I’m Fine

Let’s Do It (Let’s Fall in Love)

Masterlist

Pairing: Roger Taylor x OC 

Theme: Fluff 

Word Count: 3100+

Written for the @bowieandqueen11 fluff writing challenge! This was such a great idea and I had so much fun writing this. I’ve got a LOT of ideas so if people enjoy this I might actually make it a multipart fic. 

My prompt was: “It’s you. You’re the one I love.” Enjoy! 

Brian had been the one to introduce them. He and Genevieve had met during their first year at University, and although Roger had heard her name several times, it took over a year to meet the illusive redhead. That changed late one night in November, when Brian had finally decided to bring her to the flat while Roger was home. She’d been a little shy, returning his wide welcoming grin with one a little more muted and uncertain, but after the first bottle of wine had been finished she’d loosened up a little. They’d ended up sharing the cramped loveseat together while Brian had curled up in the armchair opposite, and as their shoulders bumped and he heard her laughter, Roger swore he felt giddy, but he blamed it on the alcohol.

They drank late into the night, until she started to slump back against the couch cushions, looking between him and Brian through heavy lidded eyes, and they decided it was time to sort out sleeping arrangements. The three had drunkenly argued over who would be sleeping where - Brian obviously couldn’t sleep on the loveseat, and even she would have been uncomfortable in it. Finally, after realising none of them would be able to get a half decent night’s sleep in the living room, she’d proposed sharing a bed with one of them. Brian had locked eyes with Roger over her head - he knew what his flatmate was like - and had suggested Genevieve take his room before stumbling off down towards his room ahead of her, bouncing off the walls of the corridor like a ping pong ball. She and Roger had watched him go with matched looks of bemusement, before she bid him goodnight and followed the lanky guitarist. Roger had paused in his doorway as she approached Brian’s room, stopping just shy of the threshold. He’d seen her nose wrinkle in distaste.

“What is it?” He asked, keeping his voice soft. There was a pause, and then a giggle as she turned to face him.

“Brian snores.” She whispered, and sure enough, as Roger got closer he realised he could hear the telltale snores of a very drunk Brian, who’d apparently passed out as soon as he’d stumbled into his room.

Inviting her to sleep in his room had just been the gentlemanly thing to do, at the time. When he jerked his thumb in the direction of his silent bedroom it had been completely innocuous, but when he woke up just before six, his arms wrapped around her and her back pressed up against his chest, it felt a whole lot less innocent. During the night they’d ended up spooning, so when he woke his nose was pressed into soft auburn curls, arms wrapped loosely around her waist as he anchored her to him. As she shifted in her sleep, burying her face into the pillow, Roger felt her hips swivel a little, her ass grinding back into him, and somewhere in his still-drunk mind the thought emerged to ask if she fancied a quick shag.

Bad idea, Taylor. He scolded himself. Friends don’t fuck their roommate’s friends.

Instead, he closed his eyes and settled back into the mattress, her hair tickling his nose as he pulled her a little closer, more out of habit than anything. Not that he would have told anyone, but waking up with someone curled up in his arms was one of his favourite things in the world.

They didn’t speak about that night for a long time. Brian had no idea Genevieve had spent the night in Roger’s room instead of his - he was the last to wake up and stumble into the kitchen, where she had already prepared a pot of coffee, which she and Roger were sharing as they nursed their hangovers. When he asked her if she slept well, his back to them as he rooted around in the fridge, he missed the sly smile she and Roger shared over their coffee cups.

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She’s a Fighter

PAIRING: Regulus Black x Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

A/N: After reading He loves her by @/cryonme, I was super inspired to write something similar about reader standing up for her man. Regulus is my absolute love and he deserves the world. Reg’s first fic <33

There was a good reason that you delayed telling Sirius about your relationship with the youngest Black brother. For Sirius, it was hard to believe Regulus could be anything like loving, caring, or even remotely kind. The fact that he pulled you amazes him. But it pisses him off even more.

In his eyes, you could do so much better. You know better though.

After awhile, James and Remus got used to you hanging out with him after class and on the weekends. You only have one class together, but since Remus is also in there, he likes to spy on you sometimes. Of course they were skeptical at first since they don’t really know him all that well and they only know of what Sirius has said. But that’s almost the exact reason you started talking to him.

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Hi hi! Okay so those song prompts are magnificent. How about ‘17. And at once I knew, I was not magnificent - Holocene, Bon Iver’

It would be good to have something where Aemond l sees the reader for the first time at a ball or something and his own little view that he is superior to others comes crashing down because he is in absolute awe of her? Feel free to alter/tweak/change whatever!

thank you so much @littlemisscaptainfandom ! i ran wild with this one. feral. i love the idea of aemond being outplayed because of his smugness, and the ball idea - enjoy!

request a song prompt!

Magnificent

Warnings: Aemond being in deep denial lmao WC: 3333 (nice)

Prompt 17: "And at once I knew, I was not magnificent" - Holocene, Bon Iver

He heard you long before he saw you – the uneven heel clacking of a noble’s daughter who had shirked one too many dance lessons. 

“No,” he heard a lilting voice laugh, impatiently. “Like this - right foot second, you dolt.”

Dolt indeed – the instruction was lost on the girl, whoever in the Seven she was. Yet another sacrificial lamb to lure the unwed dragon into marriage, no doubt. Even with one eye and a turned back, Aemond could practically smell her family’s pathetic attempt at temptation – a corset two sizes too small and a family ambition two leagues too large. 

The prince didn’t deign to watch the scene. He preferred the game of gleaning, observation – seeing without seeing. Creating the tapestry in his mind and tracing the threads to know which to pull to watch it all unravel. It had long been said by the Maesters that when one loses a sense, the others bolster themselves, and indeed, all he had to do was listen.

Aemond heard the Dolt relinquish a dramatic sigh. “It seems that I simply must retire to the fray then Elyana, lest I bring shame upon our most noble house.” 

The younger – Elyana – huffed.

“It would be wise. How father expects to make you a dragon bride, I will never know. You cannot dance, or sing, or embroider –” 

“Yes, and lest we forget my stunning lack of maternal instinct,” you lamented. “Remember when Darya’s little one bit me?”

Aemond smiled – smug, slight, vulpine. He was right, of course, as he always was. 

The sudden sound of shattered glass upon flagstones jerked Aemond out of his wager. He acted on instinct, as he always did, head whipping towards the drunken laughter and breaking his reverie. Behind him indeed stood two girls, as different as the sun and moon. The younger, dressed in fine lilac gossamer and silver, swiftly began to chase the bard and beg for another song. 

And then there was you. Aemond’s eye roamed your figure, appraising the rich, dark olive of your gown and its deep, square neckline – Braavosi velvet, he’d wager, a show of wealth to have such long sleeves of the stuff. A little demure for an attempted seduction, he mused. Perhaps her family thought to appeal to mother’s piousness. 

The prince would never admit that this was the longest he had stared at a woman. He simply wanted to improve his skill of gleaning, listening, to compare the observations he made with the reality before him. It was imperative to absorb every detail; the way that your gold pendant heaved with your shallow, shocked breathing, and the sliver of hair resting on your cheek. There was a power in your tensed shoulders - coiled, reactive, ready for the threat of weight. Aemond felt his fingers twitch against his will, a yearning to carry it for you. 

