#*with barely concealed rage* who did this to you

[housewifebuck]

*holds wet wipe like mama hen* come here buck let me remove the makeup they put on that beautiful birthmark

LMFAOOOO

[novaursa]

Savage Crown

- Summary: Khal Drogo comes to see Daenerys, as your brother and Illyrio arrange. But it is not your younger sister that drew his attention, it was you. 

- Pairing: targ!reader/Khal Drogo

- Note: This one-shot is based on an anonymous ask I received not long ago. I don't have time for something longer or a series about it, but I hope you like it none the less, dear anon.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The hall is grand but oppressive, a crumbling remnant of a better time. You stand in the shadows behind Viserys. The air is thick with the smell of incense and sweat, a testament to the preparations Magister Illyrio had overseen for this meeting. Your brother stands tall before you, his silver hair glinting in the light, his pale violet eyes filled with barely contained ambition.

Daenerys, your younger sister, is beside him, her head bowed, her silver-gold hair flowing like a river down her back. She looks like a lamb to the slaughter, meek and silent under Viserys's command. It sickens you, though you dare not let it show. Your brother is not forgiving of defiance.

And then you hear it—the heavy footfalls of horses, the deep, guttural voices of the Dothraki. The door to the hall creaks open, and Khal Drogo strides in. He is magnificent and terrifying, a towering figure with dark skin bronzed by the sun, long hair braided with bells that chime softly as he moves, and eyes like onyx. He surveys the room with the air of a conqueror, his presence commanding every ounce of attention.

You cannot help but stare. His gaze is piercing as it sweeps across the room, pausing briefly on Daenerys. Viserys steps forward, his voice filled with practiced charm.

"Great Khal Drogo," he begins, his tone obsequious, "I present to you my sister, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. She is—"

Drogo's gaze shifts mid-sentence, moving past Daenerys and falling upon you. Your breath catches as those dark eyes lock with yours, the weight of his stare almost suffocating. He takes you in, his expression unreadable but intense, lingering far longer than he did on your sister.

Viserys notices and falters, his voice sharpening with irritation. "My youngest sister," he emphasizes, stepping to the side as if to block Drogo's view of you.

But the Khal doesn't seem to care. He steps forward, his gaze still fixed on you, and speaks for the first time. His voice is low and rough, a deep rumble that seems to resonate in your chest. The Dothraki words are foreign, incomprehensible, yet you feel the weight of them as he gestures toward you.

Magister Illyrio interjects with a nervous laugh, stepping in to translate. "The great Khal wishes to know… who stands behind the prince. He says you are like silver fire in the darkness."

Your heart pounds. Viserys stiffens beside you, his face a mask of barely concealed fury. "She is not for you," he snaps, his composure slipping. "She is my elder sister, and she is of no consequence. It is Daenerys who will wed the Khal, as agreed."

Drogo's lips twitch, the closest thing to amusement you suspect he allows himself. He says something else, short and commanding, and Illyrio hesitates before translating. "The Khal says he will decide what is of consequence."

You can feel Viserys trembling with rage beside you, but he dares not insult the Khal further. Drogo turns to one of his bloodriders, speaking in a low tone. The man nods, and Drogo turns back to you, his gaze lingering for a moment longer before he steps back. Without another word, he and his men stride out of the hall, their heavy footsteps fading into the night.

The silence is deafening. Viserys turns to you, his face a storm of fury. "What did you do?" he hisses, his voice venomous. "You stood there like some… temptress! Do you want to ruin everything?"

"I did nothing," you reply, your voice steady despite the fear curling in your stomach. "I simply stood where you told me to stand."

"You will not ruin this for me," he growls, stepping closer. "You are nothing compared to me. Nothing compared to the dragon. Remember your place, sister."

Daenerys says nothing, her eyes fixed on the floor, her hands trembling at her sides. Illyrio steps forward, trying to ease the tension. "My prince," he says placatingly, "this could be… an opportunity. Khal Drogo is a man of strength and desire. If he has taken an interest in your sister—"

"I don’t care what he desires!" Viserys shouts, cutting him off. "Daenerys is the one who will wed the Khal. Not her. Not… her."

You say nothing, meeting his gaze with calm defiance. In that moment, you realize something: Khal Drogo had chosen you. Whether Viserys liked it or not, the Khal’s attention had turned away from his plans, and it would take more than his temper to change that.

As the torches flicker and the silence stretches, you feel a strange mix of fear and exhilaration. Whatever happens next, your life is no longer your brother’s to control.

The Dothraki celebration is wild and untamed, a tempest of sound, movement, and firelight. The air is thick with the scent of roasted meats and spiced wines, mingling with the sharp tang of sweat and blood. Flames leap high into the dark sky, the orange and red light dancing across the sea of bronze-skinned warriors, their shouts and laughter echoing into the night. Drums pound in an unrelenting rhythm, matched only by the ferocity of the revelers.

You sit beside Khal Drogo on an ornate wooden throne covered in furs and adorned with braids of horsehair, a place of honor overlooking the madness. His hand rests casually on the armrest, his face stoic but his eyes watching the festivities with quiet satisfaction. You feel his presence beside you like a storm contained, powerful and commanding even in stillness.

Your dress, a blend of Valyrian silk and Dothraki leather, feels strange on your skin, a mix of your heritage and the savage culture you've been thrust into. You feel the weight of eyes on you—not just the Dothraki, who marvel at their Khal’s silver-haired bride, but Viserys’s gaze as it burns into the side of your face. His fury radiates across the distance between you, as palpable as the heat of the fires.

Viserys sits further back, his face twisted with anger. His hand grips a goblet of wine so tightly that you wonder if it might shatter. Daenerys sits meekly beside him, her eyes downcast, her small frame shrinking further into the shadows with every passing moment. She dares not speak, not when Viserys is like this.

Finally, Viserys’s venom spills over. He slams the goblet down onto the low wooden table in front of him, startling Daenerys and drawing the attention of those nearby. His voice is sharp, cutting through the revelry like a blade.

"How dare you," he seethes, his words directed at Magister Illyrio, who sits nearby with a plate of half-eaten lamb before him. "You promised to help me. And instead, you give her to the Khal?"

Illyrio dabs at his mouth with a silk napkin, unperturbed by Viserys’s outburst. "My prince," he says smoothly, his tone carefully measured, "the Khal chose as he wished. You know how the Dothraki are—no one tells them what to do, not even I. Be grateful that he accepted a bride from your house at all."

"Grateful?" Viserys’s voice rises, his face flushing red. "Do you think this is what I wanted? My elder sister married to a savage, while my plans fall apart? She was never supposed to be part of this!"

Illyrio sighs, setting his napkin down with deliberate patience. "And yet, here we are. The Khal accepted her, not Daenerys. Would you rather he had taken offense and left you with nothing? No crown, no army, no future?"

Viserys rises to his feet, his fists clenched, his voice trembling with rage. "This was not the agreement! You swore—"

"The agreement," Illyrio cuts in, his voice firm now, "was to forge an alliance. And we have. The Khal is pleased, and the alliance is sealed. Your plans remain intact, my prince, whether the bride was Daenerys or—"

"Enough!" Viserys snaps, his voice cracking. "Do not speak as if you have any authority over me! I am the dragon, the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms!"

Across the space, you feel Drogo shift beside you. His eyes flick briefly toward the commotion, then back to you. He says nothing, but you sense his irritation awaking beneath the surface.

You glance at Viserys, a mixture of pity and disdain bubbling within you. He is a boy playing at being a king, too blind to see the fragile position he truly holds.

Daenerys, seated behind him, dares a glance at you. Her expression is a mixture of fear and apology, though she says nothing, her small hands twisting nervously in her lap.

"You shame yourself, brother," you call out, your voice calm but carrying easily over the din. The words are like a slap, freezing Viserys mid-rant. His head snaps toward you, his violet eyes blazing.

"You dare speak to me like that?" he spits, his voice trembling. "You forget your place, sister. You belong to him now, do you not? You are nothing but a slave to this savage."

The Dothraki around you grow quiet, their laughter and music fading as they turn to watch. You feel the weight of their eyes, and of Drogo’s, but you refuse to back down.

"I belong to no one," you say firmly, rising to your feet. "I am the blood of the dragon, just as you are. And I will not be diminished by your petty tantrums."

Viserys takes a step toward you, his hand twitching as if he might strike you, but before he can, Drogo speaks. His voice is low and commanding, a single word in Dothraki that sends his bloodriders forward, placing themselves between you and your brother.

Viserys freezes, his bravado crumbling under the weight of their silent threat. He glares at you, his lips curling into a sneer, but he does not move closer.

The dread hangs heavy in the air until Drogo stands, his towering presence a clear statement. He looks at you, his expression unreadable, then turns to the bloodriders and gives a short command. They back away, though their eyes remain fixed on Viserys.

Drogo says something else, a string of Dothraki words spoken with quiet authority, and Illyrio translates, his voice calm but firm. "The Khal says the dragon must learn respect, or he will be taught."

Viserys’s face turns ashen, his bravado utterly gone. He mutters something under his breath and sits back down, grabbing his goblet and drinking deeply to hide his shame.

The festivities slowly resume, the anxiety easing as the Dothraki return to their revelry. But you remain standing, your gaze locked with Viserys’s, your heart pounding with the realization that you have just defied him—and survived.

The aftermath of your union with Khal Drogo is a stillness that feels almost sacred. The furs beneath you are soft and heavy, the firelight from the brazier casting flickering shadows across the walls of his tent. The air is warm and heavy with the mingling scents of sweat, leather, and the faint sweetness of oils from your earlier ceremony. Drogo lies beside you, his body a fortress of muscle and heat, his breathing deep and even.

You rest your head on his chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat a steady, grounding sound. It feels surreal—this closeness to a man you’ve only just begun to understand. His presence is overwhelming, his silence louder than most men’s words. Yet, there is a calmness to him that you did not expect, a quiet strength that intrigues you.

Tentatively, you trace your fingers across his chest, marveling at the scars that speak of battles won and stories untold. Drogo doesn’t stop you, though his dark eyes open slightly, watching you with curiosity.

“Drogo,” you murmur, testing his name on your tongue. It feels strange, foreign, yet powerful. He hums in acknowledgment, a low sound that vibrates through his chest.

“I want to understand you,” you say softly, your voice a whisper in the dim light. “But I don’t know how.”

Drogo tilts his head, studying you with a quiet intensity. After a moment, he lifts his hand, calloused and strong, and brushes a strand of silver hair from your face. His touch is surprisingly gentle, a contrast to his otherwise imposing demeanor.

You take a deep breath, searching for the few Dothraki words you’ve managed to learn. “Kirekosi…?” you begin hesitantly, the word for “how” feeling clumsy on your tongue.

A ghost of a smile touches Drogo’s lips, and he responds in Dothraki, the words flowing like a river. You catch only fragments—something about strength, perhaps, or heart. Frustration wells up in you, not at him, but at yourself for not knowing more.

“I don’t understand,” you admit, shaking your head. “I need to learn.”

