Summary: Dean Di Laurentis is loud, arrogant, and has a smirk with dimples that makes you want to throw something at his face. You called him a playboy to his face. Now he won't leave you alone. You tell yourself he's just annoying you for fun and you want nothing to do with him. Until one day, you realize you're looking for him in every crowd. And that's when you know you're in trouble.
Pairing: Dean Di Laurentis x fem!reader
Tags/warnings: Introvert girl. Enemies to lovers. Slow burn. Jealousy. Denial. Hockey romance. Anxiety. Angst. Pining. Hurt/comfort. Mild language. Suggestive theme. No explicit content. Using the word (Name).
Word count: 3.2k
Author's note: More drama, I guess? 💁♀️ Let me know what u think about this part haha, anyway enjoy! 💗
Taglist: @starinisstuff @sonnensplitter @hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel @thecraziestcrayon @alice07ea @monayyy-21 @khanealb @myunperfektstorys @enemiestoloversfan @wilmonyibo7 @glittergirly78 @hey-its-kayla-claire @outpostsworld @needtokeepfeelingsincheck @f1flowergirl @shannon-1355 @liltacogurl @awesomebunnyqueen @historygeekqueen @sandrellymendonca @legendarychrattgirl @thewiselionessss @kristyjane22-blog @dina2223 @puertoricanborricua777 @tillslvt @velvetsighs @iwishiwasironman @yvonne-dump @whimsical-anongirl @ravenclawvioletevergraden @ihatepeanutss @my-name-is-baby @c-a-b3002 @brianna28483 @deadpool15 (let me know if u already commented but i haven't added u yet)
The presentation day you dreaded so much finally arrived. Professor Miller’s History classroom looked twice as crowded as usual. You stood at the front of the room, right next to the podium with Leon and Dean. The moment Professor Miller looked at your group with a sharp, judging gaze combined with dozens of your classmates' eyes locking onto you, your chest suddenly felt tight.
Stage fright was hitting you hard. As someone who hated being the center of attention, standing up here was a total nightmare—the worst kind. Your mind went completely blank. All the lines you had practiced over and over since last night vanished in a second. Terrible thoughts started rushing into your head. What if your voice shook? What if you messed up your words and completely embarrassed yourself? Even worse, you could see a few girls in the front row, the ones who usually always crowded around Dean, staring at you with judging eyes.
When Leon finished reading his first section and signaled that it was your turn, you stepped forward. You held the presentation remote with a cold, shaking hand.
"G-good morning, I will continue the presentation from my partner about..." Your voice came out too quiet, almost getting stuck in your throat. The mic in front of you didn’t seem to be working either.
You stared at the text on the PowerPoint slide, but the letters suddenly looked blurry because of the panic taking over your body. The silence in the classroom as everyone waited for you to finish your sentence made the room feel suffocating. You froze, completely stuck in a blank state.
Right when you thought your day was ruined and your grade was in danger because of a failed presentation, a tall shadow stepped forward calmly and stood right next to you.
It was Dean.
Without saying much, Dean’s large hand moved calmly over the podium desk, pretending to organize your physical research drafts so it wouldn't look weird to the professor and the class.
However, beneath the stacked sheets of paper, the tip of Dean’s pinky finger gently brushed the side of your shaking hand.
The touch was incredibly light and just for a brief moment, but it magically sent a wave of calm through you. You looked up quickly and found Dean staring at you. There was no annoying smirk on his face. His green eyes looked at you with a very warm, reassuring gaze, as if telling you that he was here and you could absolutely do this.
Dean then turned to face the professor and the whole class. He pulled the mic closer to his lips and finished your sentence with a loud, confident voice. "Apologies, Professor, it looks like a few pages of our draft got mixed up in this section," Dean lied easily to save you in front of everyone. "Let me help open the first point. Our group found the impact of this war..."
Dean explained the two opening sentences of your section perfectly, as if he had predicted this would happen and was ready to back you up. It made you so grateful because it gave you time to breathe and calm down before continuing your presentation. Plus, Dean’s action— which other people might think was just a small thing, managed to make all your panic disappear.
Once you got your focus back, Dean adjusted the mic toward you. He gave a very slight, brief nod before stepping back to his original spot.
You took a deep breath, locked your eyes on the slides, and finally managed to finish the rest of your presentation with a smooth, steady voice until the end.
When the presentation and the Q&A session were over, Professor Miller gave an approving nod, making your heart beat like crazy. Besides the fact that the presentation went smoothly, it was also because of Dean who was currently helping Leon pack up the laptop and projector. You really appreciated his help.
The moment Professor Miller dismissed the History class, you quickly packed your notes and laptop into your bag. Leon, who was sitting between you and Dean after the presentation ended, looked at you. "It would be great if we could celebrate our successful presentation by grabbing some lunch together."
You looked at him, "That would be great." Then you glanced at Dean, who was focused entirely on his phone.
"But unfortunately I can't, because I have to head to work right after this." Leon looked at you sadly, feeling guilty.
"Oh, that's totally fine. We can plan it for another time." You smiled at Leon.
Not feeling like Dean was going to join the conversation, you got up from your seat at the same time as Leon. Leon walked out of the classroom first.
Now you were confused about whether you should say goodbye to Dean. You didn't want to look rude, especially since he had just helped you. But Dean seemed busy with his phone and was completely ignoring both you and Leon.
"Dea—"
"Dean! Your presentation was so cool earlier!"
Before you could even say his name, three girls who you knew were Dean's fans arrived, cutting you off.
You weren't mad about that because your voice was quiet and a bit hesitant anyway. But what actually made you feel annoyed was that Dean instantly turned off his phone and welcomed them with his dimpled smile. It was like his natural flirty playboy mode just turned on automatically in front of them. The guy looked so used to all that attention.
The warm feeling in your heart from Dean’s subtle action at the front of the class vanished instantly. You scoffed to yourself, turned around quickly, and walked out of the classroom with long steps.
Idiot, you scolded yourself in your mind. He was still Dean Di Laurentis, the campus’s number one playboy. That touch earlier was just one of his stupid tricks, and unfortunately, you had actually been charmed for a second.
"Hey, (Name)! Wait up!"
By the time you had walked far down the hallway, which was starting to get empty, a voice called out to you. You didn't look back or stop because you knew it was Dean's voice.
However, with his long legs, Dean easily caught up and was now walking right next to you. His voice sounded more relaxed and friendly, without any of the cocky, annoying tone from before all of this. "My acting in front of Professor Miller earlier was pretty cool, right? I think we deserve to celebrate with some lunch together."
You stopped walking and looked at him as cold as ice, completely ignoring how his face turned confused after seeing your expression. "Your acting was great, Di Laurentis. But sorry, I’m not interested in celebrating with you."
You tried to start walking again, but Dean blocked your way. "Hey, what’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?" he asked.
You threw him a lazy look. "Our group business is done. So there’s no need to pretend to care by asking me out to lunch."
"(Name), hey... I thought you had forgiven me," Dean looked at you, confused and panicking.
"Yeah. And you got your presentation grade, right? So now you can go right back into the arms of your girls."
Dean froze, his eyes widening at your sharp answer. A look of pure panic slowly appeared on his handsome face, making his overconfident energy disappear completely.
"Wait, what girls?" Dean asked with a very confused voice. "The girls in class just now? (Name), they came up to my desk! I was just being polite because they complimented our presentation!"
"But you welcomed them with a huge smile, Di Laurentis!" you cut him off quickly with a cold tone, crossing your arms over your chest. "Leon was planning to ask us to lunch together to celebrate this project. But you? You wouldn't even look away from your phone to listen to us. You ignored your own group partner, but a second later, you instantly turned on your friendly playboy mode when your fans showed up."
You let out a cynical scoff, looking at him with pure disgust. "That just proves you never change. Your hero act at the front of the class earlier was probably just a way to get attention in front of Professor Miller. So stop pretending to care about me. We're done."
"I wasn't ignoring you guys! I-I was looking for a good lunch spot recommendation on my phone for us!" Dean defended himself in a panic. He moved quickly to block your path again as you tried to walk away. "I swear to God, (Name), I'm not lying. I didn't mean to ignore you or Leon. And that smile... it was just a reflex because I’m used to being friendly on campus."
"Whatever you say," you replied lazily.
You glared at him, signaling for him to get out of your way. "Go back to them, Di Laurentis. Don't waste your precious time pretending to care about me."
Without giving Dean another chance to defend himself, you walked past and intentionally brushed your shoulder hard against his, leaving the hallway of the academic building behind.
Meanwhile, Dean stood frozen in his spot. His grip tightened on the strap of his hockey bag. He cursed under his breath, hating himself for his own stupidity that had just ruined the trust he had almost won back from you.
Since the argument in the hallway that day, you completely cut off all contact with Dean. You blocked his number and deleted his request to follow your private Instagram account. Whenever Jules tried to bring up his name, you immediately changed the subject.
However, once a week, you were forced to be in the same room with him because of your History class. But you found ways to avoid him. The moment you walked into class, you either took a seat right next to the class representative—your only close friend—or next to Leon. If you absolutely had to sit alone, you buried yourself in your laptop screen. Every time Dean tried to come close to you, whether to start a conversation or just say a simple hello, you only gave him short answers or a freezing cold response.
This successfully left Dean looking incredibly awkward, which he tried to hide behind his handsome, cocky face. But deep down, Dean realized that if he forced his way into your space, it would only push you further away. Eventually, Dean chose to give up and step back.
Every single time he pushed open the classroom door and walked in, the very first thing he did was scan the room until his eyes stopped right on you. It didn't matter if you were busy chatting with your friend or laughing along with Leon. Dean would just let out a soft sigh, find an empty seat in a completely different row, and try his best to focus on the lecture material.
Meanwhile, from your perspective, you felt that your decision to stay away from him— going back to how things used to be before you knew each other, was absolutely right.
Then, right after class was dismissed one day, you accidentally heard giggling and flirty laughter from a group of girls. When you glanced over at the noise, you saw a crowd of girls surrounding Dean’s desk. To make things worse, Dean looked completely relaxed, enjoying the female attention just like he always did.
See? you thought cynically, rolling your eyes. He never changes. All his sweet actions before were just a game. With that thought, you tried even harder to completely erase the guy from your mind.
You felt like your old life was slowly coming back to normal, until two weeks later when the universe decided to mess with your peace again.
That night, you were walking through the campus park after spending the whole day at the library. Suddenly, you saw a familiar face jogging toward you from the opposite direction. You didn’t know whether to pretend you didn’t see him or pretend you didn’t know him so you wouldn't have to say hi. You weren't sure if he even remembered you. But just as you decided to look down, pretending to focus on your phone, you heard someone call your name.
You stopped and looked up to find him jogging over to you with his smile.
"Is that really you, (Name)? I can’t believe we finally ran into each other again!"
"Oh hey, Hunter," you greeted him back. You felt a little guilty for trying to ignore him, especially since the tall guy in front of you actually remembered you. "I didn’t expect to see you here either. Wow, you’ve grown so tall now."
The grandson of the Davenport family who live next door to you, let out a soft chuckle.
