouldn’t glance because well.. he got what he needed, the reason to hangout was over. You can go back to your dorm, begin on personal projects and be satisfied with guaranteeing your full credit.

You’re upset that you can’t feel relief.

That’s how you ended up at this frat party. You’ve been ignoring Satoru for the past few weeks, at all costs. You’d see him appear, and you’d immediately walk the other way. There were times where he’d wave for your attention, to where you just kept your eyes away from him.

Even when you did this, you had to remind yourself you didn’t like him to begin with. He was annoying, spoiled, and self absorbed.

But you hated to remind yourself of things you didn’t truly believe. Somewhere along the way you used those reminders to excuse the ache of the many things he wasn’t.

So there you are. Red solo cup in hand and the wall your only support. Your eyes flicker over to the DJ, the table he used was decorated with littered cups and bold people dancing on top.

You wish you were that drunk, a part of you knew if you were, it wouldn’t be for fun. That’d be sad and you can tough it out! You don’t need any liquor to move on-

“Y/n?”

That voice brought a mirage of a person. They mixed drinks but not enough to give auditory hallucinations right?

You look up to confirm the owner, your chest feeling tight all of a sudden.

Satoru is staring at you, surprised. He tried to wave in your face, only making you glance the other way. “Hey it’s been a while!” He yelled excitedly over the music. You still didn’t answer, your eyes focused on your cup.

You knew he was uncomfortable by the way he shifted, only moving a bit to let people push past him. He sighs, “wallflower huh? I’ll try it out.” He said coolly.

He proceeded to follow your posture and pressed to the wall. You could almost get Deja vu from how things were going. It was silent between the two of you, he would occasionally steal you glances, and you?

Well you acted dumb.

You swerve the drink in a circular spectacle, watching it glimmer with the neon purple of the black light. This was stupid. You, feel stupid.

“So.. you come here often?” He smirked, flashing you the signature charm. You groaned and rolled your eyes, already beginning to walk away.

“No wait— shit—“ he reached for your arm, softly grasping it before you were fully out of his view. It was gentle enough to shove him off but.. the touch was enough to stop you and wait.

“How are you?” Your brows furrowed at the question. All these lights rotating from bright colors to dark ones, you saw him under every shade and the question still didn’t seem to have an answer.

You press your tongue to your cheek, coming closer just because you don’t want to hear any more people give you drunken apologies for pushing you around. You don’t bother looking at him, glancing back down at your cup.

“I’m fine–“

“Just fine?”

“Couldn’t be better.”

He nodded slowly, if it weren’t for the ambiance, you could swear there was a bit of a frown at the response. He fumbled with the edge of his cup, for once keeping silent. “Is this what you stopped me for?” You ask, a little upset.

He looks up, opening his mouth to speak with a confident smile before struggling with the sentence. “Look. I’m sorry about that whole thing last time, I didn’t think she’d talk to me for so long.” You scoff, ripping your hand from his grasp with a little mutter of something along the lines of ‘Go fuck yourself’. He didn’t like how he left things open-ended with you, but even worse—

He hated how there was no banter like before.

“Wait! Y/n come on – ” He reached for your wrist again, causing you to press it to your chest. You shake your head and slip past people, wanting out of this place.

Partying was fun, the lights, the alcohol, and the music gave you this pedestal that you’ll probably never find in the day-to-day. You’ll even do risky dances to regret and laugh about later.

But when you’re suffocated, the party is a loud trap. It cages you with semi-aware adults, the music is muffling your ears – and your senses are numb. No one moves but you’re pressed against their bodies, caging you. The heat makes the air as useless as water in your lungs. Something once good becomes the worst.

Now add the guy you almost kissed with that.

Your body is boiling for you to get the fuck out.

You push against others, way past the excuse me’s as you feel your throat form a lump and your arms becoming tougher as they block you from sweaty bodies. The lump was growing and it only tugged at the nerves that start the faucet.

You can hear Satoru right behind you, actually struggling to get by when everyone wants to speak with him. A popularity problem you’d guess, unrecognizability saving you for once.

A long time ago you might’ve asked to be in that place. Tonight you’re grateful it helps you slip away.

You could feel the fresh breeze strike your cheek, making your head whip in its direction. Finally, after pushing a random guy to the side without much protest–

You could breathe.

You inhale deeply, your lung capacity going to its limit just to bring some color back to your face. The night was colder than when you had got there, but your body was too hot to feel like a disturbance.

