Silver Spring | Coriolanus Snow

vettel reincarnate * fem!driver

after retiring from formula 1 at the end of the 2022 season, f1 legend sebastian vettel realised a while after the announcement that he would miss the paddock way too much. instead of taking back his announcement, he pairs up with an up-and-coming driver and gets her a seat in a race car in formula 1.

this is SOOO heavily inspired by @sebscore and also @thepersonnamedsam (i was doing some research how to start and came across theirs too) and i'm lOVING IT!!

i wanted there to be a twist that didn't make it seem like it's an outright copy, so there it is! do feel free to send in requests here or questions!!

if there are too many similarities and/or copies, do drop me a message to let me know so i can address them </3

do take note that these are written in no particular order, just based on requests and scenarios sent in or that i come up with!

- about fem!driver

❧ get to know her

a short summary on fem!driver

❧ headcanons

headcanons of fem!driver with the grid / her life

- 2023

❧ for the girls

she isn't worrying about being on track for the first time - she worries about the media

❧ the new hires

still skeptical about roaming by herself on a race weekend, oscar and logan pick her up from her garage before media commitments

❧ fly on the wall

she crashes in her third race of her f1 career, but she's more concerned about its repercussions than the concussion

❧ family day

her siblings are in attendance for her race, wreaking havoc wherever their sister steps foot in

❧ best dress

when pictures circulate on instagram of her on a night out in her best dress, the guys start to get curious who she’s out and about with on a saturday night

Perzys se Rūkla (Fire and Flowers) - Masterlist

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x OFC (Melessa Tyrell) Warnings: Smut, angst.

Synopsis: When Daemon returns to King's Landing for the first time in fifteen years he sets his sights on his nephew Aemond's betrothed, Melessa. The trouble with happy endings though, is that they rarely work out when deep down you feel you don't deserve one...

Moodboard by the wonderfully talented @ruby-dragon

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six (FINAL)

𝖨𝖿 𝖨 𝖪𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝖸𝗈𝗎, 𝖨’𝗆 𝖲𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘈 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘑𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘠/𝘕 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘮 𝘪𝘴, 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘢𝘬𝘦… 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵.

Part One 1.6k

Part Two 2.2k

Part Three 2.8k

Part Four 4.8k

Part Five 5.2k

Part Six 5.2k

Part Seven 3.4k

Part Eight 5k

Extras: unofficial make out session | is james still a bad kisser? | meeting the parents | what flavor is that? | hanging with the girls | quidditch lesson | failed study session | life after hogwarts | the start of the crush | small or big wedding? | wedding dress shopping | james potter; kiss collector | first baby | james’ crush through the years | first official date | the gift of quidditch gloves | remus lupin, #1 shipper | finally receiving the love notes | sirius black, biggest hater | james’ massive honeydukes haul | james used to do what? | who helps james plan your surprises? | james potter and his list of names | the proposal | james meeting the parents

Soundtrack 🎵

damn

i yearn for him like the victorian children yearned for the mines

We need more Harwin Strong x reader storiessssss

wrong time | jjk

⏤ pairing: jungkook x female reader

⏤ genre: parent au, exes to lovers, ceo au, angst, fluff, and smut

⏤ rating: 18+

⏤ warnings: dilf!jungkook, tattooed!jungkook, swearing, mention of breakup, mention of jk being a fuckboy, broken hearts, nervousness, communication issues, mention of going through a dark period, oc wasn’t really nice, mention of sickness, mention of the hard side of parenthood, jk and oc are workalcoholics, the closure conversation, mention of sex, mention of death, mention of grief, mention of cheating,  sexual tension, dom!jungkook, big cock!jungkook, nipple play, pet names, penetrative sex, protected sex, rough sex, and creampie

⏤ words: 13,986

⏤ summary: meeting ten years later the girl he deeply fell in love with is something Jungkook never thought would happen. But here you are, standing before his eyes with a bright smile on your face as you walk through the massive lobby of his company. At that exact moment, he realizes that the two of you fell in love at the wrong time but is now the right time?  

⏤ author’s note: wrong time is finally all yours! i actually can’t believe it’s finally posted after almost a year of work! but it also makes me incredibly happy to release it. the past year has been a crazy year and this fic is a reflection of all that. most of the things mentioned in the fic are things that i experienced so this makes wrong time even more special to my heart 💞 i really want to thank my nikki @xpeachesncream​ for her support, i know i couldn’t have done it without her! 💞 enjoy the fic & let me know what you thought of it!💞 

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I badly wanna see a gwayne hightower x velaryon/strong reader fanfic HAHAHAHAHAHAHA it's giving enemies to lovers and forbidden love troupe😫😫😫😫

Maroon (part three)

modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

You were standin' hollow-eyed in the hallway Carnations you had thought were roses, that's us

A series loosely based on the song Maroon of off Midnights by Taylor Swift ▪︎ read more Daemon & Aemond midnights imagines here: masterlist

series list: part one - part two - part three -

themes/warnings: angst!, mutual pining, jealous!Aemond, language, description of accident/injury, Aemond in his stalker era

word count: 8.7k

a/n: proposed ages of the characters in this series - Viserys (64), Daemon (55), Alicent (53), Rhaenyra (44), Aemond (26), Helaena (25), Daeron (22), Aegon (30), Lucerys (22), Jacaerys (25), Joffrey (15), Alys (35) ---- as much as I'd like to pretend this took 5 minutes... heh. The Math simply wasn't Mathing for a long while. Anywho, just thought I'd write this in since I've aged up the characters.

Also - with all the time I've spent on this fic, I've decided to ultimately restructure part three. So part four will cover the night of the Dragonstone ball, where it's all about to go down.

Everything that occurs leading up to the Dragonstone ball - the outcome of the accident, Aemond struggling with his current state, and the reader left hoping for a love, that perhaps, never truly was.

Lucerys Velaryon has already garnered quite the reputation, at only 22 years old. 

A darling of the masses, everyone loved the young heir to Driftmark, a great company built by his grandfather, the notorious shipping tycoon, Corlys Velaryon.

But having the name Velaryon is a double-edged sword for Luke.

It only increases his privilege and prestige, already being a Targaryen on his mother’s side. Luke is set for life; he has everything he could ever need at his disposal. As a young boy, he has always enjoyed cars. Tinkering with them under the guidance of his father Laenor, as well as his uncle Daemon. Luke got himself into kart racing at the age of 9. Illegal street racing, much to his mother’s disappointment, at the age of 14. And just recently, he has been competing in Formula 2 division racing.

From the outside, he is just like any other boy. Apart from the fact that his family is literally worth billions, that is. 

But Luke has never been content. He has never been self-assured, borne out of the truth, one that everyone simply chooses not to mention, that Laenor Velaryon is not his true father. That he is a bastard, and therefore, not the rightful heir to Driftmark. He has always known this, despite his mother’s pleas otherwise. He knows this each time he hears the employees of Driftmark whisper amongst themselves after he passes by. Whenever he is invited to sit in the council meeting of the company, he feels his true status in how the shareholders disregard his opinions like he’s just some intern.