"Yeah, I'm a freshman here. How have you been? I haven’t seen you in forever since you moved to the dorms."
You smiled. "I’m doing good. Do you still visit your grandmother often?" you asked, remembering how Mrs. Davenport used to ask you to play with a young Hunter whenever his parents came over.
"Not really. I was too busy preparing for college last year, and my hockey schedule is pretty packed."
"Wait, you play hockey?" you asked, surprised.
Hunter laughed softly. "Yeah. I’ve been playing since high school, since you stopped hanging out with me and got busy with your adult life."
You laughed. "Hey! That’s not my fault! I was getting ready for college back then, you know. And I knew you were busy with your friends too. Let me guess, are you a celebrity among the freshmen?" you teased.
"Do you even need to ask? Look how handsome and charming I am."
You instantly swatted his shoulder, smiling. Because it had been so long, you forgot that your childhood friend could be incredibly confident. Plus, he really had gotten more handsome, and he knew it.
But his attitude suddenly reminded you of someone. Someone very familiar. A hockey player, handsome, and also overconfident.
The exact person you were trying so hard to avoid and forget.
Your smile disappeared the moment you thought of him.
You cleared your throat. "Did you join our campus hockey team?" you asked, curious.
Hunter shrugged his shoulders. "I guess. I said no at first, but they said they really needed me, so..."
"So?" you asked, waiting for him to finish.
"So I’m joining. Now, give me your life update. Who’s your boyfriend?"
Hunter’s sudden question made you blink, not expecting him to ask something so random. You laughed. "Why are you being so random?"
"Don’t change the subject. Are you still as shy as you used to be, huh?"
"I’m not shy," you cut him off quickly.
"Then tell me, do you have a boyfriend?"
"I don—"
"Wow, what an interesting view." A sarcastic voice made both you and Hunter snap your heads around.
It was Dean. He was standing not far away, with both hands shoved inside his pockets. He looked back and forth between you and Hunter with a sharp, angry glare.
You frowned in confusion, feeling how weird it was that Dean suddenly approached you and was being a jerk again—actually, he seemed even worse than during your first meeting at the birthday party.
Dean stepped closer, giving you a smirk. "No wonder you’re always so cold and play hard to get around me, (Name). Turns out your taste is pretty low." Dean turned his eyes to Hunter, fixing him with intimidating glare. "Stay away from her, Davenport. Go find another prey on this campus."
Hearing such a mean and ridiculous accusation come out of Dean’s mouth made your chest feel tight. You stood frozen in disbelief and deep hurt. You thought Dean was starting to change, or at least becoming a better person. But today he proved the exact opposite by acting like an arrogant jerk who throws fake accusations and insults you in front of someone else.
Meanwhile, Hunter could feel Dean’s anger and jealousy, but he wasn’t scared at all. Hunter raised an eyebrow, a challenging smirk appearing on his face. Hunter stepped forward, intentionally placing his body slightly in front of you, as if shielding you from Dean. "Wow, take it easy, Di Laurentis," Hunter replied in a lazy, teasing tone.
His smirk grew wider when he noticed Dean’s fists clenching tight. "You sound like a jealous boyfriend. But... a very bad one."
"I’m not her boyfriend," Dean muttered back, but his eyes stayed sharp.
"Oh, interesting," Hunter paused. "Then what’s your problem, huh? Are you scared that after I beat your ass in hockey, I’ll beat you in romance too?"
Hunter’s words completely snapped the last bit of Dean’s patience. Dean’s jaw tightened, his green eyes flashing with pure rage. Without another word, Dean rushed forward and grabbed the collar of Hunter’s hoodie roughly, pulling the freshman forward. "Don't talk shit, Davenport! You are no match for me on the ice, or off the ice!" Dean hissed, breathing heavily as he lost his temper completely.
Hunter didn't fight back, but the challenging smirk on his face only grew wider, intentionally pushing Dean’s buttons to see how far he would go.
Seeing the situation suddenly turn into a complete mess and notice other students passing by staring, you panicked. Putting aside your hurt from Dean's mean words, your instincts kicked in to stop a physical fight in public.
You stepped forward, using all the strength you had to push Dean’s broad chest away from Hunter.
"Dean, enough! Let him go!" you shouted in a low but firm voice.
Your sudden push made Dean lose his grip on Hunter’s collar. Dean took a step back, his eyes widening in shock as he looked down at your hands still resting on his chest. He stared at you in pure disbelief— completely shocked that you had just called him by his first name and pushed him to protect Hunter Davenport.
You quickly pulled your hands back, staring at Dean with eyes full of anger, disappointment, and hurt all mixed together.
"You have seriously crossed the line, Dean," you said, your voice shaking with anger. "You came here just to insult me with that accusation? And you even want to fight Hunter? Are you crazy or something? I was wrong to ever think you were changing into a better man. The truth is, you’re still an arrogant jerk. You have absolutely no right to comment on my life! So stop interfering with who I talk to!"
Those sharp, disappointed words flew from your lips, hitting Dean right in the chest and breaking through his playboy pride. Dean froze in his tracks, his mouth opening slightly, but not a single word could come out of his throat.
The fiery anger in his eyes suddenly turned into deep regret when he saw the hurt in your eyes.
Without wasting any time or waiting to hear what Dean had to say, you turned around, grabbed Hunter’s hand, and walked away from the campus park with quick steps.
Meanwhile, Dean could only stand there frozen. He stared blankly at your back as you walked away, holding Hunter Davenport’s hand tightly.
A million questions rushed into Dean’s head about who Hunter was to you, but one thing was certain. You felt comfortable enough with Hunter to hold his hand tightly.
Dean gripped his blonde hair with both hands, trying to calm his breathing, which was still heavy from the anger and regret filling his chest. "Fuck!"
He knew right then, that he had completely ruined everything.
🕊️: simon x reader | sfw | mdni | not proofread | simon and his feelings about your feelings. no thoughts just vibes.
simon likes seeing his missus upset with him.
maybe like is a strong word. more so appreciates it greatly. especially considering how he saw his mother walk on egg shells around his father. or worse, blindly agreeing with whatever that man said. bullied to tears for not trusting the man of the house when his father insisted she give up her rainy day fund for whatever whim he was after. he hated it.
so yeah, get mad at him. tell him that you don’t like the way he loads the dishwasher. scold him when he gets the wrong type of milk AGAIN. god forbid he leaves the toilet seat up, he’ll never hear the end of it. tell him that you think it would be better to go post office -> grocery -> gas station instead of gas station-> grocery -> post office even if he feels it’s a bit redundant to loop back multiple times. get annoyed with him.
he wants to hear you, your voice, your opinions. he won’t belittle you or try to sway you away from your anger. now don’t get it twisted, he won’t take any verbal abuse and just blindly agree with you. and you wouldn’t want him to anyways.
Summary: You’ve always been afraid to confess to Azriel about your feelings for him, but after a hookup gone wrong, everything begins falling apart, and he’s there to pick up the pieces.
Word Count: ~ 2.4k
Warnings: Drunk ppl, drunk fem reader, allusions to smut, std mentions, bloodwork (doctors), guy being an ahole + taking advantage of drunk reader, scars, angst to comfort
A/N: this request was so good (ty to anon!!), I feel like az always pairs really good with angst to comfort, anyways hope you enjoy<3 (also sorry for lack of posts recently I just had a math+science test back to back and have spent the past few days studying😭)
Requests are open!
Unlike the rest of your friend group, you weren’t special.
You weren’t a High Lord, Spymaster, General, High Lady, Seer, or any special title. You weren’t funny like Mor, witty like Amren, or even talented in much like all of your friends were.
But then again, like your mother had said, opposites always attract.
Maybe that was why had always had a small crush on the Spymaster who was withdrawn and secretive, the opposite of your friendly personality. You could befriend just about anyone, knowing their name, age, and at least a few background details on them in a few minutes, while Azriel was the exact opposite, getting his information on people through other ways.
With his job and his centuries of experience for two different High Lords, it was a wonder he didn’t already know about your crush on him. Maybe it was because, like everyone else, he was focused on the central characters in your friend group.
The three sisters and brothers. It was hard to overlook them, with all their achievements and accomplishments, not to mention the things they’d overcome and their pasts.
Tonight you were all out at Rita’s, Cassian telling awful jokes to Nesta as she rolled her eyes, playfully swatting him on the shoulder, Rhys and Feyre having a drinking competition, Azriel brooding somewhere in the corner, alone because of Elain visiting Autumn Court with Mor for “political purposes” even though everyone knew she wanted to see Lucien.
You were taking a sip of your drink, idly standing at the bar, elbows propped on the table as your eyes raked through the crowd, searching for someone who could offer a decent hookup. Drunk Fae stumbled about, laughing loudly with genuine joy that made your lips twitch up a bit, the music playing in the background also helping your mood as a cool breeze blew through the open area.
“Looking for someone?”
You choked on your drink, alcohol coming back up to sting your throat a second time before you swallowed it all backdown, one hand over your heart as you sighed in relief, looking at Azriel who’d somehow approached without you knowing.
“Mother above, Az, you scared the shit outta me.”
You replied, taking a few more breaths to calm down, turning to face him, back now against the bar table as the shadowsinger looked down at you, hair falling into his eyes in a boyish way that made you giggle as you tried to brush some behind his hair.
“Someone needs a haircut,”
You teased, and a hint of a smile graced his lips.
“I’ll make sure not to go to Mor this time.”
He said, grimacing for a moment at the memory of the awful haircut Mor had given him, insisting he needed it, only to butcher his beautiful dark locks. You could still remember how distraught he’d been after, looking like a puppy that had just been kicked.
“I could do it, my mom used to cut hair, taught me a thing or two,”
You offered with a little shrug, taking another sip of your drink, one you’d already refilled by now. Maybe twice. You couldn’t remember, all you knew was that the hangover in the morning would be brutal.
A chuckle from Azriel made you rub your thighs together as he shook his head in fond exasperation. He swallowed, almost nervously, odd for him, before speaking.
“Maybe next time, though I wouldn’t object if you-“
He was cut short by another male strolling up to you a tad bit too confidently, one arm going to the right of you on the bar table as his eyes met yours.
An old partner. Particularly a fuck-buddy.
The best solution for tonight, really, since Cauldron knows you weren’t bold enough to push anything with Azriel. He was a friend, nothing more, or at least you tried to convince yourself. He still hadn’t gotten over Elain, or you thought he hadn’t yet, and you didn’t want to risk ruining your friendship or making things awkward between the two of you because of your desires the the crush you’d kept secret for years.
Your fuck-buddy’s eyes met yours, and you swallowed, glancing at Azriel as he watched the silent interaction the two of you had before giving a terse nod and walking away. You would’ve noticed how his eyes narrowed, or how he looked stiff if you hadn’t taken a few too many sips between talking with those at Rita’s tonight.
“Want to take this back to my place?”
The male drawled, arm sliding around your waist as he began guiding you to the exit around the side, where people could discreetly leave. Neither of you was beating around the bush, and you rarely did anyway. You both just needed a release, or at least you did.