Drogo sits up slightly, propping himself on one arm. His hair falls over his shoulder, the bells woven into his braid chiming softly. He speaks again, slower this time, pointing to his chest as he says a word.

You frown, repeating it. “Ramasar?”

He nods, tapping his chest again. “Ramasar,” he repeats, then points to you. “Chiorikem.”

You blink, the realization dawning on you. “Ramasar means… land? And chiorikem woman?”

Drogo’s smile broadens, and he nods, clearly pleased with your understanding. Encouraged, you sit up fully, wrapping the fur around your shoulders. You point to him, raising an eyebrow in question. “And you?”

He smirks, tapping his chest again. “Lajak,” he says, his voice rich with pride.

“Lajak,” you repeat, tasting the word. “A warrior.”

He nods again, his eyes gleaming with approval. The moment feels like a small victory, a step toward bridging the chasm between your worlds.

Buoyed by his response, you press further. “Why did you… choose me?” you ask, your voice quiet but steady. “Not Daenerys?”

Drogo’s expression softens, and he reaches out, his fingers brushing your cheek. He speaks slowly, his voice a deep rumble. Though you don’t understand all the words, the emotion in his tone is clear—admiration, perhaps even respect. He ends with a word you recognize: anni, meaning “mine.”

Your breath catches, the simplicity and certainty of his claim leaving you momentarily speechless. There is no hesitation in him, no doubt. He chose you, and that is enough for him.

But you want more. “Anni,” you echo softly, meeting his gaze. “And you are mine.”

His eyes narrow slightly, as if testing the weight of your words. Then he nods, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. It is not a grand declaration, but in his world, it is enough—a promise made in the quiet of the night.

You lean into him, your lips brushing his in a kiss that is both gentle and bold. He responds without hesitation, pulling you closer, his hands firm but reverent. In that moment, words are unnecessary; the connection between you is deeper than language.

When the kiss ends, you rest your forehead against his, your breaths mingling. “Teach me,” you whisper. “Teach me your words, your ways. I want to know everything.”

Drogo pulls back slightly, his gaze steady and serious. “Annithilat,” he says, the word unfamiliar but spoken with a weight that makes you shiver.

“What does that mean?” you ask, tilting your head.

He takes your hand, pressing it to his chest where his heart beats strong and steady. “Annithilat,” he repeats, his voice softer this time. “Courage.”

You smile, the warmth of his words settling deep in your chest. “Annithilat,” you repeat, the foreign syllables feeling natural now.

For the first time, Drogo chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that makes your heart skip. He pulls you against him, his arms wrapping around you, and for the first time since your arrival in his world, you feel truly safe. Truly seen.

The night stretches on, and with every word, every touch, the distance between you and the Khal grows smaller. You know the journey ahead will be difficult, but as you drift to sleep in his arms, the sound of his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, you feel a flicker of hope. Together, you will bridge the divide. Together, you will learn.

[gay-dorito-dust]

hiiii!!! im not too sure if requests are open, if they arent please just ignore this!!!!! i really really loveeeee the way u write angst!😭✌️ could i please request blade, dr ratio, aventurine and sunday reacting to finding their loved one on the floor barely alive? UGHHHH I IMAGINE THE SHOCK AND FEAR AND BREATHLESSNESS aqhjddkkxnsk

thank u smmm!!!!!😭🩷🩷

Aventurine

Didn’t think it was possible to physically feel his heart being ripped from his chest anymore then it already had, until he spotted your bruised and barely conscious body lying on the floor in a way that made his blood become ice cold.

‘No.’ He whispered to himself in disbelief as a tight feeling blossomed within his chest. It felt as though he was being painfully constricted or squeezed tightly by an invisible hand, a feeling that only grew worse with every step he made towards you until he was finding it hard to breathe.

‘No.’ Aventurine whispers again, not wanting to think of anything that he was seeing before him as real but more of a realistic nightmare. ‘Please don’t take them away from me, I’ll have nobody left.’ He pleads as he drops to his knees and struggled with unsteady hands to pull your body towards him and holding you tightly in his arms as he rests his head against your chest, desperate and hopeful of hearing your heart beat as proof that you were alive.

‘Haven’t you taken enough from me!!?’ Aventurine screamed at the top of his lungs, staring up at the ceiling as though the Aeons would hear the rage, the heartbreak and the pain within his voice. ‘Haven’t I suffered enough by your hand?! You have taken everything and everyone I have ever loved and now you think you can take from me again just because you feel like it!?!’ He continued to scream, letting everything he’s kept inside out as rivers of tears streamed down his cheeks, blurring his vision of you as he looked down at you as he felt his soul cry out for yours.

Everything within Aventurine was hurting and it was hurting like hell but that didn’t loosen his hold on you one bit, if anything it made him tighten it, almost as though he was the only thing stopping the deities from claiming your soul as theirs. Aventurine would fight them to keep you if he must and he didn’t care what the consequences of doing this would be, his left hand was more unsteady then ever as it desperately grasped for your hand, intertwining your fingers and squeezing; letting out a whimper when he didn’t feel you squeeze his hand back like you always did to reassure him that you were not going anywhere.

‘Please.’ Aventurine begged as he pressed his forehead against your own, not wanting to walk through this life if the one person who stood by his side wasn’t going to be there. ‘Don’t take them away from me, not now, I don’t want to be alone anymore.’

Sunday

He’s seething and seeing red.

He’s unable to contain his anger as he rushed to your side, clasping your hand tightly between his own, as though he could transfer some of his strength to you in hopes it would allow him to look in your pretty eyes again.

‘My love, I beg of you, tell me who did this to you.’ He pleads as could only watch your body with a sense of hopelessness and desperation for a sign. ‘Tell me who did this to you and I shall make them pay tenfold.’ He adds as his anger became harder and harder for him to conceal, how could he possibly keep his composure when you had been attacked because of your ties to him? Someone was out to get him but did so through underhanded means rather than direct confrontation and for that Sunday couldn’t help but think of a multitude of ways to capture this cowardly assailant for harming you.

When you did not answer him Sunday felt parts of his sanity begin to slip away as his breath hitched in his throat and his hands tightened on yours. ‘My love I beg of you to stay with me, for I cannot loose you now nor ever, I forbid you from leaving me this way. I cannot breathe without you, I cannot smile without you, for you are my lifeline in every sense of the word.’ He says as he felt the colour in his life begging to fade from view and become monochrome.

You were the colour in his life, you always have been, and without you he couldn’t see the beauty nor value in anything anymore as you were the most valuable thing to him. Sunday felt himself grow cold with every second they passed where you didn’t do anything to tell him that you were okay, all reason had left him as revenge took it’s place and almost as though a switch had been flipped within his head, Sunday stopped crying as his face became a blank slate.

‘I’ll keep you safe my beloved.’ He said as he lifted you in his arms. ‘You’ll never have to worry about anything else ever again once I bring back the person who did this to you at your feet, pleading for mercy and to spare their pathetic life.’ He then presses a kiss to your forehead as he looked ahead with a pair of dead, unfeeling eyes. ‘I promise this to you and so much more, just you wait my heart, I shall gaze upon your eyes soon enough.’

Ratio

He kind of internally shuts down upon seeing you laying on the floor, barely alive.

He stands there for prolonged periods of time not saying anything but it was clear within his eyes that Veritas was struggling to comprehend the situation before him in a logical manner.

Everything was quiet as though someone had just removed all sound out of the room and all he could focus on was the fact that you were barely moving, barely breathing but the expression on your face made it seem as though you were in a peaceful slumber. Veritas would soon snap himself out of his own mind and made his way towards you before kneeling by your side, he then placed two fingers to the pulse point in your neck and letting out a uneven sigh when he felt your pulse beat softly against his fingertips.

He hasn’t even noticed that he had been crying until he felt something wet hit his clothed thigh and reached up to touch his cheeks that were wet with the trail his tears had left. Nothing felt real yet everything was becoming too much for the scholar as felt himself actively trying to disassociate from everything as a way of dealing with the possibility of you dying.

His body is wracked with fear of an uncertain future as he kept his fingers glued to your pulse as a way as to ground himself in the reality that you were still alive despite what your current state looked like. He remained by your side silently, not a single word left his lips as he remembered your last conversation, it wasn’t pretty and a few unsavoury words were exchanged before you left his office with a heavy heart.

Veritas felt partially guilty for your current state even though everyone knew he had no part in it but he felt guilty regardless for how things were left between you two. He regretted not apologising for his blunt words and harsh criticism earlier, and now he had to deal with the horrible idea that that could’ve been your last ever conversation you had with him, along with the idea that you thought he might’ve hated you as you were left alone in a empty room after having been attacked in what you believed were your final moments.

Something of which that wasn’t true at all, Veritas loved you dearly and held you close to his heart whenever you were apart, finding himself longing to come back to your side and fall asleep together within the comfort of each others arms. However that didn’t mean much when he could barely hold you without touching a wound by accident and keeping his hands to himself for the rest of the day in fear of hurting you further.

Veritas had never felt such raw fear in his life until you were almost taken from him and on such negativity terms too. Something he wishes to never experience ever again.

Blade

Death refused to claim him and so it decided to try and stake its claim over you -the one person whom Blade cared deeply for -which didn’t sit right with Blade as he wordlessly held you in his arms, his jaw clenching at the sound of your pained whimpers.

‘Death won’t have you,’ he began, ‘I won’t allow it to because if it refuses to give me what I have been long since owed, then I will keep you from its clutches for as long as I can until it submits to our whims.’ Blade then kisses your forehead. ‘I will not let it claim you when you have so much to do, whereas I on the other hand, have nothing left ahead of me.’

Blade hated seeing you hurt but this only made him want to hunt down whoever did this to you and make them pay with their life, but he knew he couldn’t leave you on the assumption that they might come back and finish you off when he turned his back, so he stays by your side like a guard dog with his hand at the hilt of his sword constantly as he awaited for help.

Blade never thought he’d find himself in a situation where he wished death didn’t come, especially when that person was you because you were his guiding light, his only love and he would do anything to keep you safe and protected from all harm that came your way; even if that meant denying death to have your soul.

In comparison to him, you had so much more to offer and so much to accomplish in life, and Blade knew he would never forgive himself if he were to let you die before you even saw the fruit of your labour with your own two eyes. He wanted you to reach the stars and see that all your work wasn’t for nothing and then see you reach heights that he could only dream of touching.

He didn’t care what happened to him, he could heal as fast as he was hurt but you, you couldn’t heal like he could and the wounds that littered your body would become scars, scars that would look similar to his own that reminded you of what you had survived by the skin of your teeth. Blade didn’t want to loose you to something he could’ve easily prevented from happening, he felt as though he had failed you and for that he couldn’t forgive himself for what happened to you, calling it a mishap on his behalf in ever leaving you unguarded.

So now he stayed close to you, hand at the hilt of his sword, tempting fate to try and take you away from him again.

[hisfavegirl]

Loneliness - Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader.

summary : your mother's decision to leave you alone in the red keep and start a new life with daemon made you become cold to your own family. but you found something more valuable in the red keep.

