Why Can’t This Be Love? - Chpt.1

Masterlist Oberyn Martell

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sunkissed ❁ ben solo

(gif is not mine, credit to the owner) warnings / language word count / 3k

masterlist in bio ↴

A THROATY GRUNT LEFT Ben Solo’s lips as Y/N crashed her lightsaber into his own, eliciting a shower of blue and green sparks as she did. He stumbled back at the force of her blow but he was quick to steady himself, digging his heels into the damp soil of the field that they were in. Y/N shoved her arms forward, pushing both of the sabers closer to his face, and he slid back slightly in the dirt. She smirked and opened her mouth, ready to spout off some snarky comment but before she could, he pushed back.

Ben had always been stronger than her in the physical nature, so it didn’t take much for the sabers to move back towards her. “Didn’t think I’d let you off that easy, did you?” He asked teasingly, seeing the effort in her scrunched up face as she fought against his strength. He grinned at her on the other side of their weapons, each of their faces lit up by the glow of the beams, and she huffed.

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Author’s Note: My box has been flooded with requests and I couldn’t be happier! I’m not sure how long it will take me to get all of them done, so please be patient and I will probably get a master list posted in the next few days. I’m home sick today, so I will probably have a few posted today. I really hope that you guys enjoy this one-shot as I love it with all my heart, but I’ll probably say that about every one-shot that I write. Requests are open at the moment, so don’t be shy.

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Prompt List

Roger Taylor x Reader

Requested by @acidrainslutt

4. “Are you safe?” “I-I don’t know.”

26. “Shit, you’re freezing, let’s get you warmed up.”

Word Count: 1,940

Warning: Swearing, fluff

The London streets were dark as Y/n stumbled down them, her heels wobbling on the cobblestones as she did so. Old buildings loomed around her, lights sweeping through the windows, lighting up the street. Wrapping her arms around herself, trying to shield her bare arms from the cold air, she turned a corner before coming to a stop. The buildings that lined the street didn’t spark any memories. When it came to her map of the town, they weren’t on it. She had no clue where she was. She sighed, turning in circles, trying to find something to anchor her to her location. None of the street names that she could see looked familiar. But then again, in her drunken state even things that were familiar to her seemed so foreign.

At that moment she was silently cursing herself for going drinking. She hadn’t gone alone, going to a new pub with a few of her friends. But as they started to knock back shots that seemed to get stronger each time, the group split up. Y/n remember that two of her friends had stumbled out of the bar together and another was lead to a back room by someone. That left her all alone in a smoke-filled room full of strangers. The rational part of her brain that hadn’t been fogged over by liquor, told her that it was best if she left, so she did. But her brain hadn’t told her that leaving by herself in a city full of strangers wasn’t a good idea. Not until she had gotten herself lost.

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See No Evil, Hear No Evil {1}

Aemond One-Eye x deaf!fem!reader Summary: Love blossoms when you get to know the sweet man and not the cocky Prince. Warnings: fluff, Aegon being a predator, more fluff. I know lip reading is not easy or infallible but for this the reader is able to read lips almost perfectly. WC: 4.9k

Part One || Part Two || Part Three ||

Couples were dancing around the space that had earlier been occupied by long tables for the feast, their joyous smiles twisting your gut with jealousy. No one would ask you to join them, not when you could not hear the very music that set the pace.

Returning your attention to the table that you were seated at, you watched the men and women intently. Some glared at you when they caught your eyes on them, waving their hand as if it could blow you out of sight and out of mind. Moving on to the next, you found a single blue eye staring back. 

Prince Aemond. He was another social outcast, though his personality was as much to blame as the jagged scar that ran through his left eye. There was always a taunting smirk on his lips and a cold gleam in his eye, it sent the courtiers vying for the hand of anyone but him. Not even the power hungry, attention seekers dared to subject themselves to his viperous nature. 

His brother captured his attention and whatever spell had kept you enthralled with his stare broke. The two Targaryen princes leaned together and Aemond’s lips pursed as Aegon spoke with nervous mannerisms that warned you they would have been whispering, but you could read his lips. 

“There is something desirable about a silent woman,” Aegon said as his eyes flickered your way. “But I would do anything to make her scream.”

Aemond’s lips pulled back with a sneer before he answered, “I can only imagine the depravities that fill your mind.”

“I do not think you have the creativity needed to imagine them, little brother.”

“Thank the gods for that blessing,” Aemond said as he leant back. “She is too intelligent for you anyhow.”

“Intelligent?” Aegon rocked back with a laugh that drew the others’ attention to him. “She cannot hear and does not speak.”

Aemond turned his eye back to you. “Then she must see a great deal, for there is definitely intelligence behind those eyes.”

“Then I would face her down when I bed her.”

You looked away and wrapped your fingers around the silver goblet so they were occupied and the trembling was hopefully unnoticeable. You had expected no better of the eldest son of the King, he was known to stick his fingers in many pies - though sometimes he didn’t stop at his fingers. 

You might have been deaf to the tales the maids spoke of as they prepared you but you saw everything from the tears in their eyes to the bruises barely hidden by their uniforms. Just the thought of Aegon even noticing you had a knot twisting in your stomach.