He grew up amidst the tension between himself and his brothers, and their young uncles, especially Aemond. When Aemond and Lucerys were growing up together, they simply did not learn to exist well around one another. Luke had bullied his young uncle long ago - an act of rebellion, of a boy growing up with resentment in his bones -  when Aemond had been weak and scrawny as a child. Aemond retaliated in kind; but he finally matured and found some inner calm in his mid-twenties. A year or two before you met him.

Luke's uneasiness has only worsened, now that he is nearly set to take his place on Driftmark. Since his family hails from Valyria, everyone expects them to uphold the tradition of only passing down inheritance to rightful heirs. Never bastard children or outliers.

But what the hell. Luke has never been one to follow the rules. His very existence does not abide by them, so why should he?

The night of the accident, Luke had to sit in yet another board meeting for the company. This time, Aemond was there too. Only he was treated as he should, being a Targaryen. Like someone capable, someone worthy. 

It should not have made any difference, really. Luke thought he was used to it all by now - the stares, the hushed whispers, the poorly masked scorn. They think Aegon or Aemond to be more competent. If the board had their way, it would not be Luke who would inherit Driftmark. Perhaps, his grandfather’s brother, Vaemond. Or hell, even his cousins Baela and Rhaena, though they never expressed any interest in the business.

Anyone but Luke.

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

As a child, Aemond Targaryen saw himself as some kind of a ghost. A spectre simply moving around his family, their company, their horde of sycophants. Not the first to be considered. Not the designated heir to anything. The second son of the owner and chief executive of Dragonstone, and his much younger, barely beloved second wife.

Once upon a time, his father Viserys had been well and truly happy. 

He was married to the love of his life, Aemma, and they had a lovely daughter who was loved by all due to her charm and fiery nature. 

When Aemma passed in childbirth, Viserys had been near inconsolable. But he could not remain so for very long. Soon enough, his board of trustees, his advisors, urged him to remarry. He did not have an heir yet after all, and as per tradition, he soon needed to have a son so that he might raise him to become the next CEO and owner of their business empire.

But Viserys decided to essentially bypass such tradition, for less than a year after his wife’s passing, he had publicly announced his only daughter as his successor. It did not matter what the board of trustees or the shareholders preferred. They may have considerable sway over the affairs of the company, but in the end, the word of Viserys prevails.

And so Aemond and his three siblings have been pushed to the periphery. Not that they ever stood a chance anyway. In the end, their father will always uphold his precious Rhaenyra over them. Their mother plays the part of a mere trophy wife, though she is a noble Hightower herself, having to feign contentment in spite of all the times she and her children are slighted. 

Aemond thought himself calmer now, and matured. Painstakingly made every effort to be far from that weak boy who had no place anywhere. He is still unsure if he likes the person that he is, and perhaps he never has. But he morphed - or masked - this self-loathing into an unfailing desire to do better, to be better. He’s always wanted more. And he has learned to be strong for his mother, his sister. Himself. 

And now, you. How unpredictable you had been, bursting into his life like the Dornish comet of ‘07. He knew early on that you liked him, sort of, with how your eyes would dart back and forth to his direction whenever he’s in the room. 

It made him uneasy, at first, when his looks developed in such a way that garnered him plenty of attention. The spectre of the city turned ‘Prince of the city’, a strapping young man who can have anyone he wishes. 

But, funnily enough, all those socialites, models, glorified urban princesses with millionaire parents, Aegon’s harem of traditionally near-perfect friends from Lys that he often offers - none of them ever stood a chance to you, his sister Helaena’s earnest, gentle, and quick-witted best friend. 

Aemond would be lying if he said he fell for you immediately. It would be far from his nature to do such a thing. But he had, slowly, found himself enveloped in your light, and only feeling warm, only feeling home - only feeling like he could truly love himself - when you look at him with those soul-piercing eyes of yours. Maybe he isn’t so bad after all, if you can see him in the way you do. And he trusts your judgement; when you profess to want him in turn,  then he must be worth more than he thinks.

But the night of the accident, his forsaken shadow seemed to envelop him like an old friend. One that he can never shake. His anger, his darkness. He had long buried the Aemond Targaryen who frequently got into fistfights. The Aemond who deliberately ordered the expulsion of certain people he simply did not like from the employ of their company. The Aemond who chose to openly mock the truth of his raven-haired cousins’ parentage.

That night, that Aemond resurfaced, and with dire consequences. 

The night of the accident, four months before the Dragonstone ball

The storm had begun just before the board meeting ended. Heavy rain spattered against the Driftmark tower, with the night sky illuminated by streaks of lightning.

Aemond and Lucerys were coming to a head at the council table, and the other members were having to intervene at multiple points, just to mitigate the rising tension. The storm brewing inside the young men’s hearts could easily rival the one threatening to flood the streets.

Lucerys repeatedly interrupted Aemond’s suggestions, having grown tired of his own being cast aside by everyone else. 

“Wait for your turn to speak, my Strong nephew.” Aemond smoothly countered when he did not get to finish addressing Vaemond Velaryon.

“I didn’t think what you were saying was particularly important, uncle.” Luke retaliated in kind.

“Hmm. Some things never change, it seems. You still don’t know your place.”

“My place will soon be the highest seat of Driftmark. And you will still be grandfather’s second son, a mere placeholder at Dragonstone.”

“Please, sirs,” the meeting director complained. “We must get on with more urgent matters.”

Aemond and Luke barely contribute for the remaining minutes, opting to glare and sneer at each other from across the table.

But their council tiffs would not end up being the most unpleasant occurrence for that night. As if the storm also cast its darkness over their reasoning, they soon found themselves racing towards Gods Eye.

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

It was meant to be a game. A show of bravado. Two young men, though in their depths still wounded boys, found themselves spewing offenses in an attempt to lower the other.

“You might inherit Driftmark, but everyone knows the truth, plain as day. You will always be a bastard.”

“Sure, but I am still more than you. What have you ever truly accomplished, uncle? Poor y/n, if she’s fallen for your tricks. Does she know who you truly are? She’s too bloody good for you.”

When Luke raised the challenge of racing to the edge of the cliff of Gods Eye, Aemond grasped at the opportunity to humiliate his nephew. To prove all of his claims to be wrong.

It might have been either one of them, or both, who deigned to edge their car close to the other’s, trying to veer it off course. Just a little nudge to make it spin out of the road.

But the turbulent weather was strong, causing mud and water to pool along the gravel. When the cars collided, Aemond’s took the brunt of the hit. Before he could even register the impact, his car was already spinning right towards the treeline. 

Luke had veered off road, his car rotating upside down. His right leg suffered from multiple fractures, including a busted knee cap.

But Aemond… 

His screams resounded despite the ceaseless pattering of rain, louder than even the roaring thunder overhead. A shard of glass had been wedged deep on one side of his face, splitting the flesh open. 

So much blood had pooled into his one remaining eye, that he feared he went entirely blind. The memory of your face flashed across his mind, and he despaired at the thought of never being able to see you again.