The world had shifted, and so had you. The corridors of the Red Keep, once familiar, now felt colder and more suffocating. The weight of whispers followed you everywhere — quiet murmurs of “bastard” and “orphan” carried on the air like an ever-present shadow. But you had learned not to flinch. Not anymore.

Aemond’s injury at Driftmark had been a turning point, not just for him but for you as well. The rage, the blood, and the searing accusations that followed lingered in your mind like a bad dream that refused to fade. His loss of an eye became a symbol of the growing rift between your family and theirs. You had watched it all, your heart pounding in your chest, knowing that no matter what you said or did, it wouldn’t be enough to stop the storm.

Then came the departure of your father. Sudden. Unexplained. No goodbyes. One day he was there, and the next, he was gone. The ache it left in you was raw and hollow.

But the final blow came with the news of your mother’s marriage to Daemon. The whispers grew louder after that. The court’s disapproval was palpable, their eyes darting to you with barely concealed scorn. “Daughter of the princess and the rogue prince.” The words dripped with venom. It didn’t help that, after her marriage, your mother chose to return to Dragonstone — without you.

“It’s safer for you in the Red Keep,” she had told you, her voice firm but her eyes sad.

You had grown colder after that. Quieter. The smile you once wore so freely became a distant memory. You no longer sought out the company of others. You stayed in your chambers longer, speaking only when necessary, your heart guarded behind walls no one could breach.

The Greens noticed. Of course, they did. Queen Alicent’s watchful eyes never missed a thing. You felt her gaze on you at meals, in the training yard, and whenever you walked the halls alone. Sometimes she would speak to you, offering honeyed words about “duty” and “family unity.” Other times, she would simply watch, her face unreadable, as if trying to solve a puzzle only she could see.

But you had learned to keep your face still, your eyes sharp, and your words measured. They could call you “bastard” as much as they pleased, but they would never see you break. Not like before.

On one particularly cold evening, you sat by the window, gazing out at the courtyard below. You looked Aemond who were training with Ser Cirston, but you had little interest in watching. Your thoughts drifted like clouds in a stormy sky. You could see the sea in the distance, and it made you think of your father. Does he think of me too?

A knock came at the door, but you didn’t answer. It opened anyway, and you knew before you turned who it would be.

Queen Alicent.

She stepped inside with the same quiet grace she always carried. Her green gown trailed behind her like ivy creeping along stone. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her, her eyes calm but focused.

“You’ve been keeping to yourself more than usual,” she said softly, her voice like silk over steel. “It’s not good for a child to be so alone.”

You didn’t respond right away, your eyes still fixed on the sea.

“I’m not alone,” you finally said, echoing the same words you’d told her once before. “I have my thoughts. They keep me company.”

Alicent tilted her head, her gaze sharp as ever. “Thoughts can be dangerous if left unchecked,” she replied, stepping closer. “Sometimes, they lead us to dark places.”

Her words lingered, heavy with meaning. You glanced at her then, your gaze steady and cold. “I am not afraid of the dark, Your Grace.”

She raised an eyebrow, perhaps surprised by your boldness. But she didn’t scold you. If anything, her lips curved into a faint smile — though it was not one of warmth.

“No, I don’t suppose you are,” she said, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You are your mother’s daughter, after all.”

Silence hung between you, thick as smoke. She watched you for a moment longer, as if searching for something she wasn’t sure she would find.

“Be careful with that pride,” she warned before turning toward the door. “Pride has a way of making orphans of us all.”

Her words echoed long after she had gone, her footsteps fading down the hall. Alone once more, you sat by the window, eyes on the sea, your heart a fortress with walls higher than any castle. If pride would make an orphan of you, then so be it. You would rather stand alone in the storm than kneel before those who called you “bastard.”

You leaned against the headboard of your bed, the weight of the day pressing heavily on your chest. The dim glow of the fading sun seeped through the window, casting soft orange hues across the room. The stillness around you was suffocating, the silence broken only by the distant calls of seagulls and the gentle hum of the Red Keep’s endless murmurs.

Your gaze was distant, eyes locked on the ceiling as thoughts swirled in your mind like a storm at sea. What did I do wrong? The question had haunted you since the day your mother left for Dragonstone. It echoed with every quiet moment, every glance from Alicent, and every sharp whisper from passing lords and ladies.

Was I not enough? you wondered. Did I fail her somehow?

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, blinking away the sting behind your eyes. You were too old to cry over such things. But it was hard not to feel abandoned. Your mother was supposed to teach you, guide you, and be your shield. But instead, she had gone — with Jace, with Luke, with her new husband — and left you here. Alone.

A quiet knock pulled you from your thoughts. The door creaked open, and one of your maids stepped inside, her eyes lowered in respect. She held a small piece of parchment in her hands, the edges of it sealed with the unmistakable red wax of House Targaryen. Your heart leapt at the sight of it, the faintest flicker of hope blooming in your chest.

“A letter from Dragonstone, princess ,” the maid announced softly, walking toward you with careful steps.

You sat up quickly, heart pounding in your chest. She placed the letter in your hands, then stepped back, her gaze flickering with quiet curiosity before she lowered her eyes once more.

You stared at the seal for a moment, fingers tracing the mark of the three-headed dragon. Mother. For a moment, you hesitated. Part of you feared what it might say. Would it be filled with more promises to “see you soon” that never came true? Or would it finally be an explanation?

With a deep breath, you broke the seal and unfolded the parchment, eyes scanning the familiar, flowing script.

Your hands tightened around the parchment, the familiar ache in your chest returning tenfold. Her words were kind, warm, even loving — but they were just words. You couldn’t feel her arms around you through ink and parchment. You couldn’t hear her voice telling you everything would be all right.

The maid watched you carefully, perhaps waiting for some instruction or response, but you stayed silent. Your eyes lingered on the words “I love you with every breath I take.” For a moment, you believed it. But it didn’t fill the hollow space her absence had carved into you.

Slowly, you folded the letter and placed it under your pillow, as if keeping it close would make her feel closer too. You leaned back against the headboard, eyes once again drifting to the ceiling.

If you love me, why did you leave me? you thought bitterly. But you didn’t say it aloud. No one would hear you. No one ever did.

The next morning, you made the decision to visit your grandfather, King Viserys. You hadn’t seen him in some time, not since his illness had worsened and confined him to his chambers. There were whispers in the halls about his condition — how the disease was slowly consuming him, how he had become a shadow of the man he once was.

The walk to his chambers felt heavier than usual. Every step echoed against the cold stone walls, and the silence of the Red Keep pressed down on you. When you reached his door, the guards glanced at you briefly before stepping aside, allowing you entry.

The room smelled faintly of herbs and medicine, the air thick with the warmth of a fire that burned low in the hearth. Curtains were drawn, allowing only slivers of light to seep through. The soft, steady wheeze of your grandfather’s breathing filled the room, the sound uneven and strained.

He lay on the grand bed, his once-strong frame now frail and sunken. His face was pale, his skin stretched thin over his cheekbones, and his eyes, though closed, twitched beneath his eyelids as if he were trapped in a restless dream. His crown, once a symbol of his might, lay on a table beside him, cold and untouched.

Quietly, you approached his bedside, your heart aching at the sight of him. This is not the king I remember, you thought. The man who had once carried you on his shoulders during feasts, who had smiled so warmly when you brought him wildflowers from the gardens, was now barely a shadow of himself.

You pulled a chair close and sat by his side. For a moment, you only watched him, taking in every rise and fall of his chest, every line on his weathered face. Slowly, you reached out and took his hand in yours. His skin was cool to the touch, rough in places where age and illness had left their mark.

Gently, you ran your thumb across his knuckles, your movements slow and deliberate, as if afraid he might break beneath your touch. His fingers twitched slightly at the contact, and you wondered if he knew you were there.

“Grandfather,” you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “It’s me.”

His breathing hitched for a moment, and you thought you saw his eyelids flutter. Slowly, his eyes opened — not fully, just enough to see you. His gaze was foggy, distant, but after a moment, recognition flickered within them. His lips parted, and his voice, cracked and hoarse, barely made it out.

“…child,” he rasped, his eyes squinting to focus on you.

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to cry. You smiled at him, leaning in a little closer. “Yes, it’s me,” you said, your voice more steady now. “I came to see you.”

He tried to smile, but it came as little more than a twitch of his lips. His gaze lingered on you, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite place — pride, perhaps, or sorrow. Maybe both.

“You look… so much like her,” he murmured, his voice strained with effort. “So strong… just like her.”

You knew he was speaking of your mother. People often said you resembled her, though you weren’t sure if it was meant as a compliment or a curse. Still, hearing it from him felt different.

“I miss her,” you admitted quietly, still stroking his hand. “She left for Dragonstone with Jace and Luke. I stayed.”

His brows knitted together in confusion or concern. His gaze sharpened just a little, like a dying flame flaring briefly before fading. “Alone?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

You nodded, feeling a familiar ache settle in your chest. “I stayed so she wouldn’t seem weak. So they wouldn’t say we were running away.” Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to keep speaking. “But sometimes… I wonder if she forgot me.”

Viserys’s eyes softened, his grip on your hand weak but deliberate as he squeezed it gently. “No,” he said with surprising clarity. “She could never forget you.”

The words broke something in you. Your head dipped forward, and you clutched his hand tightly, holding on as if he were the last tether keeping you from drifting away. His breathing grew more labored, but he didn’t let go of you. Not yet.

“You are her heart,” he whispered, his words faint but certain. “Her blood. No distance… no crown… can change that.”

You pressed his hand to your forehead, eyes shut tight as tears spilled down your cheeks. You didn’t make a sound, didn’t want him to hear you cry, but you stayed there, letting his words settle into you like warmth after a bitter cold.

You sat beside your grandfather, the warmth of the fire flickering against the walls of his chamber. The familiar weight of the old, worn book rested in your hands as you read aloud, your voice soft but steady. It was his favorite story — one he had read to you when you were younger, back when his voice was strong and his mind sharp. Now, it was your turn to read to him.

His breathing was slow and uneven, each inhale a struggle, but his eyes were closed in peace. Every so often, his fingers would twitch in your grasp as if to remind you that he was still listening, still here. Moments like these were rare, and you cherished them.

Your voice filled the quiet space, weaving the tale of knights and honor, of dragons and kings. It had always been his favorite — a story of legacy and duty. How fitting for him, you thought with a faint smile.

But then, the sound of the chamber door creaking open shattered the peace. You paused mid-sentence, glancing toward the entrance. Two figures stepped inside — one familiar, one foreign.

Your heart stopped.

It was her. Your mother.

Her silver hair flowed freely down her back, her presence commanding the room as if she had never left. By her side was him. Daemon Targaryen, his sharp features as unyielding as ever, his gaze sweeping the room with quiet calculation. His hand rested lightly on your mother’s back as if he had every right to be there.

They had returned.