Then there was heaving right behind you, repeating the same actions you did. “Shit– y/n give me— a minute,”

“No, Satoru — what else do you want from me!?” You exasperated, but he shook his head, you could see his brow twitch upward. He was gasping for air, trying to catch his breath.

“I wanted to apologize.”

“I don’t accept it.”

“It was unfair to you—“

You scoff, your eyes narrow and your throat begins to tighten. The imagery flashes through your head. His slender fingers wrapped around a few strands, his voice trailing off when he’d look down at you, and that stupid fucking look that was the bridge of this whole shit.

“You lead me on like– like I’m another one of your distractions!” You didn’t mean for your voice to tremble, but it wavered enough to be noticeable.

He tried to follow after you again causing you to harshly shake it off not wanting to be near him.

“Is that how you saw it?? I was just-“ he looks just as frustrated as you, trying to understand you while you’re glaring at him with the same eyes he falls into.

“Your grade mattered that much?— you used me?-“ he immediately began shaking his head at your accusation. “I didn’t even say that!-“

“No? You implied it. I heard it all!” You confirmed his worries, pursing his lips before letting out a sigh. “I didn’t mean... I didn’t know what I was saying alright?” His explanation wasn’t enough for you; it was too vague to fix the damage.

You scoff, muttering a simple ‘of course’ and glaring at the grass. The sound of the music was more audible than your voices, obviously trying to find a way to go about this.

“Y/n. It isn’t just about the grade— I didn’t care for it!” You shake your head once more, laughing dryly.

“That’s what you wanted me to see, I knew you were a fucking liar, self absorbed asshole!—“

“Oh! Oh yeah?? And you have a stick up your ass all the time! You don’t give a fuck about anything else!“ he retorted back, “Always focused! The perfect student! hardworking! I’m not good enough for you!”

You looked up at him, confusion overtaking your frustration. “You.. what?”

“I can’t have a day where you don’t appear, it annoys me – aside from dealing with your nagging in class, I could hear your damn voice in my sleep, you just had to be my partner?”

You scoff, “You suck at this.”

“Shut up. I’m trying here-” he pushed back his hair, frustrated with you. That seems to ease when your chuckle follows.

“I thought you held brawns and beauty,” you mumbled sarcastically,

“No, that’d be you.”

The silence had never befell you both this quick. Breathing was terrifying, looking at him was terrifying, but more so was the acceleration of your heart. You were afraid that your body was pumping blood too fast, that the rhythmic drumming in your ears was audible.

Satoru watches your silence, before deciding that his tongue was too tied for once. His hand hesitated, before reaching up to cup your cheek.

Your lashes batted against your soft skin, staring up at him with a silent question. It didn’t take long for him to lower his face to yours. There was no hurry, no comedic comment, just his pride stepping down for once.

His lips pressed against yours in a gentle kiss, the tension alleviating from weeks of pent-up emotions. He was infuriating with his comments, and stubbornness you sometimes couldn’t stand,

regardless, your arms loop around his neck, pulling him for another once he begins to pull away.

#gojo x reader #jjk gojo #satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #gojo x you #jjk fanfic #gojo satoru #jjk #satoru gojo #Churi's Melodies ⋆｡♫

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weasleyreidstyles · 15 days ago

Text

Serendipity

chapter nineteen

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. all characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): book accurate voldemort, canonical violence, angst, talks of battle, notions of manipulation and mind control

series masterlist; previous part; next part

The days following Charity Burbage's death were agonising. The atmosphere in the cottage had grown cold and dreary; the novety of living away from home having worn away with every mission that Mattheo, Theo and Enzo were sent on. They did not speak a word of what happened in the meeting beyond when Remus and Mad-Eye had come to collect information only hours after the boys had returned home.

Before the inevitable event of Professor Burbage's death, Voldemort's men had divulged their fellow Death Eater and Dark Lord of vital information that they could use to undermine The Order of The Pheonix. There were spies everywhere, just as Mattheo had told Granger back at school before Dumbledore's death.

It was still sureal that his Head of House was sat in this room with him, despite knowing since fifth year that Snape was not a loyal member of The Order. To hear him discussing a plan that only top members, like Lupin or Shacklebolt, would know, was as strange as it was unnerving. His father sat at the head of the table, the seat to the right of him empty, hairless and snakelike with slits for nostils and gleaming red eyes. His chosen appearance was nightmare fuel and nothing akin to the very few photos that Mattheo had of him, when he was still Tom Riddle, still had some of his soul intact. As far as Mattheo was concerned, this creature before him was not his father, but simply a vessel of power that Mattheo would have to overcome. Somehow.