He snapped himself back to reality with an internal grimace - the dragon cannot lie with the lamb. The music had begun again, and you finally turned towards him, face blanching at his discovered proximity. 

“Prince Aemond,” you started, eyes wide, muscles coiled – caught in the courtly snare. 

The lamb is too stunned to curtsey, he mused, watching your quick fingers wringing the golden band on your thumb. You certainly were the most radiant of the sacrifices offered to him so far. Though, he parried, there would be little use in marrying a fool.

Aemond hummed, relishing in your panic for a few seconds longer than any decent gentleman would.

“I’m half-blind, not half-deaf,” he said lowly, taking a step closer. “One would do well to be wary of the court, my lady. You never know who might be listening.” 

Your eyes narrowed imperceptibly – a flash of something Aemond didn’t quite recognise, gone as quickly as it appeared. Idiots have trouble accepting their transgressions, he supposed, but her polite smile had something hidden behind it, like the dark side of the moon. Deep within the tides of the fray, Alicent observed the scene with a ghost of a smile. She watched the girl hide fire and intelligence in her muscles like a coiled serpent, and bitterly wished that she had the same instinct as a girl. Perhaps then she could have avoided her fate of staring at ceilings and dancing with dragons.

Her prayer was silent as she observed you, implored with eyes instead of the tongue: Keep buying your time, sweet girl. Her second son was much too perceptive not to see through your mummer’s moronity eventually – she could already see Aemond’s eye probing your mask.

“Aemond,” the Queen beckoned with a regal nod of her head.

Time. She thought, noting the way your minds danced around each other, palpable. Love matches were rare, mind matches even more so – but she could see the way you looked at one another. Time and choice. She would gift you the mercy the gods denied her. 

The prince pried his eye away from you with great effort, waiting for you to answer him. You remained silent, gaze unwavering.

Interesting. He conceded as he walked towards his mother. For a dolt.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Your eyes narrowed through the dim candlelight. The crowd ebbed and heaved like fresh seafoam, and you searched for your sister, your anchor in the waves, like the Oldtown lightower would a lost ship. In truth, you felt uneasy without Ely, your sworn shield against courtly attentions. It had been like this ever since you were children – a symbiotic relationship, the tide to your moon. She would sing and whirl through your father’s halls, a gossamer dervish, drawing the attention to herself and leaving you free to pursue your histories and hidden halls, and hone your sharp tongue.

You finally spotted the girl by a large table of ale, humouring a dark haired young lord who had not yet grown into his long limbs. You weaved your way through the crowd to reach her, forming a courtly, waxen smile to begin your manoeuvre. 

“Sister!” You gasped, watching Elyana’s dark eyes twinkle as she recognised your ruse. “Mother requires you at once–” You cocked your head, silently wondering how every little lord fell for it. “Something about Ser Randyll?” 

The little lord – Arryn, you’d wager by his gleaming brooch – blanched at the sight of your mother in deep conversation with Lord Reyne and his son. You stifled a laugh watching his chest puff up slightly at the challenge – your work was done. You pried your sister away from the little falcon’s talons, barely managing to stifle your laughing fit until he was out of earshot. 

“Seven hells, Y/N, it took you long enough!” she huffed, preening over your shoulder to make sure that the young Lord Lannister hadn’t seen the exchange and think her spoken for. She had always been a romantic, excessively so, even for her six and ten years.

You pinched her dimpled cheek with a grin. “That’s for having far too much mirth in calling me a dolt earlier.” 

Elyana rolled her eyes, batting your hand away. “It was your grand strategy, if I recall.”

“Yes, and I accounted for the pinch.” You said wickedly, before surveying the hall.

“A job well done I’d say, The Prince heard our performance. I even refused to curtsey. He’ll no doubt relay my idiocy to the Queen, and we’ll be home in no time at all.” 

Elyana regarded you pensively, gently taking hold of your hand. Her gentleness felt like a cage to you, sometimes – perceptive, inescapable. “You know you will have to marry one day.” 

Your sister watched your eyes flutter, soaking in your surroundings like a sponge. Your reply was barely audible over the internal hum of your own thoughts. “Not like this.” 

You had decided that long ago. You knew you couldn’t escape a married fate – all women were cursed with the knowledge of how their lives would go from the moment they stepped into their first etiquette lesson with the septa. But, if you were to be married, it would be on your terms.

Impossible, father often branded you, but always with a fond smile.  If you could not escape your fate, you would fiercely guard the little time you had with your freedom as the kingsguard would protect the king.

Though sometimes, when alone in the vespertine hush of your chambers, you could admit the presence of a longing in yourself, a desire to be seen for who you were by whoever you might be sold off to. Such longing is dangerous, you told yourself. Expect the swing of the sword, never mercy. Especially if you found yourself drawn to the wielder like a moth to flame – you were lucky to have honed your courtly mask so well upon seeing his handsome face. Though you had heard takes of the “one-eyed brute”, there was little account of  the beautiful shadow his cheekbones cast, and his knowing, surveying gaze. 

Your sister pulled you out of your thoughts, head nodding to a balcony alcove. She knew the price you paid for duty as the eldest. “Go. Take your refuge. I’ll be with mother.” 

You offered her a tired, grateful smile before wading through the crowd towards your sanctuary, too close to paradise to be aware of the shark circling. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t as though Aemond had been watching you. Mother had always taught him to be an attentive host - he was merely cultivating good will, bolstering support for the war to come. He watched you grab your third - no, fourth - glass of wine, an irritated huff escaping his nose. He supposed there was little use in lying to himself any longer - he felt pulled to you the same way he felt called to the skies. Perhaps this was the lust that seemed to drive Aegon to the depths of Fleabottom every night - maddening.

The more he watched you, the more his one good eye narrowed in bewilderment. Supposedly too dim to follow a septa’s simple instruction and notice the ears of court, yet cunning enough to weave your way through this nest of dancing vipers and their hungry sons. You could redirect the attention of a young lord with a single word, and charm your father with the raise of an eyebrow. You moulded the scenes that unfolded around you, parrying dance requests with a skill he’d only seen with Ser Cole and his morningstar. 

So why the overt blundering before him?  He leaned against the pillar, pensive. The only rational explanation he could fathom was that you had heard stories of him and thought to demean yourself as a marriage prospect. The prince scowled. Of course. What woman such as her would want a one-eyed beast as a husband?  Aemond felt his insides twist and his fingers twitch, barely containing the ire towards himself. 

Despite your repulsion of him, Aemond felt his curiosity turning ravenous in his stomach as he watched you approach your sister. He could not help but want to map you as The Conqueror once did his lands – even if you did not want him, he could watch your mind work from afar. So watch he did, as your sister held your hand in hers like water. He mapped it all to memory – your hushed words, the steely set of your eyes and jaw, your deceptive smile; a sliver of his favourite crescent moon.

The hour was late and the candles burnt low. Nobody would begrudge any of the young ladies for retiring for the night – the young Tyrell girl had already sunk so far into her cups that she had to be carried to her chambers like an overwatered rose. Yet there you slithered to the alcove, alone, alert with empty company and a full cup. 