You sat frozen for a moment, still clutching the book as if it were an anchor. Your eyes met your mother’s, and for a heartbeat, neither of you moved. Her gaze softened, lips parting slightly as if to say something, but the words didn’t come.

Too late, you thought bitterly.

Daemon’s eyes flicked to you, cold and unreadable, but he said nothing. He never had to. His presence alone was a statement, a reminder that everything had changed.

The silence stretched on, thick and heavy like fog. Slowly, you closed the book, the soft thud echoing louder than it should have. You stood, brushing off your skirts as if preparing for battle, your gaze sharp and steady. No tears. Not here. Not now.

“May I be excused?” you asked, your voice calm, measured, and far too grown for someone your age.

Viserys stirred, his eyes flickering open just barely. “Stay,” he rasped, his weak voice pleading. “She’s… here now.”

But you didn’t look at him. Your eyes were locked on your mother, waiting for her to speak. Waiting for her to give you a reason to stay.

Say something, you thought. Tell me you missed me. Tell me you’re sorry. Tell me anything.

But she didn’t. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and though her eyes brimmed with something — regret, guilt, love — it wasn’t enough.

You lowered your gaze, your heart feeling heavier than before. “I’ll be in my chambers,” you said softly, stepping away from the bed.

You didn’t wait for permission. You didn’t wait for her to call after you. You simply turned and walked toward the door, each step carrying you further away from them.

Behind you, you could hear Viserys coughing weakly, the quiet murmuring of your mother’s voice as she rushed to his side. But she hadn’t come to you. She had come for him.

And so, you left. Alone, as always.

You ran as fast as your legs would carry you, your heart pounding in your chest harder than your footsteps echoed against the cold stone floors of the Red Keep. The corridors blurred around you, familiar paths that you had walked a thousand times before. But now, they felt endless, like a maze you couldn’t escape.

The moment you reached the garden, you didn’t stop. You pushed past the hedges and flowers, past the sweet fragrance of blooming roses that felt so out of place against the storm in your heart. Only when you reached the large weirwood tree at the center of the garden did you finally stop.

Breathing heavily, you leaned against the rough bark, letting it press into your back like a grounding weight. Your head tilted up to the sky, eyes stinging with unshed tears. But it wasn’t long before they escaped, hot trails down your cheeks.

She didn’t even say my name.

That thought replayed over and over, sharp and cruel like a dagger twisting in your chest. She had looked at you. She saw you. But she said nothing. No “stay,” no “come here,” not even your name. It was as if you were no one at all.

You pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes, trying to stop the tears. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Not for her. Not for them. But the ache in your chest was too much, and the more you tried to hold it in, the harder it became to breathe.

“Crying doesn’t suit you,” came a cool, familiar voice from behind you.

You stiffened, slowly lowering your hands. The voice was sharp but steady, a quiet command that didn’t need to be loud to be heard. You didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

“Aemond,” you muttered, wiping at your face quickly, trying to hide any trace of weakness. “What do you want?”

Footsteps crunched lightly against the gravel path until he was closer. You could feel his presence, sharp and deliberate, like the edge of a blade hovering just out of reach.

“Nothing,” he replied simply. His tone was calm, but there was something beneath it — curiosity, maybe, or something colder. “I was only passing by. But it’s hard to miss someone running through the Keep like they’re being chased by a shadow.”

You scoffed, arms crossing over your chest as you turned your head slightly to glance at him. He stood a few feet away, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture straight and proud as always. His silver hair glowed faintly in the afternoon light, the eyepatch over his left eye making his sharp features seem even more severe.

“Then keep walking,” you said quietly, leaning your head back against the tree. You didn’t have the energy to argue with him today. “I’m not in the mood for your games, Aemond.”

But he didn’t move. He stayed where he was, his lone eye watching you carefully, studying you like one of his history books. His silence was heavy, expectant, like he was waiting for you to say something more.

When you didn’t, he stepped closer. “Did she say something to you?”

You froze at that, your fingers digging into your arms. You knew exactly who he meant. He always knew.

“Why do you care?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended. You turned to face him fully, eyes still red but blazing with defiance. “Come to gloat, have you? Come to remind me I’m the forgotten child, the one they left behind?”

Aemond tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing as if considering your words. He didn’t smile, didn’t sneer — he wasn’t like Aegon. No, Aemond was too controlled for that.

“I don’t need to remind you of something you already know,” he said calmly, his voice cutting through the air like ice. “But you should know this — being forgotten isn’t the same as being weak.”

His words hung there for a moment, sharp and cold but strangely… honest. He stepped forward, and for once, you didn’t move away. He stopped just an arm’s length from you, his gaze unwavering.

“Do you think I don’t know what it’s like?” he continued, his tone quieter now, more deliberate. “They may look at me, but they don’t see me. Not as I am.” He glanced away briefly, jaw tightening, as if the admission had cost him something.

Your breath caught in your throat. For all the times you had argued with Aemond, for all the cold remarks and sharp looks exchanged, this was different. You recognized the weight in his words because it was the same weight you carried.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The garden was quiet except for the distant chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Finally, you sighed, looking down at your feet. “It hurts,” you admitted, barely more than a whisper. “No matter how much I tell myself it doesn’t, it still hurts.”

There was another pause, then the sound of footsteps. You expected him to walk away, to leave you to your thoughts. But instead, he stepped closer, his shadow falling over you. When you glanced up, he was right there in front of you, his face unreadable but his gaze steady.

“Then let it hurt,” he said quietly, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “Let it hurt, and then make sure they regret it.”

Your eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the quiet ferocity in his tone. He wasn’t offering comfort, not in the way others might. But he wasn’t mocking you either. This was something else — a challenge, perhaps. Or a promise.

For once, you didn’t argue with him. You didn’t have the strength.

You glanced away, wiping at the last of your tears with the sleeve of your dress. “You sound like Daemon,” you muttered, half-expecting it to annoy him.

But Aemond only huffed a quiet laugh. “Daemon thinks with his heart,” he said, his lips twitching into a brief, fleeting smile. “I think with my mind.”

You tilted your head slightly, eyes narrowing. “Which one do you think is better?”

His smile faded, and for a moment, he seemed to genuinely consider it. “Both are useful,” he said finally. “But only one will win a war.”

You didn’t know if that was meant to be advice or a warning. Maybe both.

The two of you stood there in the quiet of the garden, side by side but not quite together. The ache in your heart had dulled to something more bearable. Not gone — it would never be gone — but bearable.

“Come,” Aemond said after a moment, tilting his head toward the path. “If you stay here too long, they’ll think you’ve run away.”

His words could have been a jest, but his tone was too matter-of-fact. You stared at him for a moment longer, then pushed away from the tree, your legs steadier now than before.

He didn’t offer his hand, and you didn’t ask for it. But he walked beside you, his stride matching yours as you made your way back toward the Keep.

And for once, you didn’t feel so alone.

As you and Aemond made your way down the hallway, the silence between you both felt less oppressive, though still distant. There was an odd sense of companionship in the quiet that lingered as you walked side by side, but it was short-lived.

As you reached the stairs, you spotted Alicent. She stood at the top, watching both of you with an unreadable expression. Her gaze flicked between you and Aemond, and for a brief moment, the tension between the three of you seemed to stretch thin, like a thread pulled too tight.

She descended slowly, her steps deliberate, until she reached the landing where you both stood.

“You,” she began, her voice steady, though there was an underlying sharpness. She looked directly at Aemond. “Take her to her chambers. I need to speak with you after.”

Aemond met her gaze, his expression unchanged. “Yes, Mother,” he replied, his tone respectful, though the slightest edge lingered in his voice.

You felt the air around you grow colder, her eyes now turning to you. They were calm, almost calculating, but there was a trace of something else beneath — concern, perhaps, or something more complicated that you couldn’t quite read.

“I’ll speak to you shortly,” Alicent said, her voice gentler now as she directed her attention to you. There was no warmth, but there was something like understanding, or at least the semblance of it.

You nodded silently, not trusting your voice to stay steady. For a moment, you thought of resisting, of telling her you didn’t want to meet her in her solar. But the words didn’t come, and the thought seemed almost futile. So, you allowed Aemond to guide you silently toward your room, knowing that an inevitable conversation with your mother loomed ahead.

Aemond didn’t say anything as he walked beside you, his presence more of a shadow than anything else. You couldn’t help but wonder what had transpired between them, what conversation lay ahead, and if you would ever get the answers you sought — or if it would only ever remain a silence, a chasm growing between you and those you had once trusted most.

You stepped into your room, the door creaking softly as you entered, your mind still heavy with the encounter on the stairs. You turned to Aemond, giving him a small, brief thank you. He only nodded in return, his expression unreadable, before turning on his heel and leaving without a word. His presence was gone just as quickly as it had arrived, and the silence that followed felt almost suffocating.

The moment he was gone, you closed the door behind you, your hand lingering on the handle for a moment before you turned away. Your gaze swept across the room, and something caught your eye — a soft green fabric sprawled across the bed.

A gown. A rich, flowing green gown. The fabric shimmered faintly in the dim light, elegant and carefully placed, as though it had been waiting for you.

You walked over, your steps hesitant as you approached the bed, your fingers brushing against the soft material. Confusion washed over you. What was this? Why was it here? The last thing you expected was to find a gown, especially one so formal — so… green.

It was then that a thought crossed your mind — the color. Green. The color of the greens. Was it a sign? A reminder of what was expected of you? You didn’t know, but the weight of it made your chest tighten. Why was it left here, and by whom? Your mother’s choice, or something else entirely?

You stared at it for a moment longer, your thoughts tangled in confusion and frustration. You didn’t want to wear it. Not today. Not when everything felt so wrong. But there was no time for indecision.

Just as you were about to turn away, you heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching outside the door.

Your breath caught, and before you could stop yourself, you straightened up, knowing exactly who was coming.

You turned at the soft sound of footsteps, your heart tightening as you saw Queen Alicent standing in the doorway. Her presence filled the room with an air of authority, yet her eyes seemed softer than usual, though the resolve in them was unmistakable.

She stepped inside, her gaze briefly scanning the room before it landed on you. “There will be a proclaiming,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “To determine who will be the next Lord of the Tides. It is important that you stand beside me during this.” Her eyes flicked toward the green gown on the bed, her lips curling into a slight, knowing smile. “Please, wear this. It is fitting for the occasion.”

You stared at her for a long moment, feeling the weight of her words. The tension in the room seemed to grow heavier, as if the walls were closing in around you. A proclaiming. The announcement of a new Lord of the Tides. This was not just a simple event, but a reminder of the shifting allegiances and the subtle games at play. You had no choice but to be a part of it.

You glanced at the gown again, the rich green fabric glistening in the dim light. It felt like a symbol — of power, of expectations, of your place in the game. But you couldn’t bring yourself to refuse her. Not now.

“I understand,” you said softly, your voice betraying none of the turmoil inside you. “I’ll wear it.”

Alicent’s gaze softened for a brief moment, a flicker of something unreadable passing through her eyes. She nodded and walked closer, her presence commanding yet strangely comforting. “I know this isn’t easy for you,” she said quietly, her voice gentler now. “But this is part of our duty, of our role in the realm. And we must play our part.”

