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Commander Snow; 8

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns, explicit, violence, death.

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

The door was fixed with great haste. Before you knew it, you were back in the apartment playing housewife again. Coriolanus’s distrust of you grew to a new level. He no longer trusted you to remain home by yourself. Edmund was still not found, and Coriolanus was certain he would reappear and take you away.

You now worked with him, slept with him, and ate every meal with him. The fence line seemed like an impossible goal with him being so suffocating. You were pretty sure the broken chain was not found. He would have said something, would have taunted you with how close your freedom was. It meant you had something up your sleeve against him.

But you had no way of getting to it. You had tried to disappear during his work hours, when he was most distracted, but the only time you seemed to be out of his sight was when you showered. If there had been a window in the bathroom, you were sure that he would have been in there too.

You tried your best to soften him with affection. When you had the chance, you baked him the oatmeal cookies he loves. He ate whole plates in one sitting.

But as his work increased, your work decreased. Long days spent at his office were hard to fill. He sat behind his desk and never seemed to stop working. Sometimes there was mending you could do, or shoes to shine but most of the day you sat on the couch reading what was on hand.

You had taken to organizing the books in alphabetical order, then grouped them according to color. You worked quietly and slowly. Careful not to make any noise to disturb Coriolanus from his work. You had taken them down again just moments ago to reorganize them by subject when Coriolanus' assistant came in carrying a tea tray and a large parcel.

She drops the parcel down on the table in front of you, amongst the books. You look over it to see your name neatly scribbled on the recipient's information.

The receptionist doesn’t look at you as she puts the tea tray in front of Coriolanus.

He thanks her but her response is drowned out to your ears by the opening of the box.

“Is it from Tigris?”

You wait until the receptionist shuts the door behind her to respond.

You confirmed it was, as you pulled a soft silk nightdress from the box. It was light pink which was uncommon for the districts. Dark pink lace trimming boarded along the bottom and top of the dress. You run your finger across it. It was the most expensive material you had ever felt.

Another dress was folded in the box and you take it out.

It was light blue with yellow birds flying across it, made of a soft cotton material that would fall around your ankles.

“You like them?” he asks.

“They are beautiful,” you admit.

You look in the box for more to see a small pouch filled with sweets from the Capitol.

Tigris was too kind. If things had been different, you would have been a good friend to her. But as her cousin's captive, you were now sworn enemies. The box of treats didn’t change that.

You return the items to the box and see parchment paper protecting soft material at the bottom.

“There's a shirt for you.” It was a long white dress shirt with gold stitching running in horizontal lines down it.

He comes from his desk to collect it. Taking it gently from your hands, he brings it up to his nose and inhales the scent.

“You really miss home,” you comment, watching him breathe in the scent the shirt carried.

“I do. More than anything.” He returns to his desk with it still in his hands.

“You’ll be home soon.”

“We’ll be home soon”.

You smile thinly at him. “That’s what I said.”

“You should see the Capitol. Clothing, culture. Actual buildings, not these pieces of tin. You’ll be able to breathe much better in the Capitol.”

The scratching of his pen picked up where his sentence had been incomplete as he began his work again. The shirt lay across his lap.

“I have the day off tomorrow,” he said without stopping his work, “I was thinking we could visit the waterfall again. It will probably be the last time before Ravinstill dies.”

The thought made your stomach drop. If you don’t make it beyond the fence, it would in fact be the last time you ever saw your favorite place. The time was better spent within the compound waiting for an opportunity. He would never let you get too far in the district.

“I’d prefer not to.”

“Why?” he questions with a hard tone. He continued to write but the pen pressed firmly into the paper.

“I am behind on my chores, and I haven’t made anything in a while. The food in the fridge will go bad if I don’t get to it soon.”

“Let it. The Capitol is full of food.”

You realize now that Coriolanus had already made up his mind to do the activity. You wondered why he chose it. He hated the heat and the bugs.

You walk over to the tray of hot tea and pour out a cup, making it to his liking and placing it down in front of him.

“We’ll go if you want to.”

“Why don’t you want to go?”

“Why do you want to? The walk up there will take us nearly the whole morning in the hot sun.”

“I thought it might make you happy.”

He was trying to win your approval before he ripped everything you had ever known from your finger tips. It was something to use against him. Coriolanus responded best when he was in a position to be a hero. He would do anything so long as he felt he was the only one who could do it for you.

You lean down and wrap your arms around his shoulders, resting your face against his neck.

“You know what would make me happy? Some vanilla extract so I can send Tigris some shortbread cookies back”.

He responds positively by wrapping his hands around your forearms. He liked you looking out for Tigris.

“She’s been asking to meet you.” He says, his hand gently wrapping your arm around his shoulders. “I have a call with them next Friday afternoon. Maybe you’d like to come with.”

You retract your hold now that he was in a better mood.

There was only one answer you could give him when it came to his family.

“I’d love to”.

You had a deep hate for Capitol people but Tigris seems different. In any case, you were sure you could remain civil for an hour-long phone call.

Pouring yourself a cup of tea, you return to your spot with it and Coriolanus returns to his work.

———-

You stood out in the sun with Coriolanus as he discussed the new recruits' performance with another high-ranking officer. They were splitting them up into areas of work. The strong and fast became foot soldiers, the slow were put on kitchen duty, and the ones who showed a inclination to aggression were watchmen. He spared a couple to the infantry to learn basic medic care and help around the hospital. You couldn't work out what sent those recruits apart. It seemed random but you knew nothing Coriolanus did was without great care and strategy.

All the men seemed equally angry and you wondered if Coriolanus was the same when he was a Peacekeeper.

The sun felt nice upon your skin after so long. It was late afternoon and it had just begun to set, leaving behind a nice cool breeze.

You thought about your mother and Edmund. Were they enjoying the sun too?

The sound of a vehicle approaching ruined the moment of reflection. Coriolanus took your hand in his as soon as the tires upon the gravel could be heard as if you were to be run over if he didn’t.

It surprisingly stopped in front of where you stood. A transport car with no doors and a large trunk carried two men. A younger man wearing a District 12 peacekeeper uniform and an older man who wore a Commander uniform set apart by its light purplish color.

“Commander.” The older man greets as he swings out of the car.

“Vongurt.” Coriolanus uses his spare hand to offer a handshake which is strongly and fervently taken.

Another Commander had come to see Coriolanus. You doubted he was any better than the last.

“This is my wife, Y/N.” With his hand, he leads you in front of him to show you off to the Commander.

You were stiff with shock as the man's disapprovingly raked his eyes over you. He too felt jarred at the label of wife. District women weren’t wives. They were barely considered human.

But he smiles nonetheless, something you couldn’t return.

“Pleasure.” With a kiss placed upon your hand, the Commander's attention was turned back to Coriolanus.

“Your compound is impressive, Commander Snow. It has to be the largest I’ve seen.”

Coriolanus seemed unimpressed by the comment. He turns back to the Peacekeepers watching them as they leap, and fight.

“A palace of scrap metal.”

He waves over a tall man in a high-ranking uniform, who quickly makes his way over from across the field.

“Your apartment is only slightly better. Sergeant AJ will take you there.”

“I was hoping that we could talk. I’ve come all this way from District 2.”

“Later, Commander. The conference room at 7. You’ll have my undivided attention there.”

The man nods back and follows his guide back into the car.

Coriolanus makes a comment to his officer about a recruit and the man jotted down all of his thoughts.

You wanted to get away. Break free from his hold and bolt to the fence line. His delusions had reached a new height, with him now openly telling lies to men with power.

Your body moves to your thoughts. You hadn’t even realized you were twisting your hand away from him until he tightened his hold.

He turns to you, asking if you are ok.

“I need to go home” you respond. Home to my mother. Back home to normalcy.

“Take whoever we missed today and regroup them tomorrow morning” he directs the man next to him. A whistle is blown and the recruits stop their training, instead they congregate in front of you.

Coriolanus turns as his officer begins to dish out instructions, taking you back to the apartment.

“The heat can get to you,” he says.

You had lived in District 12 all your life if anyone was to know about the heat it was you. But you verbally agree and apologize for taking him away from his work.

He hushes you and it ends the conversation for the walk home.

He lets you go as you enter your prison, and you take off without him to the bedroom.

You hear his voice wafting down the hallway telling you to lie down. You shove your boots off and get into bed. Every day your window closes. It won’t be long before either the broken fence is found or you are carted off on the train.

But he had called you his wife. Not just to anyone but a Capitol Commander. Even if you got away, the idea that he would leave you here for the presidency is just a fantasy.

How long would you need to live in hiding before he forgot you? Could you bear the costs of it for as long as needed? What work could you do in the mountains to support yourself and your mother?

Wife. Why did he have to say wife? You weren’t that. You were his captive, a victim of his need to be cared for.

Coriolanus enters the room with a wet, cold rag and runs it over your forehead. A victim of his need to pretend he was capable of caring for something.

He sits on the bed beside you running the cloth over your forehead and into your hair.

“Do you feel alright?” he asks as you take the cloth off him.

“I am fine. Just a little lightheaded.” You throw the cloth on the bed stand and he takes it as a signal to get up.

“I’ll get you some water.”

He disappears and you're thankful for the space to think. Could you tell him you just need a walk around the compound by yourself to think? No, he would take it as an insult.

You had to get out. The fence was so close.

You don’t notice him as he sits back down beside you. Only the glass to your lips made you see him.

“I won’t go to the meeting with Vongurt if you are unwell.”

You sit up straighter at his words, pushing the glass away from you.

“No!” you say harshly, “No, you should go. I am fine.”

“You don’t look well.” You were sure you looked terrible after you had the shock of your life.

“But I feel fine. Just too much sun.”

He looked annoyed that you were arguing with him so you switched tactics.

“We need his support to get back to the Capitol. Maybe you could just leave the door open for some fresh air?”

You had pushed too hard, and he got up

“If I am not here, the door is shut.”

“Of course,” you breathe with a soft smile at him, “I’ll be fine by the time you have to leave.”

Coriolanus hovered around you for the next hour and a half before he had to start getting ready for his meeting. He took a shower to wash the sweat off him from the day and changed into his official outfit. It fit snugly, his broad shoulders carried the uniform well.

He attached the dressings of his uniform as you watched him from the bed.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go tonight. What if you feel unwell while I am away?” His fingers were still on the badge he was trying to put on.

“I am fine,” you assure him, “I feel fine.”

“We should invite him here. That way if you need me, I am here.”

You cringed at the thought of serving Commander Vongurt.

“I won’t need you. Besides the conference room is much nicer.” You get up to help him put on his badge and send him on his way.

“I haven’t felt unwell since dinner.” Coriolanus stood over you as you cooked, convinced that the heat in the kitchen would make you unwell again. With a knife in your hand, it was a dangerous time for Coriolanus to tell you what to do.

“You’re sure?” he pokes.

You were tired of saying it so you just nodded your head.

“Go to the bathroom then.”

It was an odd request.

“What?” you question.

“Go to the bathroom and take a shower. Get changed into your night dress.”

He checks his watch once before motioning you forward.

There was no other option for you then to follow his request. You thought maybe he just wanted to complete the bed time routine. He wanted to know you were washed and dressed for bed for his own comfort. You never knew what made him tick.

You complete the tasks quickly and return to find he had placed a glass of water and a packet of dried mixed fruit.

You quiz him on it but he doesn’t answer. He takes your wrist in his hand and tugs you to the bed.

Taking out his handcuffs, he clips your wrist into the cuff, pulling it up to the headboard where he attached the other cuff.

You tug against it in protest. “What are you doing?”

“Just in case, Edmund comes back.”

“He won’t! Please unlock me.” you beg.

“I left your book there if you are not ready to sleep yet.” He stands tall and readjusts his uniform.

“Coriolanus!” You say in a serious tone, “Get this off of me.”

You pull against it brutally and he captures your hand against the headboard.

“I left you one hand so you can read. I don’t have to.”

“Please, don’t leave me here like this!” He ignores you, bending down once more to flick on the lamp.

“You’ve had a big day. Try and rest. I’ll be home soon.”

“Coriolanus!” you call out watching him leave. He flicks off the main light as he goes.

“Coriolanus!” you yell.

You had never felt anger as you lay trapped in bed. He dictated when you worked, when you rested, when you ate. Nothing was yours anymore. Every breath you took was only because he allowed you to take it.

There was nothing to tell the time on. It felt like years waiting for him to come back and release you. You didn’t read, only plotted.

Could you feed him something to make him sick? Surely he would request you to come see him in the infirmary. You could break away when returning from your visit. What if he caught you trying to poison him though?

Friday provided the perfect opportunity. While he was distracted with his family you could sneak away. The communication building was on the other side of the compound but at least you would be outside of the apartment.

But how would you get away far enough to make a break for it? You thought about what was in the surrounding area of the communications building. Nothing would be a reasonable excuse to pardon yourself.

Could you excuse yourself to the bathroom? Surely one of the surrounding offices would have one. Would he let you go alone? Sacrifice time with his family to take you. Would he even let you go or just expect you to make do until the phone call was over?

You came up with twenty different scenarios of escape routes, each one ended with Coriolanus catching you.

You wished you didn’t shoo Edmund away now. He could have got the door opened in time. It was only your fearfulness that stood in the way of your escape. You could be with him now, with your mother. Up in the mountains, safe and sound.

God, you hoped they were safe and well-fed.

You wished for nothing more than to tend to your mother, to ensure that she was alright.

The care that was supposed to go to her was now unjustly turned towards Coriolanus, who was adamant to wring it from your hands.

Edmund had always taken whatever care you gave him with great appreciation.

Never demanded more, and then took it with force.

He was kind and patient. Two things Coriolanus is not.

And now you have dragged him into this mess where his life is at great risk. Still, he had never demanded any more from you.

When his lips first met yours, they were placed almost in questioning. It was up to you to accept and beg for more.

You wished you had seen his affection for you sooner. But he was your brother's best friend, and the main protector of you and your mother. If Coriolanus never entered the picture you doubt he ever would have acted on it.

But he had, and you had returned the affection. It was the start of something new and beautiful or the end of years of friendship and familiarity.

Once Coriolanus went back to the Capitol, your new life would begin.

You hoped it would be alongside Edmund. You would pay him back for his bravery.

You would be a good girlfriend to him, then wife, and then mother of his children. You would never ask him for anything, and take great care of his family life. You would ensure his happiness, as he ensures your life now.

You almost forget you were chained to the bed of the Commander as you daydream of brown-haired babies. But the sound of Coriolanus arriving home was a solemn reminder. His boots against the hardwood floor soften as they reach the bedroom door.

You still had a great challenge before you got to nurse Edmund’s children.

You had to get away from Coriolanus, and the only way you could do that is if he had no idea that you planned to.

The door creaks open and you sit up straight to watch him enter.

“I am sorry. Did I wake you?” He places his coat on the foot of the bed and crawls over to where you lay.

“No. I was waiting for you.”

He smiles down at you as he unlocks the cuff from your wrist with the keys in his pocket.

“You seem happy,” you comment. You could smell the whiskey on his clothes as he leaned over you.

“I am. I have you. I have Commander Vongurt’s support behind me, and Ravinstill is not expected to last the winter. We’ll be home before you know it.”

Throwing the keys on his bedside table, he leans down to kiss you before resting his head on your collarbone.

“That’s not long,” you comment.

“Three months at the most.”

You drowned in your anxiety quietly as he rested.

Three months and your life was over.

He takes your silence as a quiet contemplation.

“Are you thinking of your mother?” he runs a curled finger along your nose.

“Yeah. I’ll miss her”. You hope to never have to know the pain of missing her again. These past few weeks have been unbearable.

“You’ll write. I’ll organize a time she can come to the compound for video calls.”

You were sure he was going to let you write and call. For how long was another thing. You could see it already, your calls being cut short, your letters ‘lost’ in the mail.

“Yeah,” you respond again.

Your mind races with ideas of escape. You could fake a sickness and be sent to the medical camp. No, he wouldn’t send you there. He panicked today over a supposed case of heatstroke.

He lowers his head down closer to you where you can smell the evening on him.

“You want to know what I was thinking?” he asks playfully.

You could start a fire during dinner time. He was sure to open the door to let you out before dealing with the flames.

“Yeah?” you entertain. Fire could go wrong for a number of reasons. Besides you would have to fight your way to the oven. Especially now that Commander Vongurt was here. Coriolanus would be too busy to wait for you to cook something.

“I was thinking I hope we have a boy first. Then two girls, then another boy.”

Your eyes shoot open as his hand reaches out across your stomach. His hand finds its way under your shirt and he lays a warm palm over your belly.

Then again, a big enough fire might kill him. Was it worth a shot?

“You called me your wife today. That’s not true.”

“What else should I have called you? We sleep together, eat together, wake together. We look after each other. The only thing missing is an official title but as soon as we get back to the Capitol, we’ll fix that.”

You turn away from him to your side. Now that the talk of the Capitol was becoming a more serious threat, you felt sick.

“Did I scare you with talk of babies? It wouldn’t be for a few more years yet.”

His rants did scare you. That would be your life if you didn’t figure out a way to the fence. Nursing Commander Snow’s babies in the Capitol. Away from your mother. Away from Edmund.

Still, you had to perform. You couldn’t let any more distrust between him and you grow.

“You didn’t scare me. I am just tired. I’ve waited up all night for you.”

You feel a soft kiss press against your ear before the weight of the bed was shifted as he moved.

“Go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He leans over you once more to flick off the light. You hear him walk out to the bathroom to take a shower.

Could you force him to give you the keys? The chain was still dangling from the headboard. If you could somehow get his wrist caught, you could threaten him with a kitchen knife. You shake the thought from your head. You couldn’t hurt him with a knife. You were sure even one-handedly, he could take it off you if you tried.

You just needed a distraction, just two seconds when his attention wasn’t on you to escape.

Wet, salty tears rolled down your cheeks as you lay in the dark, but you made no sound.

You were still awake when he returned from his shower, dressed in his pajamas. Thinking you are asleep he is slow and quiet as he rejoins you in bed.

He curls up against your back and rests his hand on your stomach as if there is something already inside. He wasn’t going to wait a few more years. He said it purely for your comfort.

He dreamt of being a young President with a baby on the way. And another one close after that, and another, and another. He would undo history. He would have as many baby Coriolanus’s and Tigris’ as it took to heal the past.