Later in the operating room, when the full extent of his injuries was delineated to him, Aemond thought that perhaps, it is you who would never want to see him again.

Why would you, with what has now become of his appearance?

Two months before the Dragonstone ball

You’re finding it hard not to keep tabs on Aemond, still asking Helaena every now and then if he’s really alright. To which she always responds with some version of “He’s okay. He just needs some time.”

Time. That’s fine. You suppose that the accident must have shaken him up, enough to cause him to go into hiding and to avoid everyone.

Unfortunately… painfully, including you. 

You find your mind drifting back to him every day - during your lectures, at work, at home, whenever you’re spending time with Helaena and you’re trying so hard to simply not just pester her about her brother. 

You think back to those secret moments you shared in crowded rooms, up in their penthouse, whenever Aegon would throw a party. Back then, you did not know one another yet, not really. But he would sit on the couch adjacent to yours, shoot you a smile, and silently keep you company while you wait for Helaena to return. He did so because he could sense that you were anxious, and that loud gatherings aren’t really your thing, as he revealed to you when you were… dating. As short of a time as that might have been. 

Gradually, you got to know him, in all those rare moments. His knowing, mischievous smiles. The subtitles nuances in his expression. His calculated manner of speaking.

You knew him, you had him, you lost him. Well, you do still know him - he is your friend, is he not? But it just as well could have been the end, the night of the accident. He has become a kind of spectre to you, leaving you yearning for what could have been. 

Weekends offer some respite from the whole ordeal of having to miss him. Your job at the bookstore allows you to just sit in silence, entertain customers once in a while, and bury your nose in your book-of-the-week.

Once in a while, a friend even drops by. This time, Jace burst through the entryway, bell chiming in his wake, beaming with a brown takeaway bag in one hand.

“Hey, stranger,” you put down your novel, and leave your post on the counter to greet your dear friend with a tight hug. Jace takes note of the fact that your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, and his spirits sink. But he immediately gets to work on making you feel better.

“I’d say you’re going to love me for this, but you probably do already,” he says, presenting you with the paper bag.

“Don’t be so sure,” you jokingly say, narrowing your eyes at him, before peering inside, hit with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and pastries.

You shrug, starting to dig in with no hesitation. “Actually, good of you to be sure.”

He laughs as you drop the bag on the counter, and rip it open to reveal all the goods. He takes his own coffee and leans closer to have a bite of the profiterole you eagerly wave in front of his face.

“Thanks,” you manage to puff out, with a mouthful of pastry. 

“Anytime, sweet.” Jace swallows, giving you a once over. “How are you holding up?”

It’s hard to act all nonchalant when he gives me those puppy-dog eyes. Jace’s innate sincerity almost makes you want to just cave in and vent all about Aemond.  “Nice of you to be concerned, but it’s not like I was the one who got into an accident.”

“I know, sassy, but I also know that you and Aemond were… you have seen him recently, no?” he asks, sounding certain of the answer to his question, which downright confuses you.

“No,” you shake your head. “Along with the rest of the city, I haven’t seen nor heard anything from him.”

“Really?” he remarks, incredulous.

“Come on, Jace,” you take a comforting sip of coffee, still warm. “You know this. He doesn’t want to see me.”

“Huh,” his head tilts back slightly as he mulls over your response. “It’s just…”

“What?”

“I could’ve sworn that was his car parked across the street. Right outside.” he says, jutting his thumb over his shoulder. You freeze, but your eyes are drawn straight toward the shop windows.

“That’s not - ,” That’s not possible, you want to say. But your feet already drag you to the edge of the shop, with Jace in tow. “Which one is his?” you ask, knowing Aemond’s got quite a few cars, privileged boy that he is. Your voice comes out in a hushed tone, as if you don’t want Aemond himself to hear. Ridiculous, you chide yourself, it probably isn’t even him.

“That silver Jaguar idling on the curb,” Jace answers, and you see it. Slantwise on the opposite side of the road, stopped right before the bus stop across the bookshop.

“Are you sure?”What the hell could he be here for? You didn’t want to admit it, but you feel the hope right in your bones. You want him here, of course. You want him to come see you.

“Yes,” Jace easily replies. “There’s only one vehicle in the city with that personalized plate."

Before you can stop yourself, you take a tentative step outside, hand still on the shop door.. I’m sure he can see me, if he’s really there.

The windows of the Jaguar have the darkest tint, making it nearly impossible to see inside. 

“That’s him,” Jace says from behind you. “He doesn’t let anyone else drive his cars. I even thought he was already inside the shop when I arrived.”

“Well shit,” you breathe, your heart racing in your chest. “What do I do?”

“What is he doing?”

“Fuck it.” You only manage to take a step forward on the sidewalk before the car roars to life, engine purring smoothly. Aemond maneuvers the car from its spot and leaves, driving right past you, a cloud of leaves and dust billowing all around.

“What the fuck?” Jace scoffs, thoughtfully waving his arm around to keep the dust from your face. “What is he on?”

“Aemond,” his name escapes your lips in a soft whisper. A silent plea that will never reach him, but you say it all the same. That it doesn’t matter to you, whatever state he is in after the accident. That even though he chose Alys over you, you can understand, or at least try to. He is still the same boy who captured your heart not so long ago. 

But why did he just leave? What is he so scared of?

“Come on,” Jace says, holding the door open for you. “Your coffee’s getting cold.”

When you go past the entryway, you turn on your heel and hang up the ‘On a break. Come back soon’ sign on the door. Sighing heavily, you shrug at Jace, “What a day, huh. You sure know how to bring drama with you.”

Jace only smiles, well-used to your banter, “How is this my fault?”

“I dunno,” you raise your hands, and walk back to the counter. You’re not sure how you feel at the moment - anxious, worried, disappointed? It’s all up in a haze since Aemond suspiciously drove off, and so, you can’t control the flood of dry sarcasm spilling out of you. Like some kind of coping mechanism. “You must have called Aemond here, so you two can drive my poor heart into a frenzy. Like I don’t already have a lot on my plate.”

“Oh yeah, definitely.” Jace slowly nods, playing along. “Aemond hasn’t even spoken to me since everything went down. But I definitely sought him out today, and definitely forced him to watch you from out there in his car like some obsessed creep.”

“I knew it!”

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

Fifteen minutes into your impromptu break, the tone has lightened to some degree, and you sit at a corner table with Jace, sipping the remains of your coffee.

After a lot more banter, and catching up about Luke, Joff, and the rest of his family - those who can still tolerate your presence,that is - Jace finds you staring blankly at a bookshelf. “Hey,” he says, “I don’t think my uncle is hiding in between those books.”

“Ha-ha.”

“Anyway, enough about him, eh?” Jace offers, taking your hand from across the table. “I actually wanted to ask you something.”

You squeeze his hand in return, staring back into his doe brown eyes, “Yeah?”

“Seeing as Aemond isn’t taking you to the Dragonstone ball,” he pauses, gauging your reaction. He decides that it’s all good when you remain impassive, “How would you like to come with me instead? I did mean to ask you, you know, but dear uncle beat me to it.”