"Severus, here," said the Dark Lord, his elongated hands gesturing to Mattheo's other side. He sent Yaxley to sit beside Dolohov, who still sported the scars inflicted by your magic. It sent pride shooting through Mattheo's veins. Most eyes at the table followed Snape until he sat, and he was who Voldemort addressed first.

"The Order of The Pheonix intends to move Potter from his current place of safety on Saturday, at nightfall." Snape said in his usual low cadence.

Confusion shot through Mattheo at that and he visibly stiffened before fixing his mask of indifference right back into place. Despite feeding information to The Order, everyone in the cottage, even you, were not privvy to the schemes that its members carried out in response. He had no idea that Harry's location would be compromised. Did that mean that your's could be too?

He didn't let that thought linger for any longer than necessary.

"Saturday. At nightfall." Voldemort's eyes fastened on Snape with such an intensity that Mattheo was surprised when his Professor did not cower away like so many others would. He looked Death calmly in the face, and Voldemort's lip curled into something resembling a smile. "Good. And this information comes-"

"-From the source we discussed." Snape replied. This seemed to satisfy Voldemort who's snake like features swept over everyone in the room with a sinister, knowing look, zeroing in on Yaxley, who looked about ready to burst.

"My Lord." He stuttered. "My Lord. I have heard differently."

The Dark Lord did not respond.

"Dawlish, the Auror, let slip that Potter will not be moved until the thirtieth, the night before the boy's birthday. When his magic becomes traceable."

Mattheo looked beside him saw that Severus Snape was smiling as he responded with a level tone.

"My source told me that there are plans to lay a false trail; this must be it. Dawlish is suspectible. He was probably placed under a Confundus Charm."

Yaxley's eyes narrowed upon Snape's. "I assure you, My Lord, Dawlish seemed quite certain."

The Dark Lord finally turned to acknowledge his son, who was stood off to the side, eyes raking across each member with cruel scrutiny. He motioned for Mattheo to come forward. "What do you think, my son?"

Mattheo studied the faces of his father, Snape and Yaxley, rationalising his thoughts before speaking.

"If Dawlish was indeeded Confunded, naturally he would be certain." Mattheo summised. "The Order would be smart to give the Ministry different dates. They must already suspect that we have infiltrated the Ministry."

"The Auror Office will play no further part in the protection of Harry Potter. I assure you, Yaxley." Snape said with a nod.

Voldemort did not ackowledge the conversation, instead his gaze had wandered upward to the body that had appeared during the discussion, revolving slowly overhead, and he seemed to be lost in thought.

"My Lord," Yaxley went on, "Dawlish believes an entire party of Aurors will be used to transfer the boy–"

He held up a large white hand, and Yaxley subsided at once, watching resentfully as Voldemort turned back to Snape.

“Where are they going to hide the boy next?”

“At the home of one of the Order members,” he replied. “The place, according to the source, has been given every protection that the Order and Ministry together could provide. I think that there is little chance of taking him once he is there, my Lord, unless, of course, the Ministry has fallen before next Saturday, which might give us the opportunity to discover and undo enough of the enchantments to break through the rest.”

“Well, Yaxley?” Voldemort called down the table, the firelight casting a menacing glint in his red eyes. “Will the Ministry have fallen by next Saturday?”

Yaxley squared his shoulders. “My Lord, I have good news on that score. I have – with difficulty, and after great effort – succeeded in placing an Imperius Curse upon Pius Thicknesse.”

Theo sucked in a barely discernable breath, and from his place, Mattheo saw how Draco tensed beside his mother. This was all vital information that Remus would be desperate for.

“It is a start,” said Voldemort. “But Thicknesse is only one man. Scrimgeour must be surrounded by our people before I act. One failed attempt on the Minister's life will set me back a long way.”

“Yes, my Lord, that is true – but you know, as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Thicknesse has regular contact not only with the Minister himself, but also with the Heads of all the other Ministry departments. It will, I think, be easy now that we have such a high-ranking official under our control, to subjugate the others, and then they can all work together to bring Scrimgeour down.”

“As long as our friend Thicknesse is not discovered before he has converted the rest,” said Voldemort. “At any rate, it remains unlikely that the Ministry will be mine before next Saturday. If we cannot touch the boy at his destination, then it must be done while he travels.”

“We are at an advantage there, my Lord,” said Yaxley, who seemed determined to receive some portion of approval. It made Mattheo scoff inwardly. No one gained the approval of Voldemort. Not even his only living heir.