Aemond had begun to follow you long before his mind registered the movement of his legs. He followed your trail through the flurry of bright skirts, drunk on the hunt. His long legs strode with a purpose that was lost to his conscious mind, stopping when he reached the boundary of the lush, red drapery. Aemond stood outside of your sanctuary for a long while before breaching it, in an act that almost reminded him of protection. From what, he did not know. A mangled dragon guarding its hoard, he thought wryly, before stepping onto the balcony with the silence of a predator. 

The prince wasn’t sure what he expected. A maiden in tears after being shunned at court, perhaps – he wasn’t sure how far you’d go to keep up the show. But there you were, in the furthest corner of the alcove, with your elbows on the dark stone and your eyes to the stars. He glanced at your now-empty cup before clearing his throat. 

You sighed imperceptibly before turning to face him. So you knew I was here, then. The thought made him hide a smile - the idea of you sensing his presence and ignoring him anyway, even if you tried to hide that fact. Insolent. He thought. Magnificent.

You bowed this time, with a tired, chagrin smile - an apology for earlier. “Forgive me, my Prince. It has been a while since my sister and I have been in the capital. The intricacies of court politics appear to be lost on me.”  

Aemond hummed, ignoring the way his innards clenched - my prince. He rather liked the sound of that. “Yet not so unhoned that you managed to avoid that Lannister whelp,” he paused, brow raised. It made him feel less shame to know he was not the only one you rebuked. “Not to mention that little Manderly lordling.” 

The Prince enjoyed watching you war with yourself - needing to keep your shield up, yet too tired and full of ire to keep up the ruse for much longer. 

“Evading them hardly requires a honed mind, my Prince.” You snorted. A clever answer. He thought. Too clever. 

“Aemond.” He corrected. You narrowed your eyes at him, suspicious.  “If I am to play along with your farce, let the rest of it be real.” He amended, making his way next to you but never prying his eye away.

You breathed a laugh, toying with your rings again. “You see more with one eye than most do with two, Aemond.”

The prince hummed. “It is of little consequence. They still brand me “one-eye” after all.”

“Little,” you snorted again, a glorious sound. Real, he thought, the soft skin of your hand calling him as your voice did. Real enough to touch. “Perhaps everything seems little to the rider of the largest dragon alive.”

The mention of Vhagar earnt you a small smile - a true one that you couldn’t quite look away from. Somehow you knew that it was Aemond’s version of a face-splitting grin.

You basked in comfortable silence for a while, noting how he had placed you on his right side – away from his eyepatch. The revelation made you frown, but left your vision unobstructed. It gave you a better look at the way his hair fell, an estuary of molten silver. You committed his profile to memory - the sharp edges that were strong, true, until he suddenly met your eyes. For once, you were speechless - the lush darkness of the night and the sweet smell of gardenias were suddenly oppressive.

“I really can’t dance, you know.” You blurted. 

Aemond artfully raised an eyebrow in question. 

“Earlier,” you clarified. “what you heard.” You tucked your hair behind your ear with what you hoped was a self-effacing smile. “I really am a terrible dancer, it was no lie.” 

Aemond nodded grimly in understanding. “There is no need, my Lady, I understand your distaste for the match.” He stood taller, and tapped his eyepatch lightly. 

Aemond watched ten emotions cross your face at once, until you settled on the one that most puzzled him; anger. Your eyebrows furrowed deliciously, something he noticed you did before you wielded your barbed tongue, and your lips parted. He did not see how your heart caught in your throat, nor the way your hands almost sprung to hold his shoulders. You slapped your palms onto the cold stone instead.

“Gods no. No, that is,” you breathed, warring with yourself before finally conceding. “It is not you, Aemond. Nor the sapphire eye that likely costs more than my entire dowry,” you jested half-heartedly. 

You steeled yourself for honesty, looking into the sky once again and sneering in defiance at the gods who watched.  “If I am to be sold off, I at least want to choose my buyer.” 

Aemond’s gaze never left you, probing your truth as if he were caught in its net. He finally understood, and you knew he did. There was little that could be said, he thought.

Your eyes were almost crazed with a repressed frustration that was finally breaching the walls of your dutiful facade. A longing to be understood that matched his own. He saw fire – not that of ‘fire and blood’, but the fire of lightning. Beautiful, terrible, calculated in its strikes. Magnificent. 

You trembled as if to cull the rage from erupting out of you. Years of playing placater, unable to unleash the true potential of your mind and spirit. Aemond’s eye flitted down to the stone, observing the shaking of your hands.

He did the only thing he knew how to and rested his hand gently over yours, the same way he would calm Vhagar. Real, he thought. Warm. Much too warm. You calmed under his touch. He understood, you know he did – years at court culling your own ambition at the expense of duty. Aemond created the “one-eyed brute”, just as you created the “little dolt of a lamb”. 

You placed your hand over his. Horribly improper – it made you smile under the valleys of his scars and callouses. You wondered if you could map them in your mind as the maesters mapped the stars – a sky that was your own. Aemond felt your pulse thrum under his fingers and let it reverberate – his hands, his ears, his heart, his bones, it was all you. He knew you would have to leave soon enough, but for now, he would bask in you, knowing you’ve scorched him for life. 

“Aemond,” You said, hushed. “How far can a dragon fly?” You looked up to meet his faraway gaze, relishing in catching him off guard. His lips were slightly parted as he stared at your own. It took every ounce of his steel restraint not to pull you to him and show you the meaning of fire and blood. 

Instead, he hummed. “Vhagar has been known to make the trip from here to Dorne in a day, give or take - ”

He stilled at the interrupting shake of your head. If you had met his eyes, you would have noticed the questioning squint of his eye. Instead, your eyes were now trained above him, not wavering from the star-spittled sky.

“No,” you began, the gold of your necklace jingling as you craned your neck - as if the stars would be able to hear you better that way. “How high? Your maesters would not tell me.” 

Aemond stared at you for a moment, finally following your gaze upwards with a slight smile. You asked the maesters. Of course you did. The thought of you badgering them in the palace library filled him with a disturbing level of fondness. 

“Perhaps we could find out.”  

Your head whipped towards him, eyes sparkling in the dark. “We?”

Aemond hummed again, this time in affirmation as he took your hand in silent question. “If I’m steering Vhagar, who will take note of the scientific observations? Maybe you are a dolt after all, my lady.”  You squeezed his hand in your own, and your answering grin was like the sun. Magnificent.

I was all over her.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female! reader

warnings: angst, sad Aemond, minor spoilers from hotd s2 ep 2, 3, and 4, not much smut but MDNI!!

WC: 4517

summary: when the world turned their back on him, she didn’t.

Don't know what I wanted, I have a memory

Throughout Aemond’s life, he remembers how much he wanted to be seen. 

By his father,

by his mother,

by his brother,

by the whole world.

He wasn’t the heir to the throne, he didn’t have a dragon like his brothers or sister. He was weak and nothing. He spend his days being teased and bullied relentlessly by his brother and nephews. They had venomous tongues and big sharp teeth. He hated the way he is.

But when the world turned their back on him, one person remained. 