You stood there, caught between the pull of duty and the ache of what you had lost. The world around you seemed like a distant echo, and you struggled to hold yourself steady.

“Once you’re ready,” she continued, breaking the silence, “I’ll send ser Criston to take you to the throne room. ”

With that, she turned and left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the gown that lay before you. The decision was clear. There was no turning back.

You reached for the gown, your fingers brushing against the fabric as you prepared yourself for what was to come.

As you sat in front of the mirror, the soft hum of your servant’s movements filled the room. She carefully arranged your hair, pulling it into an elegant style, but your thoughts were far from the delicate strands of your hair. The reflection before you felt distant, almost unfamiliar, as if the person staring back was a stranger.

You wore the green gown that Queen Alicent had provided for you, its rich fabric flowing elegantly down your form. The color, so associated with the Greens, seemed to weigh heavily on your shoulders. You couldn’t help but wonder what your family would think when they saw you in this.

What would your mother think? Would she see the daughter she had left behind in King’s Landing, dutiful and obedient, yet broken by the distance between them? You remembered the warmth of her embrace when you were younger, the way she would comfort you, guide you. Now, with her absence, you felt the heavy responsibility of the crown pressing on you from every angle.

And Jace and Luke — your brothers. What would they make of all this? They had been so close to you, always protective, always there when you needed them. Now, they were far away, living their own lives in Dragonstone. Would they understand your choices? Or would they see this as a betrayal, as a surrender to the life they had feared for you?

Your reflection in the mirror seemed to mock you with its silence. You had once imagined yourself in a life full of love, happiness, and freedom. But now, all of that felt distant, slipping away like sand through your fingers. the alliances, the politics — they all had a price. And you couldn’t help but feel like you were paying it all alone.

You tried to push those thoughts aside, but they lingered, a constant ache in your chest. You had no choice but to play the part. To be the dutiful daughter, the obedient noblewoman, and stand by your mother, even as the weight of it all crushed you from the inside.

“Are you ready, princess?” the servant asked, her voice pulling you from your thoughts.

You gave her a small nod, but the truth was, you weren’t ready. Not for any of it. But the moment had arrived, and there was no turning back.

You turned your head toward the door, your heart racing as you saw Ser Criston standing at the threshold, ready to escort you to the throne room. His presence was as stoic and reassuring as always, though you couldn’t ignore the slight tension in the air.

You straightened yourself, taking a deep breath, and walked toward him, your head held high, despite the turmoil swirling inside you. As you passed through the halls of the Red Keep, the whispers started — soft at first, but quickly growing louder. You could hear them all around you: gasps of surprise, murmurs of disbelief. The green gown, the color of the Greens, a stark contrast to the black and red of House Targaryen, was the reason for their shock.

It was a deliberate choice, one that left no room for doubt. This was a statement. And you knew exactly what it meant. The gown was a symbol, not just of your family’s current position in the court, but of the power games at play. It felt like a chain, heavy and binding, even as you walked with the grace you had been taught since childhood.

The stares followed you every step of the way. Eyes widened in disbelief, some full of judgment, others perhaps curiosity. Some were too polite to stare openly, but you could feel their gaze burning into you as you moved past them.

And yet, you didn’t falter. You walked proudly, your back straight, your expression carefully neutral, though inside, you were anything but calm. The whispers stung, but you pushed them aside. This was your duty. You had no choice but to fulfill it.

Ser Criston walked beside you, his gaze ahead, ever watchful, ever loyal. He didn’t say a word, and neither did you. But his presence gave you a small sense of comfort, as if someone, at least, understood that there was more at stake here than just the gown you wore.

Finally, you reached the grand doors of the throne room. You paused for a moment, the weight of the situation pressing down on you, before you stepped forward, the heavy wooden doors opening with a creak, revealing the sea of faces awaiting you inside.

This was it. The proclamation was about to begin. And you, standing in Queen chosen gown, would have no choice but to face the consequences of every decision made in this ever-shifting game of power.

As you entered the throne room, your eyes immediately found Queen Alicent’s. She stood tall and regal, her gaze meeting yours as you approached. Her lips curled into a soft, approving smile. “You look very beautiful in green,” she said, her voice warm, though there was something else beneath it — a knowing smile, perhaps, or a hint of satisfaction in seeing you fully embrace the role she had set out for you.

You merely nodded in acknowledgment, not trusting yourself to speak. Her words felt like both a compliment and a reminder of the expectations placed on you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to truly believe in them.

Your attention shifted quickly back to the large, imposing doors at the far end of the room, your heart quickening in anticipation. Your mother, Rhaenyra, and your brothers, Jace and Luke, were yet to arrive. The throne room was silent but for the murmurs of the court, the weight of the moment hanging in the air.

The eyes of the gathered lords and ladies were on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet their gazes for long. You focused instead on the door, waiting for the sound of footsteps that would signal your family’s arrival. The uncertainty gnawed at you, and as you stood there, a part of you wished for the moment to be over, to have clarity — to know where you stood in this world of shifting alliances and loyalties.

But the time stretched on, the door still closed, the air thick with the tension of what was to come.

The heavy doors of the throne room creaked open, and there, standing in the doorway, was your mother — Rhaenyra, her posture regal and graceful, but something about her presence seemed different today. Her figure was rounder than before, the unmistakable sign of pregnancy clear to anyone who looked closely. At her side was Daemon, ever watchful, and your brothers, Jace and Luke, followed closely behind.

You could feel your heart skip a beat as they stepped forward, but your gaze locked onto Jace almost instantly. His eyes widened, a flicker of shock flashing across his face before it was quickly replaced with a deep, almost painful, disappointment. The sight of you standing with the greens, wearing their color, was something he hadn’t expected — a stark contrast to the loyalty you had once shown to your family, to House Targaryen’s black banner.

The disappointment in his eyes cut deeper than you anticipated, and for a moment, you felt the weight of every unspoken word between you both. He looked at you as though he didn’t understand, as though you had betrayed something sacred between you.

You wanted to look away, but you couldn’t. The silence between you two stretched on as his gaze bore into you, so full of emotions that you couldn’t quite decipher. Was it betrayal? Pain? Confusion?

Rhaenyra and Daemon took their place further away from you, near the center of the room. Yet, your mind couldn’t pull itself from Jace’s stare. You tried to steady your breathing, but the realization of the rift growing between you and your family felt like a weight in your chest.

The room was charged with an uneasy tension, everyone watching the scene unfold — the daughter of Rhaenyra, standing with the Greens, while her family stood apart. The quiet disappointment from Jace was almost louder than anything else in that moment.

You felt the walls close in, unsure of how to navigate this new reality. All you could do was stand there, caught between the old loyalties and the new allegiances that were now expected of you.

Aemond stood beside you, his presence unwavering as he occasionally glanced at you with an almost unreadable expression. His words were calm but sharp, as though he was trying to reinforce something that you had already come to terms with, but the sting of it still lingered. “Green is your color, not red or black,” he said softly, his tone as cold as ever. It was a statement of fact, something that left no room for argument, and yet, it only made you feel more distant from everything you had once known.

You remained silent, the weight of his words settling heavily on your shoulders. You didn’t respond — there was nothing to say. You had already accepted your place in this new world, even if it came with a bitter taste.

The room fell into a tense silence as the proclamation began. Vaemond Velaryon, with all his pride and ambition, stepped forward. His voice carried through the hall, commanding attention as he declared, “I am the rightful heir and the only true choice to be the Lord of Driftmark.”

His words reverberated in the space, each syllable a challenge, a bold assertion of power and legitimacy. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the reactions of those present. You could feel the weight of Vaemond’s claim, the undeniable tension that followed. This was more than just a family dispute — it was a battle for control, for legitimacy, and for the very future of House Velaryon.

Your mind raced, thoughts colliding in confusion and discomfort. The stakes had never been higher. Would your mother support Vaemond’s claim? Or would the blood of House Targaryen — your blood — be enough to sway the tide? You glanced at your mother and Daemon, standing nearby, their expressions unreadable.

The tension was palpable as the room awaited the response, each passing second heavier than the last.

The atmosphere in the throne room grew even more tense as your mother, Rhaenyra, stepped forward with a calm yet resolute expression. Her voice, steady and authoritative, filled the hall. “Corlys’ decision remains the same,” she declared. “He has chosen Luke as the next Lord of the Tides.”

A murmur ran through the room, some faces showing surprise, others nodding in agreement. The declaration was bold, but it was backed by the powerful figure of Rhaenyra, who stood unwavering in her stance. Her words were not just about the title; they were a symbol of defiance, a challenge to those who sought to undermine the legitimacy of her children.

Rhaenys, standing beside her, nodded in firm agreement, her voice calm but carrying the weight of years of experience and authority. “My husband’s decision has not changed,” she added. “Luke is and will always be the rightful heir.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, all eyes turning to Vaemond, who had no choice but to stand down for now, his claim weakening in the face of Rhaenyra’s unyielding support.

Then, your grandmother dropped another bombshell — one that took the room by surprise. “And as part of the future of House Velaryon, I am pleased to announce that Luke and Jace are betrothed to my twin grandchildren Baela and Rhaena.”

The words hit like a thunderclap. The idea of this new betrothal, the joining of two powerful houses, added yet another layer to the intricate web of politics, alliances, and promises that had been carefully woven over the years. You could feel the weight of those words as they settled in the room, many eyes darting between you and your brothers, whispers beginning to rise once again.

You could feel the eyes of the court on you, and your heart pounded in your chest. What would Jace think about this announcement? What about Luke? The news of their betrothals, coupled with the tension surrounding Driftmark, was only going to fuel the already high stakes.

Your thoughts raced, but you kept your gaze steady, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. The room buzzed with murmurs, but you remained focused, wondering what the next move would be in this dangerous political game your family had been forced to play.

As the tension in the room thickened, the doors to the throne room creaked open once more. All eyes turned toward the entrance, and the atmosphere seemed to hold its breath. There, standing with the aid of a cane, was King Viserys. His frail form was supported by a servant on either side, and his once-vibrant presence now seemed diminished by the ravages of time and illness. Yet despite his weakened state, there was an undeniable authority that still emanated from him.

The murmurs of the court fell silent as King Viserys slowly made his way to the front, his steps deliberate and measured. With a deep, rasping breath, he finally spoke, his voice strained but still commanding. “Otto,” he began, his eyes locking onto his Hand. “I will be the one to lead this proclamation.”

There was a moment of stunned silence. Otto Hightower, standing near the throne, appeared taken aback by his father’s decision, but he quickly masked his surprise with a bow of his head, acknowledging the king’s authority.

The weight of his words reverberated throughout the room. King Viserys had reclaimed his place at the center of this crucial moment, despite his frailty. His determination to lead, to assert his authority even in his weakened state, was evident to all present.