“Oh.” Your hand loosens around his a bit, as you take in his words. “Well, I mean I would love to but - ”

Jace adds quickly, as if he is already reading the thoughts whirring through your mind. “No pretenses about it, I assure you. I’m not expecting anything else. Just that you honour me by being my partner to the ball.”

“Mmm,” your shoulders relax, and you find yourself smiling at Jace’s heartfelt nature. One that immediately warmed you to him when you first met. “Partners, huh?”

His tongue makes a clicking sound in confirmation. “What do you say?” 

“Jace,” you start, weighing the options in your mind. “I would go with you, of course - ”

“That settles it then.”

“- but I just… I don’t know, if… Aemond does not want to see me, maybe I shouldn’t just show up at the ball?”

Jace rolls his eyes, “He doesn’t own the bloody ball, you know. He can’t control whether you come or not.” He leans in, voice lowering like he’s sharing a devious ploy, “Besides, if he doesn’t want to see you, then why would he be loitering across the street simply to watch you through the shop windows? Let’s be real now, eh?”

Fair point. You reply, “Far be it from me to know what he’s up to.”

“So come to the ball with me and ask him yourself. I’ll even back you up. With my own pitchfork and everything.” The way his eyes blaze in excitement sparks something in you. Being around Jace is always fun, like you’re free to do anything - you could even cause any kind of trouble and he would only be cheering you on. 

If only… if only you liked him the way you do a certain someone, then you might actually have a greater sense of calm. Your self-doubt might be assuaged, your days brighter. 

But no. It is Aemond who fills your wandering thoughts. Aemond who haunts your sleepless nights. It was him who nearly made your heart stop that night on their rooftop, who laughed with you and held you close when you were a fumbling, wine-stained mess. 

Perhaps unfortunately so… it is Aemond whom you love.

That realization makes you straighten in your seat, scaring some sense back into you. Fuck, what am I even thinking? It’s Jace right in front of me. Jace who is asking me to the ball. 

“You got yourself a deal, mister,” you playfully hold your hand out for him to shake.

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

Later that night, the Targaryen penthouse in the Crownlands Tower is relatively quiet. Most of the family is away, save for Helaena, their housekeeper Talia…

… and Aemond, who sits in front of his desk, staring at the object atop it which is aglow under lamplight. His eye drifts to the metal surface of the lampshade itself, and he sees it. A scar stretched from his forehead to his cheekbone, with its edges tinged with maroon. 

Revolting. It’ll take some time to heal, they all say. Well it’s been two long fucking months, and it doesn’t feel any better. Nothing feels right.

It isn’t fair, his mother wailed upon seeing him. None of this is. It was the rogue Lucerys’ fault, she insisted, for egging Aemond to go on a damned speed chase in the middle of fucking storm.

His father Viserys merely appraised him for a long moment, before mumbling something that sounded like, “I am sorry this happened, but you’ll be alright”. Then to his mother, “Lucerys is injured as well. This is what they’ve always done, as you know. Luke and Aemond don’t really get along but they’re grown now.”

He added with a warning gaze to Aemond, “They have to learn to be civil to one another. We are all family, after all.”

“Family,” Alicent spat the word like a curse. “Family should not be the cause of grievous harm.”

Aemond remembers the shrug that Viserys did. It is a gesture he has seen endlessly, it might even be the first thing he remembers of his father. All of his pains, and his achievements will always be met with a nonchalant gesture. Some father he is.

There’s only one thing that would make Aemond feel better in this moment, and even that, he cannot allow himself to have. He shall not present himself, this self, to you. He looks at his reflection and he hates what he sees. Perhaps he always has. But he also learned to love himself around you. How easy it can be, like second nature. 

Maybe he was drawn to the fact that you are not from his world, with all its intrigue and playacting. How you choose not to perceive status as a tool, and how you can be kind to anyone. You, the girl who always keeps a book in her bag, even at parties, even if she most likely won’t have time to read it. Just in case, you had said, you never know. You, though very well-mannered, called one of Helaena’s so-called friends a “spoiled cunt”, when you heard her making nasty jokes at Helaena’s expense behind her back.

“Sorry you had to hear that,” you had said to Aemond in a grumbling tone, still quite irate, when you found out that he was just in the library adjacent to their living room. “They were just being so… so…”

“Fucking rude?” he finished your thought, his dimples showing in amusement when your eyes widened. “Don’t worry, doll. Maybe I would have done the same. Though that Beatrice would never say shit about Helaena in front of me, seeing as she tried to claw off my jacket once. Her fake nail got caught in the leather. Her attempt at seduction, I suppose.”

Your mouth fell open, then closed once more. You were at a loss. Your blood was just boiling at having to confront Beatrice, who has thankfully left the penthouse, and now Aemond is standing in front of you. Aemond, sharing some story, in good humour. About some girl trying to get with him, and failing. Later on, you will find yourself jumping in frustration in your living room, thinking how in the hell your mind must have short-circuited because you responded with, “It’s a good thing I keep my fingernails trimmed and plain then.”

It was Aemond's turn to stand there, lips parted in surprise at your sudden show of audacity. Where has this girl been hiding all this time? Or has she always been this way? Then your face morphs into one of shock, and you remain still, waiting for some other pin to drop. Something to distract Aemond so you can mumble some excuse and run away. Aemond observes the minute changes in your expression, like you’re struggling to get your bearings, and he finds it all endearing.

Suddenly, the door you had been leaning against is pried open, making you take a step closer to Aemond. An unruly, blonde mop of hair that can only belong to Aegon pokes itself inside, “What are you nerds doing in the damn library?”, then he turns on his heel letting the door slowly close on its hinges, “Never mind, I’m gonna get a drink!”

At the exact same time, you and Aemond burst out in a fit of laughter, the pure and melodic sound of it echoing throughout the room. The very first time that Aemond witnessed you laughing freely in front of him, and his thoughts would later drift back to this moment. To the way your eyes lit up, how your teeth clamped down on your bottom lip to keep from laughing harder, and how your dainty hand clasped his forearm, holding on to him for a while.

He did not know then, not yet at least, that he had started falling for you.

When your desire had become apparent, you did not attempt to cross a line. Correctly inferring that Aemond valued his solitude, you became content with admiring him from afar, treasuring every small interaction. 

Everyone keeps remarking at how different he is around you, and maybe you do not realize the truth of their claims, because you had never seen him… like this. So broken. His mask of composure torn to shreds.

No longer the caring, attentive, and self-assured Aemond you claimed to desire. 

“Aemond?” Helaena's voice drifts from his door, which is opened narrowly. She silently lets herself inside when he does not respond.

“Care for some dinner?” she asks, her gentle voice almost breaking through Aemond’s resolve. Perhaps it might have been able to, but not anymore.

“No, I’m not hungry.” Aemond answers, barely audible.

“Right.” Helaena doesn’t press further; she knows that nothing will shake her brother while he’s in such a state, so she tries to bring up something else. Something that might get his attention. “So, I, uh… y/n just called me.”

Helaena notices Aemond slightly tense up at the mention of your name. So that’s what it takes, she thinks.