“Mm..sure.”
You murmured, body hot now, thinking about Azriel instead of the male leading you to his old home, wishing it was Azriel’s hands on you, wishing you knew what it felt like to know him more, deeper than just the tip of the iceberg you’d touched.
~
Weeks had passed since that night, you’d woken up cold and alone in the male’s bed, gotten up, and collected your clothes before walking your ass back to the townhouse while your head had felt like someone split it open.
You had vowed not to go drinking for a while now.
And things had gotten weird between you and Azriel Joe, too. He was avoiding you, and no matter how much he tried to deny it, you could tell.
When he heard your footsteps, he left the room almost immediately, hell, even his shadows were avoiding you, not following you like loyal dogs per usual, just one or two to make sure you were safe at all times like he did for every member of the Inner Circle. His jaw was clenched every time he was in a room with you, and he wouldn’t look you in the eye, maybe couldn’t.
You barely remembered what had happened that night other than a few blurry memories of conversations and whatnot; so you didn’t know if you’d said something stupid and messed it up, or he thought you were a whore for going out with that other male and leaving him all alone.
The more you thought about it, the more you thought the latter was more likely.
It didn’t help that just a few days later, amidst all your worries, you’d decided to take a little walk through Velaris to get some outside time and a serotonin boost, only for the exact opposite to happen when you were met with your previous fuck-buddy from that night weeks ago screaming in your face, yanking you down a small alleyway to properly yell at you.
“Nasty bitch, gave me a disease! If you’re going to be a whore, at least keep your fucking viruses to yourself-!”
Horror shot through you at his words. You didn’t have any sort of STD, not that you knew of at least, and if you’d spread the theoretical disease to him…He might be an asshole, but no one deserves that.
Unsure what to do as tears welled in your eyes and fell, you began trying to ignore him as you turned and dashed out of the alleyway, the loose clothing you were wearing helping you to slightly outpace him through the streets, avoiding the children and Fae on them, not to mention the vendors and toys strewn about.
He pursued you, screaming still, and hot tears of embarrassment pouring down your cheeks as you began to sob, you didn’t even realize you’d outrun him until you were already at the steps to the House of Wind, ascending them, not even bothering to count out the 10,000 steps in your head.
Somehow, through either pure anger or sadness, you reached the top right when your knees gave out, only for Nesta to catch you right before you fell, dressed in her training leathers, weapons strapped to her. Her forehead wrinkled in confusion and already-building anger as she saw you crying your eyes out.
“What’s wrong?”
She demanded, shifting to hold you up fully, carrying you bridal style as she started walking into the House, snapping her fingers once she got inside, and the House listened to her as always, making a warm cup of tea in your favorite flavor, and a comfort meal she knew you loved as she slowly sat you down at the table. The House must’ve deemed it necessary when it added a cushion beneath your butt on the chair, considering your aching legs.
You tried to blubber out an answer amidst the tears, but couldn’t manage to, and her eyes softened as she sighed, sitting down next to you on your right, before seeing that she wasn’t making much progress, and getting back up.
“Eat, we can talk about this later, I’ll go get him.”
You were about to ask who she was going to get, even though a part of you already knew as you saw her walking off in the direction of his room. You began slowly digging into the food, finding yourself to be much hungrier than earlier anticipated. Then again, you’d skipped out on breakfast, expecting to get a big lunch while out and about in Velaris.
Azriel arrived only a moment later, shadows swirling, concern evident on his face as Nesta gave him a stern look and pointed to you before she mouthed “You’re welcome.” to you, and strolled out of the door.
“What happened?”
He asked, smooth voice soaked in worry as he quickly pulled out the same chair Nesta had just been sitting in, sitting in it as it groaned under his weight. One of his wings stretched out in your direction, just barely curling around you.
You swallowed a bite of your food, tears coming back up.
“It’s embarrassing.”
You managed to croak out, and he shook his head.
“I won’t make fun of you, I promise.”
He pledged, and you trusted that promise as you sniffled again, wiping the wetness from your eyes with one hand.
“Me and that male from Rita’s, we slept together, and he just accused me of…of giving him an STD.”
You said, before breaking into sobs again, hands going to cover your face despite the warmth that burned in your cheeks from the shame of being in this situation. His large palm gently brushed over your back as he scooted closer, raising an eyebrow at the cushion in your seat for half a second before his wing curled fully around you; and he pulled you into a surprisingly warm hug.
“I’m sorry.”
He murmured, and your sobs slowly subsided until you had no tears left to cry, but you still held onto him in the hug, hands fisting the back of his shirt, the cloth bunching up beneath your fingers.
“What if I do, though? Have a..virus?”
He gave a little hum of thought.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, do you want to go get tested?”
You gave a sad little nod, a small pout on your lips that made him want to rip apart the male that made you feel this way. He gently picked you up, careful with your sore legs, figuring out what had happened rather quickly after some of his shadows informed him what they’d seen. They also quickly informed him on the full story, and what that male had done. Another job for another day, but he would make sure he paid for it.
Nearly two hours later, you’d had to pee in a cup for Madja to check, and now were getting blood taken to get that tested as well, as well as any other necessary bodily fluids. Symptoms were noted if there were any. It was uncomfortable at best, but Azriel held your hand the entire time, not even wincing when you squeezed his hand a bit too hard for all the scars covering it.
He quickly winnowed the both of you to the House of Wind afterward, having been told the results would take at least a day to get back. He winnowed the both of you straight into his room.
It was dark, curtains drawn and everything, with the barest essentials in it as well as a desk for work, a few maps hanging from the walls, and assortments of fancy knives you knew he must’ve collected over the centuries.
You turned to leave, but his hand grasping your wrist quickly made you turn, tilting your head sideways in mild confusion.
“Stay.”
He begged, looking terrified of what you might say, but also hopeful. You sniffled again, nodding and tentatively following him as he gently led you over to the bed, each move like a new dance, one that neither of you had practiced before, but were willing to try.
He slowly stripped his leathers off, letting you see his scarred body and wings for what it truly was. And for once, the sight of his bare body, while very attractive, didn’t just make you horny or craving him. It made you appreciate him, who he was at his core. The years he’d spent training and honing his body to protect his Court, the scars he’d suffered protecting his loved ones and serving them; even willing to take it to the end.
You appreciated him. Even in the bad lighting of the room, or the thick shadows swirling everywhere, you appreciated Azriel.
And so, in turn, you began slowly tugging your clothes off, leaving only your undergarments on. His eyes ran over you, respectfully as always, but taking in your vulnerability; who you were beneath the covers, before he gave a small nod.
He walked over to his dresser, pulled out one of his more casual shirts; one that was clean that he hadn’t worn in a good while, and walked over to you, standing in front of you as he helped gently tug the opening over your head, guiding your hands to the arm holes, adjusting it for you.
No words were exchanged, and none needed to be, not ad you both crawled into his bed under the blankets, and he enveloped you in an embrace; wings and arms wrapped around you with his head tucked into your neck.
And tonight, you knew for sure that you wouldn’t wake up cold and alone like that night so many weeks ago.
No, tonight, you didn’t need the warmth of passion or lust to keep you from the biting cold, now you had Azriel by your side, and that was more than enough.
Peter Parker felt his fingers twitch for the thousand time this morning. He wished he could give the one cup of coffee he had that morning the fault for this, but he knew something was wrong. He knew his senses were even higher than usually and the strong grip on the strap of his backpack did nothing to release some tension.
He did send Mr. Stark a message telling him something was wrong, but the moment he told him his problem was finger twitching Tony stopped answering.
His brown locks were ruffled, and Ned's eyes widened when he met him in the halls. "Woah what happened to you man?", he asked, analyzing his friend from head to toe. "I – I don't know. Something is wrong." He started rubbing the itching art on his body. Usually, he loved it. The fine sketch of a woman who's reading a newspaper, keeping her legs crossed, was his favorite part about his body. Although it wasn't really about him. It would make his day - looking at his waist in the mirror and tracing the lines till they had burned themselves into his mind. God, he loved the idea of her feeling his touch. And even after he found his favorite part to be the favorite part to three other men, he still couldn't help but give himself butterflies every time he thought of her.
Her.
Snapping out of his trance, he looked at his friend who was raising an eyebrow at him. "Did you listen to me? Hey dude where is your mind. I just told you the best thing ever!", "Sorry.", Peter mumbled, biting his lip. "So there's this new girl, alright. I have math with her. She's hot. So hot bro. And- and- ", "Yeah she's cool I guess." Both guys snapped their neck towards MJ, who was slightly smirking as she stopped next to them. "Yeah- so- ", "What's her name?", Peter asked wanting to meet her now that his friends already got to know her. "Y/n. Cool right?", Ned said grinning. "Yeah -cool. Look – I should go.", "You alright Pete?", asked MJ, to which he nodded, before he speed walked to his next class, just to freeze in the door.
Her hair was beautiful. Braided in some kind of pretty bun which he had no clue about. Her nose was wrinkled as she looked down at the notebook, the pencil tightly held between her fingers and her lips in a pout. "Shit.", he whispered, looking at her lips. They were rosy, not red, not too big, but not too small. The perfect match to his.
Wrinkling her eyebrows Y/n slowly looked up, but came to the conclusion she must have imagined the feeling of someone starring at her, because no one was standing in the door. No- the boy who was leaning outside of the room, with a rapid beating heart and red cheeks couldn't look into her eyes.
Everything he imagined could come true now, but he wished oh so dearly for it to be Steve or Pietro who got to meet her first. Look- Peter was an awkward, shy boy most of the times and even tough he would be the one to spend some time with her alone before he had to tell the others, he was scared shitless.
She wouldn't laugh at him if he started to ramble or said something that sounded wrong. Right?
Peeping around the wall he took a deep breath. Her legs were crossed, the same way the lady from his soul mark did. Another deep breath followed, before he closed his eyes and- he opened them again and fell right into a deep pool of y/e/c.
Y/n’s head was tilted slightly as her mouth went dry. "H-Hi.", she whispered and started fumbling with the rings on her finger to prevent from falling around his neck immediately. "H—Hey", Peter coughed out, getting even redder cheeks when he took in her smell. "So- you're my soulmate huh?", she asked, trying to ease him and herself a little bit. "I guess."
"Is that bad?", she asked nervous. "I mean is- am I- "Her self-consciousness was interrupted by her teacher walking thru the door next to them. "Mmh." She didn't find the words she was searching for, so she pointed at the door and left in a hurry. Great. Just Great.
It did exactly go like he always imagined. Not really tho.
He sighed, as he rubbed a hand over his face. He didn't even know where to start from here. He didn't know if he should tell the others first or get to know her. He was going to have a heart attack at the age of seventeen and it would be her fault. Y/n St. Lorenz would be the death of him.
Slightly she took her eyes of her book, when the sound of the chair next to her being pulled backwards met her ears. Peter -again- took a deep breath. "It's – uhm- fantastic.", he smiled, and tried to memorize her face. "What?", she whispered, and looked in his eyes again. "I- uhm- you know- you are – it's not bad that you're my soulmate. It's perfect. You're perfect." A blush spread over both their faces. "Oh- You don't even know me.", "But I would love to."