She was a Tyrell, born not long after his mother gave birth to his youngest brother Daeron. His grandsire and mother are close to her parents since the Tyrells and Hightowers are two houses that are closely related. 

When he first met her back in oldtown, he saw her as a meek and shy young girl. He hated it. Because it reminded him of himself. But his hatred grew when he saw how well she gets along with Aegon, Daeron, even Helaena. Maybe he doesn’t hate her, maybe he just hates how he’s nothing like her. 

Likeable. 

Then it all changed in one summer evening. 

He was reading at the great library of oldtown, away from the world as he read about his great ancestors of old valyria and dragons. Dragons he longed to have. Like Aegon with sunfyre, Helaena with Dreamfyre, even Daeron with Tessarion. Then he heard a thud. 

Looking back from his seat, he saw no one was in the empty library but him. 

When he returned to his book, he heard another thud. 

Shutting the book with frustration, he began to look for the source of the sound that disturbed his peace. Walking deeper between old tall shelves, he took a turn to the left and saw…her.

Younger and smaller than him, but the Tyrell girl grunts as she climbs the bookshelf. Strong but mighty. The way her silly tongue sticks out as she’s so persistent to reach a book at the tallest shelf. He cleared his throat as he looked down, noticing many books had been scattered around the floor for her to climb.

She turned to him with a surprise stare.

“Prince Aemond!” 

As a child, she squeaks like a squirrel

Aemond thought to himself.

“What are you doing up there?” Aemond asks curiously. “I..I’ve been trying to reach that book!” She says as she still tries to reach the book at the highest shelf. 

“You will hurt yourself,” Young Aemond sighs. 

“Can you help me, my prince?” she asks as she jumps down from the shelf. 

“No-“

“Please!”

“Absolutely not-“

“You’re far much taller than me!” She says pointing at his height. 

Even as children, he has always been taller than her. 

Aemond sighs, knowing what he’s about to do. 

And he did it. 

Not for his own pride, but for her.

“Oh thank you!” She thanked him with a smile when he easily reached and took the book she’s looking for. The girl hugged the huge book in her arms. “It wasn’t a big deal, whatever,” Aemond says, acting nonchalant while he dusts off his clothes. “It is though, I wouldn’t have been able to reach that book if you weren’t here!” She says with a bright smile.

Heat rose up to his cheeks. No one ever ‘relied’ on him before. 

“Biarvose,” he muttered under his breath, not wanting her to know. But she heard him and tilted her head with curiosity. “Are you speaking high valyrian? It sounds lovely! Can you teach me?!” She asks cheerfully.

“What, no I’m not-“

“Please! I want to at least learn something new!” The girl says excitedly. Before he could answer, she grabbed his arm and dragged him to their seats in front of the fireplace. “I’m a fast learner, I promise!” She says as she sits down beside him with a smile.

Can’t believe he’s doing this.

But…it felt nice. The way she wanted him to teach her. She could’ve asked Aegon or Daeron…yet she chose him. 

“It’s…”

He mentioned her name. He liked how her name rolled off his tongue.

“…Tyrell, right?”

She nods. 

And since that day, and for the whole summer he taught her high valyrian in the library. Word by word, he was patient to teach her. He hates to admit it but she actually was a fast learner. 

She was his first true friend.

She was the first person who makes him feel like he has a purpose in life. 

Until they took his eye.

Just a year after he knew her, by the time he turned 10 he had claimed Vhagar, the largest and oldest dragon in Westeros. But for a price, which was his eye.

He became the same boy who hated the world. 

Never came back to oldtown or any places except the red keep. Afraid what the world might say about him. How ugly he looked with his scar, one of his eye missing, but most of all he was afraid of what SHE might say about him. Afraid of rejection, how she’ll stop spending time with him.

His thoughts were interrupted when his mother came inside his chambers. Bringing in the young Tyrell. 

“Aemond, she’s here to see you,” Alicent says, in a slight pleading tone. For he has shut himself out from the world when the maester stitched him. It hurts and it will hurt even more if he knew that all that people will see in him was a monster. 

“Go away,” he says coldly, his chair facing away from the door.

“Are you feeling any better?” Her sweet gentle voice asks as Alicent has her arm around the little girl.

Sometimes he just wants to run and hug her for comfort. For she was his escape from this cruel world. Her optimism makes him alive. He didn’t want to lose that.

“I said go away,” his hands gripped the arms of the chair.

“I brought you-,”

“I SAID GO AWAY!” He shrieks, stepping down from his chair and throwing his cup at her direction as he turns around, accidentally showing her his scar. His true self.

Alicent quickly tried to shield the young girl as she screamed. Shielding her from him.

From him.

“Aemond!” Alicent scolded her son. 

Yet his mother’s scolding didn’t matter to him. He saw his friend’s…his only friend terrified expression. He scared her. He hurt her. Just like how the world hurt him.

He took a step back. 

“I…I’m sorry,” he says lowly before returning to his chair.

He wanted to cry. But it hurts if he does.

Then he heard slow and tiny footsteps.

And she…she placed a toy dragon at the table. As her hands tremble. 

“I carved Vhagar for you…father taught me how to carve.”

The young girl says bravely. Yet Aemond wasn’t brave enough to meet her eyes. Not after he hurt her. So he says nothing. 

“Get well soon, my prince,” she curtsied and hurriedly returned to the Queen. Leaving him alone in his cold and empty room. Only the sound of crackling fire filled the room. Aemond loved silence but this time…he hated it. 

So he reached out, taking the wooden figure of his dragon into his hands. And by the time Queen Alicent returned to his chambers, she found her son asleep in his chair.

Holding the little dragon in his hands, close to his chest.

-

Back at that party, I was all over her

The death of Prince Lucerys Velaryon was at his fault and he couldn’t deny it any more. 

Kinslayer. Thats what they call him now.

His betrothal to one of Borris Baratheon’s daughter came to an end once Vhagar snapped her sharp teeth onto Vermax’s body. No one wanted to marry a Kinslayer.

A crippled and a kinslayer. 

What a fucking combo. 

But he firmly believed that everything that has happened to him was meant to be. Because if it weren’t for it, he wouldn’t be shaped as he is now. And he has to be better. Every sword training, every lessons, and at every war..he must be the best.

But that little boy inside of him still clings onto him till this very day.

Especially when his mother mentioned her name.

For he shall now marry her to strengthen the allieagance between their house and the Tyrells. They needed this. And he shall do it for them. 

He convinced himself it wasn’t personal and he doesn’t wish to meet her and just arrange the marriage ceremony. Secretly afraid for what she’ll think of him now.

A kinslayer, a cripple…a monster.

For they have not met again since that very night in his chambers. 

And when he saw her gain at the grand sept for their wedding, may the gods help him. 

She has grown into a woman. Not a young child anymore. 

She smiled to her family, giving them a nervous thin smile. 

Does he makes her nervous?

Does he scare her?

The ceremony was done in the sept. Not a grand wedding like any royal ceremony would be for they are at war and it’s ignorant if they host a grand wedding in the midst at war.

He couldn’t help but to stare how different she is now. How reserved and mature her body language is as she gracefully walks around with her long dress dragging through the cold stones of the sept. She was…beautiful.