Watching you nurture, feed, and play with his children would overtake his memories of fighting for his life when he should have been nursed by his mother.

He felt as if he was in the area but soon to be crowned Victor. President Ravinstill just had to die before he could have it all.

His destiny that had been interrupted when his father died but was now back on track. From birth, Coriolanus Snow was supposed to be the man who had it all. Not some impoverished boy, hanging on to his father’s legacy.

When he died, he would be remembered as his own man. Not as the shadow of his father.

Coriolanus Snow; Beloved President of Panem, star pupil of the Academy, Plinth Prize winner, devoted husband and father, and Victor of the games. Coriolanus would be remembered as the man who had it all.

You lay awake under him. The smell of alcohol mixed with the scent of his soap. It burnt your nose as you inhaled.

President Ravinstill could die tonight. There was no guarantee that he would even make it to winter. You had to get out. If you made it to the Capitol, you would never get back home.

While he was intoxicated was your best chance. He seemed so still now, you could take the keys off the nightstand and go through everyone. You were sure he wouldn’t wake, not until it was too late. You remember when your father drank on special occasions, he would sleep for 14 hours at a time. Coriolanus was sure to sleep for at least half that.

You wait until you can’t feel him twitch before you rise from bed. Very slowly, very carefully, you peel yourself from him, shoving a pillow in your place. He doesn’t move from your actions so you continue over to his nightstand where his key ring is laid.

Rows and rows of keys looped together. They jingle as you pick them up. Panic runs like ice up your spin as you turn back to see Coriolanus; unmoved and unknowing.

You wrap your hand around as many keys as you can to stop further noise and make your way to the door. Checking every few steps to ensure he wouldn’t turn up behind you.

The floor creeks as you pass the hallways to the living room but no other sound follows as you cross the kitchen to the door.

You start at the very first key. It slots in but refuses to turn. Moving on to the next, and the next in methodological order, bypassing the ones that were too big or small to be entertained.

You try numerous times but the right key is buried among the many.

Feeling as if it had been hours since the first key, you felt confident that it was coming up.

You stuck a key in with no resistance. The hope that died in you reappeared as the lock turned with the key.

But all too soon it died again, as you felt a hand snake into your hair. It yanks your head harshly back and you find yourself pressed against Coriolanus.

“That key will get stuck in the door, and it’d be a great pain to get it out again.”

His hand in your hair pulls you back.

“I was just going to the kitchen to get some ingredients for a hangover cure. I was coming back.” His hand twists unforgivably in your hair as you make your plea.

“Don’t lie to me,” he seethes.

“I am not!” You protest, trying to break free from his grasp.

“You think I am some type of fool?”

Reaching over you, he takes the keys out of the door and leads you back to the bedroom.

“Coriolanus. Please just listen to me.”

“If I had listened to you, I would have left the door opened. You spoiled, deceiving, little bitch.”

He was still drunk. You could smell it from his breath.

You thought it would make him complacent but it instead made him more violent.

“I was getting you my father's hangover cure.”

You stumble as he pushes you over the doorway.

“You need to trust me, Coriolanus.”

He shoves you until you are back to your side of the bed.

“I don’t.”

He throws the keys hard across the room to free his hands.

“I trust you.” You don’t fight him as he recuffs your chain, instead you willingly go along with it.

For good measure, you place a kiss on his cheek which throws him off guard.

“I don’t trust you.” he reiterated softly.

“That’s ok,” you state, “One day you will. We’ll have a happy life together. You, me, and our children.”

He looks perplexed at your words but makes no further comment as he lays down by your side, resting his head on you.

“I’ve tried my best to take care of you. To make you happy.”

“You have.” you console. You were no longer worried about President Ravinstill lasting the night, but rather yourself.

“Then why-”

“I wasn’t running. I was trying to take care of you.”

His face turns into your skin. You bring your free hand up to his head and press it down.

“Everything is ok. Just go to sleep. You’re drunk. You don’t mean it.”

You run your fingertips up and down starting from behind his ear, down to the bottom of his neck, and up again. You do it until you feel his shallow breaths upon your skin, only then do you release the tears from your eyes.

When you wake the next morning, your wrist is free and Coriolanus is not in bed.

You rise to find him in the kitchen, frying bacon. Maybe he was too intoxicated last night to remember his anger towards you.

“Good morning,” you offer. He doesn’t return the greeting. Maybe he did remember last night, and you were in a lot of trouble.

“How are you feeling?” you try again.

“What’s your father's hangover cure?”

“Two eggs, hot sauce, milk, salt, pepper, and honey”. Your father did not have a hangover cure and it did not include hot sauce or honey, both of which were considered luxury items in the District.

He looks for the ingredients, slamming the cupboards he turns towards you. “All here.”

“Oh,” you comment, “That’s good. Did you want me to make you one?”

The bacon pops in the pan and you rush over to distract yourself with it.

“Sit down. I’ll take over cooking”. The bacon was overcooked to the point where it would be barely edible.

“So what did you need for the compound kitchen last night?”

“I didn’t know we had the items. It's been that long since I cooked, I just assumed we were out.”

“You assumed you wouldn’t get caught.”

You sigh. Coriolanus in a bad mood would only mean bad things for you.

“I wasn’t running. I was trying to help. Are you always going to doubt me?”

“Yes.” he answers, pulling the pan back off you.

He dumps the bacon onto a plate and takes it to the kitchen table. You begin to clean up after him as he sits and eats.

The plate is still full by the time he is telling you to go get ready for the day.

You put on the blue sun dress he likes which acts as a two-second buffer for his anger when he sees you.

He had paused in the middle of throwing his bacon into the trash. Such a waste of food. You thought.

But he was determined to stay in his mood. He slides the empty plate across the counter.

“I am late for work,” he says.

It was unusual for him not to hold your hand as you walked to his office. You would have to work hard today to please him.

His tea was already sat upon his desk when you arrived and you rushed to pour him one.

He doesn’t drink it. It goes cold as he does his work.

You try extra hard to be quiet. There was sewing left from yesterday which you begin to complete.

“We still haven’t found your mother,” he says out of the blue after a morning of not speaking or looking at you.

His words filled you with confidence. If you could get to the mountains, at least you knew you were safe.

He doesn’t look up as he speaks.

“Edmund hasn’t returned to his house but there was a rumor that he was swapping meat for medical supplies just yesterday.”

What would he need medical supplies for? You wondered. Was your mother okay? Was he okay?

You needed to see them to make sure.

“He’s probably hiding with your mother in what’s left of the forest. Don’t worry. We’ll find him and bring your mother home.”

It was a disguised threat. He was trying to get a rise out of you.

“Good,” you comment. Keep searching the forest while they remain safe in the mountains.

“Good.” he repeats back.

A comfortable silence returns as you both go back to work, but it’s interrupted by his secretary bursting through the doors.

“Sir! Sir!” she gasps. Coriolanus shot up from his chair.

“Commander Vongurt is angry!”

You follow him without a word out of the office.

“The courtyard!” the secretary directs.

You fall behind his fast pace and reach for him blindly to keep from falling too far behind.

A crowd had formed by the time you reached the courtyard. You could hear the familiar sound of flogging and painful cries.

The crowd parts as Coriolanus approaches. In the middle of the bystanders was Commander Vongurt and a young boy curled on the dirt floor.

Coriolanus looks upon the same boy who failed to hit the target on the hot day.

Grabbing the baton from the Commander, he throws it to the ground.

“What are you doing?”

“Commander Snow,” Vongurt was out of breath from exerting himself in his beating, “This boy is a disgrace to your legacy. I caught him passing scraps to the prisoners through the bars.”

With the protection of Coriolanus, you felt safe enough to speak out, “He’s just a boy.”

“Take him to the jail. He can sleep there for a week if he likes their company so much.”

“Coriolanus!” you take his arm and tug it. He gives you a harsh look and you know you won’t be able to persuade him.

The boy cries out and begins to beg as he is carted away by two others.

“Coriolanus, please!” You tug his arm once more and he hits you harshly across the cheek.

You stumble upon the impact. The men shuffle away from you as you try and regain your footing.

Coriolanus takes your arm in a harsh grip, pulling you back in the right direction but he is turned to speak to Vonngurt.

“District 12 is my district. Next time you feel like taking discipline into your own hands, don’t.”

The older Commander nods his head, but you can see he is displeased to have been spoken to in such a manner.

“Let’s go.” He was now talking to you and shoving you forcefully in front of himself back to the office.

You tear yourself free as the door shuts behind you.

“You don’t dictate my decisions.”

Your nose is clogged from your tears. You couldn’t tell if you were crying out of pain or anger. Your brain was still trying to catch up.

“Calling my name,” he says astonished, “It doesn’t matter if you disagree with my decision. Your job is to support me.”

He catches you as you try to make your way from him and he tosses you to the couch, where he stands over you.

“You embarrassed me. Vongurt already thinks I can’t control my Peacekeepers, now he thinks I can’t control my women as well.”

You cup your bruised cheek. This wasn’t about Vongurt. He was still hurting about your attempt last night. All day he was looking for a reason to lash out, Vongurt only provided the opportunity.

You were put back on defense. With only at most a month before you were carted off to the Capitol, mistakes couldn’t be afforded.

“I am sorry.” you choke out.

He squinted his eyes, bringing his hand up to his head before throwing it back again, “What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t!” you spit. There is no sincerity in your voice.

“Look at me when I am talking to you.” He takes your chin into his hand and pulls it up to his eye level. “Ravinstill is expected to die shortly. This behavior of yours cannot be brought back to the Capitol.”

“It won’t be. I am sorry.” Your fists clench by your side.

He turns your chin to expect your cheek.

“I did it too. That’s the only reason I spoke out. I would have been thrown in jail too.” you contend.

He lets go of your chin and stands up to full height, “You think a Peacekeeper would get the same punishment as a District? No. You would have been hanged. Yet another reason to be loyal to me. I’ve saved you.”

“I am loyal to you. Grateful for you.” You get up and follow him as he makes his way to his desk.

“Coriolanus, please don’t be mad at me. I was only ever trying to help.”

You sob ugly causing him to spin around. Your cheek hurt, and you felt the weight of the world on your shoulders trying to get away within such a short time frame. You were overwhelmed with the whole scenario and the thought of dealing with Coriolanus as he looked for opportunities to lash out was too much to bear.

He softens upon your unraveled composure, taking you into his arms.

“Stop crying. It’s okay”. You feel him rest his head on top of yours. “I am just a little wound up trying to get everything in order. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I am sorry.”

You smile slightly, he is back on defense.

—------

Friday came quickly. The call wasn’t until the afternoon so you spent the whole day as a ball of anxiety.

But at least you had a plan. On evening walks you took more notice of the building surrounding the communications tent, and saw a nurse carrying a load of blankets into a building of washing machines.

There were few things Coriolanus let you do alone, washing was one of them.

The washing machine in the apartment would need to be dealt with. But the long hours spent in his office meant that the dirty clothes were piling up. He would demand a fresh uniform for work. If you left it close to his phone call with his family, he was sure to let you go.

You push it out for as long as you can. He had wanted to leave ten minutes ago but you kept pressing him for one more minute.

You had taken small rocks from the ground during your afternoon walk, telling Coriolanus you would like to take a part of home back to the Capitol with you. He had allowed you to collect a small jar, you picked the biggest rocks you could find.

Big enough to jam the pipes of the washing machine.

“Darling, please. We have to leave.” He bangs on the door of the washing room.

You finish shoving the rocks as far as they would go down the pipe. It made an awful sound as the washing machine ate them up causing the water to rise.

“Coriolanus,” you call. As soon as you open the door, he grabs your arm, ready to yank you out.

“Coriolanus. The machine is broken. Look.”

He barely glaces at it, “ I’ll send someone to fix it. Let’s go.”

“I need to do the washing,” you pick up the basket as he pulls you from the room, “Can I use the compound washing machines?”

“That’s fine. Just move, we are late.”

You struggle to keep up with him as he rushes along the compound. He hated it if his phone call was cut short by even a second. Now he was two minutes late and he was almost running to make up time for it.

You reach the building in record time. He lets go of you to pick up speed, leaving you by the door as he hurries.

He rushes to the small screen, not bothering to sit down on the wooden chair as he twisted the knobs. “Tigris, Tigris? Can you hear me?”

He must have heard a voice on the other side as he broke out into a smile. It was a pretty, genuine smile that you had not seen before.

“Hey,’’ he laughs. You watch from where you stand by the door. He seemed almost unrecognizable. A young boy sent away to a summer camp instead of a ruthless and ambitious Commander. “I am sorry. The washing machine broke. How are you?”

His tone is light and happy as he talks to Tigris. You wonder if he had forgotten he even brought you. He didn’t glance at you as he spoke, giving her his full attention.

You wonder if it is best to make your exit now but his words stop you.

“She’s here.” he waves you over. You drop the basket in coming to him. You wondered what Tigris would look like. What she would sound like.

Coriolanus holds out the receiver for you. You peer at the screen to see a blonde girl in colorful clothing before you put the receiver to your ear.

“Hello,” you greet.

“Oh!” Tigris croons. She pulls the receiver away from her mouth to lessen her shout, “Grandma’am come see!”

She smiles as she turns her attention back to you, “Oh, Coryo has talked so much about you.”

“What is she saying?” Coriolanus places his hands on your hip and pulls down so you are sitting on his knee.

“She’s said you’ve talked about me,” you answer.

He smiles gently at you, turning the receiver in your hand out between you.

An older woman comes too close into the frame and Tigris pulls her back.

“Is that her?” the old woman asks Tigris who nods.

“Girl-Girl.” she talks into the speaker.��

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“You must be grateful he is sending you back to the Capitol. Don’t ruin it like the last one.”

Coriolanus snatches the receiver away from your ear to soften her words but you heard them any way.

“Grandma’am is unwell,” he tells you, “Pay her no mind.”

Tigris takes back the receiver and positions it in a similar fashion to Coriolanus.

“Did you get the dresses I sent?”

“I did. Thank you. I was hoping to send you back some shortbread but Coriolanus has been busy with work.”

“He was saying you cook. Grandma’am and I are so excited to meet you!”

“Me too,” you lie. “I hear the Capitol is wonderful. I look forward to exploring it with you.”

Tigris laughs. She was beautiful, you thought. Perhaps too popular to be showing you the capital. You felt foolish for even lying about it.

“We’ll have a ball. I’ll show you all around.”

“In time,” Coriolanus interjects. The chains around you would not loosen just because you were in the Capitol. “The Capitol is big. There’ll be time to see it all.”

You let Coriolanus take over the talking. Only offering agreements or soft smiles as the Snow women talk.

The family soon falls into a comfortable way of talking. You had said next to nothing for the last 10 minutes, and it had gone unnoticed. It was time to make your way.

You slowly rise from Coriolanus who latches out on your arm.

“I’ll just put the washing on. That way it will be done by the time we finish.”

He tugs you back down causing you to fall into him. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Tigris almost cringe.

“We’ll do it later,” he demands.

“We’ll be washing well into the night if we leave it any longer. I’ll just pop it on. I’ll be five minutes.”

His face twisted with his words but you kissed him to stop them from leaving his mouth. It was the first time you had ever kissed him on the lips. You could tell by the way his mouth stilled that he was surprised.

“Five minutes.” You kiss his bottom lip to quell any fight he has in him. Grabbing the phone in the meantime.

“Tigris. Grandma. I’ll just be 5 Minutes to put the washing on”.

Tigris smiles at you, letting you know that it is fine. You could just barely hear Grandma’am make a comment about how the people in the Capitol don't do their own washing but it is cut off by you shoving the phone back in Coriolanus's hand.

He cups your face to bring you down for another kiss.

“Five minutes,” he repeats.

You smile at him as you pull away. It was too easy, You had won.

It felt like victory as you picked up the basket and placed it on your hip. You turn back halfway out the door to see he has gone back to talking to his family.

You don’t make it to the tent. Five steps away from the door and you had dropped the basket and taken off at a fast pace.

You walk to try not to draw attention to yourself. It worked for the most part. Hardly anyone gave you a glance. You could see the bins coming into sight. Your freedom is just behind them.

“Hey!” you hear someone call out. You ignore them at first, not thinking they could mean you. But a harsh hold on your arm spun you towards a Peacekeeper.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“What? Nothing”. Your freedom lay not ten feet away but was hindered by a zealous guard.

“Where’s Commander Snow?” He held you too tight. It interfered with your clear thinking.

“The communications tent.”

“Is that where you should be?”

“No,” you try and tug your arm away from him but his nails dig in. “Let go of me. Let go!”

“Let’s go ask Commander Snow what you should be doing.” The man starts to drag you along as you dig your feet into the dirt.

“Let go!” you shout. He was sure to notice you gone soon if he hadn’t already. Time was running out.

In frustration, you slap the Peacekeeper across the face.

“How dare you touch me. I’ll tell Commander Snow about this. You’ve hurt me.

You feel his grip loosen on you but he doesn’t let go completely.

“No, I haven’t!” he says somewhat fearfully,

“Commander Snow has asked me to get something for him, and not only have you stopped me from doing that but you hurt me in the process. How do you think he will react to that?”

You manage to tear free from him and give yourself some distance.

“I am going to do as he asked me, and you are going to do your duties like you should be doing. Otherwise, I’ll report you to the Commander."

The Peacekeeper mulls over his course of action before raising his hands.

“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. Excuse me.”

You turn your back on him and quicken your steps to your destination. Making sure the coast is clear, you crawl behind the large bins. You couldn’t see any broken fence behind it.

Did they find it? Have you just made a fatal mistake?

You continue to crawl, placing your hand on the metal for any movement.

The chain bends showing cut wire as they bend. Relief washing through you.

It digs harshly into you as you pull yourself through.

You could have kissed the dirt on the other side. Freedom. Edmund.

The guard in the tower above you looks out across the field. You keep under his eyesight as you slide across the fence as quietly as you can.

It runs out, leaving ten feet of open field before the safety of the forest. Ten feet and then you were free. There was no cover, meaning that the guard could easily spot you if he was looking.

You say a silent prayer that the guard will keep his focus straight before you take the chance of discovery.

You leap across the field, throwing yourself upon the first tree you touch. The bark smashed your bruised cheek as you waited for the sirens to sound.