When I was a little girl, the world seemed brighter. The sun seemed to be a little lighter and more blinding. I remember my mother holding my hand tightly while she dragged me up the streets of San Francisco, because my father didn't bother picking us up at the shop after we went grocery shopping in July. I was sweating, something I still hate, and I realized that I wanted my father to be nicer to my mom. To be nicer in general. But I never witnessed that. Even after my brother was born, the only thing he would do was sit in his office and stare at his computer. He made call after call. It took my mother a while to find out that he was cheating on her, but it didn't even catch her of guard.
Three months later we were living at my grandmothers house, much to my mothers displeasure. She had a nice garden tho. After they got into a fight we left again in the middle of the night, just to go back to my father. I hated it.
My parents were never soulmates. They weren't meant to be and even if they tried to be, it always ended in tears and us moving.
I remember when I hugged him for the last time. The smell of coffee clung to him like I always thought only cigarettes could. I loved his coffee scent. Even if its fucked up, it always reminded me of home, a save place. But when he finally left, leaving us in the three bedroom flat, I knew it was the last time I would see his face.
Twelve years later my father sent me a postcard from Italy, saying he found his soulmate in his hometown. I didn't tell my mother and I didn't answer him. My mother was the one who deserved to have a love like this, someone to love her always, not him.
Twelve years later my father was probably still a dick.
Now, sitting at the new oak kitchen table my mother invested in, I couldn't imagine him here with us in New York. I couldn't even realize the fact, that we moved or that I still had to unpack. My eyes drifted to the boxes all around the room. We were just to unmotivated to unpack.
My mother went out to take a look at her new restaurant and my brother Charlie didn't bother looking up from his physics book, reminding me of the fact that if I wanted to graduate this year, I had to find a tutor. Of course, I could always ask my brother, but the little ego I had left couldn't die for my grades.
I yawned as I looked out of the window. It was raining and if it kept raining I would have to rethink the outfit I planned to wear to school tomorrow. If I would even be able to find anything in those boxes. Stretching, I took the last sip of the hot choco I had left and clapped my hands, trying to motivate myself an maybe my brother. But neither worked.
ʿʿ ⟿☼
One hour later, y/n and Charlie were still doing nothing. Well- y/n was sketching her brother, who was studying and nipping on his drink every Minute, but to Caroline St. Lorenz they weren't really doing anything helpful – like unpacking.
"What are you doing?", she asked the moment she let the shopping bags fall onto the leather couch. "Learning.", Charlie answered without looking up, while his sister painted a gentle smile on her lips. "What did you buy?", she asked as she stood up and walked towards her. Of course she went shopping for decoration even though they didn't even unpack. "You know... stuff.", Caroline mumbled after releasing an exhausted breath. "Cool"
"You didn't even start. Why does it always have to be me who's supposed to do the shitty stuff?", she whined and let herself plop next to her bags on the couch. "Because we're helpless without you.", y/n whined in the same tone and looked around the flat.
It was big, definitely bigger than their last, but Caroline's cooking has gotten pretty known in the last years. Her restaurants had many locations and her name was well known. The lamp above Charlies head looked expensive, but not as expensive as the vase on the dresser. "Can't you just- ya know – call someone to do the job?", Charlie asked, looking slightly up from his book. y/n cracked in the matter of a second and fell into a loud laugh when her mom looked over the back of the couch and asked if she looked like a fucking mafiosi.
"Maybe.", her brother whispered, poking his tongue out at his sister the moment their mother looked away.
y/n sighed. 12 boxes for the kitchen and the living room, 10 for her mothers room and each 8 for the siblings room. She really didn't want to. And by the looks of it, nobody else wanted to unpack either. "Sooo- we aren't gonna do anything about the chaos?", she asked. Her mother opened her eyes. "Not if you're not gonna make the start."
Sighting again, she stretched, ready to do something, but deciding to start in her room. She had to set some priorities.
honestly most people not being monsterfuckers is weird to me. like i forget that the natural state of humanity is not wanting to be pinned down and wrecked and filled by a dragon twice your size
SUMMARY — natasha swings by to spend the day with you, bringing along somebody else to ease you into the pack dynamic
WARNINGS — omegaverse, soulmates, mentions of panic attacks and the aftermath of panic attacks, blood, kitchen knife, natasha showing off some dominance
heart masterlist, pervious chapter, next chapter
Despite being an early riser most days, you didn’t wake up until after noon, and even by then, you weren’t pleased with the intrusion of light in your apartment. You whined into your pillows, tossing in the too-warm bed before deciding that you had to get up and get ready. Your entire body ached as you changed from your soft silk pajama set into a light pastel mini dress. You pulled a matching cardigan out of your closet and threw it onto your unmade bed, ready and waiting for if today's events led you to venturing outside.
You had shuffled around your apartment for almost half an hour, brushing out your hair and doing your makeup, bouncing lightly on the balls of your feet when one of your favorite songs played through the bluetooth speakers that you had synced around the small, but cozy space. You almost hadn’t heard the three knocks on your front door over the soft hum of the guitar instrumental and the pill bottle in your hand, but you did and your heart burst with uncontainable excitement.
You had been itching to see Natasha again since she’d left last night. So much so that even your dreams were plagued with fairytales of those soft green eyes and red hair. God, having your mates in your life was unlike anything you had imagined it to be. You were about to open the front door when your heart sank to her stomach. Natasha was great. She was darling, even. But she had brought somebody else with her this time, and even with the warning and explicit permission, your could feel the ache in your muscles increasing as your anxiety spiked.
So, you nervously peeked out the peephole, trying to calm your racing heart before it became a problem you couldn’t handle on your own. You could see Natasha, but whoever she brought with her was standing just out of sight. It took everything in you to actually answer the door and not retire to your bed for the rest of the day in a pile of embarrassment and dread.
“H-Hi.” You mumbled shyly, already fiddling with the hem of your short dress. You were glad that you’d opted for this one, because had it been any longer in length you would’ve been left to awkwardly twirl strands of brown hair around your fingers and cling to nothing but hope that your mates wouldn’t notice how they trembled.
Natasha smiled fondly at the girl in front of her. “Hi sweetheart, you look beautiful.” She noted, eyes trailing over the soft pink dress that you had picked out, though her amusement truly lied in the fact that on her Omega’s feet were mitch matched polkadot socks, one pink and the other blue.
You stumbled to find a response, ultimately coming up with a weak and bashful thank you. Natasha smiled fondly, though since last night she’d become aware of what the scent of anxiety was like on the Omega. She frowned, cursing herself for thinking this wouldn’t shake you. She was proud her girl had managed this far without stuttering over herself too bad though. It seemed like the girl had a habit of doing so.
“This is Bucky, sweetheart.” Natasha informed, though she knew you were well aware of who he was. Your eyes kept trailing over to him, but every time they got close enough to really look at his face your looked away sheepishly. Both Alpha’s were on fire, wanting nothing more then to mark the precious girl standing in the doorway.
“H-Hi. I’m Y/N.” You nervously greeted, holding your hand out for the assassin to shake. You were trembling, but the mantra of, ‘you’re okay’ repeating in your head was helping to keep most of the shivers at bay. Bucky smiled fondly at your, lifting the trembling hand to his lips, noting how cold the otherwise soft skin was.
Neither Alpha said anything about how long they’d been standing out in the hallway for, but you soon realized that for yourself and your face burnt with a gentle pink blush. Natasha giggled, stepping into the cozy space when you offered, immediately taking in everything she could.
The small apartment wasn’t overly clean and tidy. It was clean, cleaner then Tony’s room had ever been, but it was also lived in. You didn’t have dishes in the sink, but you did have cups and bowls on a drying mat not far away. There wasn’t any water around the dishware, telling Natasha that you had probably washed them and set them out to dry another day. The living room was all the same. A pair of slippers were thrown around, and there were two blankets on the couch, but other than that your jackets were either all put away somewhere else or hanging neatly on the back of chairs. It was a space that radiated your gentle energy, and selfishly Natasha wanted to absorb it and replicate it in the tower.
What Bucky noticed that Natasha had overlooked, was the open pill bottle on the countertop. His lips curled in concern, not wanting to overstep his boundaries and your comfort, but wanting to assure that his Omega was feeling above the weather. “You feelin’ alright, Doll?” He asked, and you traced his gaze back to the open tylenol bottle. You blushed red, shuffling towards the counter with a bowed head.
“Had a bad attack yesterday,” You summed up, looking unsure on whether you should continue before ultimately deciding that it wouldn’t hurt. “E-Everything aches afterwards and I fell asleep before I could take anything last night.” You spoke softly, and both Bucky and Natasha frowned thinking about how much pain you must’ve been in if you were digging through medicine cabinets looking for help.
Bucky nodded understandingly. Natasha had told them in detail about her day with you, and he might've been the one the most upset about your anxiety attack. The man was plagued with trauma from a handful of decades as a deadly weapon away from his mates. He understood your suffering probably the best besides Natasha.
“You have any water yet today, sweetheart?” Natasha asked casually, sitting down at your kitchen island when the younger girl led them over to the space. There was a clear Starbucks water cup sitting on the counter, looking like it hadn’t been touched, which was truly the only reason Natasha asked. She didn’t want to overwhelm the Omega with rules they hadn’t even discussed and agreed upon yet, though she would definitely make the three cups of water rule nonnegotiable.
You shook her head, blushing at Natasha’s question. You weren’t used to this kind of attention, or attention at all really. You didn’t know how you were supposed to react, or if you were allowed to react at all. “I only just woke up.”
Bucky laughed at that. He’d listened to Natasha drone on for hours the night before, rambling about all the ticks and traits she’d subtly picked up on, and she had confidently placed a bet with Steve that their early riser would remain bedridden until well into the afternoon. It looks like she’s just won herself ten dollars and a chance to top in their next session.
Natasha didn’t have to ask you to drink the water though, because before either assassin could say anything about the late wake up, you were putting her lips around the straw delicately and both of them wanted to groan aloud. Apparently Natasha wasn’t bluffing when she’d warned the men about your innocent and subconscious flirting.
“It’s pretty late to just be getting up, dorogoy.” Natasha hums, and she giggles at the way you let your shoulders relax at the pet name. Bucky doesn’t think you even noticed that your shoulders have been tense since you’d invited them inside, but nonetheless his heart warms seeing how you relax at Natasha’s gentle tone.
“That’s how it is after a bad attack. I don’t like getting up so late.” You spoke shyly, fiddling with the straw between your lips and avoiding both of your Alpha’s eyes. You still hadn’t taken the tylenol, and you weren’t sure why you suddenly felt apprehensive to in their presence. “Um, c-can I?” You motioned to the pills, trying hard to keep your cheeks from burning.
“Didn’t you just take them?” Natasha frowned. She could’ve sworn she heard the bottle rattling before you came to let them in. She’d been out of field practice for a while, but she didn’t think she’d started imagining the sound of half-full pill bottles.