Pushing the velvet-lined chair back, you rose from the table and nodded silently to the sickly Viserys. He gave a weak dismal wave of his hand that rested on the arm of his chair and you pressed your fingertips to your chin in return, thanking him for permitting your leave. After flattening the layers of skirts that had creased beneath the table, you laced your fingers together and ignored the two stares that watched your retreat from the dining room. 

The feeling of spiders dancing down your spine didn’t ease, even after you had snaked your way through Red Keep to the atheneum. There would normally be a maester wandering the quiet halls full of books, organising the rows into alphabetical fashion and finding requested pieces for others, but with the late hour it was empty. 

The scent of dust and beeswax greeted you as you closed the door behind you. Someone had been waxing a leather bound book cover and the yellow bar had been left beside a half shiny cover as if they might return at any moment. Walking over to the small table, you opened the cover to see what the book was and found it to be a personal journal of Aegon the Conqueror. 

Warmth touched your nape and your lips parted with a sharp intake of breath as you spun around, your legs tangling in the skirts and your hip hitting the table with a sharp jolt of pain. Aemond stepped back with a smirk, his hands raised in innocence that was betrayed by the amusement in his eye.

“Apologies,” he said. “I did not mean to startle you.”

You rubbed your palm over the bruise that would no doubt be forming and narrowed your eyes at the blatant lie. “I shall rephrase, I did not mean for you to get hurt.” Aemond’s smirk grew until his lips parted and his shoulders bounced with a laugh. “I know you can understand me.”

He reached for you and you froze at the closeness, and his scent that washed over you as his hair nearly brushed your cheek. He smelt of the woods you had run through as a child, pine and earth, fresh and rich. Then there was the fruity yet tarty hint of wine that followed as he exhaled slowly, as if he had taken an equally long inhale of the floral perfume you wore.

As quick as he had come for you, he was gone, Aegon’s journal with him and you let out a shuddering breath as you realised you were not the object he had been reaching for. He seemed to take pleasure in the confusion on your face as he smirked once again and tucked the novel under his arm with a mocking bow. 

His eye lingered on your hip as he straightened. “Take care, milady.”

You could not breathe again until the door sealed shut but you no longer felt the calm that you usually found in the athenium, the books no longer welcoming as the tall shelves towered above you with their dark shadows. Angered by the effect Aemond had in your place of sanctuary, you swiped a book from the closest shelf and made for your chambers and the thick lock bolt that you could hide behind. 

The courtyard was busier than usual as you took a seat on a stool against the Keep walls. The airy space had become a favourite place to sit since you were not allowed to leave the high red brick walls without an escort. Since this was not your House territory you had to rely upon King Viserys’ white cloaked guards but you did not wish to make a fuss so you had not utilised the soldiers. 

The sky was blue and the clouds that had blanketed the city at dawn were quickly evaporated by the heat and it enticed many others to step into the sunshine. Pulling your small bound notebook from the pocket in your skirt, you unwrapped a stick of coal and looked around for something to catch your eyes. The twin guards, Arryk and Erryk, were huddled close as they entered through the gates and your hand moved across the page.

E: She paid another maid to leave last night in the cover of darkness. That is the fourth this month. A: What did you expect? Bastards don’t belong in the Keep. E: Someone needs to stop him. A: Careful, brother, what you speak could be considered treason.

They disappeared deeper into the Keep and you read over the dialogue trying to understand what they had been talking of when a shadow passed over the page. You slammed the book closed and looked up, momentarily blinded by the bright sun reflecting off the head of long silvery white hair. 

The stick of coal had fallen to the dirt in your rush to hide the page and Aemond crouched before you to gather it, holding it out in his palm. Your eyes lingered on the calluses from hours of training and the thin scars that littered the skin that peeked out from under his tunic. 

You had not seen him since the incident in the atheneum and you had forgotten the connection that had seemed palpable in the days gone by but now you were once again caught by his eye. You had failed to notice the flecks of violet in the pale blue iris when you last saw them but that was in a dimly lit room, in the sun they were almost iridescent.

It wasn’t until he took your hand and unfurled your fingers that you realised how long you had stared, breaking away with embarrassment as he placed the coal into your palm. The hairs on your nape rose under the intensity of the moment and you curled your fingers around the coal gently so as not to crush your writing tool. You slipped the coal back into your pocket and pressed your fingers to your chin.

“You’re welcome,” he replied with a small smile. He reached for your face and your breath froze in your lungs as he ran his thumb softly across jaw. “Can’t have a smudge of coal hiding your beauty.”

You were certain you read his lips wrong but the flutter in your chest betrayed your common sense and a smile tugged at your lips. His eye followed the curve of your smile and he had to shake his head to clear his thoughts before rising to his feet. 

“Care to walk with me, milady?”

You could feel eyes on you as the crowd snooped to see why the One Eyed Prince would be talking to you. You had long ago learned to ignore the stares but for some reason that seemed a harder task today. Tucking your notebook away, you accepted his offer with a nod and let him lead the way to the Royal gardens that were usually off limits.

“I must admit, you intrigue me,” Aemond said after stopping beneath the weirwood tree and facing you. “You and your notebook that you carry everywhere.”

You automatically pressed your hand to the reassuring weight and frowned, wondering where this was leading to.

“May I see it?”