You could see the shock and uncertainty in the eyes of the court members, and perhaps even in Rhaenyra’s and Daemon’s expressions. The course of events was shifting yet again, and with it, the balance of power in the room seemed to tip ever so slightly in the king’s favor.

Viserys, with a look of exhaustion but unwavering resolve, turned his attention to the gathered lords and ladies. “The time for further disputes ends now,” he said, his voice gaining strength with each word. “I will make my decision on this matter.”

The room fell into a heavy silence as King Viserys’ declaration rang out through the hall. “Luke shall remain the rightful heir to Driftmark,” he said firmly, his voice filled with the weight of his authority despite his frailty.

For a moment, the court seemed to hold its collective breath, but it was not long before Vaemond Velaryon’s voice cut through the tension, harsh and unrelenting. He stepped forward, his anger palpable, and his eyes were ablaze with fury. “This is wrong!” he shouted. “These children are bastards! They have no rightful claim to Driftmark, no matter how you spin it!”

His words were venomous, and as he turned his attention to your brothers, Jace and Luke, the venom in his tone grew sharper. “You two are no better than the filth you came from,” he spat, his words aimed directly at them. “You’re nothing more than the children of a whore, born from lies and treachery!”

The insult stung in ways that words could not fully capture. You could see the hurt and anger flash across Jace’s face as he stepped forward, as if ready to respond, but it was Luke’s stiffened posture that caught your attention. The weight of Vaemond’s accusations hung heavily in the air.

Vaemond’s fury, however, did not stop there. His gaze swung over to your mother, Rhaenyra, his expression twisting with contempt. “And you,” he sneered, his voice rising with scorn, “You are nothing but a cunning, deceitful whore, the one who corrupted the bloodline of House Velaryon.”

The insult was deliberate and cruel, a direct attack not only on your mother’s honor but on the legitimacy of your entire family. The room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of Vaemond’s words hanging like a storm cloud. You could feel the tension spike, the atmosphere thick with the undercurrent of anger and betrayal.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and for a moment, you thought you might break — but instead, your gaze hardened. You stood there, watching the scene unfold, unsure if you were more shocked by Vaemond’s audacity or by the way the room seemed to shift in the wake of his challenge.

The king, still gripping his cane, seemed poised to speak again, but the silence lingered, heavy and oppressive. It was as if the very air around you had been thickened with the weight of the words exchanged — the accusation of bastardy, the callous insult to your mother’s reputation.

You knew that this would not end quietly. The delicate balance of power had already been shaken, and the game was far from over.

The events unfolded in a blur, so sudden and brutal that it barely felt real. One moment, Vaemond's voice echoed through the throne room, his hateful words hanging in the air like the toll of a bell. The next, there was a flash of steel - sharp, quick, and final.

The sickening sound of flesh and bone being cleaved echoed louder than any shout. Gasps and cries filled the hall as Vaemond's head was split clean in two. His body crumpled to the ground, lifeless, with the top half of his skull tumbling to the cold stone floor. Blood pooled beneath him, dark and glistening, seeping into the cracks of the throne room's tiles.

You froze in place, eyes wide with shock, your breath caught in your chest. It felt like time had stopped. Your heart pounded in your ears, drowning out the horrified murmurs of the lords and ladies around you. Before you even realized what you were doing, your hands shot up to cover your eyes, blocking out the sight of Vaemond's mutilated body. But the image was already burned into your mind.

Helena's small, sharp gasp echoed beside you, her voice strained and filled with as much fear as your own. She pressed her hands to her face, her breathing shaky, and you knew she had seen everything too. You both stood there like statues, caught in a moment too terrible to process.

Daemon stood at the center of it all, calm as ever, his sword still raised, blood dripping from the blade in slow, deliberate drops. His eyes were sharp, unbothered by the stares or the gasps of the court. His gaze shifted only briefly to you, as if to ensure you were still standing, before he turned his attention back to the king.

"Say it again," Daemon's voice was low and deadly, his words laced with cold fury. But there was no one left to answer.

The silence that followed was suffocating. No one dared to speak, not even Otto Hightower, who watched with tightly pressed lips and narrowed eyes. Alicent's face was pale, her hands clasped in front of her as if in silent prayer. Even your mother, Rhaenyra, stood frozen for a moment, her eyes flicking between Daemon and the lifeless body of Vaemond.

King Viserys' breathing was heavy and labored, but he did not reprimand Daemon.

Instead, he raised a trembling hand, his voice brittle but clear. "I will have no more of this," he declared, his eyes hard and tired. "This matter is settled. Luke is the rightful heir to Driftmark. Let no one speak of it again."

The room remained still, filled with the metallic tang of blood and the quiet rustle of fabric as lords and ladies shifted uncomfortably in place. Your breathing was shallow, your fingers slowly lowering from your eyes. You glanced toward Aemond, whose gaze was locked on Daemon with an intensity that made your chest tighten. He wasn't horrified like the others. No, his face bore the faintest hint of something else - respect, or perhaps something darker.

Your eyes flickered back to Helena, her hands still over her face, her shoulders trembling.

Without thinking, you reached for her, gently placing a hand on her arm. She flinched but didn't pull away. The two of you stood like that for a while, the world around you too loud and too quiet all at once.

You felt Queen Alicent’s hand gently grip your arm, firm but not harsh. Her touch grounded you in the midst of the chaos, her presence a steady force as she guided you and Helaena toward the exit of the throne room. Your legs moved on their own, your mind still clouded by the horrific scene you had just witnessed.

Behind you, you heard it — Jace’s voice, sharp and desperate. “Sister! wait!” he called out, his footsteps echoing against the stone floor. For a moment, your heart ached, and you nearly stopped. Nearly.

But Alicent’s hand gave a gentle tug, and you kept walking. You didn’t turn back. You didn’t look at Jace. The weight of everything pressed on you too heavily to face him right now. Helaena walked quietly on your other side, her hands still clasped tightly together, her eyes darting around like she was trying to wake herself from a nightmare.

The echoes of the throne room faded as the heavy doors closed behind you. The hallway outside was quieter, colder, the distant hum of the Red Keep filling the silence. Your breathing was shallow, your mind replaying the moment Daemon swung his sword, the flash of steel, the wet sound of impact. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the image away, but it clung to you like a shadow.

Alicent slowed her pace, her gaze flickering between you and Helaena. Her brow was furrowed, a mixture of concern and calculation playing on her face. She said nothing for a while, her eyes searching your face like she was trying to read every thought you were too afraid to voice.

“Come,” she said softly, her voice carrying a weight of certainty that left no room for argument. “You don’t need to see any more of this.”

Her words were kind, but there was something beneath them, something deeper. Protection, yes — but also possession. You were under her care now, just as Helaena was. She was making that clear to you with every step you took away from the throne room.

Your chest felt tight, a swirl of emotions you couldn’t name twisting inside you. Shame, fear, anger — they all swirled together like a storm you had no control over. Jace’s voice echoed in your mind, that one, desperate call of your name. But you kept walking. You didn’t look back.

You glanced up at Alicent, your voice steady but quiet. “May I return to my chambers, Your Grace?” you asked, your hands clasped neatly in front of you, just as you had been taught.

Alicent turned toward you, her eyes soft but searching, as if she were trying to gauge your state of mind. Her gaze lingered for a moment before she gave a small nod. “Of course,” she said, smoothing the fabric of her sleeve. “But be ready for tonight. The king has requested a family supper to welcome everyone back.”

Her words carried a weight you couldn’t ignore. A “family supper” sounded simple, but you knew it would be far from it. Everyone would be there — your mother, your brothers, Daemon, and the greens. You could already imagine the tension that would fill the air like a storm waiting to break.

“Yes, Your Grace,” you replied, lowering your head slightly in respect. Without another word, you turned and began walking toward your chambers.

Your footsteps echoed softly in the corridor, each step pulling you farther from the garden’s stillness. You could feel Alicent’s eyes on your back as you left, watchful and calculating as always.

When you were far enough away, you let out a slow, steady breath. The weight of everything — the throne room, the blood, Jace’s eyes filled with hurt — pressed down on you all at once. You kept walking, your face carefully blank, just as you had learned to do. But inside, your thoughts churned like a restless sea.

A family supper. It sounded so simple, but you knew better. There would be glances that lingered too long, words that cut sharper than swords, and silence that spoke louder than any proclamation. You would have to endure it all — just like you had endured today.

When you reached your chambers, you closed the door behind you and leaned against it, your eyes shut tight. The world outside felt so far away, but it was never truly gone. You could still hear echoes of it in your mind — the clash of duty and blood, of love and expectation.

For now, though, you had a moment of peace. You crossed the room and sat by the window, gazing out at the distant sea. It shimmered under the afternoon sun, vast and endless. For a moment, you allowed yourself to dream of it — the idea of flying away, of escaping it all. But dreams, you knew, were dangerous things.

With a quiet sigh, you turned away from the window and sat at the edge of your bed. You would be ready for supper. You had to be.

You stood in front of the mirror, your hands smoothing over the deep red fabric of your gown. It fit you perfectly, every stitch a reflection of your house’s pride and legacy. Red, the color of House Targaryen. The color of fire.

A sudden knock echoed from the door, pulling you from your thoughts. Your brow furrowed as you turned to face it. Without waiting for your response, the door creaked open, revealing one of Queen Alicent’s handmaidens. She stepped inside with careful grace, her gaze lowered in quiet submission, but her presence alone was enough to send a ripple of unease through you.

In her hands, she carried a gown. It shimmered in the soft glow of the chamber’s lanterns — a rich green fabric adorned with delicate golden embroidery, the sigil of House Hightower subtly woven into the design. It was beautiful. Too beautiful to be ignored.

“The queen requests that you wear this for supper tonight, princess,” the handmaiden said softly, her eyes flicking up to meet yours for only a moment before lowering again. Her words were spoken with the same practiced courtesy all of Alicent’s attendants used, but you could feel the weight of them pressing against you. Requests — no, it was not a request. It never was.

Your gaze lingered on the gown, your chest tightening as a quiet storm brewed within you. You glanced back at the mirror, your reflection staring back at you. Red. The color of Targaryens. Your house. Your blood. Your mother.

But now, green had come to claim you. The queen’s color. The color of peace, they claimed. But you knew better. It was the color of strategy, of quiet conquest. The queen’s influence wrapped around you as tightly as this gown soon would.

You turned slowly to face the handmaiden, your eyes sharp but your expression unreadable. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched thin like a thread about to snap.

“…Leave it on the bed,” you said at last, your voice calm but firm. The handmaiden hesitated, perhaps expecting you to argue, but she nodded and placed the gown carefully on your bed. She gave you a small curtsy before slipping out of the room as quietly as she had come.

You stood there, frozen in place, your eyes locked on the gown. It gleamed with an almost unnatural brightness, as if it demanded to be seen. Demanded to be worn.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides. You took a step toward it, your heart pounding in your chest. Every step felt heavier, like you were walking toward a choice you could never take back.

You reached out, fingers hovering just above the soft fabric of the green gown. Your breathing was shallow, each inhale sharp and uneven. This gown would change how they saw you. How she saw you. How they saw you.