“We now have several people planted within the Department of Magical Transport. If Potter Apparates or uses the Floo Network, we shall know immediately.”

“He will not do either,” Snape interupted with a barely hidden sneer. “The Order is eschewing any form of transport that is controlled or regulated by the Ministry; they mistrust everything to do with the place.”

“All the better,” said Voldemort. “He will have to move in the open. Easier to take, by far.”

Again, Voldemort looked up at the slowly revolving body as he went on, “I shall attend to the boy in person. There have been too many mistakes where Harry Potter is concerned. Some of them have been my own. That Potter lives is due more to my errors than to his triumphs.”

The Death Eaters around the table watched Voldemort apprehensively, each of them, by his or her expression, afraid that they might be blamed for Harry Potter's continued existence. Voldemort, however, seemed to be speaking more to himself than to any of them, still addressing the unconscious body above him.

“I have been careless, and so have been thwarted by luck and chance, those wreckers of all but the best-laid plans. But I know better now. I understand those things that I did not understand before. I must be the one to kill Harry Potter, and I shall be.”

He moved his hand in a barely there motion and the body broke free of its invisible bonds, hanging precariously over the dinner table.

“My loyal followers," he says with a sadistic grin, his arms outstretched. "I have a special treat for you all. A little...goft of sorts. Do you recognise our guest Severus? Mattheo?"

Mattheo raised his eyes to the upside down face. All of the Death Eaters were looking up at the captive now, as though they had been given permission to show curiosity. As she revolved to face the firelight, the woman said in a cracked and terrified voice, “Severus! Help me!”

It was her. The one they were tasked with finding. It was Charity Burbage.

Remus had staggered back when Mattheo finished telling them as much as he could without keeling over from the pain. But the message was clear: the mission to get Harry to Headquarters safely had been thwarted in more ways than they had anticipated; there was evidently a spy in their ranks and Remus couldn't help but think back bitterly to the first time around, his mind filled with the constant 'what ifs' that haunted him with every second that passed without Sirius by his side.

"We need to go forward with the back up plan." Mad Eye said gruffly, his mechanical eye sending shivers down your spine as it zeroed in on you. Mattheo's eyes narrowed, his hand, which rested on your thigh under the table, tightened with anticipation.

"I was under the impression that confusing the dates was the so-called back up plan for whatever it is you lot are scheming." He says, voice low from the excersion of fighting the Dark Mark plastered on his left arm, its curse prowling through his bloodstream like a viper waiting to strike.

"Meadow will be joining us on the mission." Made Eye says, choosing to ignore the seething heir sat opposite him.

Mattheo slams his fist on the table, before he points his finger angrily towards the Auror. "Like hell she is! You heard what I said. They plan to ambush you. She will not be put in harm's way."

"Her power is vital to us. We need her to protect Harry." Mad Eye argues back with equal ferosity, ignoring the way the others around the table watch with wide eys.

"No." Mattheo says with so much finality and malice, making the veins in his neck bulge and the fury in his eyes to ignite. You can feel his anger in your core, and you know nothing will calm him until he gets what he wants.

You make eye contact with Remus, who sits uncomfortably beside his comrade, and drown out the hurls of insults flying out of your boyfriend's mouth as you speak to him.

What will I have to do, if I agree? You ask, brows furrowed with nerves.

You would follow along with the rest of us, disguised as Harry using polyjuice potion. You and six others, so we can confuse the Death Eaters away from the real Harry. Remus tells you and you nod your head in acknowledgment; only Pansy is the one to notice the exchange amongst the shouting match that had transpired between Mattheo and Mad Eye Moody.

"What would Meadow have to do?" she asks, ignoring the way Mattheo's stare cuts through her like a knife. "No one can know that she's the siphon, so how will you protect her while protecting Potter?"

"She won't need protecting because she's not going anywhere." Mattheo seethes at his friend, who merely rolls her eyes at him.

"She is her own person Mattheo. Let Meadow decide for herself." Pansy snaps back, causing Mattheo to pause and turn to you.

You're sat silently, eyes focused only on Remus as he explains the plan in great detail to you. He admires you for a brief moment, drinking in the slope of your nose, the rosiness of your cheeks and the way your lips part in concentration. Mattheo's hand resting gently on your shoulder knocks your focus from your old professor.

"I'll do it." You say, your tone dripping with a certainty that would not be shaken. Mattheo bristles in his place. "Under one condition."

"Anything, Meadow." Remus says softly, his scarred face alight with gratitude.