Your fingers tightened around it and you shook your head adamantly. A heat flared across your skin at the thought of him reading your notes and looking at the drawings that you attempted. He appeared within the pages far too often for your own liking. 

“As prince, I could demand it of you,” he said as he stepped closer. The wind changed and caught his hair, flicking wayward strands over his shoulder and the scent of lemon verbena shampoo drifted your way along with the purely masculine musk of sweat from training. 

You walked away, needing to clear your senses that he overpowered much like his very presence in the garden. The notebook suddenly seemed like an anchor and each step was heavy as you took a seat on the edge of a long bench in the shade. From the corner of your vision you saw Aemond sit at the other end, the entire length separating him from you. 

Tap, tap, tap. 

Your fingers tingled with the vibrations as they rested atop the bench beside your legs. 

Tap, tap, tap.

You turned to face Aemond and found his smirk growing as he used his fingernail to tap and scratch the wood. 

“You can feel that, can’t you?”

You nodded your head and his smile grew, transforming his face and erasing the harsh lines that were usually shaped with a scowl. You startled with the realisation that you found him handsome and your palms grew warm as you wiped them on your dress that was suddenly too heavy for the spring weather.

Tap, tap, tap.

You were pulled from your thoughts and looked back at the prince, hoping he could not see the effect he had on you but the intensity to his stare made you feel naked, as if every thought you ever had was laid bare for him to read. 

His lips parted with a sharp intake and he leant closer, though he was still far from reach as he mouthed the word, “Beautiful.”

There was something therapeutic in being around the horses and you often found yourself wandering into the stables. The servants and stableboys no longer sent you odd looks as they grew used to your presence most days and you were grateful to be left in solitude as you combed the black and grey haired stallion that had caught your eye. 

You had just placed the comb back on the hook that hung beside the gate when you felt vibrations in the wood beneath your hand. 

Tap, tap, tap.

Stunned, you turned to find Aemond resting against the gate with a lazy smile on his face.

“I hope you aren’t planning on stealing my horse, gorgeous.” 

You rolled your eyes and didn't dignify him with an answer as you reached into your skirt pockets and found the carrot you had stolen from dinner the night before. Aemond’s shadow followed you as he opened the gate and stepped inside the stall, his hand landing gently on your shoulder so you were aware of where he was, as if you hadn’t been keeping track.

“No wonder Storm was slow to gallop,” Aemond said as he faced you from the other side of his horse, his hand petting down the long mane. “You have been spoiling him.”

You kept your palm flat as you Storm’s lips pulled back and he greedily took the carrot. The name suited the horse with his colourings of the turbulent stormy skies and you scratched his ear while he finished his snack. 

“As much as I enjoy hearing my own voice, there must be another way for us to communicate.” Aemond stepped around the front of Storm and you frowned as you no longer felt the urge to back away from him as you had in the past. “Teach me the signs I have seen you do.”

You were shocked by his request even though you knew him to be an intellect and a scholar, the fact that he spent so many mornings training to be a warrior seemed to fill you with the idea that he was more brute than student. Your nursemaid had been the one to help you create the secret language but it had never really expanded past what a child might need to convey. You had relied upon written communication but that was only useful with the highborns who were educated, unfortunately most of the servants were illiterate. 

Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out the notebook you were never without and tore out a blank page before he could see what secrets the book held. He watched as your handwriting sprawled across the page and you could see his chest bouncing with a laugh before he took it from you.

He slipped the note into the folds of his cloak with an amused smile, not at all offended by the message you had given him. You smell. Bathe first, then I will teach you.

“I shall meet you in the library, milady, after bathing of course.” He bowed at the waist though his eye never left you and you didn’t see the mocking smile he had given you the last time he had made the gesture. The pale blue orb seemed to zero in on the pulse at your neck, as if he could see how rapidly it raced in his intense presence. “I shall see you soon.”

Three Months Later

You had seen neither hide nor hair of Aemond as you strolled the halls of the Keep, the tourney for his brother’s name day was about to begin and you did not wish to enter the highborn box alone. Giving up hope on finding him, you followed the few other ladies who were late and slipped into the back row in the hopes your presence would go unnoticed.

The bench seat kept shifting as ladies rose with their garlands, tossing the favours to the lords who asked in hopes they might win their challenge with the luck. Each time they moved you cursed inwardly and settled your heart that pounded erratically, wishing the entire event be over with. 

You were tracing the embroidered floral design on your skirts when a hand waved in front of your face and you nearly fell back in fright. The only person you knew it wasn’t was Aemond, he knew to touch your shoulder to get your attention so as not to give you a heart attack. Peering up as you clutched your chest, you found Lady Reyne looking apologetic as she pointed to the front where the jousting course was set. 

Aemond sat atop his horse, patiently waiting with a smile as he caught your eyes. A thousand questions ran through your head as you rose from the bench and clutched the favour of woven asters and budding chrysanthemums to your breast. You could feel the eyes of the entire crowd following your steps down to the front of the highborn box and past King Viserys, but there was only one that held you captive. 

“May I ask for your favour, milady?”

You nodded with a smile, grateful that you had taken his advice to make the flower crown. When he said that someone may ask one of you, your head had fallen back with a silent laugh before you shook your head, but he had insisted and you could not deny him. 