“Aemond,” she steps closer, now standing beside his chair. “Why were you outside the bookstore where she works?”

Aemond shuts his eyes. Of course you had seen him. And he saw you, clear as day. Beautiful as ever. With bloody Jace right next to you, laughing while sharing some coffee he had brought. 

“She misses you, you know,” Helaena says, and the words drive straight through Aemond’s heart. “I really think you just should speak to her.”

“Hmm.”

“What are you even afraid of?”

A long pause, as Helaena waits for a reply. Fidgeting with the edge of her sweater, she begins to say something more, when Aemond finally says, in a muffled, reluctant tone, “She deserves better.”

“Of course she does!” Helaena perches on the edge of Aemond’s desk, and his eye drifts over her for just a second, before looking down at the object again. “So call her and - ”

“Better than me.” Aemond clarifies, croaking the final word as if in pain.

“Oh, Aemond.” Helaena’s lifts an arm in an attempt to offer comfort, but Aemond instinctively flinches.

“No.” He breathes. “I can’t.”

Helaena nods in understanding, though her heart aches at the sight of her brother like this. She looks to the side, and sees the journal-seeming object sitting on his brother’s desk. The thing he seems to be staring at. 

Helaena lets her fingers run over the smooth forest green cover, and she instantly recognizes it to be Valyrian leather. A rare commodity, so this must not be just any ordinary journal.

“May I?” she whispers, to which her brother shrugs in response.

She gently pries open the leather clasp, and she sees a dedication on the first page, in a swooping scrawl that can only be Aemond’s. Some special ink was used, staining the page with a deep shade of maroon. It reads in High Valyrian, their native language - Ñuha prūmia iksis aōhon.

“I meant to give that to her… before…”

My heart is yours.

“Aemond-” Helaena mutters, her mind stuck on the words, and she knows exactly who they are meant for.

Aemond abruptly rises from his seat, and puts on his black coat, “Just put that back where you found it.” Reaching for something else on his desk, he puts it on his face to conceal his deformity.

Before her brother reaches the door, Helaena manages to voice out, “Where are you going?”

“Away.”

Two weeks before the Dragonstone ball

The accident finally seems to have departed from the mainstream, turning into fodder for small talk as all sensational news pieces do. 

Unsurprisingly, despite the tragic event, excitement abounds. The city is buzzing in anticipation. Everyone is already poring over the main list of attendees which has been made public online. You only glanced at it once to confirm that you are on the list as Jace’s partner, but something else catches your attention. You immediately close the tab in your browser after you read - Aemond Targaryen - and across from his name, as his designated partner - Alys Rivers.

“For fuck’s sake,” you sigh, biting your lip. You opt to open Youtube, but immediately your homepage reminds you of your recent activities. Not stalking, no. Just some curious research. Aemond has never been one to give interviews. That’s more in Aegon’s wheelhouse. Daeron especially, since he also works as a model, gracing the front cover of Vogue thrice already at only 22. 

When Aegon graces the headlines, it’s most likely due to some disorderly conduct at a high-class party or a local dive bar. True to his brand, there is no in-between when it comes to Aegon. It’s either go big or go home. Which usually means he ends up drunk on the sidewalk, having to call Aemond to pick him up and give him a ride without letting their parents know.

But they always find out, of course. It’s hard to be discreet when you’re one of the most recognizable faces in the country.

As for Aemond, you’ve always found it hard to find even a single crumb of him from the internet. Save for a couple of sightings, including those of him and Alys Rivers, and clippings from the few times when he would speak in press conferences on behalf of Dragonstone. But even those were kept mostly private, and not freely available on Youtube. 

As it happens, there have been some rumours of Aemond allegedly coming into blows with the Duke of Lannister and his entourage, after humiliating the man’s sister. Onlookers claimed that they saw the poor girl coming onto Aemond at some party in Pentos, flirting with him. Apparently, he was far from welcoming of her affections. There were some pictures of the fight, or at least, that’s what people say. You were not in the loop when the news spread, sitting through a lecture. Any trace of such pictures quickly vanished from the internet. The Targaryens are always on the lookout to protect their precious image, but they’ve never done anything so methodical when it comes to such occurrences, such as Aegon’s countless mishaps. 

Aemond does have an Instagram profile. You asked him about it once, ages ago, even before your brief - what would you call it… Tryst? Dating period? Well, whatever it was, it’s all done for now.

“Was it your idea to have a profile anyway?” you asked him, after he had playfully teased you about stalking him. That was the only verified account of Aemond’s that you found, complete with the blue tick. His profile was empty, and the following list was at a whopping zero. Though of course, he had about 3.7 million followers, just waiting for the moment that he would choose to do anything on the site.

“Yeah, I suppose.” Aemond looked down and smiled, and you did not know it, but he found himself feeling warm due to the interest you were giving him. He’s confident about nearly everything, but when on the receiving end of attention from the woman he secretly longed for, he felt almost shy. “It was mostly due to the fact that I wanted to have one sole verified account online. I’ve heard talks of impersonators sending people messages and all that. Fucking annoying.”

“Ah, yeah.” You did not tell him, of course, but you knew of those fake accounts, having clicked on several slightly convincing ones to see if they were actually his. But none of them matched. You found yourself muttering, “He would never post that.”

“Didn’t hurt that I got to look through your pictures, too, love.” He smirked then, regaining his confidence. 

You nearly melted into a puddle on the fancy designer-carpeted floors of their apartment, right then and there.

That doesn’t matter now. You sigh, slamming your laptop shut. Instead you choose to dramatically jump onto your bed and growl your frustrations out onto a pillow. 

You roll over, amused at the whole thing. The digital alarm clock Helaena gave you reads 6:32 pm, it’s a Friday night, and you’re left with nothing to do. You’ve already finished the majority of your exams, and for the next month or two, you’re free to go on holiday and do whatever you wish.

But what? You finally decide to give Helaena a call, and reach for your phone on the nightstand. But right then, it lights up. ‘Hel’s Bells’ is calling you. An inside joke the two of you came up with about a week after you met.

“Speak of the devil,” you smile, and press accept. “Hel! I hope you’re just about as bored as I am.”

She laughs on the other end, “I don’t even have time to be bored. Mother has us doing all these preparations for the ball.”

“Do you need any help? I’m no expert at pomp and pageantry but I’ll do my best.” She had just stayed at your apartment a few nights ago for a sleepover, and you noticed that she was careful when mentioning anything about the ball. Trying not to stray into Aemond and Alys territory for your sake, you assumed.

“Sure, come over whenever you want. I don’t really have any idea what it’s all for, but hey, at least we get to put on fancy dresses and look pretty.”

“Oh, you always look pretty,” you say sincerely. 

“Thank you, doll,” she says, before sighing dramatically. “Anyway, I actually called to tell you something. You’re going to come over to our place on Sunday night. We’re throwing a little party.”

“A party, huh.” Will Aemond be there, you wanted to ask, but held back. 

You haven’t seen him for the last three months, after the fateful night of the accident. There was that incident when he parked outside the bookstore, but it was barely anything. 