"Harry cannot know." You say and hold up a hand when Remus tries to interrupt. "He can't. He doesn't trust me. If he sees me there's a high probability that he refuses to leave the Dursleys' home."

"How do you suggest we go about it then?" Mad Eye asks with a frustrated grunt.

"The final safehouse, between Surrey and the Burrow is Headquarters." You say, ignoring the looks from your friends. "The Death Eaters will no doubt suspect that so send me there. Don't send me to the Burrow."

"It's doable." Remus muses with a thoughtful expression.

"There are things in Grimmauld Place that Harry will need. I'll retrieve them for you to give to him at the wedding." you say, brushing your hands off of your trousers before moving to stand.

"You'll be at the wedding, Meadow." Remus says, but the way he's looking at you says he understands your hesitation.

After a moment of silence, Mad Eye is the one to speak.

"Then it's settled. Welcome to your first official induction into the Order Miss Meadow."

~∞~

surprise!!!!! im back baby!!!

a short and (not so?) sweet chapter for you lovely people! im so sorry ive left the story for so long but its a new year, and i have new aspirations that include actually finishing my works (😵‍💫) so more chapters to come!!

fair warning: we're entering deathly hallows territory so its gonna be angst central!!!!!

ive missed matty and meadow so much but i can't wait to do their story justice and im sorry this one was so short but honestly im enjoying building any and all suspense soooo....

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

@supersecretsamm @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff

@babeylover @thejadeazalea @nicoleeblossom @adhxmoony

@dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf

@devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira @foxboyapologist @lafrone @lovely-maryj

@nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @dracygf @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora @lantsovheiress @emiliahoward @stunkbiggu @vcosette

@prongsprincessworld @mattiesgirl

@rachmmb @x-kermit-x @sun-fiower-seed @cas-planet @certaindreampost

@weirdowithnobeardo @mikalovesicecream @rafeycameronsgf

@rainy-darling @faeriepigeons

@lovely-blackinnon @hiireadstuff

@gimalo135 @elsafromcabinsix @moonlightreader649 @blueshome

@nopedefe @spencerreidsthings

@navs-bhat @agent-tempest

@magimtz23 @y0urm0m12

@sbrn0905 @leona-hawthorne

@whatsupb18

#serendipity series #slytherin boys #harry potter #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you

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p4r4no1danarchist · 2 months ago

Text

Wu hates music, it was loud and obnoxious. A waste of time in his opinion, he could be using that time he spent listening to that nonsense doing other things.

Wu hates music. Some of it was alright, like the kind Lily showed him. Classical, she called it. Her and her husband loved to listen to it, dancing to the rhythm with loving smiles as they looked at eachother. He could never understand it when they got Wu to join them, they knew he doesn't like music and yet they still included him...

Wu hates music, it reminds him of what once was- the very thing he craves more than anything else. A time when life was alright. Sometimes he still listened to the songs after the funeral, but it was never the same. It hurts.

Wu really hates music. Why can't Cole understand that? It's gotten worse since, for some gods awful reason he gave Cole that old record player. His student spent weeks of precious training time fixing it, playing music on it and fixing it more.

Wu can't stand music. He tried to explain this to Cole, but he just looks at his master with a smile and says everyone likes music, it's what links people together. Wu just hasn't found his taste yet... Lily used to say the same thing.

Wu likes some music. Cole was right, some songs grew on him. They spent training time listening to all kinds of music on the old vinal player Wu had found in his attic and later gifted to Cole. They listened to alot of Jazz to the point Wu found himself humming the songs as he helped Cole work on his form.

Wu loves music. It's the first thing he found that connects with his students the easiest. His music tastes have changed so much yet they still keep going back to those old jazz records, now worn and well loved. But now they also listen to rock, and classical, and even some metal and folk songs since Nya and Kai have joined.

Maybe Lily was right. Music really is a link between people.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #kai jiang #jay walker #nya jiang #cole brookstone #sensei wu #zane julien #lloyd garmadon

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fanbasetwo · 21 days ago

Text

Ꮺ . , BEING ENEMIES WITH WONBIN !!

NOTE FROM SENA , (this is a fic in a headcanon manner) first wonbin work lesss gaurr , MASTERLIST!!

i. THE BEGINNING OF A SILLY FEUD

Your rivalry with Wonbin started over the most ridiculous thing ever: his best friend stealing a strawberry from your best friend’s lunchbox in 3rd grade.

Your best friend cried for hours about the betrayal, and you decided it was your duty to avenge her. Naturally, this meant you had to hate Wonbin by association.