Casting the favour out, it twirled down the length of his jousting pole until it reached his hand. His smile was brighter than the sun as he pulled at the reins of his stallion and made his way to the lists. His mother caught your hand with a gentle smile as you passed by and she patted the space beside her in invitation. 

You ringed your fingers nervously as you watched Aemond’s armour shimmer in the sunlight while his horse paced, awaiting the drop of the flag to begin the match. Alicent placed her hand over yours, unclenching them and lacing them with hers as she fretted over her son. You could tell she liked the idea of seeing her son facing a jousting opponent as much as you did. You had seen the heinous injuries one could get in the sport. 

Alicent patted your hand and you tore your eyes away from Aemond to look at her as she said, “He will be fine, dear. Aemond is one of the best.”

You nodded and hoped it looked reassuring before you noticed the flag drop. Aemond kicked his boots in the stirrups and his horse took off, kicking a spray of sand up behind him. You barely breathed as he raced along the fence and levelled out his pole, his opponent doing the same. Time seemed to slow as the poles crossed each other and crashed wood against armour, shattering into splinters. 

The air in your lungs exploded from you as you jumped to your feet and rushed to the rail to see Aemond still atop his horse. His opponent was sprawled across the sand but Aemond paid him no mind as he circled back to the rail where you waited and pulled his helmet from his head before shaking out his long hair that was mussed up. 

“Is your heart still in your chest?” Aemond asked as he looked up at you, amusement teasing a smirk on his lips.

You pointed to yourself and curled your fingers over your face before pointing to him, his lips parting with a laugh that shook his shoulders. 

“Why are you mad at me? I won.”

Waving him off, you noticed the next opponents were arriving to request their favours and he shot them a dirty look as they interrupted you. 

“Meet me in the library.”

You nodded and moved away as two ladies reached the railing, missing the smile Alicent had after watching the interaction. 

The tourney would continue all day so it was no surprise to find the athenium empty when you arrived and took a seat on the plush settee. The stained glass windows cast a colourful shadow across the stone floor and you reached into your pocket for your notebook and coal to capture the image. 

You were just finishing with the shading and smudging the shadows onto the parchment with your fingertip when you felt the air shift around your face. A smile was already pulling on your lips when you looked up to find Aemond dressed once more in his finery and his hair still damp from bathing. The citrus tart of his soap teased your nose and you reached for him as you closed your book. 

He let you pull him onto the cushioned seat beside you and chuckled to himself as you ran your hands over his fitted shirt before he caught your hands. “I am unharmed.”

You narrowed your eyes at him until he released your hands to continue to make their own assessment. When you were satisfied that he was not just trying to placate you, you shuffled closer and slipped under his arm that he opened for you in invitation. 

While waiting for his arrival you had been wondering how you could return the gesture he had made for you in front of the entire city and he could sense your unrest as you shifted in your seat. Unable to look him in the eye, you grabbed your notebook and placed it on his lap.

His fingers traced your jaw and turned you to face him so you could see what he had to say. “Are you sure?”

You nodded before you lost your courage and he carefully opened the bound covering as if it were an invaluable, fragile piece of history. He treated it knowing how you cherished it. 

You did not look to see what pages he perused, some drawings and some snippets of passing conversations, but instead watched his reactions. With each turn of the page you knew what he would find and your nervousness grew. The drawings of Red Keep and the Royal Gardens would soon change and he would see himself through your eyes. 

It had not taken long for him to become your muse, in fact in the last few months it had become an addiction. There was not a day that passed where you didn’t want to capture his likeness, sometimes it was when the sunlight caught his hair or the smile that he reserved just for you. 

His lips parted with surprise and you knew he had reached the moment you had first given in to your desire and drawn him content in the gardens. Your palms turned clammy and your heart threatened to beat right out of your chest as he turned each page until he reached the last and closed it.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as he turned to you and you saw his eye shimmering with unshed tears. Of all the reactions, that was not one that you could have expected. Aemond was always so collected and cool until you had peeled back the layers of his self-protection but this was the last mask to fall away. 

You reached for his cheek, cupping the warm skin as you wiped away the single tear that escaped before he closed his eye and leaned into the touch. 

“Thank you,” he said as he opened his eye again, blinking away the rest of the tears before they could fall. “No one draws my eyes.”

You frowned at the statement and he sighed from the heavy breath of air that brushed over your skin. “The artists who take our portraits do so from my right, this,” he tapped his leather eye patch, “makes them uncomfortable.”

Tears welled in your own eyes as you saw the pain he still felt though the wound had long healed. Though it was compromising, you rose to your knees and straddled his legs, shock flitting across his face before fear seeped in as you reached for the leather patch. 

“It is not pretty, milady.”

You circled your palm over your chest and you thought he would deny your plea for permission as he pursed his lips but then he bowed his head with a nod. 

His eye stared intently at you as you traced your finger over the leather that had been warmed by his body heat. The smooth material was softer than you thought it would be as you eased it from his head and bared his scar for the first time. Your breath rushed through your parted lips as you saw the crude line that had carved through his eyebrow, down his eye and across his cheek. 

He turned away and your heart clenched as he hid himself from you but he had to know, it wasn’t the scar that caused your reaction, you were horrified at how he had been hurt so badly. Cradling his cheeks in your hands, you gently guided him back to you but still he refused eye contact.