Word on the street is that the ‘Prince of the city’ had gone into hiding, as comical as that sounds to you. For what exactly? There has been speculation - perhaps he was left horribly disfigured from the accident, which is also why there isn’t any trace of the alleged pictures taken of him in Pentos. But Helaena immediately dissuaded that notion. My brother is not disfigured, she insisted when you brought it up, he’s simply recovering.

If Aemond wants to keep things to himself, then he has the right to do so. He would tell you if he wanted. Call you, send you a message. Anything. 

“A party,” Helaena repeats. “It’ll be for our inner circle. Which includes you, of course. A little prequel to the ball, so everyone can catch up with each other.”

“Aegon’s idea?” you guessed with a wry smile. 

“There might be a direct correlation there, yeah,” Helaena laughs. “Anyway, come over! Since you’re coming with Jace to the ball, then we have to plan everything for you, too! What colour dress do you want to wear? Well, there is a theme but we’ll work with that. Mum assigned a stylist and hairdresser for me, which means they’re for you too and - ”

“Hel, I don’t really need - ”

Then she says something that puts a stop to your protest. “Oh, Aemond won’t know what’ll hit him.”

“Huh.” The thought of seeing Aemond again gives you a surge of excitement. And nervousness. Your yearning for him reawakens, but it never truly left.

Having made her point, Helaena knows she’s got you hook, line and sinker. “I’ll expect you in the next hour.”

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

Sunday came rolling over soon enough, and the party at the Targaryen penthouse is well under way.

The ballroom on the 2nd floor is packed, filled with people whom you either don’t know or barely recognize. Of course, it wouldn’t be complete without some snooty heirs and heiresses who would openly regard you with what could be confusion or derision. Until a Targaryen or Velaryon would approach you and eagerly whisk you away in conversation.

“Who is she?” you hear someone say when Jace takes your hand and directs you to sit on the couch with him and Daeron. “Why is Jace so close to her? And what on earth is she wearing?”

Unfazed by it all, and already used to such comments, you smile sweetly in that girl’s direction and greet her with a friendly, “Hi, how are you doing?”, without giving her a chance to respond.

Jace watches the exchange proudly. As you sit down, he says, “Aegon invited her, I think. I don’t really know, I don’t like her much.”

“How come?” you jest. “You two have so much in common. Heirs to the kingdom and all that.” Your sarcasm again comes out of you in waves, trying to temper your nerves. You look around the room, though it is not the first time you’ve scanned through everything. 

“I’d much prefer your company,” Jace easily says, then notices your divided attention. “He isn’t here.”

In a transparent attempt at surprise, you ask,“Who?”

Daeron overhears the exchange, after his friend stands up to get a drink. “Aemond’s not here, y/n. At least I haven’t seen him. Last I heard he was holed up in our holiday estate in Pentos.”

“Oh.” Your face visibly falls. You didn’t know what to expect, really. Of course Aemond would  not just show up at this party after avoiding everyone for too long.

“He will be at the Dragonstone ball though,” Daeron pats your knee in sympathy. “He might be going through some shit, but mum would lynch him if he misses that event.”

Jace and Daeron continue to look at you, seeing if they need to offer more comfort, and you can’t stand it. “Alright, you two. Thanks for… I don’t know… but this is a party! We should just go and have fun. No need to be concerned about me and…” You choke up at his name, negating your false show of indifference. 

“Okay,” Jace says, saving you from saying anything further. “How about I get you a drink, hmm?”

“Yeah,” you say, but something crosses your mind. You stand at the same time as Jace, grabbing his arm, “Actually, I’ll go get some air first.”

“Are you alright?” This time, Jace’s sincere gaze is not enough to distract you from that familiar gnawing ache.

“I am,” you smile placatingly. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

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

Aemond Targaryen, contrary to what everyone in the party believes, is no longer wasting his days in Pentos. 

He had slipped back into the city earlier that night, and in the safety of their 7-floor penthouse. Right in time for the revelry. He has no intention of making an appearance, but when Helaena let it slip that you would be attending, he could not help himself.

The fact that you would be under the same roof was enough to get Aemond to scurry back home. While he might not be ready to show himself just yet, there are methods which allow him to see you. Watch you.

Helaena would probably smack him upside the head, if she found out. That not only had Aemond come back without telling her, but also that he is watching her friend through the CCTV cameras littered throughout the penthouse. 

Perhaps it is unsavoury, and you might cross your arms and huff at him if you found out. Oh, what I would give to see that in person. But he’ll take what he can get. Do what he must. To still have you, still see you. 

His left knuckle is taut, still bandaged and bruised from his recent activities. Luckily, the stitches on his face had not come loose and the medical treatment his mother is putting him through has done considerable wonders. What would you think, I wonder, if you saw me like this, my love.

His laptop is propped up on his desk, right next to the green journal he means to give you. On the screen, he watches as you trail Helaena for a while. As you sit alone, watching everything unfold. As Jace comes for you, and you sit together on a couch. Too close. Too comfortable for Aemond’s liking. Is something going on between you and my fucking Strong nephew? 

When news reached him that you would be coming to the ball with Jace, Aemond had broken something. He can barely remember what it was, just the sound of it shattering against the wall. A wine bottle? A vase? A mirror? Whatever it was sent his company fleeing from their table, and Criston had rushed forward to make sure that he wasn’t harmed.

Aemond glares at the screen you walk after Jace and whisper something close to his ear. 

Jace regards you for a long while. He better not…

But then you nod and smile, stepping away from him. Aemond finds himself breathing a sigh of relief, predictably, and he almost snorts at his own reaction. 

You walk out of the ballroom, and Aemond has to switch between cameras to follow your path. You pause down the hallway, and lean next to the wall.

What are you doing, ñuha jorrāelagon?

Seemingly decided on something, you swing the door to the staircase, forgoing the elevator. The cameras on each landing track you as you continue to climb upward, panting slightly when you finally reach the entrance to the rooftop.

You take slow, sure steps toward the golden railing. For a moment, you just stand there, seemingly watching the city below.

I have to see you. I have to try. In a split decision, Aemond slinkers out of his room, the party below still unaware of his presence. 

Then he heads up the flight of stairs as you had done, feeling more apprehensive with each step. What do I even say to you? Do you still want to see me? He finally reaches the final landing, and heart in his throat, he pries the door open as silently as possible.

You no longer stand at the railing. Instead, he spies you sitting on the plush seat the two of you shared on that one night. Facing away from the entrance, looking up at the stars. 

Aemond knows that isn’t as it was before. He cannot simply approach you and watch as your eyes immediately welcome the sight of him. It’s not the same, and it is all his fault. He wonders if your heart might still race because of him, or will it have become cold, after all this time?

He draws closer, with each footstep uncertain. But your pull is stronger, taking precedence over all of his worries. 

“I miss you,” is all he can bring himself to say, throwing caution to the wind. You freeze at the sound of his voice. 

Then a shiver runs up his spine as it dawns on him - in his haste to see you, he left his eyepatch in his room below.