He mustn’t have seen you. You had got away.

You take a second to laugh as quietly as you can. Run, a voice in your head told you. You regain your breath and do. You run as fast as you can, taking the backroads back to your home.

Your lungs burn, willing you to stop but you keep going until your house is in view. You only slow down to stop drawing attention to yourself.

People had started to return home from work. You could see them as you walked along the back of their houses. You're careful not to be seen.

The back steps of your place come under your feet, and your caution disappears as you fling yourself into your home.

Edmund was sitting at the kitchen table dressing a rabbit he caught.

He stood up. Turning his knife towards you thinking you were an intruder.

You knew he would never hurt you so you throw your arms around his shoulders despite the threat.

The knife drops and he takes you into his arms.

“I was so worried.” he breathed.

“We have to go. We need to leave,” you state but make no attempt to pull away.

He does pull away, throwing the rabbit into his hunting sack and picking up his knife. You take his bloody hand and he leads you back out the back door and into the forest.

The walk to the mountains takes well into the night. You both do it silently. What was there to say? There was still a long road to safety.

You stay as close as you could to him. Always holding his hand or latched onto his arm.

The mountain trail is tough and you wonder how he made it up with your mother on his back. He knew the way well, having worked in the mines nearly all his life. He warned you of which boulders were loose, and when you tripped over he caught you as if he almost expected it.

You were worn out by the time you reached the campsite. Rows and rows of small wooden houses for the miners. All were empty this time of year as it got too dark too early and not light enough too late for the hours they worked.

You saw a freshly put-out fire and knew that your mother was close.

“Your mothers in that one,” he pointed to the right cabin, “My family’s in the next one.”

For the first time in the hour's walk, you tore free from him and ran into your mother's cabin.

It was a relief to see her sleeping figure. You throw yourself on top of her and begin crying.

She wakes in fright but knows the figure of her daughter well. She throws her arms around you and joins you in crying.

You were home. You were safe.

—---------

As soon as the door closed, Coriolanus felt as if he had made a mistake. He trusted you.

You were better now. Doing well. He could trust you.

But Tigris’s words made no sense to him. You were coming back.

He tried to focus on his family but he eyes the door expectantly.

Dread fills him. How long did it take to put on washing?

“Coriolanus?” he hears Tigris call.

He dashes out of his chair. He had made a very big mistake.

“Coriolanus?” the receiver resounds.

Upon opening the door he is met with his washing by his feet. He takes off running to his apartment. You were sick the other day, maybe you had fallen ill again and taken to bed.

He pushed past Peacekeepers as he ran to his steps. Taking them two at a time he reaches the top and pushes open the unlocked door. It was only ever locked to keep someone in, never someone out. He calls out for you but is met with silence.

He opened every door along the way to the bedroom, hoping you were just hiding.

He calls your name again and again until falling silent upon the empty bed. You weren’t here. Coriolanus had made a big mistake.

Clicking the radio built into the collar of his shirt, he demands that the compound is shut down.

“Has anyone been through the gates?” Both leading officers of the two entryways confirm that no one has. The Peacekeepers are diverted into searching the compound for you.

Coriolanus joins too. He didn’t trust the ability of his Peacekeepers. He searched every nook and cranny of every office and building he could find. His temper flared the longer the search went on.

You had to be in the compound. How could you have got out?

He returns to his apartment. Maybe you had returned upon hearing the sirens.

A cat catches his attention as it sits meowing and eating bits of food from the ground that the birds had managed to pick out.

He had never seen a cat in the compound before. Could it have got in the same way you got out?

He walks over to search it for any clues it might have but it runs off as he comes closer.

He chases it behind the bin where he watches it slip through the bent wire in the fence.

You had got away. Now at large in the districts.

He sighs deeply before taking his rage out on the back of the bins, bashing and kicking at it until he is forced to lean against it to catch his breath.

A search party would be sent out, interrogations would be issued. Someone had to have seen you along the way. He would find you and he would bring you home to him.

Taglist:

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@inloveallthetime

#coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #dark!coriolanus snow #commander snow #dead dove do not eat #coriolanus x reader #tom blyth #hunger games

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hindahoney · 2 days

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Hello everyone.

Some of you may have noticed I went completely inactive for many months. I did not check my messages or notifications, and I deleted pretty much all of my social media except for this one (though I'm not sure why I kept this, maybe because I put so much work into it and met many amazing people here.)

I guess I'll update you all about what's been going on. I've been accepted to my dream law school and will be attending in the fall. For work, I was fortunate enough to be flown out to NYC for a symposium on antisemitism. I have picked up several new projects that, once the research is published, will hopefully provide some helpful insight into the state of contemporary antisemitism. I am also helping to edit some books for a professor and scholar of Holocaust/Antisemitism studies. Taking this break has been incredibly beneficial not just for my productivity, but also for my mental health.

I realized I needed to re-formulate my relationship with Judaism, separately from antisemitism. I want to love being Jewish not out of a reaction to being hated, but because it adds meaning and value to my life. I'm happy to say that this approach has healed me in many ways. I also noticed that spending time on here made me significantly more bitter, angry, and depressed. I didn't feel that with this mindset I could add to productive conversations around Judaism and antisemitism.

I don't yet intend on returning, if ever. I just wanted to update you about why I went missing for so long. I shifted my advocacy to the real-world, and am happy to see my efforts being realized. It is much more productive than arguing online, and makes an authentic and observable difference.

If you have room in your prayers for one more name, please keep Gili Adar in your mind. She was my friend who was murdered at the Nova festival. She was only 24.

Chag pesach sameach. Am yisrael chai.

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workingchemistry · 2 days

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Echo curls up in the window seat of the apartment Fox has somehow acquired for them. It’s laden with the ugliest throw pillows known to Coruscant and a few other worlds. It doesn’t matter, each one was carefully chosen by their commander and that makes them the best pillows Echo has ever seen. He’s got a real flimsy book held up with one hand but he hasn’t looked down at the pages since Fox’s arrival.

Fives sidles up to Fox with a happy hum before he takes over unbuckling armor. “Well aren’t you a pretty sight?”

Fox doesn’t rise to the bait or try to slap Five’s hands away. Visible emotions aren’t really their partner’s thing but something flickers across his expression. He looks between Fives and then Echo before looking back at Fives. “Are we dating?”

Of all the questions…

Fives’s immediate reassurance breaks off as he doubles over with the force of his coughing.

That leaves Echo to take over. He half stands before he realizes that maybe Fox wants the space—that their commander wasn’t on the same page after all. Instead he stays put and makes sure he catches Fox’s gaze. “We were under that impression, yes, but if it’s not what you want then nothing needs to change.”

“Oh.” Fox says.

He doesn’t jump to reassure them that he wants them in return but that’s alright. Any immediate answer Fox could give wouldn’t be true. It’s honestly a point of pride that Fox trusts them enough to tell the truth.

Meanwhile, Fives stops dramatically choking on his own spit long enough to go back to helping with Fox’s armor. He isn’t immediately pushed away, so that’s also a good sign.

Echo watches from his window seat and hopes.

There’s not much physical difference between Fox’s blacks and their own, but it still soothes a possessive nerve to see Fox replace his dirty blacks with Echo’s. It’s his favorite set, the one with a little tear down the side mended with a decorative stitch in blue.

Fives scoops up the dirty blacks and scuffed armor to do maintenance on in the other room, shooting Echo a sharp look as he does. That is where he deviates from routine, pausing this time before he kisses Fox’s cheek to give their commander time to pull away.

Fox does no such thing. He leans into the touch, tipping his forehead to rest against Five’s. Then he’s pulling away to drop onto the seat next to Echo. “So if you thought we were dating, I’m guessing you’ve already filed the paperwork?”

That draws Echo up short. Sure he doesn’t abide by the regs as strictly as he used to, but surely he would have known if there was paperwork. “For dating?”

“Mm.” Fox isn’t looking at Echo. “We’re in different battalions. I’m head over the military police force. That’s more than enough to be a conflict of interest.”

“Fuck. We can get it done tonight if you…” Echo breaks off when he catches a telltale amused twitch of Fox’s nose. He shoves their commander with a bright laugh. “You bastard! Who taught you a sense of humor?”

Fox’s lips tip up ever so slightly at the corners in the closest he ever comes to a genuine smile. “I found these parasites in the drunk tank. I think their bad habits are starting to rub off on me.”

#commander fox #arc trooper fives #arc trooper echo #fives/fox/echo #Fox really wasn’t sure they were dating #he’s not displeased by the news though #I’m picturing Rex asking Fox about his boyfriends #and Fox being like ?? you mean the guys who I stole an apartment for and who #feed me while I lay in bed between them and sometimes we kiss?#I’m pretty sure it’s just a fling #Fox is a very raunchy asexual with limited romantic experience #it’s okay #Fives and Echo are prepared to fix that.

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xtransmasc-reader-scenariosx · 2 days

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hiii hello :0] is there any chance you'd be willing to write some fluffy martin blackwood x reader? it can be headcanons, oneshots whatever you feel like most atm

//Absolutely!! I love Martin so much

Martin's love language is acts of service. If he's had a hard day be ready to come home to all your favorites.

One of the first things he learned was how to prepare your favorite drink and would bring it to you when you'd had a rough day.

You were one of the first people he was comfortable sharing his poetry with. And you were happy to listen to him, you were familiar with having your creative endeavors shut down and didn't want to do the same to him.

It became pretty common for you to fall asleep to the low murmur of his voice as he read to you, be it poetry or a book.

He's not huge on overt public displays of affection but when you're out and about he always have a hand in yours or on you side.

That aside, he always is ready to lend you one of his jackets or sweaters when you need or want it

At home he's very cuddly. Always with an arm around you or wrapping you in a hug.

If you happen to work different hours he's glad to lay with you and listen to you talk about your day while you card your fingers through his hair

When you cuddle in bed he prefers to be the big spoon, but when you're laying on the couch he would rather lay on top of you with his head on your chest.

When he needs to be alone he always apologizes and makes sure you have what you need and reminds you that he loves you.

Once he comes back he makes sure to stay extra close and makes sure you know how loved you are.

#xtransmasc reader scenariosx #martin blackwood #martin k blackwood #Martin Blackwood x reader #The Magnus Archives x Reader #The Magnus Archives #TMA

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spectres-n-soap · 2 days

Text

One Step Forward, Three Steps Back - Ghost x You x Soap

Content Warnings - pregnancy, afab!fem!reader, panic attack

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You look at yourself in the mirror, you feel different. You feel like you’re getting better and you have expressed this to Dr Miller, told him how you think you’re starting to get better.

He had smiled at you, congratulated you but also warned you that healing is not linear. Much like an old scar, sometimes it’ll ache and you might find yourself hurting all day. You, being a soldier with a few scars that did happen to ache some days, took this like cough medicine. You knew that healing wasn’t linear. How many times have you broken something or needed stitches? You knew that healing was never as easy as it sounded. But today, you felt good. You’ve been feeling good all week despite the anxiety at the back of your mind, like a predator readying itself to strike at the unsuspecting prey. But you suspect it and therefore aren’t prey. You aren’t prey.

Simon peaks his head into the bathroom, checking on you like a mother hen. Last week, after returning home from dinner, you hadn’t just taken a step forward. You felt like it was a giant leap.

”You can sleep in the bed.” You murmured, finding it hard to meet his eyes when you said it.

”You’re not taking the couch.” Simon said gruffly and you cannot help the way your eyes rolled.

”No you wanker, I mean with me.” You huffed, annoyance washed away any sense of apprehension about offering this to him. You had been feeling bad about him sleeping on the floor next to you just so you could hold his hand on nights when you find it hard to sleep. Which seemed to be every night when you weren’t holding his hand.

Simon clutched the steering wheel of the vehicle, his knuckles nearly go white. You don’t notice it or pretend not to. He can’t tell, not when he has to focus on not crashing the car from the shock of you saying that. Finally he manages to speak again, “Okay, if that’s what you want.” He was not shocked to see you had put a pillow wall between him and you. He expected and found it surprisingly easy to settle into bed.

You smile at him, a thing that you feel like you’ve been doing more often. Yesterday you had smiled so wide your cheeks had hurt when Simon had brought home your favorite takeout while you had taken a short nap on the couch. “You sure about this?” He asks again and you roll your eyes with a smile.

”You sound like a dad.” You tease as you walk past him and grab your slip on shoes. “Yes, I’m sure. It’ll be good for me, even my therapist says so.” You comment as you slip the shoes on with a little more trouble than normal. You frown just a little, your feet have become more swollen. God damn it.

”I’m just making sure.” Simon says as he grabs your purse and hands it to you. “You’ll call me if you need me, right?” He asks and you can see the worry in his brown eyes. Genuine worry for you and you pat his bicep reassuringly.

”I will Simon.”

The group is nice. Although most of the women are a little less far along as you, they welcome you in with open arms. People discuss names for their babies, the genders and how excited or nervous they are. One woman, a pretty woman named Linda who is closest to you in terms of months, immediately brings you into her small group of women. They chatter and blessedly, don’t try to pry into your life. They don’t ask about your husband or the gender of the baby, the only thing they ask about is the name.

Your cheeks turn warm when you admit you hadn’t looked into any baby names yet. Linda gasps, jokingly, and offers you her baby name book, saying “I’ve already got my baby girl’s name picked out. I’ve had my eye on it since I was a little girl. I read it somewhere. Ophelia, how pretty of a name is that?” You smile and agree that it's a beautiful name. For once, you wonder if the baby is going to be a boy or a girl.

Everyone settles down when the teacher(?) starts. She goes over some things that every parent needs to know once the baby is here. How to make a bottle of milk, how to change a diaper, how to help get the baby on a sleeping schedule so you don’t go insane from lack of sleep and resources for postpartum depression. The class, overall, is wonderful. Most of the stuff you knew about but you have a feeling half of the reason for these classes is to know you aren’t alone and to make future new moms.

You’re walking up to Linda with the intention to give her your number so the two of you can text about the struggles of being this far along in a pregnancy. How achey your feet are or how your favorite foods seem to have been ruined. You stop dead in your tracks when you see her husband, it must be her husband since you saw the ring on her finger, come up to her.

All the warmth in the room seems to be sucked out when you see him. Messy brown hair, a bright and mischievous smile with a matching set of bright blue eyes that remind you of those springs in Florida that somehow keep getting advertised to you despite living in the UK.

He looks exactly like Johnny. So much like him that for a moment you think it is him until reality comes crashing down, you watch him smile down at her and kiss her tenderly. Your stomach lurches and your eyes burn, breathing becomes a struggle as you turn on your heel and rush towards the bathroom. You shut the door and lock it behind you, ignoring anyone who tries to talk to you and throw up into the toilet. You retch up your breakfast and that little fruity drink you had grabbed on the way here. Hot tears run down your face as you heave up everything in your stomach and then some.

You fall back, the taste of bile in your mouth only adds to whatever is happening as you sob. You grab at your hair as you cry and wonder what is going on. Why is this happening? Why now? You were doing so good! What did you do wrong? You should have never left the house, should have listened to Simon and stayed home.

Simon.

You fumble in your bag and shakily unlock your phone, immediately finding his contact in your phone and calling him. “Simon.” You sob into the line and he immediately knows.

”I’ll be right there luv, stay on the line with me yeah?”

”Okay.” You warble out as you struggle to breath past the sobs that shake your entire body.

”You got to breathe luv, can you do that for me? In, hold for three, out.” Simon talks you through it on speaker as he immediately begins to drive to you.

#john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you #call of duty #cod #soap #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #mw3 spoilers #thyh #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x soap x reader #ghost x y/n #simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #thoyh

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explodingstar · 16 hours

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I miss you Simon.

Warnings: NSFW 18+

Pairings: Simon Riley x f!reader

It was a slow day for you back home all the household chores were done and dinner was already made for later tonight. Just some leftovers from the night before, reheated. Simon had only left a couple weeks ago to go back on deployment to another mission. You miss him already and damn do you miss him. You grab a book and lay down in bed with only the bedside lamp illuminating the darkness of the bedroom.

Buzz buzz

A text? From Simon? You pick up your phone hoping to see his name in your notifications instead its just another alert from facebook. You roll your eyes and put down your phone again but you REALLY needed him to text you especially with the mood you were in at the moment. All of a sudden an idea comes to your mind and you put the book you were reading down on the bedside table alongside your glass of wine. Was this a drunken idea? Possibly. Did it still seem like a good idea?

Definitely.

You get up and walk over to your closet and grab Simons favorite article of clothing that he LOVES to see you in. A black lacy one piece that is just sheer enough to see everything, in the right lighting. You grab your tripod and set it up at the edge of the bed and change into the lingerie that Simon had essentially tried to rip off of you before. You set up your phone on the tripod and turn it on video mode to take screenshots of it later. At first you pose a couple different ways. One on your knees with your arms pushing your tits together and your hands on the bed in front of you. Another one with the top of the one piece down so your tits are fully out and your hands running through your long gorgeous hair. You get to thinking…‘What would Simon enjoy most?’ An idea hits you. You turn your back to the camera and seductively bend over to where your ass is in the air and your soaking wet pussy can be seen through the sheer lingerie that you decided to put on. You get up and grab your phone looking through the video to make sure everything is perfect. A couple screenshots here, a couple there and you make a little folder called “For Simon”.

“This should get him to text me…” ‘attachment delivered’ you read.

Simon’s POV

DING “Simon! You got a message!” “Thanks Johnny I’m pretty sure I can hear” Simon says annoyingly. He picks up his phone and opens your message. He smirks to himself and stands up from his seat. “I’ll be right back mates” He goes into the bathroom off of the barracks just for a bit more privacy.

Your POV

RING RING RING You look down at your phone blushing when you see Simon’s name and photo come across your screen. You slide over to answer “Hiiii Simon” You hear the sound of metal clinking together and you know exactly what it is, his belt coming undone with one hand. “Im going to assume you got my pictures love”

“Ughh Fuck. I did..ya miss me don’t ‘cha?” He says through grunts. “I always do” you say rubbing yourself just to the sound of his voice. A small moan escaping your lips as you do so. “Wait till I get back…you wont be able to walk for teasing me like this…oh fuck” he says softly. He continues stroking his cock still looking at the pictures you sent. “I cant wait for you to come home.” You say with your middle finger slowly pumping in and out of you. “Fuck..well lucky for you I get home tomorrow…”

A/N: I plan on making this a part 1! Part 2 would be Simon coming home. 😈 (Sorry for any errors its almost 2AM.)