You shook her head. “You knocked just as I got it open.” You mumbled, obviously embarrassed about your struggle with the child-locked bottle. Bucky couldn’t help his loud laugh that shook his chest, and both Natasha and you glared at him. Natasha because she wanted to laugh along with him, but knew it would set you on edge, and you because you hadn’t found your situation funny when your muscles already felt heavy. “‘s not funny, Buck!”
“I’m sorry, you’re right, Doll, it’s not funny at all.” He continued to taunt and you pouted deeper at him, huffing your chest outward in petty defiance. You had to admit the more he laughed the more you found amusement in the situation, but you were stubborn sometimes, usually in times when you’d gotten too little sleep and your body hurt.
“Stop teasing, the little one, Buck. If she pouts any harder I think she’ll pull the muscles in her lips.” Natasha teases, and you huff before breaking out into little giggles at their ridiculousness. God, you wished that you never had to leave this moment, although it would be better if your bones didn’t hurt and your head didn’t ache. “You can take them, baby. We don’t mind.” You nodded when you’d finally collected yourself, washing them down with a sip of the water. Your water that would become abandoned in only ten minutes when you moved on to fawning over a conversation with Bucky.
-
Natasha was watching her two mates fondly. Just after three, you had suggested that you start on lunch. Bucky had promptly refused, assuring that he and Natasha had already planned to take you out to a nice early dinner just before four. He’d quickly given into your plans when you’d persisted and batted your eyelashes at him, hardly even realizing that just your pout alone had changed his mind.
So, now the two were making sandwiches and salad. Bucky was dicing cucumbers, while you smothered two slices of white bread in peanut butter. Admittedly, you had never had a peanut butter and strawberry sandwich before right now, but the combination had sounded heavenly the minute that you’d heard it, and Bucky’s smile when you suggested it had made it worth it even if you would hate it.
“No, I still haven’t caught up on any films before the 2000s.” Bucky admitted, sliding the thinly diced cucumbers into the salad bowl. He’d made the mistake of getting you started on the topic of cinema and film, but seeing his girl come so far from the shy and stuttering Omega he’d been introduced to only a few hours ago made it worth it.
“B-But!” You looked up from the cutting board where you were slicing strawberries in half, completely flabbergasted by what you’d just heard. Bucky Barnes had been living as a free man for so many years, and he still hadn’t seen films like Tangled and The Hunger Games. A warning was on the tip of Natasha’s tongue to be careful, but it had happened just as the words surrounded the trio in the kitchen. Your lighthearted bantering had turned into pained whimpers and a sharp cry of pain when the cutting knife sliced your fingertip. “Fuck.” You sobbed, a good chunk of your finger ripped open by the sharp blade. Both Alpha’s hearts sunk at your pained whines, rushing towards you with a protective fire in their bellies.
“Let me see it, sweetheart.” Natasha cooed, but you shook your head, trembling as you cuddled the wound close to your chest, effectively smearing blood all over your pretty dress. That definitely wasn’t a good sign. “Y/N, let me see it, please.”
You shook her head again, tears falling down your cheeks in rapid successions. “It’s going to hurt!” You whimpered, pinching your eyes shut as you tried to ignore the dull throbbing beneath your skin. You hated cuts. You hated blood. It was right up there with your fear and hatred of needles. It seemed that as good as your recent days have been, they’ve had an obnoxious amount of bad and worse.
“It already hurts, doesn’t it, Doll?” Bucky asked calmly. He could see Natasha getting worked up, becoming emotional and fuzzy headed as she tried to refrain from fully letting her Alpha instincts guide her actions. It was still too early for that. You were still too timid and jumpy. They both needed more trust to be built before she could feel comfortable dominating her Omega in a domestic situation like this.
You whine, nodding your head with a trembling lower lip, looking empyrean and beautiful even in this moment. “D-don’t like blood.” You finally managed to tell them, which explained your pinched shut eyes and immediate avoidance to look at your still gushing and throbbing finger. It made both Avengers hearts sink.
“That’s alright. You don’t have to look, babydoll. Can I see it though? It’s bleeding pretty bad.” Bucky gently pulled your hand away from your chest, moving slowly to see if you resisted. He was more than happy when you didn’t, instead just bit your lower lip and squeezed your eyes shut tighter. “Good girl, Doll. You're being such a good girl for us.”
You melted at the praise, subconsciously melting into Natasha’s embrace as the red-head stood behind you, looking over your shoulder at Bucky. He wasn’t all that worried about the injury. It wasn’t deep enough to require stitches, but where you had nicked yourself would be a bitch to let heal. He could imagine your clumsy actions causing the cut to reopen a handful of times before it would finally heal.
“Ow.” You whimpered when Bucky blew on the cut, his cool breath making a strange sensation travel up your nerves. It wasn’t pain that he inflicted, but it had shocked you still, and that was the first response your come up with. Bucky wanted to laugh at how cute you were.
“We’ve gotta clean it, Doll. How about you tell Natasha where you keep your bandaids, and I can rinse it so you don’t have to see the blood. Yeah? That sound like a good plan?” He asks softly, making sure that plan was good with Natasha as well. Both Alpha’s just wanted to coddle the Omega, but they were moving at your pace, and Bucky truthfully didn’t blame you if after this you kicked them out and spent the day alone. You had been through so much in the last few days, he could only imagine what that ache in her muscles felt like now. “Such a brave girl for us.”
“Um, b-bandaids are in my bedroom. T-They’re on my nightstand.” You stuttered, your words shaky and breathy. It broke Bucky’s heart to now know what Natasha had been talking about. Even when they’d first arrived this afternoon, your stuttering hadn’t been so harsh and breathy. The scent of anxiety and pain was overwhelming. It made Bucky’s chest tighten almost unbearably.
“Alright Doll, I'm just gonna run your finger under the tap, okay? It’s gonna be cold, and it’s gonna feel weird, but it’s not going to hurt. Okay? It should make it feel better.” You gave a reluctant nod, burying your face in the Alpha’s chest when he reached out to start the tap. You felt utterly pathetic, sobbing over a cut that in truth wasn’t that bad, but it was more than just the cut and the embarrassment that was weighing on your mind and your heart. You didn’t have to be alone anymore, you didn’t have to do things by herself and for yourself, but with that came the responsibility of committing to a pack. You had to let yourself be vulnerable and present in those relationships, and that went against every self preservation method that you had been perfecting and implementing since your mother passed away.
Truthfully, you just didn’t know what to do with yourself and that was overwhelming. You didn’t know what the right move would be for you, or what would send you spiraling with anxiety. You didn’t know your mates at all, but you knew that you wanted them happy and content. You wanted to feel that way too, and you did when you were with them, until all these feelings of uncertainty and anxiety came flooding back to you.
You hissed when the cold water splashed against your skin. The sound of the faucet running was loud and becoming overwhelming the longer it ran. You squirmed in Bucky’s embrace, whining at the discomfort in your body, digging your nose deeper into his neck and scent gland. Every nerve was on fire and the skin of your soulmarks pinched and burned. You just wanted quiet. And between the running tap and the music still playing, all you were being fed were loud obnoxious sounds.
“What do you need, Omega?” Bucky could spot the signs of a mate in distress the easiest, and his reasons for being able to do so were heartbreaking, but Natasha and the others had learned not to give him looks of pity. He was coming to terms with his past and his nightmares, all they could do for him was listen and be in the present.
You felt your finger being blown on and then dried off, most likely by a paper towel, then wrapped tightly in a bandage all in a few seconds. You hadn’t heard Natasha come back, but now that you weren't so blinded by the sound of the faucet you could recognize the second presence right beside you and Bucky.
“O-Overwhelmed.” You whimpered. The Omega opened her eyes for the first time in almost five minutes, trying to force down a wince at how bright the lights in the apartment had become. Bucky and Natasha frowned. You needed to drop, bad, but would you feel comfortable letting them help you? Natasha knew the answer was probably yes, but with conditions and restrictions that would almost definitely overwhelm you more than help you in this state.
You stumbled away from Bucky’s embrace, reaching out for your phone and turning off the music that neither Alpha had minded. Your knees almost buckled at the sight of the blood smeared across the countertops and floor, making the mistake of looking down at your chest.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? Buck’ll clean up out here, dorogoy.” Natasha smiled comfortingly, seeing the greenish expression that overcame your face. Natasha made a mental note that blood was added to the top of the ‘things to desperately avoid’ list.
You nodded obidenty. You didn’t argue with either Alpha about being able to do it yourself, because in the moment, you didn’t want to. Your stomach was tight, your muscles ached, and being taken care of by Natasha was the most appealing option you had right now. The second would’ve been to collapse on your couch and take a nap, but you didn’t want them to leave. You liked the way their scents mixed together with yours. You liked the added heat they added to your small apartment. Taking Natasha’s hand when the woman reached out for you to take it, you didn’t try to hide how you melted at the touch and into Natasha.
Natasha waited until you were settled onto your bed before she closed the door, letting the sound of the running tap be blocked out by the wooden door. Your room was entirely your own fairytale space, and it made Natasha’s heart swell. The walls are a bright simple white, but there's not a space in the room that isn’t decorated by rainbow colors or greenery. Natasha’s absolutely in love with the squiggly full length mirror at the foot of your bed, covered in vines and positive messages. Your bed is pretty bare. Natasha had thought you’d be the type to collect stuffed animals, but you’ve kept it minimal it seems. Though your collection of pillows makes up for the almost bare sheets. You’ve got what Natasha assumes are comfort items, sprawled across your bed, and she smiles widely when she sees you reach and grab one of the small blankets.
“Can I ask you a question you might not like, sweetheart?” Natasha tested the waters, not wanting to be the final reason you force herself into a defensive headspace or even worse, Omegaspace. You’re working your way to a self-inflicted drop with or without her pressuring.
“Yes.” You verbalizes, getting the hint that it was the only answer Natasha wanted. When she was serious, she wanted to hear you say that you understood or that you agreed. Despite making your cheeks flush each time, you appreciated it. It made you feel safe, which was ultimately Natasha’s goal.
Natasha smiles, bending down so that you have to look down to meet her eye. Again, it lets the tension melt away from your stomach, feeling like in this position, you aren’t so looked down on. You hold the power right now. “Do you feel like you need to drop?”
Immediately you shakes your head. You don’t think you do. You knows it’ll help to reset your emotions if you do drop, but you think you’re more than okay to continue without one. You just needs to slow down for a couple days, even if that means not seeing Natasha and Bucky, or even letting them do it for you. You know your limit with dropping, and you don't think you’re at it.
“Words, Y/N.” Natasha gently reprimands, laying your hands on your soft thighs. You’ve gotten lost in your head, and as cute as your dazed out expression is, Natasha’s not convinced.
“I think I’m okay for right now.” The Omega whispers shyly, grabbing her Alpha’s hands and twisting her rings around her fingers. “Just need to slow down. Tried to do too much today.”
Natasha nods, more than satisfied with your response. Her proud smile makes you fall into yourself, blushing happily at the wordless praise. “Do you need to slow down alone? Bucky and I won’t be mad if you need some time, mladenec.”