“My prince,” she says as she curtsied. Even her voice has changed. Now it felt as if honey were dripping down her tongue.

“My Lady,” he greets back stoically. Not wanting her or anyone to read his mind. 

“How are you, my prince?” she whispers as the ceremony begins. Still making small talk as always, yet he yearns for it. He’s deeply grateful that she still wants to talk to him. Yet it has been awhile since he properly talked to her, it made him nervous. “I am well,” he whispers back. His healthy eye looked into hers as they were pronounced husband and wife. He finds nothing but nostalgia in her eyes. She is just how he remembered her.

-

We didn't make out or do anything

I just remember I was lonely

He didn’t like the idea of a bedding ceremony.

Where people would see him…and her.

It’s unnatural…and unfitting. 

So he ordered for the bedding ceremony not to be done. But he promised that he shall take her that night and they can inspect the bedsheets in the morning.

When he stepped into her chambers, he found her anxiously standing beside the bed. A weird tense atmosphere swept the room. 

“I..,” she wants to speak.

“I would like to say thank you for…not letting the bedding ceremony to happen-“

What is this? Does she not want everyone to see us together?

His anxious mind and overthinking took power over him.

“Who said it was done for you?” He snapped at her as he closed the door. 

Shit. He did it again.

And she was quiet once more.

I scared her again.

“But…still…I still want to thank you…my pr-“

“Husband,” he sternly says walking past her.

“Pardon?” 

He took a jug filled with wine and poured it onto his empty cup. He at least needed a cup of wine if he wanted to bed her right.

“I am your husband now, am I not?” He asks, not looking at her. 

“Oh yes…husband,” she says with a nod, fiddling her skirt.

Aemond turned around and took off his attire and was left with his tunic, yet she just stood there beside the bed, not being able to move. 

She was nervous.

He looked at her, unsure what he should do. Should he comfort her? Should he take her quickly so they didn’t have to endure this pain together? No- no no no he didn’t want to hurt her.

Then he saw her slowly opening her nightgown. Her hands trembling like when he hurt her as a child. She slips her nightgown over his chest-.

It’s been awhile since he saw a woman’s body.

The last time was…..was…

“Stop.”

She curiously looked up to him, only halfway through from being naked. “I-is there something wrong?-.”

“No,” he quickly answered, looking down with shame.

Yes. There is something wrong.

When Aegon took him to that brothel…at the age of 13..he…he couldn’t- it scarred him. 

She’s not like them. She’s not like that whore.

It’s only her, it’s just her!

His mind battling inside his head as he stood at the other side of the bed. He blamed Aegon for ruining something that should be meaningful for a man and woman. Ruining something that should’ve been meaningful for him and her. He blamed the brothel, he blamed his brother, and foremost he blamed himself. 

He can’t bed her.

Not like this.

“We must…do our duty,” he says, trying to mask his insecurity and vulnerability in front of her. Trying to mask the same 13 year old boy who was terrified when he stepped into the brothel for the first time. 

He didn’t dare to look up. He didn’t want to see her being disgusted by hi-

“Yet you don’t want to,” her voice was gentle and kind. Not a hint of mockery at sight. 

“I-“

“I don’t want to do this either.”

He looks up, finding her shielding her chest with her nightgown. That sight aroused him terribly. He wanted to touch her, wanted to make her happy and satisfied. He wanted to make her smile. Yet he saw the same little girl that admired him as a child. He didn’t want to fuck her, he wanted to make love with her. 

But he didn’t know how to.

So he just…stood there. The two of them stood there and said nothing. 

Just as he thought all hope was lost, she puts on her nightgown and stepped away from the bed. 

She’s leaving.

She’s disgusted by me.

“What are you-.”

She took a butter knife and roughly slits her palm, letting blood drip to the bed. 

He stared at her.

“There. They’ll think I lost my maidenhead,” she says with a little smile plastered on her face. “No one will know.”

His eye drifts into her still bleeding palm. He groaned walking towards her, ripping a cloth and wrapped her bleeding palm with it. “Mittys,” he muttered under his breath. She chuckles, “You haven’t taught me that word yet.” 

And for the first time in a lifetime, a genuine amused smirk was plastered across his face. “Stay still,” he ordered, tightening the cloth on her palm. 

When he was done, she gazed up at him for a moment. “How long has it been?” She suddenly asked. “I have not been counting,” Aemond replied, still holding her scarred hand. She slowly then pulled him to bed, sitting down. “You must stay for awhile. Or else they’d be suspicious.” 

Gods be good.

She was too kind for him. 

And he joined her, laying on the bed side by side. He wonders if she’s still afraid of him as their hands brushed against each other. He never realized how much he craved for her touch. Wondering what it feels like to be held by her. Would she be gentle? Or would she push him away? 

“Usōven,” he muttered, looking at her. Apologizing for that night.

She turned her head to look at him. And smiled.

“I forgive you.”

-

I guess I am always, it's not a problem

It's just something, I got used to it

It got worse.

His yearning for her.

He was afraid to touch her, for he did not want to touch her like a whore. She was his equal. He didn’t want to hurt her.

So he lets all of his frustration to Madame Sylvie. He was attached to her even before his wife returned to his life, yet her presence made him worse. With the war…and his guilt for the death of Lucerys…and now the presence of her…it frustrates him. Every single time he fucks that whore, he thinks of her. He imagined that it was her in bed.

Imagined that it was her holding him.

At Least he could keep her safe from him.

He didn’t mean for it to happen. He never meant for it to happen in the first place.

But when he returned from his sins back to his sacred sanctuary, he finds nothing but horror in the keep.

They murdered his nephew. 

Prince Jaehaerys. 

A son for a son.

It was his fault his nephews were dead. 

It was supposed to be him who’s dead. Whose head should be beheaded. Not his nephew. Not anyone. 

After inspecting his chambers, he rushed to his wife’s room. Finding her in bed, holding Helaena and Jaehaera as the three girls cried. He saw how terrified the three of them were, but he noticed how she cradled his sister and his niece. Whispering nothing but reassurance to them. “It’s okay, they’re gone now…you’re both safe,” he heard her. She has always taken care of Helaena and the kids well. 

Noticing his presence, his wife looked up, finding him unable to move from the doorway. She lets go of her grieving sister in law and niece as she walks to him. Her eyes were teary and red. 

Oh how he hates to see her cry.

He looks down at her, cupping her cheek with one hand.

“Where were you?” Her question rang through his ear as her voice cracked on the last word she spoke. Guilt consumed him- no. Guilt starts to eat him slowly but surely. Eating him alive as her wife, her sister, his niece, and his brother grieve for the death of the young innocent prince. He couldn’t say a word, instead hugging his wife tight as she cried into his chest. Sobbing loudly as the castle was filled with darkness. Not a light of hope in sight.

“No one will hurt you. I swear it to you. I’m here..i’m here,” he whispers to his wife as she cried.

He might’ve gotten used to the pain people put on him, but he realized that he would never ever get used to seeing her cry. 

He would never let anyone hurt her.

He would protect her from the cruel world.

Even from himself.

-

Every stranger makes me feel safer

And every person seems more beautiful

“I do regret that business with Luke, I lost my temper that day. I am sorry for it.”