#cod #cod fanfic #cod modern warfare #cod mw3 #cod x reader #ghost cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you

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milk-ly · 1 day

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Kotoko and her connection to Dante’s Inferno’s Satan

Disclaimer: This is just about symbolism and I know how it sounds but I promise I’m not trying to imply anything or demonize her! I love Kotoko! Ive just been repeatedly noticing details about the parallel for several months now and I just really want to bring it up! This is just an analysis of the details MILGRAM has provided for it. I’m incredibly sorry if I make a mistake!

Kotoko has a lot of parallels to Dante’s Inferno Satan, especially in relation to Es.

To make sure we’re all on the same page, Dante’s Inferno is a Christian poem that outlines the 9 circles of hell. MILGRAM directly references Dante’s Inferno by quoting it in all the t2 door arts.

“Abandon all hope, ye who enter.” A quote derived from a sign at the gate of hell in the poem.

Each ring of Hell contains sinners with different levels of sins, and each ring’s sin was meant to be worse the further inside you go. Ive seen a couple theories that each prisoner correlates with a specific ring of hell. (Ex: Haruka is ring 1, Limbo; Yuno is ring 2, lust; etc)

But Dante’s Inferno only outlines 9 rings, what about our 10th prisoner, Kotoko?

While it could be that she’s again the “outsider” to the other prisoners, the last section of the 9th ring of Hell is significant because it is the center of Hell, containing Satan. So it could be reasonably argued that Kotoko correlates with it.

MILGRAM already has a TON of religious references. One that I’ve seen pointed out is how it seems the cover art of each novel is a reference to a famous Christian art piece.

The Es in each novel seems to be where Jesus relatively is. Remember that Jesus is both the son of God AND God. God gives sinners their judgements which sounds very similar to Es and how they're giving the prisoners (the human sinners) their verdicts.

Plus, the quote Milgram quotes is on the doors the prisoners are entering, and in Dante’s inferno, it’s on the gate of hell so you can compare or theorize that MILGRAM is a parallel to (or straight up is) purgatory. And Es, being the one who decides the verdict, parallels God.

Also, her t2 VD is named “YONAH,” which is the masculine version of the name Jonah. Not only does this relate to her themes of masculinity again, Jonah is a name that originates from Hebrew origins which means “dove.”

It is also a reference to the book of Jonah. A main theme of this book is “Jonah wants God to operate on his timeline [...] He wanted God to dole out punishment on his clock instead of according to God's plan. Yet God showed Jonah that in his infinite wisdom, he can't and will not be rushed.” Which is pretty much exactly what happens in YONAH, and also once again compares Es to God.

Dante’s Inferno’s Satan was an angel, a splendid being, apparently the most perfect of God's creatures… an “Angel of light.” We/Es deemed Kotoko innocent in t1. She had the highest innocent percentage in t1 too because a lot of people thought her murder was justified. You know, the most perfect of God’s creatures. The most perfect out of the prisoners.

“We really can work together.”

But then Satan tried to usurp God.

“If you don’t have the strength on your own, let me take care of it. Es! I can do it in MILGRAM!”

Kotoko wants to be the prison guard because Es isn’t capable in her eyes.

Satan was ultimately sent to Hell and punished as "the ultimate sinner" for his betrayal of trying to usurp God.

We are now punishing Kotoko for her attempts to judge the prisoners herself and “usurp” Es. It works even better now that she has the highest guilty percentage in all of MILGRAM so far as the “ultimate sinner.”

As a lot know, Fuuta also has tons of religious references too. (Ex. His VD is titled Baptism by Fire) By him also passing judgements onto people, you could say that he was trying to play God.

What is that saying about us, the audience, then? And our parallel/foil to Fuuta/Kotoko?

Dante’s Inferno as a whole is very much based around the idea of “evil will be punished,” which not only encapsulates Kotoko’s ideals but MILGRAM’s as well. It makes sense that MILGRAM says that Kotoko is a perfect parallel to the facility.

(I also wanna mention that there's something that could be said about the holy trinity in relation to Es + the audience + jackalope. For example, how Jesus is God in the flesh and Es is the audience "in the flesh," by acting as a personified version of us to interact with the "human sinnners" but I feel like I might be going into tinfoil hat territory.)

#edit: GIRL WTF THIS POST WAS A DRAFT I THOUGHT I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED SO I REWROTE THE WHOLE THING. BUT I JUST ACCIDENTALLY QUEUED IT??😭#this…. could’ve been worded much better… but too many people have seen this post now I can’t repost it💀 oops….#original tags:#this has been in my drafts for so many months now😭#it’s been in my mind for even longer #but ive been really scared of posting this because I don’t want people to get the wrong idea #milgram #kotoko yuzuhira #milgram es #fuuta kajiyama

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batfambrainrotbeloved · 3 days

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DO YOU THINK TIM IN THE TIMOTHY “TRASH” DRAKE AU MADE A GRAVE FOR THE YOUNG TIM HE REPLACED?!?!

I’m literally so sorry that I’m bothering you but I just thought of the batfam finding younger tim’s grave that Timothy made and thinking that that was why he went from a “good kid” to the horrible person he is now. Cuz he was replaced with an imposter

Pls feel free to ignore me

Bold of you to assume I would ever consider ignoring you (I swear ily <33 you are the furthest thing from bothersome I adore seeing notifs from you!!)

To start- no he wouldn't have a Grave, BUT not for like the "he didn't think of that/didn't care" Theres a long of secret shenanigans going on behind scenes but ill go ahead and clarify.

What happened was when Red Robin died and magic voodoo whatever (that i'm keeping secret for now ;)) and what I call a "Time slip" When the Time slip occured- he did not change dimensions, switch conciousness, or even "break the timestream" He is tiny Tim- Tim maintained his memories from his Red Robin life- BUT the moment he went back in time and changed something (as minimal as what he ate for breakfast) that time ceased to exist.

To explain it let's use a writing metaphor. Tims original time was an entire book of its own.

But then the "author" changed a major event, suddenly everything that happened past that event was no longer considered canon. Yes it happened, but its no longer reality. It is a whole seperate draft from the now "published work"

The draft still exists- but it cannot and will not ever be published exactly the same as it once was. It is forever different. Sure some things are salvaged and remain, but others have been edited out by sheer happenstance or on purpose (aka Tim intervention)

SO instead of Tim replacing a younger version of him, its Tim who suddenly woke up and the past 12 years of his life had ceased to exist entierly and were now as real as a pretty vivid dream.

Equally horrifying yes- but no Tiny Tims were replaced/harmed in timeline shenanigans!!

(though funnily enough there will be some batfam shenanigans that might ring fairly similar to that scenerio)

#mutual asks #sunny asks #definently confusing I recognize #b u t im waiting #to fully dive into #tim drake #cardinal dc #trash tim AU #thank you for the ask!!

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cloudyskiiees · 2 days

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ok i cant control myself here’s me infodumping about my stardew valley x tdi fic idea:

-first few chapters are all noah’s perspective. he lives in a small run down town called stardew valley, working at the library with their shitty museum attached. he has a couple old books of his on display, but nothing more. rumors of a new farmer coming to town arise, he doesn’t think much of it.

-until he sees the farmer after he’s moved there. he’s pretty, sure, but he’s… weird.

-the farmer waits around like he knows where people are gonna be at a certain time. he’s scarily good at collecting new gems and minerals for the museum, he’s even better at fighting in the mines, where most people don’t dare to go.

-he knows what everyone likes without even asking.

-this all gets annoying because noah hasn’t learned anything about the farmer, other than his name. alejandro.

-he can’t shake the feeling something is wrong with the new farmer.

-so he starts being a bit meaner. refusing gifts he loves, even if it almost seems to pain him to do so. he’s gotten to the point he can outright refuse to let alejandro donate to the museum! it brings him satisfaction to see the looked on the farmers face, but he can’t deny something inside him feels horribly wrong whenever he… acts out.

-eventually we get an alejandro pov. and the entirety of “stardew valley” is a video game. none of the characters we’ve been following or learning about are real, not even the farmer noah knows. he’s simply a made up character.

-alejandro is pissseddd because something is wrong with his newest save! he had made a brand new one to attempt and speed run it, having the summer off from college and finally being miles and miles away from his family breathing down his neck.

-so what is this characters deal all the sudden?

-the new dialogue noah says, he can’t find it anywhere online. he didn’t know characters could refuse gifts they loved, or even in general!

-when the librarian refuses to let him donate his recent finds to the museum, he makes it his mission to figure out how this is happening.

-he gets his local tech “friend” Sierra to take a look and observe the game, hoping she can figure out what’s wrong. he doesn’t exactly like the girl but…. she’s really smart when it comes to certain things. especially her favorite video game.

-noah continues to question the other townsfolk, but starts realizing that… they all kind of act the same. have the same responses. routines.

-he realizes he does too.

-izzy is the only other self aware character inside of the game, noah nearly strangled her when she told him she’s known for a long time.

rest of the story is sierra and alejandro realizing the characters are becoming self aware, and being like WTFFFF especially since they all start having distinct reactions and dialogues once sierra takes over alejandro’s farmer for a bit, seeing as they act very different.

this story would likely not have a super happy ending since ya know, most of the characters aren’t real. but i love fucking around with grey idea things like knowing ur trapped inside a game forever, but also loving the people and life you have in there! as well as ofc the eventual angst involved once feelings become a thing noah has for alejandro, seeing as he knows he’s real, and the farmer he plays as will never actually be him.

#total drama #alenoah #tdi alenoah #tdi fanfic #total drama island #this is definitely angstier than i anticipated #is there anyway for it to like end happily????#idk but i like the concept!#it can definitely be messed with too but these are my first thoughts LOLOL

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sophiacloud28 · 3 days

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Crystallize (ROTTMNT One-Shot Preview)

One-shot, Fluff, Rise Donnie, main timeline

You honestly can’t say how all of this got started.

Now don’t get it twisted. You remember the first instance. The fact that not even a few minutes into your lunch period, you’d heard the sound of something banging against metal only to look up and find no one. You remember the following days and the stare that had accompanied them, intent and focused on your hands as you toiled away at the blanket you’d been working on. And you remember by the end of that week, someone sitting two tables over with a book, something that would have barely caught your attention if it didn’t keep happening again, and again, and again.

Same height, same purple hoodie, same heavy stare the second you start working on your project.

You realize they’re trying to be subtle. You know they’re not. Not when they consistently take off minutes after your lunch break is finished. Not when they constantly spare a glance behind themselves as they leave after checking out their books. And certainly not when, after a week of that, they take to you, not your owl colleague, you when your superior kept telling you that this new shift was just going to be about the first few hours, something you’d hate if it didn’t mean you were fully awake.

So you know. You’ve got a pretty good track record of what’s been going on during your shifts and breaks, although you’re pretty sure whoever this person is would likely be annoyed at that fact. You’re just not sure why. Why this person, this man is obsessed with your hobby as thoroughly as he is.

… You think it’s a man. The few sounds you’ve heard coming from his throat sound male and the name you have seen on the account seems like it, but you have no idea what’s behind that purple hoodie of his other than the fact that he seems to have green skin and a mask of the same color as his pullover. Not to mention that getting him to talk feels almost forbidden at this point, at least until he breaks it.

“That’s not the project you were working on.”

Which, just like you expected, is done as weirdly as all your previous interactions, if they can be called that, making you blink and look at the bag next to you.

Of course, he would notice. Even if he’s not a bird, he’s been watching you like a hawk for a month. You turn back to checking in his books, “It was getting a bit too big to work on here, so it’s now at home. This is a transitional project since I haven’t bought the yarn for my next project yet and I have a lot of scraps.”

“The hook is different.”

You check in the last book and follow his gaze back to your bag, smiling at the long wooden hook, “Yep. It’s what I like to use for my scrap projects. It’s a Tunisian crochet hook. You familiar?”

Before you dare look in his direction, your polite smile melting into genuine mirth as his face twitches. You can't be sure, but he looks miffed, dare you say upset since he takes off without another word into the library, and you can only sigh at it as you wonder if he will be present at lunchtime.

#rottmnt #rise donnie #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt donatello #my writing #I have another version of this that's in-media res and I'm not sure which way is preferable #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader

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nalyra-dreaming · 11 hours

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Reading the S2 reviews (so beware spoilers ahead!). Wanted to get your take (and others’ if people have thoughts!), citing The Wrap’s review:

“Daniel might be the most radically different character from book to screen. He’s older, more pessimistic and utterly allergic to the allure of vampire life. Only now he is able to confront the deep-seated scars left behind after his night with Louis (although book fans might be disappointed to know that the show doesn’t tease out more of the romance he has with Armand in the books. Theirs is strictly an adversarial relationship in the series.)”

Other reviews confirm that S02E05/the episode about Daniel’s past is not romantic at all, rather a horror episode. Which I’m sure will be good (some describe it as the best episode), but I can’t help being a bit disappointed that they don’t seem to be doing DM - or at least not in this season at all. I think the reviews only cover episodes 1-6, but this reviewer seems so very sure… (also they seem to know the books so I’m guessing the episode won’t be too similar to the book either. Meaning it won’t end with “the chase” or will it?). So is there a real risk that no DM will play out?. The greatest hint of DM in my view was Zaman’s podcast appearance where he stated that Armand is curious about Daniel and that there is a history there. But this could just be referring to their horror-filled encounter in episode five. So I don’t know, I’m a little sad - was pretty excited for some f*cked up memory stuff (there is just something so compelling with the idea of discovering that there is a whole side of your life that you’ve lost - that this person you don’t know is someone you loved etc.). I wanted to see what it would do to Daniel and Armand respectively, and I wanted their dynamic to be as interesting as possible. Remember reading speculation that Daniel will remember more in the finale - maybe a romantic aspect but I think it was just pure speculation, no hints or comments from the cast/writers backing this up.

What do you think? Grateful to hear your thoughts! Also, I’m still psyched about this season of course, looking forward to the Armand/Louis romance, the Theatre! Hayles performance is supposedly going to be amazing, and I’m looking forward to more of Daniel’s snark obviously! It feels unreal that the season is around the corner!

It is!!! And I am also sooooo hyped, it's unreal *laughs*

Okay, so... first of all, it's always a thing of perspective with reviews. For example, there's this as well, after episode 1:

Now... that is no review, granted.

But it's perception. I... do not think that all of the "Devil's Minion" will be spelled out in the first episodes (nor do I think we will get all of it this season!). In fact, I think the horror that "he loved this monster" is part of the horror of it all, this realization. And that will very likely be in the last episodes, in whichever way.

So. With that in mind - btw, which review did confirm it's ep5? (I only saw that focused comment I think?) - I did not expect Devil's Minion to be "happy". In fact, I think it might have stalking, cages, attacks, and the beginning of the chase - and that chase does NOT start out as cute.

Daniel just gets used to it, over time. And then Armand falls in love.

Season 2 is going to be significantly darker. I bet it's also going to be a lot campier, if the comments to this hold true, with dark humor. But they're leaning fully into the horror aspects of this vampire world now, and the beginning of the Devil's Minion is exactly that - horrific.

The above review matches with what Jacob said about Louis and Daniel forming alliances... and I bet that alliance is indeed needed to drag the whole story out.

And when that whole story is out - that will lead to repercussions.

THAT in turn goes for Louis just as much as it goes for Daniel... because this second interview has just as much to do with him.

So... I would wait until you can see it with your own eyes?! :)

I mean... AMC's promotion(al pairing of the actors) speaks a very loud language? And Assad said he had chemistry read with "Daniel"... for reasons.

But it won't all be revealed in the screeners. I bet the last two episodes will pack a punch.

Maybe even literally. 😜

#Anonymous #sending you a hug nonny #we will get the whole story no worries #but we might not get it all this season #asks #ask nalyra #amc iwtv #iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire amc #iwtv amc #interview with the vampire #the devil's minion #armand #daniel molloy #devil's minion #iwtv s2

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yoonivy · 5 hours

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gold rush; part 2.

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

genre. romantic comedy — inspired by 10 things i hate about you and also another movie (can you guess which one? :) ) , college/university au, eventual smut, enemies to lovers (kinda??? their relationship is complicated to explain LOL)

In all the 8 years you’ve known Aemond Targaryen, he has not spoken more than 8 words to you. In total. So why is he starting now?

warnings. none.

author's note. i have no poetic bone in my body so oc's poem is taken from mitski's "your best american girl". enjoy!!!!

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07

This is not how you thought you’ll be spending your first day off in months — with your favorite distressed black tee of your favorite band covered in flour, eggs in your hair, and coloured icing staining your hands. But you suppose there are worse ways to spend your day off, and at least all this hard work will pay off with all the delicious desserts that Sansa is manically making.

And by manic, you are not at all joking in the slightest.

On every available surface of Sansa’s kitchen, there is at least one tray of some sort of baked goods cooling. Cookies on the kitchen table, banana bread and her favorite lemon cakes on the island, three different flavours of cheesecakes by the sink, and macaron shells currently in the oven. And she’s not even finished! While you are currently decorating the cookies, she is frantically stirring something else in a bowl — by hand, because once again for the 9th time this year, she had broken an electric mixer just a bit earlier.

There is only one reason Sansa gets like this. There is something troubling her mind. And by the looks of the disaster she made of her kitchen, it’s pretty big.

She’ll let you know when she’s ready to vent. But for now, you’re just both happy for the company.

Plus, you’re finally getting a hang of this icing piping thing if you do say so yourself. You stand back, picking up the sea salt caramel chip cookie you finished decorating to proudly show off the cute turtle to Sansa.

She laughs, offering an excited, “ Awwww!” before she goes back to mixing.

It’s quiet for a while, both of you concentrated on the task at hand.

Mayhaps too quiet, you start to think…

That is when you smell something… strange.

“Oh no!”

Sansa reacts and jumps on it first, quick to the oven with her mitts, pulling out the tray of charred macaron shells and placing it onto the stove. You stand by her as she slumps in defeat, and you notice she forgot to set the timer she already had ready on the oven.