“Don’t want you to leave. C-Can I, Can I take a nap though? Please?” You hold onto Natasha’s hands desperately, not wanting the woman to leave you alone right now. You like this feeling; feeling calm and protected and nurtured. You like not being alone.
“Of course you can, sweetheart. But, I think we should get you out of these clothes first.” Natasha smiles, and so they do that. She helps you into a pair of sweatpants and a brown form fitted ribbed crop top, smiling sweetly at the tired girl in her arms that's only getting sleepier with every step back to Bucky. You’re crashing fast, the adrenaline from just a few minutes ago failing you and burning you out. Natasha had to stop having the unfortunate timing of meeting you on mentally exhausting days.
The third in command laughs aloud at the sight of you blinking slowly, looking between him and Natasha in content. You don’t say anything, just wound your arms around Natasha’s waist and digs your nose into her neck. Natasha rubs her hand up and down the small of your back, smiling when Bucky meets her eye.
“You have to eat, then you can sleep, dorogoy.” Natasha informed, leading you towards the kitchen island. The three of them wouldn’t all fit at it, but Bucky had no problem leaning across the counter so his two girls could have a seat.
“Not hungry.” You slur, dropping your head into your arms when Natasha pulls a chair out for you. Bucky’s lips pull into a lazy smile, his hands still working on plating the two strawberry and peanut butter sandwiches. Natasha’s sandwich is just peanut butter, and it’s already waiting for the red-headed women by the barstool closest to the wall.
“You’ve gotta have some of it, sweetheart.” Natasha says again, raising an eyebrow when you huff. The smaller girl doesn’t make a move to reach for the plate Bucky’s offering, just turns her head in her arms so her brown eyes can squint in Natasha’s direction. “You can pout at me all you want, love, but that sandwich needs to be eaten.”
You whine. You really weren’t hungry, but you didn’t want to disobey your Alpha, especially when Natasha already hadn’t believed you about not needing to drop. So begrudgingly, you reach for the sandwich, thanking Bucky despite your tight pout. You take a small bite from the middle, melting at the taste on your tongue. You don’t want to admit Natasha was right, and you needed to eat because now that you were your stomach felt empty, but you couldn’t help the content sigh that bubbled in your chest.
When the three of them were done with lunch, you dragged them towards your couch. Your eyes were burning, hardly open anymore as you craved sleep. Neither Alpha minded, instead helping you settle into the couch, your head on Natasha’s shoulder while you fiddled with Bucky’s flesh hand. It hadn’t even been six minutes before you were fast asleep, melting into both of your mates like you had never been anywhere else but their embrace.
pairing: Aemond targaryen x velaryon! (strong!) reader
summary: Aemond has loved and secretly claimed you for himself since the day you were born. losing his eye changed him, but maybe it did not affect his feelings for you as much as he thought it had
warnings: english is not my first language, angst, fluff, shy reader, unclexniece, possesive aemond, everybody adores reader in this
wordcount: 902
let me know what you think!! reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback are highly appreciated <33
You couldn’t help it. It had been this way ever since you were a child. Maybe even before that, maybe it was fated by the old gods. You tried so hard to forget about the warm feeling that memories still brought up in you when you thought about the past.
You could hear him giggling, a sound that now was lost forever. He would never be seven again, never sound like that again or look at you the way he used to. He had been your best friend, nothing else, and you wished so hard for it to become that way again.
The light of the almost complete full moon shone through the high window in your bedroom. It had always been your room, nobody dared to change a thing, even though the beautiful chamber had been empty for too long. It didn’t smell familiar anymore, you had realized and so had Aemond, for the hundredth time, while standing in the doorway. You did have a bad habit of not closing the door when you wished for some privacy, always feeling safe and respected in both your homes, but now it seemed like the dumbest thing you had ever done.
In his life he had visited your room more often than you did yourself, he would never say it or tell you, but it was more his than yours at this point. But than again that’s what you felt a lot throughout your life. Being more his than your own.
He stood there for a few minutes, not saying a word, not breathing too loud.
You looked pretty when you cried. Your eyes tinged red and your cheeks stained wet. The color of your lips more prominent because of the swelling. He felt captivated by the sight, but he knew that it was his fault you had shed painful tears. He cleared his throat, clenching his hands behind his back. A small gasp escaped you while your hand flew to your chest, touching the skin above your heart.
“Princess.”, he greeted- you didn´t answer. Your eyes fixed on him like a prey prepared to get his throat torn out, until they changed to the eyes of a dragon, ready for her own meal.
“Did you come here to violate me again?”’
His eyes widened. He certainly didn´t expect you to confront him so straight forward and he never wanted you to believe he had wanted to hurt you. “I…”, “or did you come to make fun of my hair?”
He shook his head. “No. It wasn´t my intention to…”, “Are you certain about that?”
He shook his head again, white hair falling out of place. “If it wasn´t you intention than why did you say it? Why couldn´t you hold back when it wasn´t your intention?”
You turned away, trying to hide the tears that were most likely to fall. “I never meant to hurt you, please believe me. I -I lost control of my temper- I didn´t mean to.”
He wasn´t apologizing, you both knew that. He had grown up to a man with great self control, he didn´t even know why he had not excluded you from the speech he presented. He wished he would have been controlled enough to ignore the little smirks Lucerys threw at him and instead could have talked to you in a normal way, maybe charmed you a little.
But he had not been able to control his brewing rage, that’s why he now stood in front of a woman he himself felt he had never met before. She had never looked at him like this. Full of hate and pain. It made her look different, but changed nothing about the feelings he kept for her. She was his, and he knew no matter what happened in the future, no matter how she looked at him, his love would always be reserved for her.
You heard his footsteps retrieve from your room, so you hastily ran to the door and slammed it shut – louder than you had intended to.
He had never made you feel like this. He had almost begged you to allow him to touch your hair a few years ago, because he liked it being so different than his. Curly, dark and unruly, not as silky and light as you would have liked for it to be.
It made you doubt. Doubt yourself, although you knew that it was useless. You could not change your appearance you had told yourself, you couldn´t change his view of you, just like you couldn´t change the image of him in your head – no matter how hard you tried or how hard he seemed to try to break it.
When the sun rose again the next morning, and the maids came to prepare you for the day, raking their gentle hands through your hair, you could not stop your wandering thoughts again. The circles under your eyes showed your clear lack of sleep, and everybody would be able to see them. But you weren´t sure anymore if you were good enough to stay in the red keep, if you were strong enough to handle the ongoing feud between your family members.
This had been your home, until it hadn´t. This people were your home, until they weren´t anymore and maybe you were the only one who believed that things here hadn´t changed, just because you didn´t.
pairing: Aemond targaryen x velaryon! (strong!) reader
summary: Aemond has loved and secretly claimed you for himself since the day you were born. losing his eye changed him, but maybe it did not affect his feelings for you as much as he thought it had
warnings: english is not my first language, angsty , shy reader, unclexniece, possesive aemond, everybody adores reader in this
let me know what you think!! reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback are highly appreciated <33
the air in the dining hall had been suffocating you. you could see the smug look in the eyes of your oldest uncle. he used to look at you differently and you had questioned before if it were his feelings for you that changed, or he himself. and if Aegon changed that much, did the others do too?
you had been late, much to your mothers dismay. your uncle Daemon had not expected anything else. he always knew the days when it was time for a nightmare. maybe that was because he cared so much, or maybe because he liked to know all of the people surrounding him. you had forgotten your jewelry too, making your neck and shoulders bare. your deep red dress contrasted with the one of heleana who was sitting next to your brother.
you deeply regretted arriving late - because at the end of the table, to your left, sat the one eyed prince. his gaze burned holes into your skull and except from the smile you send him when you arrived you did not dare to look in his direction again, too afraid he would look at you the same way he did when you arrived.
you had hoped things would be different and he still held the same love for you he had when you were children. but this was different.
having you avoid his gaze angered him even more than the pig placed in front of him. he could not care for that damn pig because he already felt disgusted of himself. he thought your feelings for him could not change, you could not change, but there you were avoiding his gaze like never before. Now that you were of age, you would probably want a good looking man, a kind one too. hearing his mother ask about the lord in the north made him choke on his wine, and made you finally look at him.
your lavender eyes looked at him with concern, the line between your eyebrows deepening. “Are you alright prince aemond?”, you asked quiet and kindly. he nodded, humming as an answer, which definitely did not satisfy you. you wanted to hear his voice. he realized when you looked down at your lap, biting your lip embarrassed and playing with your fingers. but still, he did not know what to say.
His mother eyed him and the pig warily. She truly did not wish for something bad to occur, but she could literally feel the anger radiating of her youngest son. She tried changing the topic “But he has not made a proposal yet? Has he?”, but failed miserably.
Aemond felt lucerys smirk before he saw it. Not only could he now laugh at his dumb pig but at the obvious distress he felt over the possible marriage of his princess.
You shook your head no while chewing your dinner slowly. You did not wish to move to the north, to leave your family behind and be lady of house Winterfell. You just wanted to stay here. With him.
And after Heleana made her toast about marriage life and “he mostly ignores you”, it sounded like a death trap to her.
Aemonds abrupt standing up and hitting the table made you flinch. You could see it in his eyes. He truly did change and when he openend his mouth to make his horrible speech, you could feel it in every bone.
Although he did not take your name in his mouth, you could clearly hear the insult he threw at your siblings and you.
While everybody stood up, Aegon pushing lucerys head on the table and Aemond throwing Jace to the ground, you looked down at your lap. Tears that dropped down your cheeks pathetically were wiped away by your sleeves. This was not what you hoped for when they told you of your return but it was exactly what you feared.
Daemon saw it first, calling out your name to check on you and pulling the attention of the rest of your family towards you. You shook your head at him, while you tried to come up with anything helpful to say but found nothing that would make this situation better - so you left.
You did not see Aemonds smug smile fall because you did not turn around to look at him again.
"Perhaps I'm not the only one who's going to be wed in King's Landing," Sansa jeers with a grin. I glare at her, "if you weren't my sister, I'd have stabbed you." The girl giggles and takes my arm.
Petyr Baelish & Jaime Lannister x Stark!Reader | 3k+ | cw: fem!reader, descriptions of reader (black hair), widow!reader, enemies to lovers?, fluff, typos, etc.
A/N: felt right so I'm writing it. Yes, I added Harwin Strong, yes I know it's not canon. It is now in my world 😌 anyway, he's still dead so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
"Father" I call with a smile. He spots me and I lift my skirt as I jog up to him.
The man hides what he was holding behind him. He smiles and meets me halfway in the hall. He greets me good morrow when I link my arm with his and kiss his cheek.
"And is that... a very important tool of the Lord Hand?" I tilt my head as I ask, "might I not even see it?"
He sighs and slowly brings the object in front of him. We both look at the brightly dressed doll. My father has an apprehensive look on his face. I hold back a laugh, "ah, a pretty dolly. Are you quite bored of your job already? Do they give dolls to the Hand or were you duped into buying this?"
"I knew you'd say something like this," he mutters.
"If you knew I'd say it, why'd you still get it, papa?" I chuckle.