Your hand trembled as it hovered between the two choices. Red, the gown you had chosen. Green, the gown she had chosen for you.

As you stood before the mirror, the soft fabric of the green gown slipped over your skin, the color striking against your complexion in a way that felt almost too deliberate. It was beautiful—there was no denying that. But it was more than just fabric. It was a symbol. A symbol of a decision you never wanted to make but felt you had no choice but to accept.

Your fingers trembled as you adjusted the gown, the weight of the choice pressing down on you like a stone. A betrayal. That’s what it felt like. You were wearing the colors of the queen—the very woman who had pulled your mother away from you, who had taken her from the Red Keep, from you. You had always held onto the hope that your mother would return, that she would come back and find you the way you had left her, but now… it felt like you were abandoning her too.

You had never wanted to choose this path, you thought, your eyes staring back at you in the mirror. But a quiet part of you—the part that had been wounded by her departure—found a strange sense of justification in it. This was your answer. Your response to the cold distance she had placed between you and her.

You couldn’t hear your mother’s voice anymore, not in your thoughts, not in your heart. Instead, you heard the sharp command of Queen Alicent, whose presence seemed to linger in every corner of the Keep. A woman who had woven her influence around you so deftly, it was almost invisible, like the subtle green of the gown now hugging your frame.

The handmaidens moved around you with quiet care, pinning your hair into place, but you felt disconnected from their hands. It wasn’t their fault, you knew, but each touch felt like a reminder of everything you had lost. The warmth of your mother’s guidance. The presence of your brothers. The certainty that had once been the foundation of your life. Gone.

Instead, you chose to free your hair. The weight of the green gown already made you feel bound, and the act of letting your hair fall in loose waves around your shoulders felt like a small rebellion. The strands framed your face, a visual testament to the woman you had once been before everything began to crumble.

You glanced at yourself once more in the mirror, the reflection of the woman staring back at you felt unfamiliar. A part of you wanted to scream at the image, to demand that this not be your future, but there was no escaping the reality.

When you were ready, you took a deep breath and turned away from the mirror. Tonight, you would attend the feast. Tonight, you would play your part. But inside, a quiet resolve had settled within you. Whatever came next, you would face it head-on. Just like the Targaryens always had.

Even if you had to sacrifice everything to get there.

The hallway felt longer than usual, each step echoing in the quiet corridor. The weight of the green gown pressed down on you with every movement, the gold accents catching the dim glow of the torches. Your fingers brushed against the fabric at your sides, grounding yourself as you neared the private solar of King Viserys.

Your heart beat steadily, but with each step closer, it grew louder. You knew what awaited you on the other side of that door. Your family. Your brothers. Your mother.

You hesitated for a moment, glancing at the large wooden doors. Beyond them lay gazes that would judge, eyes that would accuse. Your grip on your skirt tightened, but before you could waver, the doors were pulled open by the guards.

The room was warm with the glow of the hearth, and the soft hum of conversation died instantly as the sound of the doors opening echoed through the space. Every head turned. Every gaze fixed on you.

Your breath hitched in your chest, but you didn’t falter. Your head rose higher, your steps deliberate, slow, and steady. If they would look at you, then you would let them look. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing doubt on your face.

The first face you noticed was Jace. His brown eyes widened in shock, his lips parting as if he was about to say something—but he didn’t. His gaze swept over you from head to toe, taking in the unmistakable green of your gown. Disbelief twisted his features into something sharp and pained. Betrayal. That’s what you saw in his eyes.

Luke wasn’t much different. His confusion was more childlike, his brows drawn together, lips pressed into a tight line. He looked up at Jace, as if seeking an explanation for what he was seeing. But Jace’s eyes never left you.

Daemon leaned back in his chair, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He didn’t look surprised, only entertained, like he had predicted this moment long before it happened. His sharp gaze followed you like a hunter stalking prey, eyes half-lidded with amusement, his fingers drumming lazily on the armrest of his chair.

Then, there was her. Your mother. Her face was unreadable at first, her eyes sharp and searching, like she didn’t recognize you. But slowly, her expression shifted, her lips pressing into a thin, almost pained line. Her eyes softened with something akin to sorrow—or perhaps disappointment.

The silence in the room was suffocating. You could hear the quiet crackle of the fire and the distant call of gulls outside the window. No one spoke. Not yet.

You didn’t dare look at Alicent, though you knew she was watching. You could feel her gaze, steady and unwavering, like a silent claim on you. She had won this battle, and she knew it.

You moved toward the only empty seat, your chin held high as you passed them all. Their stares felt like knives in your back, but you didn’t flinch. You wouldn’t flinch.

When you sat down, your eyes flickered briefly toward Jace. His gaze was still on you, hurt and confusion written plainly on his face. His jaw was tight, and you could see him clenching his fists on his lap, his knuckles white. He leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper but sharp enough to cut through the air.

“Why are you wearing that?”

The words hit you harder than you expected. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye but didn’t answer. What could you say? That you had no choice? That you had been abandoned and left to fend for yourself? No. Jace wouldn’t understand. Not now. Not like this.

Silence lingered for a moment longer before Daemon’s soft chuckle broke it. “Looks like the little dragon has found a new den,” he muttered, his eyes gleaming with mischief. Rhaenyra shot him a warning glare, but he didn’t stop. He tilted his head at you, watching you the way a cat watches a bird.

“Careful, child,” Daemon said, his voice dripping with false sweetness. “Green may suit you now, but remember — dragons breathe fire, not peace.”

Your hands curled in your lap, nails pressing into your palms. You refused to look at him. You refused to give him the reaction he wanted.

“Enough,” Alicent’s voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding. Her presence was like a wave crashing onto the shore, and all eyes turned to her. She stepped forward with the calm authority of a woman who knew she had already won. Her gaze swept over Rhaenyra, over Jace and Luke, over Daemon, and finally settled on you.

“Tonight is meant to be a night of peace,” Alicent said with an air of finality. “We are family, no matter the colors we wear.” Her gaze softened slightly as she looked at you. “And family deserves to be welcomed, not judged.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your gaze falling to your lap. Family, she said. But which family did you belong to now?

Jace was still staring at you, his eyes hard but filled with quiet hurt. You had never seen him look at you like that. Like you were a stranger.

Family, you thought bitterly. Whose family do I belong to now?

The weight of the silence hung heavily in the room, broken only by the soft clinking of goblets and the faint crackle of the hearth. You glanced around, feeling the pressure of their stares. Your heart thudded in your chest, but you lifted your chin, unwilling to be seen as weak.

“I did what I had to,” you said firmly, your voice steady but laced with quiet defiance. “No one else stayed for me.”

The words lingered in the air like the smoke from a dying fire. Jace’s eyes narrowed, his brows furrowing deeply. Luke glanced between you and him, uncertainty in his young gaze. Daemon raised a brow, his lips twitching into that infuriating smirk. He tilted his head back and let out a low, amused chuckle, the sound rumbling like distant thunder.

“Spoken like a true player of the game,” Daemon said, raising his goblet in a mock toast before taking a slow sip of wine. “Careful, that kind of thinking will have you wearing a crown before you know it.”

His words dripped with mockery, but there was a glint of something else—approval, perhaps? It was hard to tell with Daemon. His eyes gleamed with mischief, as if he enjoyed the chaos brewing in the room.

The tension was palpable, every breath measured and every glance sharp as blades. Rhaenyra’s eyes were locked on you now, her lips pressed into a thin line. She looked at you not with anger but with something deeper—disappointment. It stung more than you cared to admit.

Before anyone could say another word, the grand doors at the end of the room creaked open. The sound echoed loudly, commanding the attention of every soul in the room.

The slow, uneven footsteps echoed like a drumbeat of fate.

All eyes turned toward the entrance, and there he was. King Viserys. The weight of his crown was visible on his frail body, his once-proud frame now hunched and weakened by disease. His breaths were shallow, his face pale and worn. His robes hung loosely on his frame, and his eyes—though clouded with pain—were still sharp with purpose.

He was not alone. Two Kingsguard knights supported him on either side, their grips firm on his arms as they helped him walk forward. Every step was a struggle, but he pressed on with the resolve of a king who had no time left for weakness.

The room fell utterly silent, all eyes now on him. Even Daemon’s smirk faded as he sat up straighter, his eyes narrowing at his brother’s arrival. Alicent moved forward instinctively, her eyes full of concern, but she did not approach him.

You felt your chest tighten at the sight of him. This was not the man you remembered from your childhood—strong, warm, and full of life. Now, he was a shadow of that man, worn down by years of pain, loss, and duty.

“I am glad…” Viserys’s voice was hoarse but resolute as he was guided to the head of the table. The Kingsguard helped him into his chair, and he leaned back, his chest rising and falling with every labored breath. He lifted his head slowly, his eyes moving over each face in the room. “I am glad… to see my family… together again.”

His words hung in the air like a prayer. No one dared to speak.

His eyes found you, and for a moment, his gaze softened. The tired, weathered king saw you—not as a child, not as a player in the game, but as his granddaughter. His lips twitched into a faint smile, one that you hadn’t seen in so long.

Your throat tightened, and you looked away before anyone could see the shine in your eyes.

Alicent moved to his side, adjusting his blanket as he sat at the head of the table. She whispered something softly in his ear, and he nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving his family. His whole family.

“Tonight,” Viserys said slowly, his voice strained but clear, “we put aside… our grievances. Tonight, we are… one family.” His gaze shifted from Rhaenyra to Alicent, lingering there, as if willing them to understand the weight of his words. “Let us dine as such.”

Silence filled the room once more, but this time, it was different. No sharp gazes. No cutting words. Just the weight of a king’s final wish.

The servants began to move, placing dishes of roasted meats, bread, and fruits onto the long table. The warmth of the food mingled with the warmth of the hearth, and for a moment, the Red Keep felt less like a battleground.

You glanced at Jace. He was still looking at you, his jaw tight, his hands clenching and unclenching. Luke was whispering something to him, trying to pull him back from whatever thoughts had taken hold of him.

You turned your eyes to your plate, suddenly feeling the weight of every gaze upon you. But when you dared to glance up again, you saw him.

King Viserys was still watching you. His eyes, heavy with pain and wisdom, met yours, and for a moment, it felt as if he saw you completely. Not the girl in green. Not the daughter of Rhaenyra. Not the pawn in someone else’s game. Just you.

His lips moved slowly into a smile, small but true. You pressed your lips together, holding back the emotions swirling in your chest.

If only it were that simple, you thought to yourself as you lowered your gaze once more.

The soft melody of the music filled the hall, weaving through the gentle hum of conversation. Plates clattered lightly as servants moved around, pouring wine and placing fresh dishes on the long table. Laughter echoed from different parts of the room, a sound so rare in the Red Keep that it felt almost out of place.

You sat beside Helaena, her gentle smile and quiet musings a welcome comfort in the tense atmosphere. She spoke of her children, her dreams, and the little things she found joy in—like the pattern of a moth’s wings or the way the light danced on water. Her words were simple, yet they felt like a balm to your heart.