“They used to tease me, y’know? Because I was different.”

He knew he should be seeking comfort from his wife, but he couldn’t. As much as she makes him feel like him…he was still afraid his wife would see right through him. To judge him. So he couldn’t. Not to her. 

He feels safer in the arms of a whore, who has no power over him. While his wife, she had all the power to control him if she could. 

Nights went on and he sneaked out secretly. And no one knew. He was safe. His secret was safe.

Until Aegon…had to ruin everything like he always did.

Humiliating him was always his brother’s hobby.

Blinded with anger, he stomps and storms back to the keep. Wanting his brother and the world to disappear. He wanted to be alone. He hated everything. Yet he didn’t realize that a certain someone was still awake.

Closing Helaena’s bedroom door, lady Tyrell exits the queen’s bedroom for Helaena finds comfort from her sister in law. Just as she wanted to call it a night, she’s standing face to face with no other than her husband.

“Aemond,” she says in surprise.

He froze. He didn’t know what to say. All the rage and humiliation were gone in an instant. His face was covered with guilt and fear. “Wife,” he answered with a hint of anxiety dripping down his tongue.

“Where have you been?” She chuckled, thinking that he was just out for a walk or something. In her mind, she would never ever even think that Aemond would be doing things like that behind her back. 

Aemond stiffened, unable to answer. Before his brother always had to ruin the show.

“Look who it is!” Aegon says as his kingsguard follows behind him. “Your husband here…well, how do I say it..ah yes, was in the whore house, dear sister,” Aegon cackles, nudging Aemond’s arm before earning a hard punch from Aemond. 

He saw red. He saw red in his eyes. He hated his brother. He hates him. He should’ve shut up. He never should’ve brought him to that place in the first place, he should’ve never returned to that place!-

“What..?” His wife’s voice slightly trembled.

Even when Aegon was in pain on the ground, he cackled. Obviously still drunk. “You heard me! He was fucking that whore like a hound!” Aegon continues to say and starts to make howling sounds. 

Aemond saw how she started to grip her nightgown, her hands trembling. Her eyes were teary, not wanting to cry.

He disappointed her.

Disappointing the only person who has faith in him.

“I…I must go…sleep well your grace and….husband,” she says nervously as she curtsied at the two brothers before walking away. 

He watched her walk away. Not daring to chase after her or call out her name. He wouldn’t dare, for he knew he disappointed her deeply. He hurt her again. Like how he did as a child. And now he’s sure she won't come back to him. This was the start of him losing her.

-

She hasn't talked to him since then. What used to be civil and peaceful. Her small talks and smiles weren’t present at his presence. She avoided him at all times. To the point where enough was enough. He couldn’t live like this. He needed her to talk to him. He doesn’t want his marriage to end like his father and his mother. He cares for her…he…he…he loves her.

And when he blinks, he finds himself standing in front of her chamber doors one morning. 

He knocked gently.

“Come in,” he heard her sweet voice that he missed from her room. 

When he enters, he received her sad and surprised expression.

“Husband,” she greeted stoically, looking away.

He then realized how her closet was wide open and empty. Her clothes scattered on the bed as he saw her stuffing her dresses onto her..

“What’s this?!” He protested.

“Mother said it’s not safe for me to be in kings landing. War is coming and…I must go home,” she says in a sad tone.

His heart sank deep hearing her words.

She’s leaving.

She’s leaving him.

“You are not going anywhere,” he insisted, roughly taking dresses out of her hands. 

“Aemond-“

“Not on my sight!-“

“But Aemond-!”

“You are safe here! With me! With Vhagar!” He exclaims roughly, taking out of her dresses from her trunk. 

“Aemond, stop it!”

Yet Aemond does not answer. 

“I will keep you safe. Vhagar will keep you safe, no one will never hurt you-“

“But you did!”

Silence.

Gods, he hated the silence between them.

“You don’t understand,” he grunts as he grips the bedsheets. “How can I understand if you never let me in?!” She protested, tears streaming down from her eyes. He doesn’t even want to look at her. He didn’t want to see her cry.

“See? You wouldn’t even look at me! You wouldn’t touch me, you wouldn’t kiss me, you…,” she points out. 

Aemond sighs in defeat. 

It was all his fault.

But then he roughly took off his eyepatch, towering over her, gripping her wrist as he showed his sapphire eye to her. “And would you? Would you touch this monster, hm? Kiss this husband of yours who’s the reason why two innocent boys are killed? The reason why this war STARTED IN THE FIRST PLACE?!” 

She flinched.

She closed her eyes, scared…waiting for him to do something to her.

It broke him. 

“I…I..forgive me, I..,” Aemond lowers down his voice and hand, releasing her. Now guilt and shame has finally eaten him whole. He hurt her. Again and again. She deserved better. 

Then came a knock on the door.

“Sorry for interrupting, my prince but..the council awaits your presence,” A guard said to him.

“I’ll be there.”

-

Aemond took his time and walked out of her chambers with her as her trunks were carried out from her room. It was present how there’s a gap between them. He wanted to hold her hand terribly, but he couldn’t. Not after what he did to her.

He felt how people were looking. Eyes on them as they walked through the halls of the red keep. He tried one more time to reach his pinky finger to hers but when they touched, she pulled her hand away to rub her other arm. 

He lost her.

He probably never had her in the first place.

When they reached her carriage, he didn’t want to tear his eyes from her. 

“I would, y’know?” She suddenly says with her gentle voice.

“Pardon?”

“I would…kiss and touch you,” she repeats. “The monster you said of…is still my husband. You’re still my husband,” she emphasizes.

Her words touched him somewhere in the deepest parts of his heart that no one has touched before. It made him frozen and unable to move a single muscle or bone in his body.

“I know that I am not what you needed, and I know that I’m nothing to you-.”

She was terribly wrong. How wrong she was. She meant the world to him.

She was…everything to him.

“I hope you will find what you’re looking for in the future.”

He didn’t want anyone but her.

They looked back and saw people watching.

They’re waiting.

They’re watching.

She has always been far much braver than him. So she walked back to him, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek, just beneath his eye patch. Beneath his scar. 

“Geros ilas, my love…avy jorrāelan,” she whispered to him before pulling away and stepping into her carriage without looking back.

And little did Aemond know, that will be the last time he would ever get to see her. 

In his heart, he blamed the world again. 

He blamed his brother.

He blamed everyone and everything that took her away from him.

Maybe in another life, the war wouldn’t have happened, Aegon wouldn’t have took him to the brothel, Lucerys didn’t take his eye, and maybe.. he could hold her like a normal person would. Maybe they’d have children…and maybe…maybe she’d stay. 

But right now, he walks back to the keep to assemble their army. To rook’s rest. To prove his brother and the whole world. To win this war.

For her. 

a/n: Hello everyone! I’m Alice and thank you so much for reading! Fyi I used to write on tumblr but my old account was like semi suspended? Idk I couldn’t interact with people, I couldn’t comment on people’s post so now I’m here and uhh hi🥹I hope you enjoy this one shot and I’m only gonna write fics mainly about the Ewanverse so you’re in for a ride🫶🏻🤗 I’m gonna write more in the future and thank you for sticking around until the end of this fic! Thank you once againnn💞💞

three rings | john shelby

links to ‘these moments’ and ‘schooldays’

You and Ada stumbled along the street, arms linked and singing.