From this close, it’s easier to notice how frazzled and disheveled Sansa truly is. Her copper hair is in disarray, falling from her tight bun in many places, her bangs messy against her forehead. Her rosy complexion even more flush than usual. And the bags under her eyes… She has not slept well.

Meeting your gaze, she lets out a heavy sigh, and finally comes out with it, “Jon asked me out.”

“ Oh… ” You trail off, eyes shifting from side to side. “That’s… that’s it?”

“What?!” Sansa is so shocked that you’re so nonchalant about it. As if she and Jon haven’t been dancing around each other for nearly two years now. “Isn’t that… Isn’t it…”

You gasp into an over exaggerated worried expression. “Oh no… you’re going to reject him, aren’t you?”

Your poor bestie… Now he is going to be even more sulky than ever. If that’s even possible.

“I— no! I mean, I want —” Sansa sputters, eyes widening wildly. Then she takes a breath to recollect herself, stares at you for a moment before she claims, “You all knew, didn’t you?”

You nod slowly.

“Even… Robb?”

“I’m pretty sure Robb’s the one that gave him the final push to ask you.”

Sansa groans, face palming. “This is so embarrassing…”

“Yeah, it’s so strange. How very Cersei Lannister of you,” you tease, clearly unserious with your reference to the recent scandal of the high profile actress who was caught having an affair… With her own twin brother, the most booked and busy male model Jaime Lannister. Some say the raunchy videos that leaked were just deep fakes and the twins were the ones who leaked it themselves to hide the fact they both weren’t straight, but many others — like yourself and Sansa — think it’s as real as can be. For the first two weeks when the scandal broke out, you and Sansa kept sending the group chat twitter “proof” threads of clips of the Lannister twins throughout the years (on the red carpet, the photoshoots they often were paired up with together, their own content they would post of one another) to convince your other friends. Needless to say, all the guys left the group chat and would only agree to be added back if the two of you shut the fuck up about it.

They’re lucky that the star of the reality television show "Keeping Up With The Martells", Arianne Martell, started dating comedian Pete Davidson a week later or else they would have never been added back.

Sansa’s face falls into a silent gasp, and you quickly have to convince her, “I’m joking, Sansa! You and Jon are nothing like them! And plus, cousins dating is not that weird… Aren’t your grandparents cousins?”

“Yes, but–”

“And they’re the most adorable little old couple I’ve ever seen! How they would always walk around the godswood every morning holding hands… my little heart couldn’t handle the cuteness every time I saw them when we were growing up!”

Sansa giggles, smiling fondly at the thought of her grandparents. “You’re right… They are so sweet.”

You share a smile, but then Sansa frowns suddenly. “But it’s not even that… I mean it was , but there’s also… There’s also the fact I was horrible to Jon when we were growing up.”

You won’t deny that, but… “Well clearly things have changed. You’ve changed. And it’s obvious Jon forgives you… And honestly, if I have to hear him be all sad boy and pine over you and play his guitar while singing some song by Cigarettes After Sex for another night, I think I might really have to K word myself.”

“Don’t do that!” Sansa laughs, shaking her head. You raise a brow at her and then she nods, determined.

“I’m going to talk to him… Right now,” Sansa declares, smiling wide. Then she takes your hands into hers. “Thank you… For being here for me when I’m such a mess.”

“It’s nothing, Sansa,” you say as you pull your hands from her grasp to wrap her into a tight hug. “I’m always here for you, you know that! And I know you’d do the same for me.”

After you both pull away, your finger grazes on her cheek and then you show her the pad now covered in cake mixture. “Maybe shower first before you talk to him?”

You both laugh, and then Sansa leaves you alone in her kitchen. You start to clean up, getting most of it done and only stopping when you pass by the tray of cookies you were working on.

As you stare at one of the chocolate chips you had decorated, you pull your phone out of your pocket.

To Aemond

— are you at school rn?

From Aemond

— Yes. At Barristan Hall.

— Why?

To Aemond

— okay good!

— STAY THERE!! 😡

From Aemond

— Alright.

— Why?

— Oh, so it's okay when you leave me on read?

You laugh at Aemond’s unintentional silliness while you slam close the car door you just stepped out of.

To Aemond — it’s only been 5 minutes you drama queen!! — i’ll see you soon!

“I was promised treats for the ride.”

You roll your eyes, looking across the hood of the car where Theon is putting on his clubmaster sunglasses. You meet him at the front of his car, handing him one of the little dessert packages you had made with Sansa. His eyes light up as he takes it, going ‘ oooh! ’, then he glances up into your eyes more expectantly. Even from behind the sunglasses, you can feel his little beady eyes doing that pleading, wide-eyed emoji look at you.

“You motherf…” You curse him under your breath, rummaging into your tote bag to hand him what he really wanted. The preroll you were saving for yourself later that evening.

“It’s a pleasure doing business with you, m’lady,” he says with a bow.

“Uh-huh.”

As the two of you walk off the parking lot together, Theon lights it up, takes a hit before handing it to you. “Why are you here anyway? I thought you didn't have classes today?”

“I don’t,” you tell him, after exhaling the sativa from your lungs. You hold up the second tote bag you were carrying to show him. “I’m just being a little dessert fairy! I’m gonna give one to Seaworth, Professor Tarth, and…”

Taking back the spliff and glancing your way, Theon grins and teases, “And your little Targaryen boyfie ?”

Your face twists in disgust. “Ew. Please never say that ever again,” Theon snickers as you continue, “And he’s not my boyfriend… We’re just… friends…question mark?”

You’re definitely not even sure about that. It’s been a week since the party, and you’ve yet to see Aemond in person since then.

But the two of you have been texting. A lot.

Surprisingly, Aemond is fun to text despite his perfect sentence structures, proper punctuation, and no use of emojis. Though strangely enough, you don’t even have to explain the internet slangs you say and memes you often send him, he just somehow knows. You usually get a very dry ‘Haha.’ and you’re not sure if he even finds it actually funny. He still keeps texting you though, so you take that as a good sign.

“ Friends… right. Because you make out with your friends all the time in front of a huge crowd.”

“How many times do I have to tell you: WE DID NOT MAKE OUT! OR EVEN KISS FOR THAT MATTER!”

Theon waves around the phone in his hand. “I have video evidence! And so does Marg! And a million other people that were at the party!”

“And you’re all dumb, like I’ve said before,” you tell him with a pout. You can’t believe the videos of you and Aemond “kissing” gained traction around the students at your school and yet none of your sick dance moves did. The world is so unfair!

As the two of you stop by the doors of the building where his first and only class of the day is being held, Theon steps on the roach of the spliff. Then he turns to you, pulling down his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, enough for you to see his eyes. “How do I look?”

“Like you smoked half a joint.”

“Shit… Mordane is going to kill me.”

You hum, satisfied. “Perhaps it’s deserved… I know it’s your video that’s been spreading around, you little shit!”

From the anonymous TikTok video that Jon showed you that was being spread around the night after the party titled “Vale U’s Ice Prince snogging the weirdest girl at Vale U”, you can hear Margaery gasping beside the cameraman and the cameraman laughing annoyingly. It’s definitely Theon.

Theon now laughs again, the same annoying laugh from the video, and shrugs his shoulders flippantly. Opening the doors, he lilts at you, “Say hi to your boyfie for me!”

With your middle finger up at him, you sing-song back, “I won’t!”

“Theon says hi .”

Aemond eyes you quizzically, brows furrowing together in a way that you would think is cute if he was your boyfriend like Theon teases. But he’s not, so it’s like, whatever…

“Theon…?” He repeats, still confused.

“You know, my friend who I think spread that video of us?”

“ Ah… ” Aemond lets out, finally putting a face to the name. Then he looks up at you from where you are standing just beside the table he is sitting at, clearing his throat. “So… How have you been?”

“Fine,” you tell him with a shrug, glancing around the room. You think this must be the first time you’ve been to Barristan Hall since… Well, since your tour guide of the University two years ago. This building is unnecessarily too bougie , and it’s where the more privileged students (read, nepo babies ) like to spend their time on campus. Even this study hall — if you can even call it that — has a stall of the most expensive coffee store chain in it and a freaking high-end bar . It’s ridiculous!

Aemond is at least studying judging by the book and laptop he has opened in front of him, unlike the other students mingling around.

You then turn your attention back to him, finding his eye still on you. With a soft smile, you return his question, “How about you? How have you been?”

Aemond sits up a little straighter as he says, “I’ve been… well.” He then presses his lips together, before opening his mouth again, “So, what—”

“Oh, ____! Fancy seeing you here!”

You and Aemond glance to where Ramsay, Aegon, and Vis are all approaching the two of you.

Before you can even dodge it, Ramsay has his arms wrapped around you. Cringing, you push him off you with a glare that he takes with an amused chuckle. He leans in close, too close , and inhales deeply, smirking at you when he pulls back, “You smell real sweet, sweetheart.”

You make a face that hopefully conveys your utter disgust for him but then Aegon pushes him aside with his arms wide open towards you with pout, “Where’s my hug at, ____?”

You suppress a grimace, tentatively hugging Aegon back when he steps towards you, patting his back awkwardly. It’s strange for Aegon to be this friendly towards you, but maybe it’s because Aemond and you are sorta, kinda, maybe friends now? And Aegon was the nicer of the two towards you when you were growing up. Daeron and Helaena are still the sweetest though.

From over your shoulder, Aegon smirks at his little brother, the glare Aemond has on him making him tighten his arm around you.

Luckily Vis does not seem to care for you, already sitting down at the table with Aemond with his iced Sunspearino. Aegon finally lets you go and join, sitting beside his brother – bending down to snicker mischievously into Aemond’s ear before he does so. Hidden from view from under the table, Aemond’s knuckles whiten from his clenched fist.

Ramsay stays standing with his hips cocked and arms crossed, his sleazy gaze steady on you.

Ugh.

“So, ____, have you visited our father lately?” Aegon asks, throwing his arm around Aemond.

“Yup, just yesterday!” You tell him. Then to both him and Aemond, you suggest, “You know, you two should visit him more often. He’s always asking about you guys as if I know what the two of you are up to…”

Aegon snorts while Aemond frowns, looking down.

“Last time we visited, we found some very interesting… things , that our dear father has been hiding,” Aegon says, eyeing you closely.

“Like what…?” Your face twists. “... Porn ? Actually — whatever it is, don’t even tell me!”

The boys laugh – except Aemond – and Aegon points towards you, wagging his finger, “You’re pretty funny. I like you!”

“Told ya she’s cute,” Ramsay comments and you almost gag.

“I don’t know about that…” Vis mutters under his breath. “She has egg in her hair for crying out loud…”

With your mouth downturned, you glance down at your hair and find that he is right — you do have egg in your hair. Well that’s embarrassing…

“You’re here to give me something, weren’t you?” Aemond asks, changing the subject.

“Oh right!” You exclaim, pulling out a neatly plastic wrapped package tied together with a red ribbon and placing it on the table for Aemond. Inside the clear plastic sheet are different individually boxed sweets in clear small tupperware. It’s a bit extra, but that’s Sansa for you! “I spent the morning baking with a friend and we made too much, so… Here you go!” Then you grin at Vis, holding up a piece of your hair, “The reason why I have egg,” you tell him with a laugh. He smiles tightly, still unamused.

You turn back to Aemond, pointing out the different dessert from outside the package, “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I gave you a bit of everything… That’s lemon cake over there, Sansa’s favorite. Oh, the macarons! I think I gave you the pistachio and coffee flavored one. Um… Strawberry cheesecake. The banana bread is pretty fire… and,” Your eyes light up as you giddily talk, and Aemond’s cheeks heats up, “I decorated that cookie myself! Don’t you think it’s cute?” You meet his eyes, and he startles, realizing he has been looking at you the entire time instead of following what you were pointing out. You did not notice, only smiling at him as you let him know “It’s a dragon, like your family—”

“That doesn’t look like a dragon,” Aegon remarks rudely, and both you and Aemond snap at him at the same time, “Yes, it does!”

You throw an appreciative smile at Aemond which he returns with a coy half-grin, while Aegon murmurs with a frown, “Geez, talk about touchy ….”

“Thank you,” Aemond says softly, pulling the package towards himself.

Grinning, you wave him off, “No problem!”

Then you glance at the time on your phone. “I should get going,” you tell him, already backing away. “I’ll talk to you later!”

Aemond stands suddenly, but doesn’t move, just nods as his hands stay pressed on the table. “Yeah, later…”

You throw him one final glance back with a sweet smile on your face and he grins back.

Once you’re gone, that’s when he finally sits back down.

“I guess Aemond has game after all,” Vis smirks. “Didn’t think you had it in you…”

Ramsay harrumphs, now also seated. “She never once gave me a package of sweets…” Then he grins sordidly, “But she did give something else that’s pretty sweet if you know what I mean…”

“Fuck off,” Aegon laughs out loud. “You’re gonna make Aemond blow a fuse.”

“He shouldn’t be getting attached to her,” Vis reminds Aegon, and Aemond in turn with a furrowed look. “Isn’t that the whole plan?”

“Looks like he’s getting pretty attached to me,” Ramsay says with a yawn.

“I’m not,” Aemond says, surely. “I’m just trying to make it all believable. Isn’t that the plan also?”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I have a go again after you dump her?” Ramsay asks, with an innocent tilt in his voice. “I’ve missed that tight cunt …”

Tension clenches Aemond’s jaw minutely, then evenly he says, “Go ahead. By my guest.”

But when Aegon tries to grab for one of the sweets, Aemond snatches it away, and stuffs the package with care in his bag. He then stands up and gathers all his things, stalking away without another word.

Aegon heaves a sigh, incredulously asking, “What’s his problem?!”

Ramsay smirks, letting out a chuckle. “Oh, this is going to be fun …”

You managed to catch Professor Tarth before she left the campus, so your next and final stop for the dessert delivery is your favorite teacher, your literature professor, Davos Seaworth.

You find him in his office and he does not even hesitate to dig into the double mocha cheesecake in his sweets package.

“How many extra credits do you want for this?” He asks, pointing at the cheesecake he is almost finished. “I’ll give you as many as you want.”

You laugh while shaking your head, flipping through a book he had just given you to read at your leisure. “No credits! But I’ll make sure to bring you more of that one next time!”

Knowing Sansa, next time will be pretty soon.

“Hmm… alright…” Davos trails off, dabbing his beard with a napkin. “By the way, have you signed up for the poetry slam I told you about?”

You sink into your seat, the one across the desk he is sitting at, sheepishly grinning at him, “Not yet…”

Davos hums out disgruntledly. “And why not?”

“I completely forgot about it,” you say with a shrug, you know, like a liar.

In truth, it’s all you’ve been thinking about. The poetry slam competition at Moon Door Cafe, where the winner will win a 5k cheque and their poetry collection published in a book — both of which you need and want, respectively.

“You better, ____. I’ve already told my friend to look out for you.”

“Okay, then I will,” you try to tell him, but Davos keeps his skeptical gaze on you. “I promise I’ll send in an email tonight!”

Then, once again like a liar, you don’t.

Two days later, Aemond finds himself standing by your apartment door, his life getting threatened by the muted snarling of the biggest wolf he has ever seen, so early in the morning.

“Ghost, stop… ” Jon Snow frowns at the white direwolf that still has its teeth bared at Aemond. Jon gently pushes the wolf aside, opening the door wider to allow Aemond to step inside. “Don’t worry, he won’t bite… He’s just… uh… I don’t even know what his problem is today…” Jon sends Aemond a weak smile, “He’s usually pretty friendly…”

Aemond eyes the wolf before turning to Jon. “It’s fine. I’m not really good with animals.”

Jon offers him a slow nod, then informs Aemond, “____’s just in a washroom. Getting ready, I think?”

Aemond hums just as Jon presents his hand. “I don’t think we’ve properly met, I’m Jon. ____’s roommate, and uh… best friend?”

Aemond shifts the coffee tray over to hold with just one hand to shake it. “Aemond. Why do you sound unsure?”

Jon laughs softly, “Oh, I don’t know…”

Aemond eyes him for a second then hums again. He remembers you telling him about how awkward Jon is, so that might be it.

Aemond then glances around the small space — a living room, kitchen, and dining room all in one — it’s homely and cozy, and he can definitely picture you in here. Flitting around, watering the plants, dancing to the music playing from the vinyl player, cooking in the kitchenette…

“Oh, hey! I went with ____ to your dad’s place yesterday!”

The smile on Aemond’s face falls just when he turns to see Jon grinning wide at him.

“He’s really awesome! And a hell of a Cyvasse player — I think he beat me in just four turns!” Jon recalls with a laugh.

Aemond exhales heavily, offering Jon a tight-lipped smile. “That’s… great.”

Feeling the awkward tension finally, Jon rubs a hand at the back of his neck. “Oh, uh… yeah…”

“Whoa, hey! What are you doing here?”

Aemond glances over to where Ghost pads to, and his eye widen and balks when he sees you just wrapped in a tiny towel.

You walk around your apartment like this — with Jon just in the room?!

He then swerves his stare at Jon who looks unmoved but looking at you as well.

“I think he brought you breakfast,” Jon tells you all nonchalantly, and Aemond lifts up the coffee tray he is carrying dumbly.

Your whole face lights up, smiling wide at him, so much brighter than the sun coming through the windows, “Aw, that’s so sweet! Wait, let me get dressed first!” You hurry into your room, slamming the door behind you and Ghost who follows you in.

“Is this for the desserts I gave you!?” He hears you call from behind the door. “Because you really didn’t have to!”

“It’s–” he starts to call out, but you are already walking out your room. And although it took you less than a minute, you look absolutely… breathtaking.

Aemond will not admit it, but his heart leaps to his throat; staring at you all slack jawed and short of breath.

You bounce to him cheerfully; Ghost in tow, now happier as well by the way his tail wags. You grab one of the paper bags on the tray, opening it to find an almond croissant. “ Oooh , but I won’t say no!” You smile at him gratefully, “Thank you! ”

Aemond takes a hard swallow, and finds himself smiling back, “No problem.”

As he sets the tray down on the small round kitchen table, you break off a piece of the croissant and offer it to Jon to taste. Aemond watches the interaction with a frown on his face. He shakes it off with a shake of his head, and pulls out one of the cups from the tray, handing it to you, “This is for you.”