There was only one way you could show him how you felt and your stomach fluttered at the thought as you pulled him closer and pressed your lips to his cheek, just below the scar. His breath warmed your shoulder as he shuddered beneath your touch and you kissed him a little higher, grazing the skin that changed from smooth to raised. The tension in his shoulders relaxed with each soft kiss and when you pulled back you were able to admire the sapphire that replaced his missing eye without him turning away.

“Are you not repulsed?”

Your brows knitted together in confusion as you shook your head and stood up, instantly missing the warmth of his hands where they had rested on your hips. He watched curiously as you grabbed your notebook from where he had placed it and fished your pockets for the coal. Though you wanted to sit close to him it was not the right place for what you wanted to do and so you took a seat on the settee opposite.

Not liking how far you were away either, he tried to stand and join you but the stern finger you pointed at him had him sinking back into the cushions while you found a blank page. He remained still as you captured his likeness on the page and the colourful shadows of the stained glass window reached his hair. 

You knew of merchants that could recreate colours with ochre and malachite collected from Essos but even with your family’s wealth the rare minerals remained out of reach. You were left with the common sticks of coal and on your name day you often received the finer illustrator of graphite. 

Satisfied by the portrayal, from the long strands of hair that were now dry to the strong jawline that had felt better than imagined in your hands, you rose from the chair. Aemond welcomed you back into his arms and eagerly looked at the page that was still open. His throat bounced with the swallow he took and you chewed on your bottom lip as you waited with bated breath.

He turned slowly so you could see his lips before he spoke, “This is how you see me?” 

You looked at the picture and smiled at the face of a confident, handsome young man as he faced the world without having to hide. Looking back at Aemond, you placed your hand over his heart and nodded. 

His arms pulled you closer as he dipped his head and your body trembled in anticipation. Every nerve ending flared to life when his lips caressed yours ever so softly and your hands tangled in his hair as you returned the kiss with more force. You could feel his smile against you before he gave you what you needed and deepened the kiss, stealing your breath until you broke away feeling lightheaded. 

His thumb traced your tingling lips as you slipped back into the seat, tucked under his arm, and you saw his kiss-swollen lips. You imagined yours looked the same and heat flooded you with the thought of being caught in the compromising state. A sliver of panic grew in your chest, if rumours spread then you would be shamed from your family so you scampered from the chair and brushed your hands over your skirts.

Alarm erupted from Aemond at the sudden change and he watched you right yourself, hurt haunting his blue eye before he too rose. “Please do not regret what we shared.”

You froze, your jaw dropping at what he had mistaken your fear as and against your better judgement, you launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his narrow waist as you shook your head. He curled himself around you until you felt entirely enveloped by his arms and his scent as he buried his face in your neck.

Pulling away reluctantly, he took your hand and placed it on his chest so you could feel the thunderous beat of his heart as it raced. “This belongs to you and I am yours if you will have me.”

His face blurred as tears welled in your eyes, the fierce nod of your head sending them cascading down your cheeks until he wiped them away with a proud smile. 

“I thought of another sign,” he said as he lifted his right hand up so his palm faced you before tucking his middle and ring finger back down. “When you see this, know that I love you.”

You raised your own hand and watched his tremble as you admitted what had been growing with each passing day since that first walk in the gardens. I love you.

Click here for part two.

Rushingly Bittersweet, the series index

moodboard by me

Main Masterlist // Playlist for the main story // ao3

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: After the fall of Escobar everything starts happening way too fast for Javier; his raise, his new office, his new team, the Cali cartel’s operation, the sudden arrival of a new agent that was transferred to his team for no apparent reason, the way he was falling in love with her almost unintentionally.

And he couldn’t seem to stop any of that.

Word count for the main story: +86.1k (so far)

The story:

Part 1: the meeting

Part 2: the struggle

Part 3: the warning  

Part 4: the realization

Part 5: the raid                          

Part 6: the handbrush

Part 7: the question                    

Part 8: the kiss

Part 9: the rush                           

Part 10: the trip

Part 11: the dayoff                     

Part 12: the union

Part 13: the backstory               

Part 14: the shitshow

Part 15: the finding                    

Part 16: the reality

Part 17: the rescue                                 

Part 18: the recognition

Part 19: the confession                                 

Part 20: the truth

Part 21: the decision              

Part 22: the aftershock

Part 23: the letter                           

Part 24

Part 25

After RushBit: (Coming soon…)

Past Grievances and Turning Points

Clashing Times

Unexpected Meal

Awkward Encounters

Tertulia Familiar

The One you Call Home

Moonlit Room

Formalities and Introductions

Part 25 goes here in the timeline.

Breakfast for two

Mamá’s inheritance

Rubbing Noses

Chocolate y Nuez

Children’s Game:

Summary: Javi and you go to the county fair… that’s basically it. (1.9k words)

Bull’s eye!

The Little Goddess of Love

…

Extras:

Javier’s views of the War on Drugs, as a mexican-american.

Javier in the aftermath of his first kill on the job.

The Letter; from part 23.

Read You Like a Book Masterlist

Read You Like a Book

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Fem!Reader/OFC (Anne)

Summary: Marcus Pike gets his chance to be a main character, and for that matter, so do you. Let’s solve some crime.