“You’re friends with a thief!” you’d declared with the confidence only an indignant child could muster.

“It’s just a strawberry! You’re crazy,” Wonbin had retorted, rolling his eyes.

And from then on, you two were sworn enemies. Even as the years passed, the petty grudge somehow persisted, growing into something you didn’t even know how to stop.

ii. HIGH SCHOOL : THE RIVALRY EVOLVES

By high school, the rivalry had become an unspoken rule. If there was a chance to one-up or annoy each other, you both took it without hesitation.

During group projects, you’d fight over ideas until the teacher had to separate you.

If he scored higher than you on a test, he’d make sure you knew about it: “Better luck next time,” he’d say with a smug grin.

If you beat him in a game during gym class, you’d make a point to celebrate a little too enthusiastically, just to watch his annoyed reaction.

Your classmates were so used to the bickering that they didn’t even bat an eye anymore. “Oh, it’s just Y/n and Wonbin being Y/n and Wonbin.”

iii. THE MILK INCIDENT

The rivalry reached its peak when you heard a rumor that Wonbin had bullied one of your friends. Furious, you decided to confront him in the most dramatic way possible—by dumping a carton of milk over his head during lunch.

The cafeteria went silent as everyone turned to stare. Wonbin froze, milk dripping from his hair as he looked at you with wide eyes.

“What the hell was that for?!” he finally asked, his voice sharp and low.

“For my friend, you jerk!” you shouted back, feeling righteous in your actions.

Later, your friend admitted she’d lied, and you were mortified. But by then, the damage was done—Wonbin refused to talk to you, and you could feel his cold gaze whenever you crossed paths in the hallways.

iv. FAILED ATTEMPTS TO APOLOGIZE

Guilt gnawed at you, so you decided to apologize. Writing a note felt like the easiest option since facing him seemed impossible.

“I’m sorry for the milk thing. I overreacted. Can we talk?” you wrote, slipping the note into his locker before rushing away.

The next day, you saw him take the note out, glance at it, and toss it in the trash without even opening it. You felt your blood boil. How dare he ignore me like that?!

v. CORNERING HIM AFTER CLASS

The silent treatment pushed you to the edge. After one particularly tense class, you followed Wonbin out and grabbed him by the collar, shoving him against a wall.

“Why are you acting like this? I said I was sorry!” you snapped, glaring up at him.

He looked down at you, completely unfazed. “You think one sorry note fixes everything?” he shot back, his tone sharp.

“What else do you want me to do? Get on my knees and beg?”

“You could try thinking before you act for once,” he said, his words hitting harder than you expected.

vi. THE UNEXPECTED KISS

The argument grew more heated, voices rising as you both vented years of pent-up frustration.

“You’re so infuriating!” you shouted, your grip tightening on his collar.

“You’re not exactly a walk in the park either!” he retorted, leaning closer as if challenging you.

In a moment of pure impulsive anger, you yanked him down by his uniform collar and kissed him hard.

For a split second, he froze, but then his hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer as he kissed you back with equal intensity. It was messy, fiery, and charged with all the unresolved tension between you two.

vii. THE AFTERMATH

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, foreheads pressed together.

Wonbin smirked, his lips still inches from yours. “Still hate you,” he murmured, but the teasing edge in his voice felt softer, almost playful.

“Good,” you muttered back, even though your heart was racing.

viii. A SHIFT IN THE DYNAMIC

After that kiss, things between you and Wonbin were… different. The bickering continued, but now there was an underlying tension that neither of you could ignore.

He started teasing you more often, but his comments were laced with a new kind of warmth.

“Don’t trip over your own feet,” he’d say during gym class, but his smirk would linger a little longer than usual.

You found yourself glancing at him in class, wondering if he was thinking about the kiss as much as you were.

ix. NEW “RIVALRY” RULES

The “hate” between you two started feeling more like a game. When he scored higher than you on a test, you’d roll your eyes but secretly smile at his smug expression.

When you outperformed him in a group activity, he’d groan dramatically but give you a subtle nod of approval.

Your friends noticed the shift immediately. “Are you two… flirting?” one of them asked during lunch.

“Flirting? With him? Never,” you scoffed, but the blush on your cheeks gave you away.

x. THE UNSPOKEN TRUTH

Neither of you openly acknowledged what had happened in that hallway, but it was clear that something had changed.

You still pretended to hate each other, but the lingering glances and subtle smiles told a different story.