You take it happily, but as you read through the label the barista had messily written on the cup, your face begins to falter. “Oh, um…”

Aemond’s expression hardens. “You don’t like lattes?”

“No! I love lattes!” You quickly say. “It’s great–”

“She’s lactose intolerant,” Jon explains and Aemond’s face falls.

“It’s all good! I can just take lactaid!”

“But you hate hot drinks…”

“Jon… You’re not helping…” You tell your best friend through gritted teeth.

“But it’s freezing outside,” Aemond states, so he thought you’d appreciate something warm for this chilly morning…

“Okay, don’t judge me…” you glare playfully at Aemond. “I like iced drinks! Is that such a crime?”

Aemond shakes his head, though he is still frowning. “No, it’s not…”

Your head tilts at the look on his face, confused. “Aemond…”

“Here, give it to me,” Jon says, reaching for the cup in your hand. Once he has it, he goes to the cupboard, pulling out a water bottle. Then from the freezer, he grabs an ice tray, putting ice and the latte into the bottle before handing it back to you.

“There,” Jon says with a satisfied grin. “All better for Miss Fussy.”

“Fuck you,” you huff out, and yet you laugh and your tone fond. “But what would I do without you?”

“I honestly don’t even know…”

As Aemond glances between you and your best friend sharing a smile, a strange feeling stirs inside him.

“Is this your first time taking the bus?”

Aemond glares your way for your senseless question. “Of course not.”

But as he struggles to make himself comfortable on the seat beside yours, you have to giggle to yourself. It’s definitely his first time.

Aemond rolls his eye and ignores your tittering.

Aemond’s annoyed, and rightfully so. You and him had a perfectly good ride to school but you insisted on taking the bus so Aemond let his driver go for the day to accompany you.

“Theon calls her a bus wanker,” Aemond remembers Jon saying earlier with a laugh while you got your school bag from your room.

At the puzzled look on Aemond’s face, Jon frowned, “You know… Like from the show… The Inbetweeners?”

Still confused, Jon finally told him, “It’s one of _____’s favorite shows. We, uh, rewatch it every few years together.”

And there Jon goes, once again reminding Aemond the history between the two of you. How he knows everything there is to know about you.

Now that’s a wanker , Aemond thinks a little too spitefully.

Whatever, it doesn't even matter. Once Aemond finishes what he needs to do, he does not even need to know or remember all your favorite things anymore. All that knowledge will be useless to him in the future.

Crossing his arms against his chest, Aemond huffs haughtily, nostrils flaring. He grimaces; something smells strange in there, and he feels eyes on him. It’s a kid, unabashedly staring at him — or more particularly, his eyepatch. Aemond is sure that the boy is the reason for foul stench also, so he glowers at him, mouth pulled back in the sneer.

He turns to you, about to ask why you enjoy riding on this godforsaken public transit ride, but then his expression lightens when he finds you staring out the window, a sleepy yet faraway look clouding your face. Your brows are furrowed, too deep in thought during such a bumpy ride, for so early in the morning.

“What are you thinking about?” Aemond inquires a bit too softly as if his mouth moved faster than his mind, but it still pulls you out of your haze.

You grin at him, head shaking. “It’s…”

Sighing, you pull out your phone to find something, then once you do, you hand it over to him.

Aemond tries not be bothered by the notifications that keeps popping up —

fellowship of the cool people + theon Jon 🐺— dinner at mine and ____’s tonight??

(Aemond refrains from rolling his eye.)

fellowship of the cool people + theon 🌈MeerMeer 🌼— 👍 — i’ll bring the weed

fellowship of the cool people + theon Robb 🐸— oh hell yeah!

fellowship of the cool people + theon GreyNoJoy 🦑— i’ll bring the best thing… myself 🥰

fellowship of the cool people + theon Margie 🌹❤️— ew

And Aemond focuses on the webpage you pulled up instead.

It is a Poetry Slam competition hosted by one of the best Music and Arts publications in the whole six continents, R'hllor Stone, at the Moon Door Cafe which is close by the Vale U campus. The winner gets a 5k cash prize, a book of their poetry published, and a full double-page feature in the magazine.

And the last day to sign up is… Today, at midnight.

“You haven’t signed up yet, have you?”

“Nope,” you tell him, popping the ‘p’.

After handing you back your phone, Aemond hums for a moment, in thought. “Why not?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh, shrugging. “I guess I haven’t been super confident in my latest pieces, so it’s a bit daunting to send it in to be judged.”

“Do you want me to look over it? Give you my honest opinion?”

You make a face. Because hell no . Aemond is the last person you want to be reading your poetry. Mr. Psychology Major will probably psychoanalyze your musings and deem you crazy – or just plain stupid, which is more likely.

“Well if it’s like the one you recently published on the school’s Instagram page, then I think it’s more than adequate.”

You whip your head to stare wide-eyed at him. Shocked. Flabbergasted. Befuddled.

“ You read that?!”

Aemond flushes bright red, like he had not meant to confess that out loud.

“It’s our stop,” He declares to move on from the subject, standing up suddenly to push at the button on one of the handles for the bus to stop.

“Wait, Aemond —”

But he doesn’t wait, knowing you are following behind him.

Aemond gets off the bus first, then turns to offer you his hand to help with the steps.

Aemond can’t help but note how your hand slips so easily into his. So warm against the cold that he finds himself holding onto you a little tighter.

Once you are both off the bus, Aemond glances around, clearly lost. He’s never seen this area of the campus before…

“Yeah… This isn’t our stop. We still had four to go,” You tell him with a snarky chuckle. When he glares at you, you defend yourself quickly, “Hey! I tried to tell you!”

Aemond huffs a bit petulantly then starts to drag you the same direction the bus drove away at.

He also can’t help but note that you let him hold your hand until he walks you to the building of your first class.

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🎵 dreams tonite · alvvays

The call arrives five days later, when you are studying in one of the libraries on campus.

You step away to pick it up, with Aemond raising a brow at you.

(The two of you have been spending a lot of time together. Too much, maybe.

Margaery jokes they’ve all been replaced. Theon says he’s officially your boyfie . Robb tells you to be careful.

You tell them all to mind their business. And that the two of you are NOT dating.

Aemond is just a friend, and nothing more.)

You find a secluded aisle before you answer your phone. “Hello?”

“Good afternoon… Am I speaking to ____ ____?” The sultry voice from the other side asks.

“Yes, speaking…”

“Wonderful. I’m Melisandre, the editor-in-chief for R'hllor Stone—”

“I know who you are!” You squeal, a little too excitedly. You press your fingers to your mouth, eyelids squeezing shut in mortification. “Sorry, I’m sorry… I’ll, um…”

Melisandre laughs. “It’s quite alright! I’m just as excited as you are… I’ve read through your poetry portfolio for the Poetry Slam contest and I’m impressed…”

“You are…?” You ask, voice small and timid.

“I am,” Even through the phone, you can hear her smile. “I called to congratulate you for making it through the next round.”

You gasp. “Really?!” Earning you a shhhh! from someone an aisle over.

She laughs again and reassures you that it’s no joke. Then she informs you that she’ll be sending an email with more details soon — on what the theme will be, the schedule, etc.

“I’m glad Davos told me to look out for you. I can’t wait to meet you in person, ____,” Melisandre says before saying her goodbye and hanging up.

Your mouth drops in shock.

Oh… Your favorite professor will definitely be getting an earful from you… How many times have you gushed the works of Melisandre to him and he never once mentioned she was the friend he was talking about?

Well, an earful after you thank him profusely.

Speaking of saying thanks…

You head back to Aemond, standing by where he sits and motion for him to stand. His gaze is quizzical, so you do it again — your palm up in an upward motion, nodding as your eyes flutter shut with a cute grin.

As if annoyed, Aemond let’s out a soft huff of hot air. But you think you know him at least a little bit better now, and it’s just a front he puts up. You’re starting to believe that his dad is right — that underneath all that cold exterior is a sweet guy deep inside.

And you want to be the one to melt his icy, cold heart.

As a friend, of course .

As soon as he stands, you throw yourself at him, hugging around his tiny waist. He staggers back with an oof! You laugh, jumping back just as quickly as you were on him.

You think you might have broken his brain a bit by the way stares at you with his eye wide and his mouth open dumbly.

“What are you—? What was that—?”

He can’t seem to choose which question to ask, so you save him the trouble and say, “I made it into the Poetry Slam contest. And I hugged you because you were the reason I sent in my application,” with your hand on your hips cocked to the side, you tease, “I figured if your pretentious ass liked my stuff then what am I afraid of?”

Unsure, Aemond says, “You’re welcome…?”

You chuckle, grinning wide. “No, seriously… thank you.”

He wets his lips then smiles too — that genuine smile again. The one you’ve been seeing more and more of each and every day.

“Congratulations,” he says. And is it weird to say you think he looks proud of you?

Unexpectedly shy all of the sudden under his gaze, you start to shift nervously side to side. “Do you… Want to… come watch?”

Then a bit more hurriedly, you prattle on, “You don’t have to or anything! Just – If you’re not doing anything! It’s on a Saturday so you probably have better things to do—“

You stop babbling when Aemond shoves his phone screen your way. It’s on the calendar app, and on the last Saturday of the month, in two weeks, he has it marked off as “____’s poetry slam, @ moon door cafe, 1 PM”.

Feeling thrown, you look away from the screen to meet his eye. “How did you…?”

Shrugging, Aemond puts his phone back into his pocket.

“I guess I had a feeling,” He smirks confidently. “You’re too headstrong to not at least give it a try…” The smirk then shifts into something warmer, his face softening. “And of course I’ll come… I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Aemond looks a little hazy then — like a dream.

And your stomach? Full of stupid butterflies.

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🎵 the start of something · voxtrot

The theme for the competition is Romantic Love.

Which makes sense since the R’hllor Stone cover artist for the issue that the slam poetry winner will be featured in is the pop darling, Luvie — the stage name of Myrcella Baratheon.

Yes, the same Myrcella Baratheon who is the daughter of Cersei Lannister. Weirdly enough, the scandal breaking out didn’t affect her career at all. There was a very brief moment that people were making rumors that her and her brothers were really the children of their uncle, Jaime Lannister, and not their late political figure father, Robert Baratheon. But that was squashed rather quickly. It’s impressive. Luvie has got to have the best PR team ever — people did not even realize she was an industry plant and a nepo baby until two years into her career. But then again, her other uncle, Tyrion Lannister, is also the most prolific lawyer of this time.

Enough about Luvie. If you could, you’d talk about it all day. Probably the worst trait about you — your love for celebrity gossip. You’d eat up a cheating scandal between two married daytime news anchors that committed adultery on their spouses with each other even if you’ve never watched their program even once in your life.

Besides, you don’t have time to dwell on celeb gossip. With the competition coming up and the days rushing by so quickly, you needed all your free time to focus on writing the piece for it.

Only problem is, it’s been awfully hard to come up with something. It’s like there is a block in your mind every time you grab a notebook or open up the notes app on your phone.

You already know the main issue for that…

You’ve never been in love before.

Deep infatuation? Sure.

But love love? Never ever.

And it’s not like you’re a closed off and guarded person. Quite the opposite. You wear your heart on your sleeve. Your love languages are the neediest of the five: physical touch and words of affirmation. You date with the intent of making the relationship become something serious, every single time. And still… nothing.

“It’s so bad ...!” You groan, scratching out another line on the current poem you’ve been working on for the past two days. You read the whole thing over – all five stanzas already written – and deem the whole poem awful. You turn the page to a blank one, needing to start over all over again.

When nothing comes after minutes passing, you let out a resigned sigh, slumping on the wooden stool you’re on and say out loud to the room, “I give up. I’m gonna call Melisandre and tell her to pull me out of the competition.”

The only other person in said room with you snorts. You turn to glare at Meera, who meets your gaze for a second with a grin and then continues to water the plants in the room.

The two of you are at the floral shop Meera works at. You thought a change in scenery would be good for inspiration. Clearly not — not even being surrounded by the flowers that people often associate with love helped with anything.

“I’m serious, Meer!”

“Sure you are…” she playfully indulges with a roll of her eyes. “You’re a little too headstrong to give up that easily.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?!” You cross your arms, pouting to yourself.

“Cause it’s true,” Meera simply says. She then sets herself at the wooden work table in the back of the room and calls for you to join her. Laying on the table is the ugliest flower you’ve ever seen in your life.

She hands you the little printed out online order sheet. As you read it over, she heads over to the flower buckets to peruse the selections.

“ I request a bouquet with kale, it’s the salad my darling ate on our first date, ” you read out loud, face twisting in disgust after the fact. You eye the purple and green monstrosity on the table, “Ew, how romantic . Does this dude even know how ugly kale is?”

“Probably not,” Meera laughs. She comes back with various bunches of different stems of flowers in her gloved hand. “But I wanted to show you something…”

She picks up the kale first, showing you again. “Horrid, right?”

“Yeah. Ugliest fucker ever.”

Chuckling, Meera starts to trim it. “That may be true, but I need it to be the star of this bouquet and find a way to make it… pleasant on the eyes.”

You hum, nodding as you watch her work.

“Sometimes… Something good can come from nothing… I didn’t have any particular feelings about ornamental kale before but the more I worked with it… The more inspired I became… and then…”

Meera adds one last sprig of baby’s breath to the arrangement.

“There!”

You are in shock… Somehow, Meera managed to make the kale bouquet beautiful — bringing out the purple with white hydrangeas, baby’s breath, and heather. You would even spend money on it yourself. No wonder Robb always goes to Meera for flowers whenever Margaery is mad at him. You tell her all that yourself.

Meera laughs in thanks, then concludes, “So what I’m trying to say is… Pick a subject. Embellish your feelings a little. You don’t really have to be in love or have been in love to write about it… Do you really think Taylor Swift had real and genuine feelings for the Owl City guy when she wrote the masterpiece that is Enchanted?”

You gasp, eyes lighting up — everything clearer to you. “Oh my god! You’re so right!” You sniff then, grabbing a hold of her hand and squeezing it, “Meera… You speak Swiftie now.”

She groans, slapping a palm on her forehead. “You, Sansa, Margaery, and Theon have ruined me.”

You giggle a bit, before your face falls to a pout.

“Who am I supposed to write about though?” You ask with a dramatic and forlorn sigh, going back to your little stool by the cash register.

Meera shrugs, wrapping up the bouquet prettily. “Just someone, anyone… Whoever comes to mind first?”

At her words, you think of a violet eye and a face so taut and sour as if they had just sucked on a lemon.

You laugh to yourself.

Then your pen hits the paper, and the words begin to flow.

Aemond arrives at Moon Door Cafe early when there are plenty of empty seats available, but still sticks to the wall at the back of the room. He already caught sight of your friends at a table near the stage and yet he did not make an effort to greet them. It’s not like they’re his friends, he hasn’t even met any of them formally except for Jon. And he does not want to make fake pleasantries with Jon. There’s just something about the guy he does not like.

So he stays at the back of the cafe until the room fills and the lights go down.

He looks over the pamphlet he was given at the door, and sees that you are the fourth to last to go up out of the 15 contestants. Which means he’ll be here for a while. Aemond frowns in discontent.

He’s not really much for poetry — he’ll devour any form of literature except poetry. Which is funny, considering he has a few written about him in the form of a song.

But he supposes after reading a few of yours… Yours weren’t all too terrible. He can ever dare say he likes a few of them.

So that’s the only reason he’s staying… Just to listen.

He has been curious. He didn’t know you did any spoken poetry, all the ones he has seen of yours were written. But you must have at least some experience with it, one of the requirements for the portfolio was two examples of spoken poetry.

Aemond wonders if you’d be clamorous, if your words will be punctuated with cheerful sarcasm like always.

He grins to himself.

And how about the theme? Romantic love… Who did you write about?

His gaze flits to the front of the room at the man with the dark curly hair and unkempt beard and scowls. He watches him smile wide and snap his fingers for the poet on stage. Then suddenly he stands up, clapping and hooting with the rest of his friends.

That’s when Aemond realizes that you were getting on the stage. He didn’t notice that many performers had gone up already, none of them really held his attention. Until now.

He straightens up a little, snapping his fingers with the rest of the room.

You walk to the mic, confident. If you hadn’t texted him about how nervous you were earlier when he texted you to ‘Break a leg.’, he would have bought the front you were putting up.

You’ve already been introduced by Melisandre, so all you have to do now is just go straight into your poem.

You smile at the crowd, disarming them with your charm, before you take a tentative breath and —

If I could, I'd be your little spoon

And kiss your fingers forevermore

But, big spoon, you have so much to do

And I have nothing ahead of me

There is a song-like cadence to your soft voice, as if you were singing. It draws him in, hanging onto your every word.

You're the sun, you've never seen the night

But you hear its song from the morning birds

Well, I'm not the moon, I'm not even a star

But awake at night I'll be singing to the birds

Aemond is enraptured. Enchanted. Beguiled.

Don't wait for me, I can't come

Your mother wouldn't approve of how my mother raised me

But I do, I think I do

He had no idea that simple poetry could move him like this.

You're the one

You're all I ever wanted

I think I'll regret this

Your stare is fixed, not on anyone. Just a faraway, melancholy gaze on nothing in particular. It makes you look all the more hauntingly beautiful. Aemond finds himself willing you to look at him.

You don’t.

Your mother wouldn't approve of how my mother raised me

But I do, I finally do

Instead, when you finish, your gaze flicks to the front of the room with a tender smile — at him .

Aemond feels his chest tighten a little.

The room fills with loud snapping as you descend the stage, and once your feet hit the floor, you are being lifted at the waist and hugged tight by Jon Snow.

Aemond watches on bitterly for a couple more seconds, expression pinching at the way Jon joyfully spins the two of you around, then turns to leave.

He waits at the front of the cafe for his chauffeur, tapping his foot impatiently on the ground.

“You’re really leaving without congratulating me?”

Aemond wets his mouth indignantly. He knew he should have texted Podrick to meet him earlier.

“You haven’t won yet,” Is all Aemond says as he turns to look at you, a smirk curling his lips.

You glare at him, arms crossing against your chest.

“Gods. Are you always such a dick? I know I haven’t won yet… I don’t even think I will win. I meant just… congratulating me for even putting myself up there,” you frown, looking off to the side, trying to blink away the hurt.

Seven Hells , Aemond sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He just can’t seem to keep his mouth shut, can he? He always has a penchant to make everything worse.