Content: Fluff, Smut, Slow Burn, Crime Drama, Rom Com, Occasional Angst, Past Relationship Trauma, Non-Graphic Violence, Marcus Pike Being a Soft Boi, Grumpy Dog Named Din

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Chapters marked with ** contain smut. :-)

Chapter List (Post Fridays at 9 AM EST):

Forgetting (Part 1)

Upside Down (Part 2)

Drop Everything (Part 3)

Slide (Part 4)

Permission (Part 5)

Closer (Part 6)

Lucky (Part 7)

One More (Part 8)**

Definitely (Part 9)**

Rover (Part 10)

Honey (Part 11)**

Fire (Part 12)**

Another (Part 13)**

One Shots:

The Morning After (Set between Part 12 and 13)

London (Set pre-RYLAB)

Hard Day (Set post-RYLAB)**

Seven (Set post-RYLAB)**

Headcanons:

Meet the Gang

Anne and Din

Favorite Books

How does Marcus react when Anne puts herself in danger?

How tall are Marcus and Anne?

Strengths and Weaknesses

What if Anne accidentally sent Marcus an indecent pic?

Triple Date with Frankie and Ezra (A Pocket Wives AU)

The mentalist - Fic Recommendations

Main Rec Masterlist

@pikemoreno

If you ever wanna be in love -> series based on the rom-com set it up

@youvebeenlivingfictional

The Long Con -> He had given Marnie your name. That was going to be a problem for two reasons: 1. He had no idea if you would ever agree to go to a family wedding with him, let alone fly from D.C. to Texas for it 2. You were just someone he knew from work.

Odd Hours//Getting Even -> You’d never spoken to the your new neighbor before, just traded friendly waves… At the oddest times.

@the-ginger-hedge-witch

Read you like a book -> Marcus Pike gets his chance to be a main character, and for that matter, so do you. Let’s solve some crime.

@lunaserenade

Meet me at Sunrise -> Even FBI Agents need someone to fuss over them.

Afterglow - Masterlist (Complete)

Below are all the parts to Afterglow. 

Summary: after having fallen in love in high school despite the two of you being an unlikely pair, you and Frankie make grand plans for a life and a future far away and all your own. But things…happen - change. 

Now it’s been 20 years since you’ve seen Francisco Morales, but everything is about to change yet again…

»»————-　♡　————-««

PLAYLIST

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

PART 6

PART 7

PART 8

PART 9

PART 10

PART 11

PART 12

PART 13

Peacekeeper PT 1 [Billy Hargrove]

Word Count: 5.2k. Disclaimer: I don’t own Stranger Things or the GIF used below. 

I also don’t know if this is any good. I don’t know. Be nice. I hope you enjoy.

There was a long list of reasons why Billy’s life was better since you two started seeing one another and number nine was that you relieved him of most of his babysitting responsibilities when it came to Max. In fact, Susan seemed to prefer you to be the one hanging out with her daughter on a weekend night than her fiery-tempered stepbrother. You had expected that this Saturday Billy would stay at his house with you while his dad and Susan drove out of town to have dinner with a few couples from Neil’s work, but he opted to go to Tommy’s place and trash the basement with his buddies. He said he would be back before eleven so you two could fool around against his dresser, but you knew that Billy had a penchant for losing track of time when he was with his friends.

Keep reading

hi, my sweet heart!

first of all i want to tell you that you are one of my favorite writers of all time, and your Aemond fics can be considered, by me, works of art!

your writing is MAGNIFICENT!

with all this, can you write an Aemond fic involving that scene, from episode 8, where Daemon is holding Rhaenyra's hand, showing affection and strength to her? And who is faced with that scene is Daemon. — His sweet daughter with his damn nephew.

— Two dragons, two rivals.

© do not repost or translate !

characters: Aemond Targaryen x (F)Targaryen!reader.

summary: how could two people, two dragons have so many things in common including the hatred they feel for each other?

warnings: incest, explicit language, explicit words, inspired by episode 8

word count: 2.537!

english's not my first language, so sorry for any mistakes!

"ñuha jorrāelagon, gaomagon gīda." (My dear, keep calm.)

Your heavy and distressed steps were echoed by the empty room, which was lit only by the cracks of light coming from the huge window. — It was quite capable of forming a harrowing circle on the smooth floor of the cold place.

Your hands were sweating and you played nervously with your fingers, trying to balance and lessen your anxiety. — It looked like you were going to release fire from your mouth at any moment.

By the looks of it, and you've been warned, your parents, along with your siblings, are on their way to King's Landing to settle some frictions, duties and debate who will inherit the greatest roles in the dragon house. — Well, you're not worried about that, that subject never interested you as much as you were the main heir to the throne.

The eldest daughter, first of your name, hated meetings about it because deep down you knew that being a woman you would never receive the same respect that a male heir could receive.

Destined since childhood to be married to your uncle, following in your mother's footsteps; Rhaenyra thought it more correct and direct to leave you in King's Landing, of course with your father's permission, who hated the idea but learned to agree with it over time. — Daemon made a point of sending ravens with messages, mostly in the Valerian language, to you on every moon.

The rebel prince would never leave his darling daughter alone among those vultures, as he always called them.

Of course you liked the news, seeing your parents and siblings was a gift from the good gods and you thanked them. — But soon, a heavy storm fell on his head at the memory of an infuriating fact.