And though you’d never admit it out loud, you didn’t really hate Wonbin anymore. If anything, you might actually like him. But for now, you were content to keep playing the game—because that’s just how things were with you and Wonbin.

join my taglist by sending an ask or commenting here <3

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oddthumbswetsleeves · 2 months ago

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Hiding - Oneshot

Inspired by this post by @crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington <3

“Have you heard from B today?”

Elita-1 looked up from her datapad at her former-incompetent-subordinate turned leader. He looked stressed, or maybe nervous? It was hard to tell ever since he received the matrix.

“No. I haven’t seen him since the last time he messed up putting the supplies in storage.’ She looked back at the forms she was filling out. “He’s probably avoiding us cause he’s embarrassed.

“Embarrassed?” Optimus sounded confused. Elita realised she had neglected to tell the prime about B’s latest incident.

“He put a lot of the supplies he was sorting into the wrong places. I mean, seriously! I gave him possibly the easiest job I could have, and he still messed it up.” Optimus didn’t look like her answer had put him at ease. “He’ll be fine. If he’s embarrassed it might teach him to listen a little more.”

“Just-“ They met optics, “Tell me if you see him, or if you can get through to him. He won’t answer my comms.” He sighed. “I’m worried.”

He definitely looked nervous now.

“Yeah, sure.” Elita went back to reading. Optimus was silent for a moment, as if he wanted to say something else, but left quickly.

Once he was out of audial-range she tried B-127’s comm, certain Optimus was exaggerating. B never missed an opportunity to blabber.

“B”

Nothing

“B-127, respond.”

Still nothing

“B, this isn’t funny. Answer me.”

Silence

Elita never thought she would be able to use that word to describe the yellow bot. She started feeling slightly worried before it was replaced with something else.

How dare he hide away from his duties as an Autobot because he was embarrassed. He wasn’t the only one struggling with his new status. Being the Autobot commander and essentially second-in-command of Cybertron was exhausting. Every moment she wasn’t recharging or refuelling she was working. B was not going to get away with skirting his duties.

She was gonna find him.

Where the frag was he?

Elita had spent nearly half the orn asking around for the little mech. No one had seen him since she had. Not Jazz, not Ratchet, not even Prowl, who was usually aware of all Autobot activity. The other scouts had gibed her about B-127’s unrivalled skills in what they called “Extreme Hide and Seek”.

“If B’s hiding from you there’s no chance you’ll find him” one taunted. Primus, she hated being around the scouts, nosy bunch.

“Wait, why do you think he’s hiding from me?”

“Why else would you be looking for him? He’s told us about how busy you are.” Another one answered.

“Well, you’re not helping!” She stormed off before they could peeve her off more.

Elita was definitely getting hangry, so she decided to stop to get energon before anyone could risk mentioning it to her. Everyone had really been enjoying the abundance of it. The decreasing rations had been affecting the cogless bots hard. She remembered after being transferred to waste management seeing how some of the supervisors were stealing others rations off the delivery lines for themselves. That was one of the first things she fixed, especially since many of the bots on lower levels didn’t leave their stations during their breaks. Mostly the bots on the sub-

The sub-levels

“The best hiding spots are ones that other bots don’t know exist.” B-127 told her that once while he was training to be a scout. He was mostly talking about places that taller bots couldn’t get to, but almost no one knew about the 10 extra sub-levels.

“Scrap”

The elevator rattled more the lower it went. It was also getting noticeably hotter. The doors opened and after stepping out they surprisingly didn’t close behind her. Strange. She didn’t say anything at first, trying to hear any noise that wasn’t coming from the furnace.

She felt isolated.

Even though Elita knew she could contact anyone she wanted instantly, there was just something about the room emanated loneliness, but B had to be here.

She looked around. The room was small, nothing besides the furnace, the conveyor belt, and the trash chute.

Unless…

One of the walls seemed to have a handle, and when she moved it... Another room! She pushed it over.

What on Cybertron?

The walls were lined with multicolour string lights. The room had a table and chairs, but in the chairs were 3 piles of trash. They were kind of bot shaped. She guessed one of these were what “Steve” was, who Orion supposedly killed and D-16 insisted wasn’t real. Primus this guy was weird. Just before she turned away, she saw it. There was something golden-yellow barely poking up from behind the table. Elita had to stop herself from groaning. Some hiding expert he was.

“B” He didn’t move. Elita crossed her arms.

“B-127 I can see you.” He slowly ducked out of view. Elita’s face scrunched up, “Get out here right now or so help me, I will drag you back up to Iacon by your finials.”