Stuffing his hands into his coat pockets, Aemond takes a step towards you. “You were… Amazing up there,” You eye him warily, disbelieving, so he continues, “I mean it… You got me hanging onto your every word. Congrats.”

“Thanks…” You murmur from the corner of your mouth, bashful. It was your turn then to take a step towards him, still glowering at him when you say, “But you didn’t even say hi, and now you’re trying to leave without even saying goodbye.”

“My apologies. I didn’t want to keep you from celebrating with your boyfriend ,” Aemond says, tone clipped.

Did you hear that right, Aemond thinks you have a — “Boyfriend…?”

“You and Jon are dating, aren’t you?”

You’d laugh if it wasn't so ridiculous. “No! Jon’s dating Sansa! And besides that, he’s just my best friend. Wait a second… Did you think we’re dating cause he’s my roommate ?”

“No, but…” Aemond shakes his head, unable to grasp what you are telling him. He already made this whole story up in his head. “You fancy him, don’t you?”

“No!” You almost gag at the thought. Because, ew.

“You don’t have to lie to me, ___,” Aemond scoffs, taking another step towards you. “You find him attractive, don’t you?”

“I mean…” You think about it for a second. Jon’s your best friend and you’ve never had romantic feelings for him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have eyes! And besides, even if you didn’t find Jon attractive, you’re not about to bash his looks for no reason at all. “Have you seen the guy?”

“I have and I’m not impressed,” Aemond tuts with a roll of his eye.

“Maybe it’s because you only have one eye?” The rhetorical question slips from your mouth before you could even stop it.

You are frozen as Aemond’s mouth drops slightly before it closes to press into a hard thin line. He is mad, and understandably so.

“Wait, Aemond, I didn’t mean it like th—”

“So how did you mean it?” In an instant, he is in front of you, nostrils flared. His violet eye alight with a simmering burning, “So I guess it’s because I only have one eye that I find you attractive?”

Your gaze widens and your cheeks are burning up. Did he just…?

That’s when you notice that Aemond looks just as shocked. But only for a second. If he had not meant to say that aloud, the blank look he puts on carefully hides it well. It is the flush high on his cheekbones and the heavy rise and fall of his chest that gives him away though.

You look up at him, keenly aware of his proximity. A warmth spreads through you at how much he towers over you. He can definitely manhandle you in the way that you like. And the way his domineering gaze pinned you to the spot makes you desperately long for him to pin you against a wall instead.

You start to laugh. Loud at that.

Because you realize an undeniable truth…

You want him. Gods. You want Aemond Targaryen.

Even more now that you know he wants you as well.

The admittance makes you laugh more.

And so, with no preamble at all and just straight to the point, you ask him—

“Do you want to go on a date with me?”

Aemond stares at you like you’re insane.

Then, as if without any doubt in his mind, he says — yes.

a.t.

🎵 there’s a light that never goes out · the smiths

Even though you were the one to ask him out, Aemond offers to plan the date.

You didn’t mind. Between school, work, and stressing about the results of the competition, you were just going to take him to the movies. Which, looking back now, is lame; and you highly doubt you’ll get a second date if you forced Aemond to sit through a movie about a killer AI doll.

So you let him take the reins — surprise me , you told him with a wink after letting him know which days the next two weeks that you’d be free.

Four days after the competition, Aemond surprises you — or maybe more so Theon, who screams out girlishly when Aemond appeared directly behind him when the silver haired man approached you and your friends during lunch in the southern building cafeteria.

Theon still has his hand over his heart, halfway off the bench, but Aemond disregards him to tell you, “I’ll pick you up at 4 tomorrow for our date. Be sure to be ready.”

Then he saunters off.

“He’s so intense… it’s kinda sexy,” Margaery says.

Your other friends admit their agreement in various degrees of reluctance as you all watch Aemond’s back retreating until he is out of the room.

“Where do you think he’s going to take you?” Sansa asks eagerly, leaning on the table to get closer to you.

You give her an exaggerated shrug as an answer just as Theon comments, “Probably somewhere so fun… The library!”

You successfully shove him off the bench he is still precariously on. He lands on his ass on the floor but he is guffawing at his own joke.

“Nah… He’ll definitely take her to the fanciest restaurant in the Vale, book it all out so it’s just the two of them, and then confess he’s been in love with her since they were 14,” Meera says with a scrunch of her nose. “Real straight people shit.”

“Oh, I know where he’ll take her,” Robb says, straightening up confidently for everyone’s attention. “Into the forest, where there will be a clearing, and then he’ll rip off his shirt to show ____ that he… sparkles.”

Your friends start howling with laughter at that, so loud that students from other tables turn to look. You’re laughing too, but quieter, pouting with both your hands pressed on your face from embarrassment.

“You’re all awful!” You moan. “And you know what?! Maybe I want him to be Edward Cullen, maybe then I can tell him to drain the blood of all my “so-called” best friends!”

“Have fun playing baseball in the forest tomorrow, then,” Jon teases, causing your friends to laugh more.

Sweeping a glare at all of them, you bite out, “I. will. Thank you!”

From Aemond

— Please dress warm and comfortably.

As you read the new text while you are getting ready for the date, a shiver goes down your spine.

Oh Gods.

He is taking you to a forest, isn’t he?

If Aemond is a vampire, you wouldn’t be surprised. But you have seen him growing up, so maybe not.

You groan, shoving off the silky dress you had wanted to wear. It’s so pretty, but you doubt that it will be comfortable or warm enough for a trek through the woods.

So you settle with a white turtleneck under a red cardigan, dark blue jeans, a Sherpa lined shearling leather jacket, and broken-in Docs.

Comfortable, warm, and cute.

You grin at your reflection through the mirror just as you receive another text.

From Aemond

— I’m waiting downstairs.

After giving yourself another once over and grabbing your purse for the day, you text back:

To Aemond

— coming ☺️ !!!

When you step out of your room, three pairs of eyes turn your way, ignoring the Super Smash Bros round they’re playing to annoy you all the way out the door with their comments and shiteating grins.

“You look pretty, ___!”

“Thanks Jon!”

“Have fun and use protection!”

“Take your own advice, Robb!”

“Say hi to your boyfie for us!”

You roll your eyes, shutting the door behind you, catching the last thing Theon says, “Look! She didn’t even deny it!”

Usually, you’d take the stairs down. Your unit is on the fifth floor (the highest of the building) so it’s not so bad. But you didn’t want to look winded before the date even starts, so the terrifyingly unreliable elevator it is.

Luckily, by the grace of the Sevens, you didn’t get stuck. So you’re a little too chipper when you find Aemond waiting at the lobby — especially since he looks so incredibly handsome in his long black wool coat, cream fisherman sweater, black fitted slacks, and a pair of black leather Chelsea boots.

Maybe it’s a trick of the light, but he seems pleasantly delighted when he sees you. Nothing overt, but it’s definitely a change from how he used to be when you got near him before. You remember always sniffing yourself when you were teens, because he acted like you had the strongest BO. You didn’t, you smelled like fresh laundry and maybe on your worst days, fresh cut grass and the sun since you spent a lot of time outdoors when at the Arryn mansion.

You walk to Aemond, and he unclasps his hands from where he held them behind his back to turn fully towards you.

As a greeting, you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck that was wrapped in a soft alpaca wool grey scarf.

You can tell Aemond is not used to physical affection by the way he stiffens against you —just like the last time. But you hold on a little longer, liking the bergamot and amberwood smell that lingers on him.

Just when you think you aren't going to get anything back, about to let him go; you feel his arms wrap around your waist. A little loose, enough that when you step back you are easily free from his hold, but it’s a start.

You beam up at him, and he holds your gaze for a bit before he looks off to the side, his cheeks a light scarlet. It’s adorable that he is so easily flustered.

He clears his throat then gives you a glance over. “You look… warm.” He gives a nod of approval. “Good.”

“But do I look…” With a mischievous smile, you poke at his stomach, “… attractive?”

His face darkens to a deeper maroon, pressing his lips together. “You’re really going to hold that over my head, aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” you tell him a toothy grin. Stuffing your hands into your coat pockets, you start to slowly rock back and forth from your heels to your toes as you sing-song your own confession, “If it makes you feel better… I think you look really good today… My jaw nearly fell to the floor when I saw you.”

Aemond’s hand flies to press against his mouth, coughing into his palms. He might be choking, you have no idea. But you’re sure if he wasn’t blushing before, he would be tomato red right now.

He takes a shaky breath, regarding you as his hand falls back to his side. “How are you always this straightforward?”

You shrug with your mouth downturned. “I have no filter sometimes.”

Aemond lets out an amused huff. At least you know.

His gaze falls over you again, flickering across your features in quiet contemplation for a moment or two.

“You look lovely.”

At his soft tone, your breathing hitches and your mouth slightly parts. He tracks the slow movement, wetting his own lips.

But he does not even give you time to respond, turning to glare at the door to change the subject, “I drove here. Are you alright with taking my car or do I need Podrick to pick it up?”

“I’m not anti-car, or anything. We can drive there,” you tell him with no joking lilt or sassiness in your tone, just even. Perhaps still a bit stunned at his compliment.

“Could have fooled me,” Aemond says, chuckling lightheartedly, his fingers touching the metrocard in his pocket. It’s new. You had dragged him to the nearest bus station after his fourth time riding on one with you. You were beyond exasperated of seeing him stuff a ten or twenty dollar bill into the fare slot since he never has any change or anything smaller for the £3 fare. He has used it quite a lot already, and always only with you, realizing just then how often the two of you have been spending time together.

“Let’s go?” He asks, cocking his head to the door.

When you nod, Aemond presses his hand against the small of your back, leading you outside.

The heat of his palm has you flushing and your stomach doing somersaults, even long after he has taken it off you to hold the door open for you to get into his cream Volvo P1800 S Coupe.

You haven’t felt this nervous for a date in quite a while — and you don’t know whether that’s a good thing or bad thing yet.

Aemond has the prettiest hands.

Delicate and dainty, yet also spans big and strong. Not to mention the veins that run along his hands are mouthwateringly attractive, bulging whenever he grips the leather steering wheel.

He could be a musician if he wanted — or a hand model. You’re sure he’d have a million Twitter fan accounts dedicated to just his hands alone.

Maybe you should have let Aemond drive you around all those times he had offered.

He looks so effortlessly cool as he spins the wheel with just the palm of his hands, checks the rear view mirror, and keeps his concentration on the road.

You have not stopped staring at him.

Maybe you should stop because he is starting to notice. His gaze flickers to the side at you every so often with that usual low humming sound he makes.

In an effort to distract yourself, you lean forward to turn on the radio.

How did you make it so long without music playing in the background?

Oh right. You were too busy admiring Aemond to notice anything else.

The speaker starts blaring and it’s no surprise that Aemond’s stereo system is only of the highest quality. A sweet, melodic voice resounds in the compact space.

— say, "I'm done," but I'm still confused,

How am I supposed to close the door when I still need the closure?

And I change my mind, but it's still on you,

How am I supposed to leave you now —

Aemond is so quick to turn it off that your mouth parts slightly in mild shock.

“We’re here,” is what he says when you glance over at him, and he is pulling his car onto a parking spot beside the curb of a cobblestones sidewalk.

You let out a laugh, “Oh my god. I was about to ask what did Luvie do to you by how aggressively you turned off the radio!”

“My bad,” he says with a wan grin before getting out of his car.

He’s at your side of the car, opening the door, before you even get the seatbelt off.

“Thanks,” you say, taking his hand to step out. While Aemond pays for parking, you take a look around at where he brought you for the date.

Elation spreads through you as you take in the quaint area with the brick warehouse buildings, pretty stringed lights hanging from street lamps to street lamps, and all beautiful street art spray painted on the walls. It’s the Distillery Village, a hip part of the city just a bit a ways away from the heart of downtown Vale.

You used to love going here when you were younger. But now, not so much. It’s still beautiful there, but it has become a hot date spot for young couples over the years. And it’s not like you really had any partners that you had gotten serious enough to want to take there, less they ruin your fond memories of the place.

You remember going here a few times with the Targaryen family. You wonder if Aemond remembers that too.

“Ready?” Aemond asks, walking towards you.

Smiling, you nod, your hand reaching to catch a hold of two of his fingers.

Aemond pulls away, making your heart stutter dolefully — only for him to intertwine his fingers between yours, his hold firm yet gentle. You flutter your lashes at him, questioning, and he shrugs. “More comfortable this way.”

The two of you walk around like that, hand in hand and with a cup of coffee in the other.

(Aemond ordered for you. He has your latte order perfected now, and you have his. You had him pegged as a Sunspearino kind of guy – black with no sugar – but surprisingly, Aemond has a sweet tooth. He likes his cappuccino with two pumps of caramel.)

You are having a nice time with Aemond. Window shopping, trying out desserts from every cute spot you pass, taking time to admire all the art in the area.

Maybe it’s his hands holding yours, but your nerves eased quickly and you are back to your old self in no time.

Perhaps too comfortable. You are talking Aemond’s ear off about the fluffiness of the cream puff the two of you just had, when you realize he hasn’t said much in the past few minutes. So you abruptly stop to glance wearily towards Aemond, somewhat afraid that you are boring or annoying him with your incessant yapping, but you find his fond gaze already on you.

“I’m glad you’re back to being yourself again,” Aemond says, still leading you on the cobblestone path. “I was worried earlier. You were too quiet in the car.”

“I was nervous!” You confess a bit too shrilly.

“Oh?” The light smile that was on Aemond’s face twists into a cocky smirk. “Do I make you nervous, ____?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “ Was nervous… Past-tense, Aemond.”

The smirk is still on his lips when he replies with a playful and disbelieving mmhmm .

You turn away, laughing to yourself. You’re happy that he is joking around with you more, it makes you feel that the two of you are really starting to get closer.

You end up stopping at the busiest part of the village, where most couples and families conjugate at the plaza square, sitting on the steps that surround a huge reflecting pool. In the warmer months, the shallow pool is a pretty fountain to look at for outdoor picnics; but in the winter, it is frozen over as a skating rink.

Leaning your arms against the railing that surrounds the top of the steps, you watch the ice skaters with stars in your eyes.

You had once wanted to be a professional figure skater because of Val, the Free Folk figure skater that stole the heart of the entire nation when you were younger, when she competed and won all the singles figure skating titles during her first Harrenhal Winter Games.

Your father even paid for ice skating lessons after you begged your parents for weeks to learn. You were over the moon, telling everyone who would listen about it, about how you are going to be the next Val. Your dreams were crushed after a certain 16 year old teenage boy scoffed, “No, you won’t.’ when he overheard you telling his sister.

Remembering this, you whip your head to glare at your date.

Aemond startles at your sudden heated expression, eye widening.

“Do you… Want to go skating?” He asks, unsure.

You turn your nose up at him, grimacing. “Yes. I do.”

Now you truly remember why you didn’t become the next top figure skater and quit your lessons after the 4th class… You sucked at it.

For some reason, your body does not agree with the skates. You’re always off-kilter, that you spent the first ten minutes clutching onto the railings instead of skating.

Aemond, on the other hand, is a natural on the ice — so graceful it’s envious. If you did not know he is from the south, he would have definitely earned the title of ‘Ice Prince’ this way like some sort of Northern Royalty.

He watches as your wobbly legs try to catch up to him in mirthful silence. The bastard looks like he is going to burst out laughing at any given second.

With brows furrowed together, he asks, “Didn’t you take lessons?”

“I quit after four classes…” You tell him through clenched teeth, shaky arms out in front of you to keep your balance.

“Why?” Is the asshole’s next question.

Burning him with a glare that can rival a thousand suns, you wave your hands from your head to your waist, presenting him yourself, shaking precariously like a newborn giraffe. The motion has you slipping and hurriedly catching yourself with a choked out ‘ whoa!’ . You don’t even know how that happened — you are not even moving!

And that did it, Aemond couldn’t hold it in anymore, he laughs so hard that he is throwing his head back.

You sneer at him, and it makes him laugh more.

“I’m — I’m s– so sorry,” he tries, but he is still laughing, so it doesn’t feel very genuine to you. If you could cross your arms, you would. But that would throw you off your balance more, so you just give him a stink face, nose scrunched and mouth pursed in distaste for his lack of common courtesy.

“You’re such an as–” Suddenly, you are slipping again except you couldn’t steady yourself fast enough. But before you could hit the ground, Aemond swiftly wraps his arms around you and catches you. So easily, like he had at the party.

You straighten up quickly, still embarrassed, muttering a thank you under your breath. “You’re still an asshole though.”

Aemond licks his lips, lets out a laugh and nods briefly in acceptance. “Let me make it up to you.”

Aemond takes both your hands in his, and then carefully, he helps you get your footing right, skating backwards as he guides you along the ice. It takes a while, but you think you are getting a hang of it. It’s unbelievable but half an hour with Aemond has taught you more than those 4 lessons you took.

Soon enough, he is only holding one of your hands, skating by your side.

“I guess I’m a better ice skating teacher than you are a dancing instructor,” Aemond declares pompously.

That has you snorting in an unattractive manner. “So you admit you suck at dancing?”

Aemond huffs out a chuckle, walking right into that one.

The turns are the trickiest parts. And as soon as you saw the edge of the rink coming up, you nervously fuck up your footing. Nothing too bad since the two of you were skating at a rather slow pace, but it did cause Aemond to pick up his speed a little so he can turn for you to crash against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist.

In his warm embrace, you peer up at him under fluttering lashes. Aemond is already looking down at you with a hooded gaze. He has you feeling breathless and flushed.

You have his rapt attention when your pink tongue peeks out to lick your lips in anticipation.

You don’t notice him leaning in though, not when you feel something wet and cold touch your forehead.

Looking up, that’s when you notice it, the fluffy white snowflakes falling from the clear blue sky. It is the first snowfall of the year.

You let out an elated laugh, smiling wide, lifting a hand to catch a snowflake on your fingertips.

Aemond then gently grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing your attention back at him.

You let out a soft, little gasp.

He is staring at you like you are something so precious. There is so much fondness in his violet eye that your heart feels like it's going to burst with happiness.

Then as if in slow motion, you watch as a tiny, pretty snowflake lands on the dip of his lower lip.

You lean up to melt it against yours as well.