Your father and your husband never got along. — Only the gods knew the insatiable desire of each one to want to kill each other. — Two men. Two dragons who defended their family with fire and blood, had so many identical physical and mental characteristics and also shared the reciprocal hatred.

Your father always made it clear how much he disagreed with, and hated, your husband in the letters he sent your, but a part of his heart admired your passion for the one-eyed man. — And it was impossible to deny that you and Aemond were, in fact, a copy of Daemon and Rhaenyra.

A heavy sigh deliberately escapes your lips and your head decides to turn towards the owner of that voice. — The only voice that could reassure you at that moment and make you feel lighter and less pressured and you needed support and, especially, your lover.

As you turn around, your eyes clash with the image of the oldest sitting in a leather chair, pigmented in pure black and reddish tones, watching all your steps and features that you make. — Every simple movement or even a simple swing of your hair, was perceived by Aemond.

"Come here, my love." — It was technically impossible to deny that request. Those simple words fell sweetly from Aemond's thin lips, and ended up conquering you and comforting your anxious heart. — With a reassuring smile that came to your lips quickly, your steps made their way to the chair where your dear lover was sitting.

Your dress, made of fabric blessed by the gods and dragons and beautifully crafted in shades of black and red, paying homage to your home, swept the floor along with your steps. — That dress showed and defined your beautiful curves. — Any of the seven kingdoms would say, in all honesty and honor, that you were a copy, designed by the gods, true to your mother.

And Aemond looked to the heavens and thanked all the good gods for having you.

As you approached, a sincere smile with a touch of understanding appeared on the older's lips and he reached out to grab your hand. — A gesture of pure affection and love. — Aemond's rough fingers stroked the palm of your hand, a few circular movements but slowly. Aemond's hand, which tends to be cold most of the time, was warm but still made you shiver.

"Everything is going to be perfectly fine, my wife." — Aemond reassured you, looking into your eyes. The eldest's one good eye admired you, and tried to pass a pleasant image. — "You know very well that you have my word."

Interrupting the simple but comforting finger caress, Aemond clasps your hand in his and holds it tightly, showing support for you. Even with all the friction, differences and threats between your family and Aemond, he never failed to support and protect you. — You belong together. Two dragons and only one soul, you two defined yourself with those words.

You delivered a smile that meant all your passion and admiration for Aemond, and he was able to understand that quickly. That damn man knew you like no one else.

The huge doors of pure wood along with some stone repairs are opened scaring you and taking your focus away from Aemond, and the same happens to him but the older man's hand still remains holding yours. — Soon, one of the guards, who escorted the door, enters.

"Majesties, excuse me." — The guard, whose name you didn't know, refers to your and Aemond's presence. He was young looking and a little nervous, maybe it was one of his first days as a guard. — "The presence, majestic and of high grace, of Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon already awaits the two of you"

Aemond did not fail to notice and feel the strength you exerted by squeezing his hand. It seemed that nervousness had attacked your entire body in a brutal and deadly way. — Your voice had disappeared, as if you had lost your way of speaking at that moment, and your husband noticed it immediately.

"Allow them to enter here, now." — The elder Targaryen commanded in a loud voice, causing the young guard to stiffen his stance and quickly nod to obey the order.

The huge and strong doors of pure wood, which blocked the image of the corridor, are opened again and soon your eyes can see some strands white, like snow, and very familiar. — At the exact moment, you can have a broad view of your mother next to your father.

Your heart was racing, it felt like it would burst out of your mouth at any moment and not to mention your eyes were teary and ready to shed the tears that were threatening to fall freely. It had been so long, so many moons and so many suns, without admiring and talking to your parents.

The first steps were Rhaenyra's and in your direction, she wanted to ignore her unfortunate brother's existence. The future queen hated that dragon ever since the event that caused his eye to be missing, and if Rhaenyra could; she would never leave you in that man's hands again. — But she knew she couldn't fight your feelings and the sacred seal of Targaryen marriage.

Keeping her posture and, knowing that she couldn't disrespect her brother and even in front of him, Rhaenyra faced him with respect and nodded to the youngest.

"My dear daughter and my dear…" — A not-so-long, tight sigh escaped Rhaenyra of its own accord. — "Brother."

Aemond did not show such a surprised or grateful expression or reaction with the presence of his sister, who has a feeling of reciprocal hatred and anger. The seriousness remained on Aemond's face, until he decided to watch his uncle's footsteps.

The annoying, unhappy sound of Daemon's well-crafted, presumably leather, shoes drifted past Aemond's ears. As if each simple, slow step was a deathly crack in the one-eyed head. — Aemond hated even Daemon's gait. — There wasn't one thing Aemond didn't hate about his uncle, besides his daughter; of course.

Gently and slowly taking your hand away from Aemond's, you approach your mother and don't miss the opportunity to hug her. Feeling your mother's comforting and warm affection again is a blessing to you and warms your heart. It was, in fact, an eternity since you felt that.

"I missed you so much, my sweet child." — She whispered in your ear, you could feel the affectionate smile and very typical of your mother. — "And you look so beautiful."