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

I must be dreaming. The hairs along your arms stand in your shock, and you keep both hands flat on the seat to keep you steady. 

Is it… You start to turn back, but cease all movement when Aemond pleads, “Don’t. Please don’t turn around.”

“Aemond?” your voice is shaky, and you feel a tear threaten to escape. “They said… we all thought…”

“They do not know that I am back yet,” he answers. “Just you.”

“Oh.” Your head is still turned to the side, and you have to fight the urge to simply rise from your seat and face him. You exhale, trying to calm down. When that doesn’t work, you lean back against the seat, and force yourself to count the windows on the building down the road. 

6… 7… 8… 

But the sudden feeling of his hands on your shoulders makes you lose all train of thought.

“Did you miss me?” Aemond asks, standing right behind your seat now, his sweater grazing the back of your head.

Your mind is flooded with thoughts of all that happened between the two of you - the beginning, the brief affair, the end. Is it the end? 

Answer him. “Did I miss you?” you bite your lip, and your brows scrunch in frustration. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Your expletive makes Aemond take a step back. “I-I’m sorry…”

“I’ve been so worried about you, Aemond!” Your hands bunch up into fists beside you. You did not realize you had all this pent up anger, with the past few months being spent pining. Longing. Yearning. Like some silly little fool. When he didn’t even make any effort to reach out to you, and the most you got from him was that episode outside the bookstore.

“Oh yeah, and what the hell were you doing outside my place of work?” you stand then, and lean against the railing in front of you, careful not to turn and catch a glimpse of him. “You wanted to speak to me? Well, why didn’t you just do that?” You can feel your erratic heartbeat pounding in your chest, and for a moment you become afraid that it might just stop altogether. 

“I did want to speak to you. To see you.” Aemond sighs heavily. “I always want to see you, my darling. You’re all I’ve ever thought about since - ”

“Yeah, right. I bet you did.” You threw the offhand accusation over your shoulder.

“I did,” Aemond swears. “I miss you every day, I -”

His voice is softer than before, and kind of nervous. Your resolve is at risk of breaking, because… Why does Aemond sound… broken?

He finishes, “I just needed some time.”

There are so many more that you want to ask him - What really happened in that accident? Where have you been all this time? What is going on with you and Alys? Where do we truly stand?

But instead you mutter the one thing you are most certain of, “I miss you too.”

Aemond breathes a sigh of relief. He moves to stand behind you, and steps closer. 

Closer. You don’t dare move a muscle, because you just might turn around and forget about his request. He moves closer, until his chest is pressed against you from behind. Closer, until his hands squeeze both of yours on the railing.

You feel Aemond rest his face on your shoulder, inhaling deeply. At this point, he is practically enveloping you. Each breath he takes warms your neck. His thumbs run over your knuckles, and he says, “Are you still angry at me?”

“Should I be?” You lean your head back to rest on his right shoulder. From the corner of your eye, he looks as he always has. Almost ethereal, with his silver-blonde Targaryen hair and sharp, defined features. 

Aemond moves his head slightly toward the left, careful not to reveal the ruined side to you, when he feels your wandering gaze. 

“Please don’t be angry with me,” he pleads. You hum in affirmation, and in a lower voice, he purrs, “Close your eyes, darling.”

You try to ask why, but then you feel his lips lightly press against the nook between your neck and your shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut on their own goddamn volition.

His mouth parts even more, before coming down once again and nipping at your skin. His arms wrap themselves around your waist, and his hold tightens until your entire body is flush against him.

Still, you haven’t seen all of him. 

Your hand reaches up to touch him, and your fingertips graze the side of his face. When your thumb runs over a bit of what must be raised flesh, like some partially healed lesion, Aemond jumps away. At once, you feel the cool evening air hit you, the warmth of his embrace having gone.

“What is - ” you start to ask.

“It’s nothing.”

“Aemond…” you hesitate. What could possibly be so terrible, he won’t even allow me to look at him? “If anything happened to the way you look… it wouldn’t matter to me. You would still be the same boy that I lo - ” The words hitch in your throat, their sentiment heavier than anything you’ve ever said. 

Everything is at a standstill. Aemond does not say a single word, but you know that he understood what you were trying to say. He must.

And how can I even gauge his reaction when I can’t even look at him?

“Aemond?” 

Much to your surprise, his voice is already farther away when he responds with a hurried, “I’ll see you at the ball.” 

You swiftly turn around in your disbelief. Did he just fucking leave? 

The door to the penthouse shuts behind him, and you are left dumbfounded at his actions. The old Aemond would have never done that to you, but what do you know?

Perhaps my Aemond is truly gone.

The ball is coming up next!!! Reader may finally learn to let go of Aemond, or at least give him what he wants - a whole lot of space and time.

Also, reminder - Aemond's injury is still pretty fresh, considering the damage. So no, he hasn't stuck a sapphire in there yet. Imagine how little Aemond looked in episode 7, with angry stitches running down his face, but a bit more healed. His eye socket is still sewn shut, and it still causes him much pain, so go easy on our boy, y'all.

taglist still has some spots left! I've managed to continue it in the comments 🖤

and I would LOVE to hear your thoughts on this, and what you're hoping to read in the next part!!!

Series taglist: @caught-in-the-afterglow @aemondtargaryensrider @punggo66 @dollfaceyourfear @candypurplebutterfly @moonmaiden1996 @mxrgodsstuff @lolitaisreal @blue-serendipity @melsunshine @thejanecampaign @fxngsfxgxrty @padfooteyes @msmarvel-19 @tempo-rary-fix @lauraneedstochill @julczimozart @sarcasticfangirl @witchyvik @pyjama-shorts @bellaisasleep @zillahvathek @thincrusttheworks @krispold @yougotthatlove @raging-panda @fleetingly-artistic @throughgoeshamilton @polireader @katsav17 @minttea07 @kravitzwhore @meggiemay82 @hedonefox @daenysx @schniiipsel @namoreno @afro-hispwriter @aemondswifeisme @emcharra @malfoytargaryen @iiamthehybrid @fullmetalriotts @kellzlib @justsumtuffstuff @daydreamy-me @yentroucnagol @kezibear @queenofshinigamis @paprikaquinn

I need it so badlyyyyyyyyy

would anyone be interested in ready a super angsty sad Harwin Strong one shot? Reader is Rhaenyra’s younger sister and married Harwin even though he continues his relationship with Rhaenyra? I know Harwin is super honorable but I can’t help but write for the unrequited love trope 🫣.

Unfamiliar feeling

PAIRING | Bucky Barnes x Nurse!Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 1.7K

SUMMARY | You're the latest addition to the nurse team at the Compound, and you're assigned to take care of a certain grumpy super soldier and his wounds. You're treating him very gently and he's not used to this, but he welcomes the unfamiliar feeling nevertheless.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Light swearing.

Likes and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💜

Main Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

''Y/n, some Avengers are coming in with serious injuries today, and you're assigned to treat Sergeant James Barnes. I will let you know beforehand, he can be a real dickhead when it comes to being treated, he usually doesn't want any help. Try your hardest to get him some help, otherwise, we just can't treat him anymore,'' is what your supervisor tells you. Even though you've been a nurse for nearly 15 years, you recently started your job as a nurse at the Avengers Compound since moving to New York. You've decided to trade in the California sun for the business of a city like New York, finally fulfilling your lifelong dream.