With a pleased hum, Aemond’s hold on your waist tightens, while his hand on your chin slides back to cradle your neck, kissing you deeper. He has your mouth parting with a moan, and his tongue slips in easily. He tastes like caramel, espresso, and vanilla; so addicting in a way that you think you can definitely get used to this.

Aemond’s mouth on yours has you lifting up your foot behind you, like you’re a princess in a cheesy romantic comedy. Embarrassingly giddy as if he is the first and only boy you had ever kissed.

And when you feel him smile against your lips, you start wishing that he’ll at least be the last.

a.t. 💗

🎵 to you · mallrat

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #hotd imagine #hotd smut #aemond targaryen #hotd

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anonymousewrites · 7 hours

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A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 1) Chapter Eight

Kusuo Saiki x Reader

Chapter Eight: Valentine’s Day Chaos and Movie Night Misunderstandings

Summary: Saiki tries to get chocolate and to see a movie without spoilers, and neither goes well.

Saiki arrived at school with zero interest in the chocolate that Toritsuka was so excited over receiving for Valentine’s Day. Sure, he liked sweets and knew people could give them as thanks and platonically, but he didn’t want the hassle of having anyone mean it romantically.

“Good morning, Saiki!” greeted (Y/N) cheerfully. They were slightly nervous thar morning. It was clear why. Inside their bag, which Saiki could see through easily, were wrapped sweets. Valentine’s Day gifts.

Saiki nodded to them in greeting. All his previous distaste for the holiday flew out the window at seeing them. Those feelings were slightly different when it came to (Y/N). Saiki wouldn’t mind (in fact, he wanted) chocolate from them since sweets they gave/bought him were always nice (and, obviously, it was just friendship, so he had no worries, nothing had at all, everything was normal).

His mood was dampened somewhat when he spied the gifts on their own desk, but he simply sat down next to them. Hopefully, their chocolate was for him (he just wanted sweet treats, and they were always best when they came from (Y/N)), and they’d have a chance to give it to him. However…

“Have you heard? Teruhashi brought chocolates for someone!” announced a boy.

Saiki nearly groaned. Once again, Teruhashi’s strange interest in him was causing problems. She was planning to give him her chocolates, and that would cause him to be the target of the other boys’ wrath. He would have to avoid her outside of classes today. And that meant…he wouldn’t be around (Y/N). He wouldn’t get any sweet treats from them.

There is no God…

Saiki was forced to sit through class after class while listening to Teruhashi and all the boys’ thoughts. All the while, (Y/N) hadn’t made a move to give anyone their chocolates. That, at least, gave Saiki some relief. Obviously, he wanted the sweets, and it would be a disappointment if the chocolate went to someone else since he wouldn’t have anything nice to eat. That would be the disappointment.

After school ends, I’ll give these to Saiki! He’ll be so stunned by the perfect pretty girl thanking him—

Saiki’s thoughts were interrupted by Teruhashi’s plotting.

Thanking me for what?

—And he’ll say “Oh, wow!”

Yare yare.

The teacher dismissed the students. Quickly, Saiki speed-walked out of the building and around the corner before anyone could catch him. He could hear Teruhashi’s thoughts from above him as her fans tried to get in her good graces. They wanted to receive her chocolates, and she had hidden in the bathroom.

These are my only courtesy chocolates… If those guys outside find out that I gave them to Saiki…he’ll definitely be…! Teruhashi pictured Saiki beaten up by thugs. No, not only that. A World War will break out! O-Oh, no! To think that my chocolates are the most dangerous weapon known to man! I can’t give this to him at all! She opened the bathroom window and tossed the chocolates out. I’m sorry, Saiki!

The gift dropped next to Saiki in the grass.

Yare yare. That’s a tad overdramatic. He reached out and placed his hand on the chocolates. Easily, he teleported it to Hairo’s bags of sweets. It would blend in there and not go to waste. Saiki couldn’t eat them. Even his sweet tooth was subject to his emotions. He wanted only (Y/N)’s chocolate on Valentine’s Day because…Well, because they were the only person he could truly admit he had a connection—friendship—with. Saiki stood up and walked towards the school entrance. Now that the situation was fixed, he could leave without being chased by Teruhashi. He rounded the corner and paused in surprise.

(Y/N) was sitting on the curb at the gates, swinging their legs idly. The sun shone down on them, giving them a glow akin to Teruhashi.

Oh, wow.

A small voice in Saiki’s mind whispered the two forbidden words, and he cleared them away immediately as (Y/N) turned and saw him walking towards them.

“Saiki!” They beamed. “I’ve been waiting!”

“You waited for me?” It was…sweet. He liked the warm feeling it brough to his chest.

“Of course!” (Y/N) answered as if it was obvious. “I’ve got something for you!”

So it was for me. Saiki was glad.

They brought out their chocolates from their bag. “Here you go! For being such a wonderful friend!” And the one I like. But I can’t tell you that.

Ever since their realization, they’d battled their feelings and come to the conclusion that they’d just be a good friend to Saiki at most. They wouldn’t cross his boundaries since he didn’t seem to like anyone having a crush on him. (Y/N) would just be his friend. It…hurt a little, but they wouldn’t give up a good friendship for a ruined attempt at romance. (Y/N) valued Saiki as a friend as much as anything else.

Saiki blinked and took the gift. “Thank you very much.” He was constantly blunt, but somehow, those words felt more truthful to his heart than any others he had spoken in his life.

(Y/N) skipped towards the move theater happily. They were excited to see the Specializer: Live Action movie. They were more delighted when they spied Saiki entering the cinema.

“Saiki!” They waved to him. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I’m a teenager at the movie theater.” Saiki was being sarcastic as usual, but (Y/N) was right, he didn’t go to the cinema anymore. His telepathy caused too much trouble. Now, however…he had his very own germanium ring. Saiki didn’t have to hear people’s thoughts anymore. He wouldn’t have anything get spoiled.

(Y/N) shrugged. “Fair point. Are you here to see Specializer?”

“Yes.”

“I am, too!” They grinned. “Let’s go get tickets!”

For all my bad luck, it looks like God is actually helping me out today.

“That’s a nice ring!” commented (Y/N) as they walked in. “They look like the same metal as my earrings.”

Saiki shrugged in answer.

“Two tickets to Specializer,” said (Y/N) to the saleswoman.

“Oh, how nice, a date to the movies!” remarked the lady.

(Y/N)’s cheeks warmed. “Oh, uh, it’s—”

“Yes, it’s nice,” said Saiki shortly, paying for the tickets and walking away. “No point in arguing with her. It’ll just waste time.”

(Y/N) jogged to keep up with him. “If you say so.” They pushed away their stomach doing flips. “Let me pay for snacks at least. Now I have more money to spare on it.”

Saiki nodded and let them buy the popcorn and sodas. While they walked to the theater, he easily avoided all the people who might have spoiled movies in the past. He and (Y/N) got nice seats in the theater, too. Things were actually going well for Saiki. He couldn’t help but smile.

A germanium ring and (Y/N). It seems today is working out surprisingly in my favor.

“Saiki, (L/N)?”

I spoke too soon.

(Y/N) nearly groaned. They almost got over an hour of time alone with Saiki (extremely difficult to obtain and rare), but, of course, a wild Teruhashi had to appear and ruin it. (Y/N) had nothing against Teruhashi, but…she attracted attention, especially from boys, and it made (Y/N) a bit insecure. Plus, it annoyed Saiki, and (Y/N) didn’t want him to have a bad day.

Next to her, Saiki was also nearly groaning at how much the world hated him. He was also realizing that he could have avoided Teruhashi if he heard her thoughts early and cursing germanium again.

“Hi, Teruhashi,” said (Y/N). They managed their usual cheerfulness and smiled.

“Wow! What a coincidence! Are you two on a date?” Teruhashi’s eyes darted between the two.

“Um, no, we aren’t,” said (Y/N) while Saiki shook his head.

“Oh!” Teruhashi’s cheeks turned pink. She was happy to know that, although she couldn’t admit it to herself. “W-Well, I guess we’re all watching the movie together.”

“Yeah…” answered (Y/N).

I can’t hear her thoughts…That’s a problem. But I’ve been wanting to see this movie for a while, and I’m having a decent time.

“D-Don’t this is an excuse,” said Teruhashi, “But I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” She looked at Saiki, obviously speaking more to him than (Y/N). “You see, I’m here with someone, and…”

“Oh?” Even Saiki was surprised on that one.

“Kokomi! I bought some popcorn!” said a male voice. It was a boy with blue hair and sunglasses on.

I swear I know him from somewhere, thought (Y/N). Probably someone famous since Teruhashi thinks he’s worthy of her.

“Hey! Hey, you!” The boy took his sunglasses off and glared at Saiki. “What’s your relationship with my Kokomi?” He caught sight of (Y/N). “And what’re you doing with this poor teenager!”

(Y/N) tilted their head in confusion at the statement.

Yare yare. I never thought that (Y/N) would bring me unwanted attention.

“Ah! Hey! Don’t take off your sunglasses!” exclaimed Teruhashi.

Suddenly, all the patrons of the theater recognized the boy. It was Toru Megumi, the star of the film. They immediately crowded around him, obscuring any sound or view of the screen. Saiki decided to leave. The commotion would cause the showing to be canceled anyways. When he looked around, however, he could barely see (Y/N). Only their hand was visible. Using a bit of his super strength, he pushed through and grasped their wrist. Saiki pulled them out of the crowd and the theater.

(Y/N) took a few deep breaths. Being nearly trampled was not a pleasant experience. “Thanks, you really saved me back there,” said (Y/N), chuckling through the adrenaline.

Saiki simply nodded at them. Of course he had. They were his friend.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to see the movie. Do you want to go watch one at one of our houses?” asked (Y/N).

“My mom has been asking to see you,” mentioned Saiki. It was a good excuse to invite (Y/N) over without admitting he tolerated them.

“She’s sweet!”

Saiki and (Y/N) had long since finished the move that had been playing on TV, but Mrs. Saiki invited (Y/N) to stay over. Now, the two teenagers were sitting on the couch reading comfortably as Mrs. Saiki turned on the television. Saiki was holding the book while (Y/N) looked over his shoulder from where they lay on the couch (He had taken off the ring by now). So far, it was a relatively quiet, domestic night. In fact, Saiki was quite enjoying having (Y/N) over. And his parents liked them, so slowly but surely, (Y/N) was somehow becoming part of the Saiki household. Their parents were often away, so (Y/N) spent time in the Saiki home. Saiki didn’t mind them being a permanent part of his life. It was nice to have them around. Saiki supposed having it as a constant would be even better.

But what that meant evaded him in a strange manner. He had the disconcerting feeling he was missing something.

“Ah! Toru is on TV!” gushed Mrs. Saiki.

“Who?” asked Mr. Saiki.

“Oh, you don’t know him? It’s Toru Mugami,” said Mrs. Saiki. “He’s the most popular young actor today! I’ve become a huge fan of his! He’s known for his good looks, charm, and talent! Many people admire him. What do you think of him, (Y/N)?” Mrs. Saiki had taken to calling (Y/N) by their first name since she viewed the teen as a kid (and hopefully an in-law, if she had her way).

(Y/N) shrugged. “I like his movies, but he’s not my type.” They glanced at Saiki for a moment before looking carefully away.

Not their type? Maybe Kuu is! They’d be so cute together! thought Mrs. Saiki.

Saiki’s eyes widened minutely. He hadn’t expected that.

“Honey…who do you like more? Me or that Toru guy?” asked Mr. Saiki.

“That’s a no brainer! Of course, it’s you, honey! Compared to you, he’s a fly on dog droppings!”

“Isn’t that a little harsh?”

“Your parents really love each other,” observed (Y/N), smiling softly.

“Yeah.”

“I hope to have a love like theirs. Not as energetic, but…true, enduring love,” said (Y/N). They laughed sheepishly. “I guess it’s a little silly, isn’t it?”

“No, it isn’t.”

Saiki knew what they meant. He saw people at school get in and out of relationships frequently, but although his parents were annoyingly in love, he preferred their constant affection compared to rocky relationships. He’d rather find one person he’d want to be around forever than be “passionately” into different people every-so-often. Besides, only one really fit his temperament.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, and the moment was broken.

“Oh, a visitor!” remarked Mrs. Saiki, still hugging her husband while they used their strange fly on dog poop metaphor.

“Geez, can’t they see we’re having a moment?” said Mr. Saiki.

“Coming! Who is it?” Mrs. Saiki opened the door and gasped.

“What’s wrong, honey?!” cried Mr. Saiki.

“It’s the fly…I mean…!”

“Sorry to bother you this evening,” said Toru Mugami. “Is this where Kusuo Saiki lives?”

Mr. Saiki looked from him to the TV. “It’s the guy from TV!”

“Why is Toru at our place?!” cried Mrs. Saiki.

“Quiet. You’ll upset the neighbors.”

Finally, Mr. and Mrs. Saiki managed to compose themselves and set out a drink for Toru in the dining room.

“Thank you very much!” said Toru. He looked at the two teenagers. “Kusuo, (Y/N), do you remember that we met at the movie theater? I thought you might’ve gotten the wrong idea, so…To tell you the truth, Kokomi and I are siblings.”

“You do look quite similar,” remarked (Y/N).

“People often mistake us for a couple,” continued Toru.

(Y/N) made a weirded-out face. Ew.

“Wait…your Kokomi’s…?” Saiki’s parents were surprised.

“Toru Mugami is my stage name,” explained the idol, “My real name is Makoto Teruhashi. Kokomi is worried that Kusuo and (Y/N) got the wrong idea, so I came to explain it to them. I’m lucky (Y/N) was here and not at their home.”

“I wonder why she’s worried, right?” Mr. Saiki still believed Teruhashi was his New Year’s wish for Saiki come true.

There are much better options for me, Dad. Saiki wasn’t really sure what those options he kept thinking of were, but the word kept coming.

Mrs. Saiki noticed the time. “Ah! I have to make dinner.” She and Mr. Saiki walked out of the room.

“Your parents sure are cheerful,” chuckled Makoto as they left. “Oh, that’s right. I have one more message for you.” He faced Saiki. “This one is from me. Could you hear me out?”

(Y/N) looked between them and sipped their water to avoid feeling too awkward.

“Stay away from my sister, you stupid piece of trash.”

(Y/N) spit out the water in surprise.

“And stop drawing other innocent people into your schemes!”

Confused, (Y/N) tilted their head.

“I don’t know if you’re my beloved Kokomi’s classmate or what, but don’t push your luck, you little snot,” said Makoto. “She’s out of your league, you worthless four-eyes.” He looked at (Y/N). “And you!”

They pointed at themself awkwardly. “Um, yeah?”

“Don’t get trapped by this perv who clearly wants a harem!” declared Makoto.

(Y/N) nearly died on the spot.

“I don’t want that at all.”

“Then, you at least want my Kokomi! And I won’t allow it! You’re a fly on dog droppings!” sneered Makoto.

“I never knew that was such a popular analogy…” mumbled (Y/N).

“Don’t start using it.”

“Do you think you have a chance?” questioned Makoto scornfully.

“Nope, not thinking that,” answered Saiki frankly.

“Since you see her every day and can even say hi to her, you probably think that you’ll get married after a long courtship, right?” rambled Makoto.

“Not thinking that, either.”

“This is really detailed…” commented (Y/N). “It’s pretty concerning.”

“Stop dreaming, you scum,” said Makoto.

“I said I’m not, didn’t I?”

“She’s such a pretty girl. It’s just natural that you’re drawn to her just like hyenas to dead flesh,” said Makoto.

“In that analogy, Teruhashi is dead flesh.”

(Y/N) stifled a laugh.

“Kokomi isn’t just a pretty girl!” declared Makoto. “She’s a masterpiece created by God!”

“I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

“So the only one who’s suitable for Kokomi is me!” Makoto pointed to himself.

Saiki, and even ever-bubbly (Y/N), turned blank.

“What the heck is he talking about?”

“That’s just wrong,” said (Y/N), staring at Makoto. They were deeply disturbed

Even (Y/N) doesn’t like him. That meant Makoto was truly terrible.

“Your just her classmate,” continued the weird boy, “I’ve been by her side since she was born!”

“Yeah…because you’re siblings,” pointed out Saiki.

(Y/N) nodded, their face showing their growing concern (and disgust) for the state of Makoto’s mind.

“The one who’ll marry my sister is me!” cried Makoto.

“I see. So he’s a perv.”

(Y/N) shuddered. “Gross, gross, gross.” They edged behind Saiki slightly.

“I’ll never have some filthy nobody have my Kokomi!” Makoto had crazed eyes. “The only one who can lay their hands on her is me, her brother!”

How did his parents let him get this bad?

“Ahhh, Kokomi! I love you more than anyone else in the world does!” declared Makoto.

“Obsession doesn’t begin to cover this…” muttered (Y/N) uncomfortably.

“Don’t you ever get near my Kokomi,” sneered Makoto to Saiki, “Don’t try to make a harem with her and this teenager. Don’t even look her. In fact, don’t even breathe the same air she does.”

“Yare yare.”

Suddenly, they all heard a knock at the Saiki household’s front door. It gave (Y/N) and Saiki the perfect opportunity to escape the stifling room. They stood, but before they reached the door, Teruhashi herself opened the door.

“Kokomi?” exclaimed Makoto.

“What’re you doing here?” asked a frenzied Teruhashi.

“Wow, she easily figured out where he was,” remarked (Y/N).

Actually, I called her here.

“Hey, what’re you doing here?” repeated Teruhashi.

“Well, you were worried that Saiki and (L/N) got the wrong idea, right?” said Makoto, smiling innocently.

“What…? I didn’t tell you that…How did you…,” stammered Teruhashi.

“I always know what you’re thinking,” said Makoto. “You no longer have to worry about it. I explained anything.”

“I-I see. I’m gla— What?” she cried. Does that mean Saiki knows I was worried he got the wrong idea?!

She really isn’t concerned about (Y/N).

Makoto continued, “I’m always—.”

“Why…” said Teruhashi lowly. “Why did you have to stick your nose into this?! I hate you, big brother!”

Makoto’s world collapsed around him.

“Will he leave now?” said (Y/N), peering down at Makoto and poking him with their shoe in distaste.

“I hope so.”

(Y/N) breathed a sigh of relief.

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