"I bought it for your sister."
I make a face, "my sister?" I raise a brow, "which between Arya and Sansa do you think would prefer playing with such an ugly dolly?"
He calls my name out.
"What?"
He lowers the doll, "it's not that ugly."
"So even you agree," I snigger, "and yet you still bought it!"
"For what?" I hold back a laugh.
We both begin to walk down the hall.
He warns me, "I'll tell on your mother."
"For calling me papa," he lifts his nose.
I chuckle at the thought. Mother never liked it when I used mama and papa; improper for a lady, she says. I think it's also because when I use it, I pull on their heart strings and manage to make them do my bidding. Twas the gift of the first born.
"I can hear it now," I grin at the man as I squeeze his arm, "Eddard Stark," I motion vaguely, "stripped of his title as Lord Hand for his poor taste in dolls."
My grin widens at the sound if his low laugh. I give a louder laugh, happy to have gotten the reaction I did out of him. It's been a while since I've heard my father chuckle, or anyone from my family, for that matter.
"I wouldn't worry about it, love," father pulls me into his chest, "the king's taste in dolls are surely worse than mine."
I let out a giggle. My father joins in.
I look out the window as we saunter down the hall and turn back to my father when he mutters, "she's changed quite a lot since we've moved here."
He looks at the doll in his hand.
It takes a moment before I smile and give a playful look, "have you seen any of your daughters play with dollies lately, father?"
My words do not work this time. My smile fades at the sight of the line between my father's brows. I mutter softly, "haven't we chnaged?"
He turns to me then stops.
I raise my brows. Ned Stark offers me a smile. He takes my hands and shakes his head, "not you, my daughter," he rubs my knuckles with his thumb, "never you."
My heart clenches at his words. I cannot bring myself to smile back because I knew it wasn't true.
"Forgive me for intruding on a private moment."
We both pull away and turn to our side. There we see a blonde doll wrapped in steel. Ser Jaime bows, "Lord Hand, Lady Stark--" he stops himself and lifts his head, "oh, apologies. It's in bad taste for me to call you that."
My father shifts in his spot.
I play it off, "nonsense. I am born of house Stark," I pull my lips into a tight smile, "and my husband is dead."
"Ah, yes," the knight sighs, "poor man. Just had a taste of being one then--" he shakes his head to make his point. He raises a finger, "he was your age, wasn't he?"
I clench my jaw and nod.
Ser Jaime rests a hand on his hilt, "what was his house again?"
Before I can respond, my father blurts, "have you come to rub salt in my daughter's wounds, Kingslayer?"
I turn to my feet with wide eyes. I slowly turn to the see the fuming look on my father's face and whisper, "papa."
Ser Jaime lifts his nose. An smirk masks his face, "not at all, my Lord."
I look back at the kingsguard, not enjoying how quickly tension solidified between us.
"The king demands your presence," growls the Lannister, jaw hardened, golden mane wafting with the breeze.
Father's face is stern but he nods and raises the doll, "I will go to him after I-"
"Get that bloody Ned here now," Jaime speaks. He watches Ned lower the doll. He purses his lips while father's expression sours even more. He shrugs, "King's words, not mine."
In an instant, all the tension in father's body is gone. He looks like he's about to smile and it makes my stomach churn because I knew what that meant. I take the doll from him before anything else. He looks at me and I nod, "I'll give it to Sansa."
He stares me blankly.
"I'll try to force her affection onto the thing," I look at the doll, "maybe she'll let it chaperone us to the tourney later."
I smile at the sound of papa's low laugh.
He nods.
"Mmm," he furrows his brows, "then I'm actually headed there too."
Ned's smile fades when he turns back to Jaime. Jaime gives a wry smile, "I'll escort the lady back to her chambers in her father's stead."
Neither of us decide to argue over it.
Father walks off, eyeing Jaime as he did, and I purse my lips when I turn to him, "I'm actually headed to the library."
We begin to walk down the hall. I laugh as I look at the doll in my hands.
Jaime turns to me upon hearing this. He decides not to note on the ugly doll, "like reading, do you?"
I look at him and smile, "I do."
"You sure you don't go to that musty room to hide from everyone?"
I raise a brow, "you seem to have experience."
"Tyrion was like that," he looks forward, "except father never bought him a doll as a companion."
I look away just as Jaime looks back at me, "does the library match the fantasies of a book lover?"
I chuckle. I turn to his side again. I am unable to stop myself from thinking how dashing his grin at the moment was, "It definitely is as grand as I expected it to be. Winterfell is not blessed with nearly as many tomes."
"The younger Stark girls must not like reading as much as their big sister, considering the ugly thing in your paw," he nods at my direction.
"I'm sure one of them will find use of it," I lift the thing up and look at it. I glance upon Jaime, "oh, goodness. It actually looks quite like you."
Jaime pulls his chin back, "you clearly have issues with your eyes."
"No, it's uncanny. Yellow hair, evil intent."
"Evil intent?" Jaime stops in his tracks, "you mock and slander me," he raises brow and grips his hilt, "I should have your tongue for it."
"Mmm," I turn to him and slowly walk backward, "kingsguard takes the tongue of the Lord Hand's daughter? Sounds like a page out of my books."
He tilts his head, looking me up and down before chuckling as he turns to his feet. He lick his teeth then furrows his brows, "lend me that book once you're done."
We reach the stairwell the connected to the gardens.
I tilt my head and stop in my tracks when I see Sansa and her handmaiden.
"Sansa!" I call, waving at her. She looks at me and waves back.
I turn to Jaime and curtsy, "I have changed my mind, ser," I rise and smile, "I'll be joining my sister in the gardens instead."
With that, Jaime and I part ways.
Jaime nods and gives a lopsided smile, "very well, my lady. Bid my greetings to the pup. I pray she doesn't get a heart attack from your father's gift."
I chuckle, "she used to have a wolf, you know."
Sansa immediately grabs my arm once I am close enough, "what were you doing with Jaime?"
"Ser Jaime Lannister," I correct her, raising a brow, "I didn't know you two were familiar."
"Was he courting you?" Sansa asks as she releases my arm.
I immediately shush her, "do not speak of such things, girl. You know how quickly gossip spreads here." I hand her the doll, "he was escorting me to the library in father's stead."
"This isn't the library-"
"Clearly not."
She takes the doll, "what is this?"
"A gift from father," I grin, "a chaperone to the tourney later."
Sansa glares at me, nearly turning red as her hair. She chucks the doll to the ground and storms away.
I huff and pick up the doll, "Sansa." I follow after her, "it was a joke."
"I haven't played with dollies for years!"
"I know," I rush up to her and grab her arm, "papa bought it for you to try and ease your worries."
She grits her teeth and corrects, "father should just do his job and stop treating me like a little girl." She breaks away from me and moves past me.
"You are a little girl."
"I'm going to be queen one day," she turns to me, "and you won't be able to make fun of me then."
"Sansa, I'm not making fun of you!"
Sansa does not listen and simply walks away.
Her old handmaiden turns to me and smiles. She takes the doll from me, "I'll put this in her room."
I nod and smile.
By the time we were seated for the tourney, Sansa and I made peace by giving the doll to Arya for her to mutilate. All three of us enjoyed the bonding experience very much.
Right now, we were huddled together, pointing at the players. Sansa whispered to me who she thought handsomest and Arya exclaimed over who she thought was strongest. I alternate my attention between them, swooning with one, cheering with the other, but it doesn't take long for them to get into a clash, as always.
Both young Starks gawk at me in disbelief and disgust.
They begin to bicker over me and I would have just snapped at them had we not been in public. I instead silence both of them by swooning and cheering for the Hound once we spot him from afar.
"You can't be serious," Sansa mutters with a pale face.
Arya tilts her head, "I mean, he is pretty big."
"Look," Sansa, on my left, tugs at my arm, "ser Jaime is going to be riding!"
I laugh at both of them, "can't I cheer for all the players?"
"No," they say at once.
I tear my gaze from the tourney grounds to look over my shoulder. I gaze upon the crowds, looking to see if father was already here. I mutter to no one in particular, "I wonder what's taking him so long."
I ignore her and push Arya, who was seated to my right, behind as I crane my neck to look for farther.
Sansa leans on my back and mutters to Arya, "ser Jaime likes her."
Arya grins and looks down at me, "oooh. The lion and the wolf."
"Oh, but nasty rumors are the most intruding, wouldn't you agree, Lady Strong?"
I quickly sit up and eye both of them, "shut it, you."
They giggle with each other.
"Father will not be pleased if he hears you are wanting to feed nasty rumors."
The three of us turn to the man walking over. He stops just below where Arya was sat.
"Or should I say, Lady Stark?" he smiles and nods at me. He looks to my left, "Lady Stark," then to my right, "Lady Stark."
I offer a smile and my first name, "you can simply call me that to avoid confusion, my lord."
"Petyr Baelish," he grins, blue eyes glistening with apparent mischief.
Lord Baelish smiles, "I'm glad to finally meet the eldest Stark," he reaches a hand out to me, "the words spoken about your beauty do you no justice."
"Lord Baelish," I nod. I squeeze both my sister's hands, prompting both to greet all the same.
Both my sisters make a face when I take the man's hand and he leans in to kiss it.
He straightens up and brings his hands behind his back, "my deepest sympathies to you. Lord Harwin Strong left us too soon. I've heard a great many things about Breakbones, how he puts the strong in House Strong."
Arya side eyes Baelish before turning away to look at tourney grounds.
Sansa stares hotly at him as she clutches my arm.
"Thank you, Lord Baelish," I nod and pull a smile, "if it's all the same to you, I'd prefer not to talk about him more than this."
"Do you know who's going to fight first?" Arya asks as she leans on my lap. I wrap my arm over her shoulders and turn to where she was looking. I spot Jaime speaking to whom was probably his squire from afar.
"Of course," he bows. He tilts his head back as he smiles. He walks off and climbs the stairs to get to his seat just behind us.
"Don't worry, little one, they'll announce it," Baelish speaks from behind, making all of us turn to him then back front. When I look back, I see Jaime looking our way.
"I hope ser Jaime starts on our side," Sansa mutters as she leans into me, though her eyes are still fixed on the Lannister.
Arya turns to me and toys with my black hair, "I hope he defeats the Hound to win your affection."
Baelish makes a face upon hearing that.
I snort at the thought then shoot her a half serious face, "shut it."
"I see you girls are fond of the Kingslayer," Baelish says, making us turn back to him again.
"He usually doesn't play in tourneys. He says he's too good for them," Baelish mutters, "something must have made him change his mind."
Arya side eyes him once more. Sansa looks away, uninterested.
I respond before turning frotn, "he is a rather good swordsman. Or so I hear."
"Yes," Baelish darting his eyes below him, "perhaps."
"Maybe he's trying to impress someone," Sansa replies, not bothering to look back anymore, "maybe a lady?"
I squeeze her arm when she says this. She does not even spare me a glance.
We look to the sky when a rumble suddenly cracks.
"What's taking them so long?! It's going to rain, and then the games will be cancelled!" Arya complains.