The bot cautiously stood up, looking anywhere except her face. Neither one said anything for a few moments. Elita tapped her finger against her arm, making sure B could hear it. He still did not say anything. Elita started feeling nervous again, B didn’t even recharge this quietly. She wouldn’t show it though, he wasn’t getting any pity from her.

“Well?” she prompted.

“Why are you down here?” He asked quietly.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Elita leaned forward, but B still didn’t look up. “Why are you hiding? Do you think I’ll just forget your screw-up if I don’t see you for a few orns?”

“I’m not hiding. You know I’m here now, you can go back to work.” He fidgeted with his servos.

“What, so you can keep sulking here?”

“I’m not sulking.” His voice was low, but a bit rough.

Had he been crying?

“Then why are you down here?”

“You were really mad at me the last time I messed up. You said I was running out of chances.”

“So?” Her gaze steeled. His breath hitched.

Was he going to cry again?

“Well, that’s what supervisors used to say to me before I would get demoted” their optics met, “and you were a supervisor…”

“So, you came down here?” She gripped her arms a bit tighter.

“I’ve never had a boss who was my friend before.” He looked down at his servos, still keeping his voice low. “I just didn’t want to see your face when you decided to give up on me.” Fluid dripped from his optics.

“Give up?” Her voice was suddenly much softer. She cleared her throat. “Why would you think I’d give up on you? We’re friends, you said it yourself.”

“Megatron was Optimus’ friend, and he dropped him to the centre of Cybertron.”

Elita felt a pang in her spark. That might have been the scariest moment of her life, including everything that happened leading up to it. B had been the one to stop her from trying to grab Orion as he plummeted. In the frenzy she might have fallen after him. B had probably saved her life.

She was definitely failing to hide her pity now.

They were both silent for a while, the furnace rumbling softly behind her. Elita sighed and walked around the table. B shrunk under her gaze. This was the first time she had ever felt bad about making a subordinate scared of her. She put her servos on his shoulders, taking care to be gentle, and bent down slightly to be at optic level with the scout.

He was definitely crying.

Elita wrapped her arms around him tightly. He tentatively moved his servos up to her back. She felt him shake.

“Are you not mad at me?” B’s voice quivered. She sighed, squeezing tighter.

“I’m not sure I am anymore.” Letting go to hold his shoulders again. He sniffled and she moved her servos to cup his face. “Why haven’t you answered any comms? Optimus is practically beside himself.”

“I didn’t know you guys were calling me.”

“What?! Is your commlink broken?” She turned his helm to look at his audials. He pulled her servos away from his face. They had tears on them.

“No.” He looked towards the furnace. “I’m pretty sure no signals reach down here from the surface.

Elita’s face scrunched. She turned away, reaching a digit up to her commlink.

“Optimus, come in.”

No response. She swore quietly.

“We’re going back to Iacon before the boss starts pulling walls down to find you.” She held her servo out. B hesitated.

“He’s looking for me?”

“Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be?” B tapped his pedes nervously.

“I thought you guys were kinda fed up of me.” Elita chose not to address that. She grabbed his servo and pulled him towards the elevator. It was still open.

“How come these doors didn’t close behind me?”

“Cause they don’t open from this side. It’s so if somebot comes down here to get something they won’t get stuck.”

“But that means…” Her spark sank in her chassis.

“Yeah, I can’t call the elevator.”

She stared at him. She felt the rage she frequently had for Sentinel and his lackeys build up.

“So you planned on staying down here forever?” B started wringing his servos again.

“I dunno”

“Well how would you have come back up if I hadn’t found you here?”

“Optimus, Megatron and I climbed up through the chute.” He pointed at it. “I probably could have done that again.”

“Would you have?”

B didn’t answer.

“You’re coming back to Iacon with me.” She put a servo on his shoulder. “I cleared my schedule when I went looking for you so we can do whatever you want, ok?” She led him into the lift. He shrugged. “There are a couple movies I’ve been too busy to watch. We can watch them in my quarters if you want.”

“Sure” He smiled for the first time since she found him.

“We do have to go see Prime first. I’m a bit worried he has actually turned headquarters upside down in my absence.” B giggled. Elita felt a weight lift off her spark. Once the elevator started moving, she pulled him into another hug, more forcefully this time.

“Never scare me like that again, or I will actually kill you.”

“Okay”

#transformers one #b 127 #bumblebee #elita one #oneshot #angsty #sorry B no knife hands in this one #everyone does think you’re cool though #promise #fanfic

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