“You sound like warbling cats”

“It’s my birthday! I can sound how I fucking want”

Ada doubled over in laughter and you swung around to stand in front of her, looking back to where the lads were trailing behind you.

“Johnny, come love me!”

He pulled the pick from his mouth and walked over to you, smiling all the while. He wrapped his arms around your waist and bumped his forehead against yours.

“Hello”

“Hello”

“Happy Birthday”

Keep reading

Knight Aemond x Princess Reader mood board

Masterlist: The Hunt ; Night Off ; Neglectful Jealousy ; Devious Forgiveness ; Innocent Touch

Related Blog: @eraenaa (longer fics and one shots)

Your knight, Aemond, who was always by your side, no matter how much you tried to bribe him, he will not fall for it. He was always trailing you, refusing you to be out of sight, not because of duty but because he simply needed to be around you.

You knight, Aemond, who will always savor your scent whenever you are near him. Who would always find an excuse to touch your skin, may it be him offering his hand as you walked down the stairs or him wrapping his arms around your frame whenever the measliest of threats arose, disguising his passion as protection.

Your knight, Aemond, who would always stare down and intimidate any suitor of yours. Trailing closely behind as you tried to get to know them, always quick to go in between and meddle when he felt you were warming up with any lord or prince. Unable to stomach seeing you grow agreeable with your courtships.

Your knight, Aemond, who was always there the second you called for him. It does not matter if he has barely rested or eaten; the moment you send for him, he will be rushing down the castle halls, tending to your needs, no matter how insignificant or even frivolous they are. 

Your knight, Aemond, who would always listen intently to your babbling. Nodding along as you tell him your encounters for the day though he already knew because he was always by your side. Occasionally indulging you with his silver-tongued quips as he would sometimes be the one to share with you the latest gossip in court. 

Your knight, Aemond, who had been growing quite obvious with his affection for you. Sending you small tokens and flowers. He would often utilize the lie that the gifts were sent by an unnamed lord when, in reality, they all came from him. 

Your knight Aemond, who knew fully well that yearning for you would make no difference because whatever love you two would have for each other would be a love that would be denied and could not be, for how could a knight ever deserve a princess? 

Your knight, Aemond, who would settle to just being your sworn protector just as long as he had you near. Because as dreadful it was to see you be bound to another, nothing would compare to not having you near him; at those moments when he stood by your side, he indulged himself with a fantasy and pretended that you were his. 

LockDown Part I: Bottle Episode [Revised Edition]

Summary: The fate of the Avengers lies in the hands of the Senate this evening, and all you have to do is make sure Loki is prepared for the hearing and ready to leave. 

Setting: 2018 in an alternate timeline where Loki made it to Earth after the events of “Thor: Ragnarok” and Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton, and Scott Lang are still on the Raft.

Pairing: Loki x Reader (First Person)

Playlist ~ Masterlist ~ Next Part 

Avenger’s Compound March 12th, 2018:

    I raced towards the elevator as best I could in my heels, nearly dropping the manila folder that had been too large to fit inside my purse. 

    “Evening.” Travis, the ex-SHIELD agent, looked up from the UPs package he was signing for and smiled at me. His white teeth contrasted against his dark skin. He wore his usual uniform of black cargo pants and a black t-shirt that accentuated his muscles. 

     “Sorry Travis,” I said without stopping. “We can catch up later.” 

   Travis shook his head and laughed. His booming voice echoed throughout the halls of the compound. “Tony doesn’t pay you enough.”

    I reached my destination out of breath and with swollen feet. I removed my shoes and wiggled my toes. Elevators in the Avengers compound, I had realized from my year of working as Tony’s liaison, were a lot like printers; They never worked when you needed them to because they could sense your fear. 

          The button for the elevator flashed a bright red after I had pressed it. I tapped my foot against the laminated floor and crossed my arms over my chest. Unlike myself, the elevator doors remained stationary. I pressed the button gently a second time, and then a third, and by the fourth, I was punching it.

        “Not sure if hitting it will help.”

         I turned around and looked up at the person behind me. “Don’t tell me hitting things doesn’t work. You punched Hitler and it ended a war.”

“I didn’t actually punch Hitler,” Steve Rogers replied sheepishly. The chrome-coloured elevator reflected Captain America failing to readjust his necktie. “And besides, I don’t think this elevator has started any wars.”

       “That we know of.” I swatted Steve’s hand and took hold of his tie. “There,” I said, smoothing down the grey fabric. 

              “Thanks.” Steve pulled an ID badge from his pocket. His hands shook as he tried to clip it to his suit jacket. 

    “Nervous about the senate hearing,” I commented. 

           “Let’s just say I don’t like public speaking.” Steve looked me up and down as the doors to the elevator finally opened. “You look nice. What’s the occasion?” 

      “I’ve got a date.” I swayed back and forth on my heels and tugged on the fabric of my black silk dress. 

        “Finally said yes to Mr Facebook?” Steve asked. He pressed the button for the roof where the Avenger’s helicopter took off from. 

      I rolled my eyes and pressed the button for the 12th floor. I felt a shiver run up my spine. “Don’t call Eric that. Makes it sound like I’m going on a date with Mark Zuckerburg.”

     The remainder of the elevator ride with Steve was spent in comfortable silence. It wasn’t until Steve’s ID card fell to the ground that we continued our conversation.

     “These things are always a bitch,” I said, bending down to pick up the badge. With expert precision, I fastened the ID Card to Steve’s suit jacket. “Took me a few senate hearings to master it.” 

   “How long do they usually go for?”

   “Depends,” I shrugged, “This one probably won’t be so long. It’s already starting in the evening. Thank Tony for that.”  I pulled my phone out of my purse, my heart started pounding when I saw it was already 5:30. “Shit,” I mumbled. 

   “I’m assuming they are going to ask me questions about the signing of the accords, huh?”

    “Yeah, probably.” My head was down as I scrolled through text messages with Eric. I read the last one I had sent this morning. “Looking forward to dinner tonight at 6:00. Le Bernardin.” 

     The musical chime of the elevator caused me to jump. I took a deep breath, and clutched my file even harder. 

    “Everything okay?” Steve asked. I still hadn’t left the elevator. 

     “It will be, once I’m finished delivering this file to the prince of darkness,” I answered, waving the yellow folder labelled “Senator profiles.” 

   “Loki was supposed to have gotten that file last week.”

  “Yup.”

   “And the hearing is in an hour.”

     “It sure is,” I offered Steve a toothless smile. Steve in turn looked at me, with a raised eyebrow.

        **************************************************

            “You look ridiculous,” Loki greeted me. I rubbed my knuckles which had grown sore from banging on Loki’s door. 

    “And you’re not wearing the suit I got you,” I said, as I squeezed past Loki, who was blocking me from entering his room. His hair was damp and he wore black pants and a simple dark green sweater. Needless to say, he looked comfortable. “This,” I held up the file and slammed it down on Loki’s coffee table. I nearly knocked over the Jenga box Thor had left, “Is for you.”