"I missed you too, mom." — After you reciprocated your mother, you slowly pulled away from the warm embrace that held the two of you together and finally got the chance to meet your father's eyes. Eyes identical to yours that, in one of your youthful memories; Rhaenyra said you destined the most beautiful eyes she could look up to in all the seven kingdoms, your father's.

Daemon ignored the heavy, deadly glare of the younger man who sat a few feet away from him. The rebel prince didn't care, not even a little, about that one-eyed drama. — He just wanted to have the opportunity and moment to meet again, correctly and as a father, with his beloved daughter And not even her husband could stop it.

"issa tala." (My Daughter.) — The tone of Daemon's voice took a little hitch, leaving her weak as if he were broken or even his voice totally incapable of uttering a miserable word. — But that wasn't it. Your father was thrilled to see you after so many years. — "issa dōna tala" (My sweet daughter.)

Even with his low, wistful tone, Daemon didn't lose his poise but he couldn't hide his genuine, compassionate smile when given the chance to hold your delicate hand. — Your hand that was in a reddish tone because of the countless times you rubbed and squeezed because of nervousness. — Your father understood that and didn't want to question it.

Holding your hand, Daemon's thumb caressed your fingers and analyzed some rings, pure silver, that remained lying there and, he couldn't help but analyze his engagement ring and be impressed with his nephew's taste. — The blood color stone, the color of pure red and the color of the Targaryens, of dragons; a ruby was between your finger.

"At least he knows how to put incompetence aside when it comes to choosing a ring." — A low and brief laugh came out of your mouth when he had the privilege of listening to that mocking whisper of your father. But, something catches the attention of Aemond, who was still not very happy with his uncle's arrival.

"I hope the trip was pleasant for you, uncle. From what I understand, the tide was calm, wasn't it?" — It was impossible not to recognize the teasing and sarcasm in the words that were uttered from Aemond's mouth, and he didn't even try to hide it. The weather could get worse but that was exactly what the one-eyed man wanted.

You turned your head towards your lover, wanting to question and scold, just by looking at that attitude, but again, it was impossible but you didn't stop watching him with narrowed eyes. — Your husband's single eye met yours but it was only a fleeting moment.

"I must feel honored and privileged to have conceived your concern for me, nephew." — Daemon returned in the same tone of voice. — "But i don't deny that i'd rather stay on the ship than here."

Remaining facing Aemond, you had a full view of Rhaenyra doing the same action you had previously performed on the one-eyed. — It looked like you two were in the middle of a children's discussion, that was an unfortunate and unpleasant moment to witness and participate; and besides being extremely tiring.

"I make a point of calling that ship for you." — Aemond retaliated with a thin and ridiculous smile.

"ao jurnegon raqagon riñar." (You look like children.) — For the first time that day, you had raised your voice but not in an aggressive or grotesque tone, but in pure reproach. Either you would get the attention of the two men or Rhaenyra would. — You decided to move away from your parents and return to your starting place, next to Aemond but this time, not so close to him.

Silence settled in that dark and cold room, with a tense atmosphere. — Better that than a childish argument and that could leave for something worse. — The Targaryen without one eye turned towards you with an expression, perhaps, regretful but he didn't dare to say anything at that moment.

"Glad to see you, my daughter." — Rhaenyra decided to end that silence but as if she was saying goodbye, and she kept smiling at you and continued to admire your eyes. — "Well, i'm glad to see you too, my brother." — She didn't leave Aemond's eye but kept her expression serious.

"It's good to have them back, Mom." — You returned a smile grateful for the return of your parents and praying to the good gods that your father and your husband kept their posture and did not argue anymore.

Aemond just let out his typical and common "Hm" and didn't show such a reaction or something strange, or a provocation. — You thanked him mentally for that and soon approached him again. Your act caught the attention of the king's youngest son and he missed no opportunity to join his hand with your, as he had done before Rhaenyra's arrival.

Daemon's eyes didn't want to believe what was happening in front of them, something he would never admit in his life. — It seemed that his nephew wanted to provoke him again, to make another argument happen and maybe worse. — But also for the first time in all times and moons, Aemond did not do it to provoke or defy his uncle. He did it for his beloved, for the way he shares his love and admiration for her.

And for the fact that you could be upset with him, Aemond opted for the way to apologize with the touch. A touch that seemed simple but had immense meaning.

Of course, Aemond didn't want to feel threatened in front of a person he despises so much, a person he characterizes as his rival, but he hated to keep and create these discussions in front of you. A feeling, considered rare for one who knew only the dreaded prince by sight, of regret settled over Aemond.

Aemond's thumb passed slowly over the ring, which he had chosen, and a sense of pride and passion surged through his chest.

"I hope that the days that remain here are pleasant and possible for you." — The surprising speech of the one-eyed prince was exclaimed and listened to with great attention. The boy's one good eye landed on your hand, and he again stroked the area. — "syt ao tolī, Daemon." (For you too, Daemon.)

After the last words, Aemond began to stare deeply at Daemon. Without an expression of sarcasm, or even anger, but that didn't mean that anything good had actually come out of the young man's mouth.

"and nyke hopi ao morghūljagon." (And i hope you die.) — He answered unwillingly. Rhaenyra, again, faced her husband with no desire to participate once more in a half-baked and totally childish argument. She was already completely exhausted and Daemon sighed heavily. — "We appreciate it."