"They-"
"They're waiting for the king," Baelish replies.
Arya makes a face. I'm the only one that turns back to the man. I smile at his already smiling face then turn to Arya, "papa's not here either. The king is probably making him do something."
Baelish chuckles under his breath, muttering lowly to himself, "papa? How sweet."
Then suddenly, truly out of nowhere, it began to rain.
My sisters and I quickly stand. I immediately grab them and we run off to the nearest place that could offer cover. We head to a tent, but the trouble was, everyone was heading there too.
The rain quickly begins to pour harder.
I do my best to cover Sansa and Arya's head, but my hands could only do so much. The three of us look up when something comes above us.
I feel someone behind me. I turn and see it's Lord Baelish. He's taken his tunic off and used it to cover us.
"Come, my Lady Starks," he speaks over the loud patter of the rain, "I will escort you back inside!"
We turn to him, his dress shirt now dripping and stuck to his form. I nod at him, "thank you, my lord."
"Don't thank me yet," he smirks, face wet with rain, "one of you may yet slip on mud."
Lord Baelish leads the way, uncaring of how wet he's gotten, and offers his arm out to us intermittently. Meanwhile, we hold up his tunic overhead and huddle under it, treading as quickly yet carefully as we can on the mucky ground.
"I do hope the rain does not ruin your fine garb, Lord Baelish," I call as Sansa and I lift our skirts up and do our best not to trip on it.
Arya was very much glad to be wearing pants, and cheerfully steps into puddles without a care in the world.
Arya let's out a hmp when she is released.
But then she slips.
Baelish manages to grab her arm before she falls. He pulls her upright and chuckles, "careful now. You wouldn't want to take your sisters down with you."
"And don't worry about my tunic," he smiles at me, "I'd rather it be ruined than have 3 ladies get sick under my watch."
Sansa gasps and grabs my arm when her heels sink in the wet dirt. I help her keep her footing and smile back at the man, "thank you, Lord Baelish."
"As I said, don't thank me yet. It's still quite a walk to the Keep," he comes to Sansa's side and helps her straighten up, "and call me Petyr."
summary: In which the middle child of the clearwater family suddenly gets pulled out of her peacefull and secure lifestyle, just to enter a world of shifters, vampires and love triangles.
◌༄۵ ! 𝔧𝔞𝔠𝔬𝔟 𝔟𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨 !
! 𝖳𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 !
I hope you enjoy reading my story! Show me you're here, write a comment, vote, make a girl happy ;)<3
englisch is not my first language, please feel free to kindly point out the mistakes that are possibly made
𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨
﹒•˒⟿⭒「﹒• 𝗋 𝖺 𝗂 𝗇 ❞」ʿʿ ⟿☼
......................
there was not much one could wear at the reservation. half of the people ran around like it was august all year long, but not Olivia. she put on a pair of socks, a pair of fluffy socks and her boots. her thick coat almost hid her completely as she stepped down her porch. mutt was making a squeaking sound under her shoes, the brown liquid spraying against her jeans, as she walked to her jeep. the tiny yellow car being her only way into town.
she wanted to get a book, nothing else.
she did not expect to be thrown to the ground by the most fragile force that could have ever run into her. she looked up into brown eyes. the girl's hand being stuffed in thick gloves reached out to her. "g-god I'm so sorry. I really didn't mean to." Olivia nodded. her bum was wet and her hands were red and itchy from the ground, but she forced a light smile. "It's alright. don't worry. could have happened to me too." she tried stepping around the brunette and into the store, stuffing her hands back into her coat. the girl stepped aside, smiling uncomfortably and left a second later.
"bella!", she had heard a familiar voice call, but didn't bother turning around and taking a look. she wasn't bella and she had hurt herself enough already.
the rain fell harshly against the windows of the bookstore, then the window of her car, and the windows of her bedroom. it had been raining for a few days now, which annoyed her just a little bit. spending hours in her bed reading and watching movies was something she loved. but she hated going to school during the rain, because when she went in and when she stepped out, she would get wet, and being wet was something entirely different than watching the rain through her window.
a knock on her door made her look up from her novel. she smiled when she saw the brown hair of her brother, but rolled her eyes when she saw the second one. paul grinned. he was content in her room. it smelled of lavender and honey and her. "what do you want?", she asked and sat up slightly. seth let himself fall on her bed, while the older boy sat down in her chair. he inhaled the air carefully. honey, lavender and something he really, really did not like. he threw a nasty look at her coat, which was hanging around the wooden chair.
"we wanted to know if you would like to eat at sams today. emily asked about you, you know", paul told her, while watching her intently. she had not been at sams for a few years now. not since he had broken up with her sister. she liked emily, she loved her, she was her cousin, but that did not change the sour taste in her mouth whenever they talked about her. "Not today. tell her thanks tho please.", she smiled slightly, looking down at her book again.
paul exhaled a loud breath. he had already expected her answer. "you know, she and leah talked. they're on good terms now.", he told her, while seth threw her and annoyed look. she shook her head. she had to talk to leah first, after that she could decide if she would allow herself back there.
"okay. bye olli.", he called, as he jumped from her chair and jogged out of her room with her brother hot on his heels. she shook her head. she had just as much energy as they had in their little toes.
......................
the day went by slow, even slower than usual. the tv had the nerve to stop working and olivia's mother was starting to get annoyed with everything around her. her job, her house, the dishes, the tv and her children. Olli didn't really blame herself, she had spent the whole day in her room, and was sure that she could not have possibly annoyed anyone.
Oh how wrong she was. her sister could get annoyed by anything. anything. and she truly loved her younger sister, but the fact that Sam and her whole pack had confronted her about her sister's absence, and asked her to talk to her, definitely ruined her mood. she felt like it was her fault that they had to miss her, pulling Olivia on her side after the breakup and away from emily. not like she was that close to anybody in the pack except her cousin. when Olli thought about them, she could only remember a few faces, a few names here and there, but she didn't miss anybody.
so when Leah stormed straight towards her the second she came home, she didn't really see the problem. yes, Leah was probably right. she should come to see Emily the next time she had the chance, but when she heard that everybody had been missing her, she got confused. "everybody? Sam?", Leah nodded her head. "Yeah, Sam. Paul's also a pain in my ass." Olivia rolled her eyes at that. "yeah I will come. Alright?"
she didn't feel excited about visiting them. not at all.
she didn't even know who them really were. she knew that her siblings and a few other teens hung around them a lot, she didn't understand why. she knew that seth never brought anybody home except Paul, and her sister was always careful with throwing names around, but she ignored it, trying to be happy for her siblings after all they had been through. she just wished she could be a little bit more like them.
let me know what you think!! reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback are highly appreciated <33
pairing: Aemond targaryen x velaryon! (strong!) reader
summary: Aemond has loved and secretly claimed you for himself since the day you were born. losing his eye changed him, but maybe it did not affect his feelings for you as much as he thought it had
warnings: english is not my first language, angst, fluff, shy reader, unclexniece, possesive aemond, everybody adores reader in this
let me know what you think!! reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback are highly appreciated <33
You didn't know what you had expected when you imagined looking into his face again. a smile maybe? A hint of the boy he used to be? Well - you surely did not get whatever it was you had expected.
He looked at you with a piercing but very bored look, before he let his eye drift again to your little brother. You nervously looked from your little brother to your older one. Jacerys tried to send you a reassuring look, or maybe it was just one that screamed “I told you so”.
Before leaving Dragonstone he and your mother told you not to expect any kindness from the rest of your family. You were disappointed that they seemed to be right and that the little hope Daemon gave you when he talked about your friendship as children flew away with the wind.
You had missed him dearly. Your Aemond. But maybe this was not him. His hair had grown longer, although not as long as yours, and laid pin straight against his back. The black eyepatch he wore made him look almost forbidden. It made him look dangerous. But your Aemond was not a dangerous boy. But then again - this was not him.
Your Aemond used to read in books, spend his days learning, dreaming and talking about Dragons. Teaching you about them. This Aemond looked like he was ready - had dreamed and talked about feeding you to them.
The Queen's eyes held a little bit more warmth when she met your gaze. Sometimes she thought you looked more like her daughter than Rhaenryas but then again, your eyes held the same fire as your mothers.
The reason for your visit was a sad one, sure, who would be the heir of driftmark was important, not for you, but for your boys. You would be married off, no matter what Daemon claimed, if an alliance with House Winterfell was needed, Cregan would be the first to take your hand. You liked him. He was a kind man. A strong one too, but your relationship held no meaning, no feelings, no friendship.
Standing with your shoulders straight and your chin held high, you listened to Vaemond.”Don´t you dare tell me, who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it.” You could see the rage forming in his eyes. “Allow it?”, your sick grandfather questioned. “Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.”
The first time you flinched, was when he raised his voice, pointing at Lucerys. “That- is no true Velaryon- and certainly no nephew of mine.”
Your mother tried calming the situation, after quickly looking at her only daughter. “Go to your chambers, you have said enough.”
“Lucerys is my trueborn grandson.”
“You may run your house as you see fit. but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the doom.”
You really wished for someone to hold your hand. Stand in front of you, protect you from the eyes in the room that bore into your golden skin, but there was just your family and you in your flame red dress.
“And a thousand trigulatons besides.”. “And Gods be damned, I will not see it ended on the account of this -”
You and your little brother were similar in some ways, in ways like anxious behavior. In ways like his hands trembling just as much as yours behind his back. “Say it.”, whispered Daemon, making your knees feel weak for what was about to come. You were no fighter. No ruler. Just a woman. And a brutally soft one too. “Her children are Bastards!!”Vaemond yelled into the room, at the king, making you slightly flinch at the sudden loudness of his voice.
“And she, and her daughter, are whores.”
Your eyes widened, while people let out gasps. Insulting your mother, married and with children was one thing, insulting you, a girl who had not even earned a kiss to her cheek yet, was something entirely else. You were not even promised yet.
Unknown to you, Aemonds eye had locked onto your form the moment Vaemond stepped closer to you. His gasp was a short one, a quiet too, but he could not believe someone dared insulting you. Yes, you may have shared the features of your brothers, even though you were much more beautiful to him, but your eyes were the purest purple he had seen in his house. There was no way someone could doubt where you belonged.
In his opinion, you would always belong right next to him. He wished he could have shielded you from harsh words and glances, but he could not forget who you stood next to, the boy who took his eye and the woman who wanted the throne.
His fists clenched behind his back, he watched his father stand up, heavy breathing. “I- will have your tongue for that.”
You had heard Daemon lifting his sword, and you had seen it from the corner of your eye, but still you did not stop looking at anything but Haelenas dress. His blood flooded in front of your feet. “He can keep his tongue.” Daemon shot you a look. Looking for tears on your face as usual, but no, you seemed to be somewhere else.
Aemond looked at his uncle with appreciation. He wished he would be bold enough, could show his care for you openly enough to chop a head off, but he couldn't have done it yet, not in front of everyone else at least.
Part 3
-𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄
part 3
pairing: Aemond targaryen x velaryon! (strong!) reader
summary: Aemond has loved and secretly clai