    “Not interested.” A green glow washed over Loki instantly drying his hair. 

  “You know what?” I threw my hands in the air, “I’ve been trying to help you for three weeks. You want to go to the senate hearing unprepared. Be my guest. I don’t care anymore.”

           “I’m not going, Bug.” Loki sauntered over to the freshly painted black varnished bookshelf that had been left behind by Wanda. Its original red oak colour had been completely erased. Most furniture in Loki’s room had once belonged to Wanda. The only thing distinguishably Loki were the various paintings he had hanging on the walls. The latest one, depicting a naked man and woman, in a forest with a snake, hanging over the fireplace. 

       I watched Loki select “Frankenstein’s Monster,” from the shelf and take a seat on the black leather lounge chair, his feet resting on the ottoman. I couldn’t help the small hitch in my breath as he licked his finger to turn the page. 

    “You don’t have a choice,” I pulled the ottoman out from under Loki’s feet. His boots slammed against the hardwood. “You’ve been subpoenaed.”

    “I don’t know what that means.”

    “You would if you LISTENED to any of the senate prep, I’ve been forced to give you.”

  “Nor do I care,” Loki pulled his footrest back towards himself. 

   “Oh, you’ve made that painfully clear. But you should care. Do you want to live on New Asgard with Thor or not?”

   Loki sighed and set his book down. “I want to be left alone.”

    “Enjoy the RAFT because that’s exactly where you’re headed.” 

   “The RAFT?” Loki looked up at the ceiling, “Why does the sound familiar?” 

   I clenched my fist. My blood had begun to boil. “You really haven’t been listening to anything I’ve been telling you? The RAFT is a prison where the other half of the Avengers have been- Why am I wasting my breath?”

  “I’ve been asking myself that question for a month,” Loki said with a smirk before turning to another page of his book. 

        I rolled my eyes and crossed my arm. Loki was arrogant. Rude. I wanted to throw something at him. My eyes landed on the Jenga box Thor had left behind on his last visit. God that was a disaster. 

“You oaf,” Loki had shouted, “You bumped the table.”

    Thor called my name and pointed to the fallen blocks, “Tell him I didn’t bump the table.”

    Loki and I were supposed to be going over questions he should avoid answering at the hearing. Thor had strolled in believing his brother needed a break. 

“Thor we really need to work,” I had told the God of Thunder. 

            “If you’re looking for something to throw at me, can I recommend a pillow?” Loki’s voice brought me back to reality. His eyes had never left his book.

    I froze, my eyes widening, and I began looking around the room. 

    “I can’t read your mind, Bug,” He looked up from his book and gave me a smile, “You’re just very predictable.” 

        “And do you know what you are?”

“What am I?” Loki leaned forward, a smirk on his face. 

“You’re-” My phone started to ring. I pulled it out of my purse and swiped the talk button. Loki’s nose scrunched, and his brows furrowed when I held my index finger up to him. “Hello?” I said into the other end of my phone. Loki rose from his seat and walked towards me as I listened to the woman on the other end of the call informing me that my reservations would have to be pushed to 6:30. “That’s great,” I told the hostess as I walked away from Loki and headed towards his kitchen, “I’m running late myself. Thanks for the heads up.” I set my phone down on Loki’s kitchen island and glared at the god following me around his room. “Will you stop trying to listen in on my conversations?”

Loki placed his hands in his pockets and looked down at his feet. “You have a date,” he stated. 

“Yes,” I sighed. 

A few particles of dust fell to the ground as Loki wiped his finger along the surface of the kitchen island. “Who with?” he shrugged. 

“Why do you care?”

“Just curious.” 

I closed my eyes and bit my bottom lip. “His name is Eric. Okay? I knew him from high school. His sister used to be friends with my sister. Happy?”

“Not quite. Something doesn’t add up.”

“What?” I asked, taking a gulp of air. My palms began to sweat. 

“Why would Eric want to go on a date with you?”

“Okay,” I pursed my lips and nodded my head, “I’ve wasted enough time. The hearing is in-” I tapped my phone - “50 minutes. I suggest you use your magic and pop off to Washington.”

“I can’t teleport myself,” Loki scoffed.

“And I can’t stand being in a room with you. So, I’m leaving.”

 I barely made it two steps when the lights in Loki’s room went dark. My hands began to shake, and my breath became shallow. It only took a few seconds for the lights to come back on, but instead of its usual fluorescent hue, Loki’s room was basked in a red glow. I had to cover my ears as a loud, unnerving alarm could be heard throughout the compound. The windows surrounding the far end of Loki’s room were covered by a metal slab that fell down from the ceiling. Another metal shield raised from the floor, covering Loki’s front door. The God of Mischief himself gently took my arm and moved me so I now stood behind him. Two daggers materialized in his hands. 

           “Attention all staff, and guests,” FRIDAY’s voice echoed throughout the room. The Avengers compound is in a mandatory lockdown. Please remain where you are. This is not a drill. I repeat. The Avengers compound is in a mandatory lockdown. Please remain where you are.”

As FRIDAY continued to repeat her message a few more times, Loki and I looked at each other. The realization of our situation hitting us at the exact same time. 

I broke the silence first. 

“Fuck.”

*******************************************************

Author’s Commentary

So for anyone who’s seen my update, I have decided to go back and revise some of my chapters. It’s really just a personal preference. So, if you read this chapter before, and don’t feel like reading it again, don’t worry, it’s the same plot as last time. 

If this is your first time reading this story. Hi. Tag list are open. 

Keep reading

sugar, sugar.

Summary: Chrissy tries not to expect anything from Billy on Valentine’s Day. Billy manages to surprise her.

Pairing: Billy x Chrissy (OC)

A/N: Just some sweet fluffy goodness for Valentine’s Day. Takes place during SATC after Billy and Chrissy’s date. Y’know, while she was grounded.

Warnings: Swearing, smoking, teenagers being their asshole selves.

She felt like a complete idiot.

In the day after being grounded, Chrissy knew she wouldn’t trade her freedom for the night with Billy. Finally knowing him so intimately, getting what she had put off for weeks, felt like a rebirth. She was addicted to his hands on her now, and getting her next fix was the only thing on her mind.

But now, realizing that Valentine’s Day was soon approaching and she was imprisoned in the lovely craftsman on Elm Street, she was regretting everything said to her parents. Her defiance in the face of new rules felt warranted at the time. Now, it felt like she had signed her death warrant.

Keep reading

Tell Me a Secret | Tutor!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader Masterlist

"Tell me a secret, sweetheart."

"I'm really bad at math... Tell me a secret."

"I'm actually good at math."

Summary: A classic tale of idiots to lovers. The school freak who was surprisingly good at math agrees to tutor Hawkins High royalty, the Vice President who's on the verge of failing.

Series in Order:

Tutor

Hellfire Palace

Torn Brown Couch

Bracelet

White Picket Fence

Last Row, Corner Booth

Lover's Lake

♡masterlist will be updated as I post. Taglist is open♡

Pedro Pascal Characters

Main Rec Masterlist

The Mandalorian

Narcos

Triple Frontier

WW84

Kingsman 2

Game of Thrones

The Mentalist

Prospect

The Great Wall