''Okay, I'll take good care of him!'' you say with your usual cheery voice and a fresh batch of enthusiasm, and your face is pretty much permanently supporting a smile. This is your first time treating an Avenger, up to this point you've only treated other agents, and the injuries weren't too severe so far. ''At what time will he arrive?'' you ask and your supervisor tells you he will be in room 7 in about 10 minutes, so you go and get the room ready for his arrival, mostly checking if all your supplies and instruments are there and ready to go, which they are. You tie your apron around your waist and put on a face mask as well as rubber gloves right before Bucky gets wheeled into the room.

You see him and quickly assess any visible wounds, which there are plenty of, they must have gone on a rough mission. ''Good afternoon Sergeant Barnes, my name is Y/N and I will be taking care of you today!'' you say and the enthusiasm is practically dripping off of your voice, making Bucky's heart skip a beat, he wasn't used to someone like you treating him. He just grunted in response, not able to talk because of a nasty wound on his face and jaw. ''It appears you had quite the rough mission, but you're still alive and that's what's most important right now,'' you tell him and you start looking him over gently.

''To do a full examination of your wounds, I do unfortunately need to take off your clothes. Shall I give you some more privacy by closing all the blinds? It will just be me in here with you, but if you're more comfortable with it I can find a male nurse to look you over,'' you offer and he points a finger at you, which you take that he is okay with you looking him over. He also gives you a thumbs up when you ask him if he wants some more privacy, he isn't used to someone asking him this, caring about his privacy - he hasn't had any for so long he doesn't know how to act in all honesty.

''First, I would like to examine your face, that appears to be a pretty nasty wound,'' you tell him, just looking at it. ''Can I touch your face, Sergeant? That way I can clean it with a bit of alcohol, which is probably going to sting pretty bad. I think we won't need to stitch it up, we could probably get away with some butterfly bandages,'' you tell him softly, not talking too fast to make sure he can follow what you're saying. He softly nods and you grab your tray with the necessary supplies to clean and bandage his face. ''Is it okay if I put this tray on your lap for easy access? If not, I can put it on the bed,'' you ask and he shakes his head, notifying me he's not comfortable with it.

''That's no problem, Sergeant, I will put it on the cart next to your bed so I can still reach everything I need. Thank you for being honest with me, it is already uncomfortable enough to be here,'' you say with a soft voice, and Bucky isn't sure why you're so gentle with him, but he is very glad that you are. This feeling is strange to him, and it almost makes him tear up a little, it has been so long since anybody asked him for permission to touch him, it sends a warm feeling through his veins, warming him up from the inside. You clean his face with the alcohol and he flinches at the feeling, so you immediately retreat and stop your actions, until he's ready to go on.

When he's all cleaned up, you softly apply a few butterfly bandages, he only needed 5 so that's not too bad. ''Alright, your face is all done, and I have to say, I have never seen anyone look this good with 5 bandages on their face!'' you say and he blushes, which makes you chuckle. ''Next, I would like to do an upper body exam, meaning I have to check your chest, stomach, arms, shoulders, and back for any injuries. I need you to take off your tactical gear for me to reach those places. Is that okay?'' you ask, and after a short moment of contemplation, Bucky softly nods, helping himself out of his tactical gear. You softly put it on the counter behind you, so he can take it when he's done.

There are multiple wounds on his chest, but they don't appear to be as bad as the one on his face. ''I have to clean the wounds on your chest, the same way I cleaned the ones on your face. Is that okay with you?'' you ask and he nods again, he is slowly getting used to being touched by you, it almost feels like he's getting touched by an angel. All he can think about is how he would always like to be treated by you from this day forward. You give him the power to move on when he's ready, letting him take everything at his own pace. ''Thank you,'' he says with a deep voice, which honestly takes you by surprise, but you don't show it. ''For being so gentle,'' he finishes his sentence.

''It's okay, Sergeant. I get that it's not fun to be treated like this when you're at your most vulnerable. I try to make you feel as comfortable as possible, and we can go at your own pace,'' you tell him while continuing to clean the wounds on his chest. His face has softened a lot now, the grumpy scowl on his face now making a place for a bit of a relaxed expression. At first, Bucky was uncomfortable with you seeing his arm, he still wasn't entirely comfortable with it himself, but he got over that pretty quickly when he took his shirt off, you didn't comment on it, look at it weird, or even acknowledged it at all. Of course, you saw his prosthetic, but you've seen everything by now, so it didn't faze you in the slightest.

''Can you please lift your left arm so I can check your side and back for injuries?'' you ask and he does it immediately, the feeling he had at first being completely washed away now, he enjoyed you being so gentle, he missed this feeling and he welcomed it with every fiber in his being. ''You're looking good on this side, can you lift your right arm so I can do the same on the other side?'' you ask as you walk around the bed, but again no injuries. ''Also looking good!'' you say with a cheer in your voice. ''Do you feel comfortable with removing your shoes and tactical pants so I can take a look at your legs? You can keep your underwear on, I won't need to examine there unless you are experiencing pain in those areas,'' you tell him.

''Yeah, it's okay,'' he says this time, even giving you a small smile as he permits you. He quickly takes off his boots and pants and sits back down so you can examine them. Aside from some bruised, you appear to be good. Is there a specific place you need me to check out a little closer?'' you ask and Bucky shakes his head, he's feeling a lot better already, the super soldier serum also helping him heal faster than usual. ''Okay, then we're all done here for today!'' you say as you take off your gloves and face mask, showing him your big smile now. Bucky can't help but gasp softly when you smile at him, it's the most beautiful smile he has seen in decades.

''You can get dressed while I clean up, so we can discuss your wound care afterward,'' you tell him and he does so. You explain how he can take care of his wounds, and if there's any discomfort he can always come back. ''Again, thank you so much for being so gentle,'' Bucky said, ''It means the world,'' he says before getting up and walking towards the door. ''Sergeant?'' you ask, ''You can call me Bucky, doll'' he says and you blush immediately. ''Bucky? I'm glad I could make you feel comfortable. I'll be honest, I was told about your situation beforehand and I get it, it's nice to get a little bit of power back in a situation where you're practically helpless. It was my pleasure to take care of you today,'' you say and flash him another smile before he gave you a smirk back and walked out the door.

He felt like he was walking on a cloud, not having felt so well taken care of in so long. For nearly 70 years HYDRA just did as they pleased, so it did feel good to finally take a little piece of his dignity back. ''How did it go?'' Steve asks when he returns to the kitchen, where Steve was getting his after-mission snack ready. ''Actually, I think I have a new favorite nurse. She took great care of me, explained everything she was going to do, and asking permission along the way. It honestly felt good to have a bit of control about this,'' he said with a smile, and Steve completely understood. ''I'm glad to hear it, Buck,'' he said as he offered him half of his snack, knowing he was also very hungry.