A soft laugh escaped you as she made an offhand comment about how “even the crickets have more sense than most lords.” She giggled too, her soft, airy laugh lightening your spirit in a way you hadn’t expected.

But then, your eyes wandered. You didn’t mean for them to, but they did. They found her—your mother.

She was seated at the other end of the table, her face illuminated by the warm glow of the firelight. Her silver-gold hair framed her face like a crown, her smile soft as she leaned toward Daemon. He whispered something to her, his lips close to her ear, and whatever he said made her smile widen, her eyes crinkling with genuine joy.

Genuine joy.

Your heart clenched, a deep ache blooming in your chest. The warmth you felt from Helaena’s laughter was gone, replaced by a dull, hollow pain.

There she was—the mother who had left you behind. The mother who had taken Jace and Luke with her to Dragonstone, but left you alone in the Red Keep. The mother who smiled now, so freely, so openly, as if she had not abandoned you. As if she hadn’t left you to stand among people who questioned your very right to exist.

Her gaze never once drifted to you. Not once.

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the goblet in your hand. Your nails dug into the cool metal as you fought to steady your breathing.

“Does it hurt?” Helaena’s voice was soft, almost distant, as if she were speaking to herself.

Your eyes darted to her. She wasn’t looking at you, her eyes instead focused on the table, tracing patterns on the wood with her finger.

“What?” you asked, your voice quiet but sharp.

“Being unseen,” she said softly, her voice lilting with the strange tone she sometimes took when speaking of things only she understood. Her eyes lifted slowly to meet yours. For a moment, it felt as if she knew. As if she could see everything you’d been trying to hide behind your carefully raised chin and unwavering gaze.

Your throat felt tight. You didn’t know how to answer, so you said nothing. But Helaena only smiled that sad, knowing smile.

“It does,” she said for you. “It hurts.”

Her words settled into the quiet spaces of your heart, filling them with a truth you didn’t want to admit. Your eyes flickered back to your mother, watching as she laughed softly, her hand resting on Daemon’s.

She looks happy, you thought bitterly. She looks happy without me.

Your gaze fell to your lap, your vision blurring slightly. You blinked rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall. Not here. Not in front of them.

But even as you tried to push it down, the weight of it was suffocating. The betrayal. The loneliness. The unspoken truth that, no matter how many times you wore green or smiled for Alicent, it would never be enough. It would never fill the space your mother had left behind.

And yet, here you were. Alone, in a room full of people.

You leaned back in your chair, feigning interest as Aegon rambled on about his day with his usual blend of arrogance and mischief. His words drifted in and out of your mind, more noise than substance, until a presence settled beside you — steady, calm, and unmistakable.

You glanced to your side and met Aemond’s eye. His gaze was sharp, as it always was, but there was something more tonight. Without a word, he extended his hand toward you. His fingers were long and calloused, his palm facing up — an offering.

“Shall we dance?” His voice was low, a quiet murmur meant only for you.

For a moment, you hesitated. You knew every eye would be on you if you accepted. You knew Jace and Luke were watching, just as you knew your mother would see it too. But as you glanced around the room, you saw her still seated with Daemon, her gaze not even flickering in your direction.

She doesn’t care.

So, you placed your hand in Aemond’s, your fingers curling lightly around his. His grip was firm but not unkind. Together, you rose from your chair, the weight of a hundred stares pressing on your back as you walked to the center of the room.

The soft hum of voices dimmed, replaced by the quiet, expectant melody of the music. Every step echoed louder than it should have, but you kept your head high, your gaze unwavering.

Behind you, you could hear them.

“She’s changed,” Luke muttered, his voice sharp with disbelief.

“She’s with them now,” Jace replied, bitterness lacing his tone. “Look at her.”

You didn’t turn around. You didn’t give them the satisfaction.

Aemond’s hand found its place on your waist, his other hand still holding yours. His gaze remained fixed on you, as intense as the flames that lined the hall. You placed your hand on his shoulder, and for a moment, the world fell away.

The music guided you both, your movements precise, controlled. Each step, each turn, was deliberate. There was no softness in Aemond’s hold, but there was control — sharp, steady, and sure. It was nothing like the dances you had shared with Jace in your childhood. Those had been filled with laughter, stumbling steps, and teasing grins. This was something else entirely.

“You wear green well,” Aemond said, his eye flickering down to take in your gown. “It suits you better than red ever did.”

You didn’t answer at first, letting the silence linger between you as you spun together. His words were a test, you knew that. But you were not a child anymore.

“Green is a color of peace,” you replied evenly, your eyes meeting his. “Strange how it always seems to follow war.”

His lips twitched at that, just a slight upward pull at the corner, too small to be called a smile. “Peace is often born of fire and blood,” he said, his voice as sharp as the edge of a blade.

You twirled under his arm, the fabric of your gown sweeping the floor like a wave. As he caught you back into his hold, you felt his grip tighten ever so slightly. Not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you that he was there — that he would always be watching.

“You hear them, don’t you?” he asked, tilting his head ever so slightly toward Jace and Luke. Their voices were quieter now, but you could still hear the murmurs of your brothers behind you, still feel their gazes burning into your back.

“I do,” you admitted softly, eyes distant for a moment before you refocused on him. “But it doesn’t matter.”

Aemond tilted his head, studying you with a look that felt too knowing for comfort. “Doesn’t it?” he murmured, his voice so low it was nearly lost to the music.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

Because deep down, it did matter. It mattered that Jace and Luke saw you. It mattered that your mother didn’t. And it mattered that you were here, in a green gown, dancing with the man they hated most in the world.

But you wouldn’t let it show. Not tonight.

So you held Aemond’s gaze with all the strength you had left and let him lead you across the floor. For once, you didn’t falter. Not even when Jace’s voice cut through the air one last time.

“Traitor.”

The word was quiet, but it struck like a sword.

You felt Aemond stiffen ever so slightly, his hand pressing more firmly against your back. His gaze flicked briefly past you, his lips curling into something far too dangerous to be called a smile.

“Ignore him,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the way your heart ached. “He still thinks love will save him.”

Aemond’s gaze returned to you, his expression unreadable. “And what do you think will save you?”

You looked at him for a moment, really looked at him, and for once, you let yourself be honest.

“Nothing.”

As the final notes of the dance faded, you began to step back from Aemond, only for another hand to seize yours with a sudden, playful grip. You turned, startled, to see Aegon standing there with his ever-present smirk.

“Mind if I steal her, brother?” he drawled, his voice laced with mockery as he gave Aemond a pointed look. Without waiting for a reply, he pulled you toward him with a dramatic spin, earning a few quiet chuckles from onlookers.

“Aegon,” you muttered, a hint of exasperation in your tone. His antics were as familiar as the Red Keep’s stone walls.

“What?” he said with a grin, placing one hand on your waist and holding your hand with the other. “I figured you’d had enough of the one-eyed shadow for one night.”

You glanced briefly at Aemond, who stood at the edge of the dance floor. His face was a mask of indifference, but his gaze followed your every move.

“Careful, Aegon,” you warned, your eyes narrowing. “You’re starting to sound brave. Bravery doesn’t suit you.”

He barked a short laugh, spinning you with a surprising amount of grace. “Bravery suits me just fine, dear niece,” he teased, his grin sharper now. “But wine suits me better.”

You rolled your eyes but allowed him to lead the dance. He wasn’t as precise as Aemond, nor as steady. His steps were a bit too loose, his movements too relaxed, but somehow, it still felt easy. There was no tension, no pretense. Just him being the same Aegon you had always known.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he said after a moment, his grin dimming into something softer. His voice had lost its usual edge. “Not like you.”

You glanced up at him, surprised by the shift in his tone. He wasn’t mocking you, not this time. He was looking at you with something that almost resembled concern.

“I suppose I’ve had a lot to think about,” you replied, glancing down for a moment.

“Ah,” he hummed knowingly. “Let me guess — it’s them, isn’t it?”

You didn’t answer, but your silence was enough. He gave you a slow nod, his face unusually serious.

“Don’t let it get to you,” Aegon muttered, his eyes flickering toward where Jace and Luke sat. “They’ll always hate you for standing where they can’t reach.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” you replied quietly. “They never loved you to begin with.”

His eyes snapped back to yours, sharper than before. For a moment, you thought you’d gone too far, but then he snorted a bitter laugh. “True enough,” he muttered, his gaze distant for a heartbeat before he looked at you again. “But that’s exactly why I can tell you this — it’s better to be hated than forgotten.”

His words hit harder than you expected. You knew what it felt like to be forgotten. You’d been living with that feeling since the day your mother left you in the Red Keep.

“You think I should be proud of it, then?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

Aegon tilted his head, his grin returning, but it was smaller this time — almost sad. “No,” he said. “But you should wear it like armor. People are less likely to stab you if they know the blade won’t break you.”

You both moved in silence for a while, the music filling the space between words. His grip was looser than Aemond’s, but there was something comforting about it. No pretense, no expectation. Just Aegon being Aegon.

When the dance finally ended, he leaned in close, his breath smelling faintly of wine. “You look good in green,” he whispered, his voice too low for anyone else to hear. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

He pulled away with a wink, leaving you standing in the middle of the floor as he sauntered off toward the wine table. You stood there for a moment, letting his words settle.

Your gaze drifted back to your brothers. Jace was staring at you, his jaw tight, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and disbelief. Luke sat beside him, quieter but no less disappointed. Their faces said everything they wouldn’t.

But you remembered Aegon’s words — it’s better to be hated than forgotten.

So, with steady hands, you lifted your chin, turned away from them, and walked back toward the table where Alicent and Helaena were waiting.

Alicent’s gaze lingered on you as you returned to your seat. Her smile was warm, almost maternal, as if she were proud of you for wearing the green. She reached out to adjust a stray strand of your hair, tucking it gently behind your ear.

“You did well,” she whispered, her voice as soft as silk. “They see you now.”

You nodded, offering her a small, strained smile. But the weight of it all sat heavy on your chest.

King Viserys, seated at the head of the table, raised his cup, his voice raspy but firm as he addressed the gathered family. “It brings me great joy,” he began, pausing to catch his breath, “to see my family together again.” His gaze flickered between you, Jace, Luke, and your mother. “My grandchildren… soon to be wed. Jace to Baela, Luke to Rhaena. A union that will strengthen our house for generations to come.”

The room erupted in polite applause, but you barely heard it. Your eyes flicked toward Jace, who was watching you closely, his face unreadable but his gaze sharp.

Then, as if struck by a sudden idea, Viserys coughed and leaned forward, his eyes searching the faces at the table. “But there is another of my grandchildren whose future we must also secure.” His gaze stopped on you. “She has grown strong, wise… and beautiful.”

You felt every eye in the room shift toward you. Your heart began to pound in your chest.

“Yes,” Viserys continued, his smile soft but determined. “It is only right that we speak of her future as well. A match that will honor her lineage and ensure her protection in these troubled times.”

Silence fell over the room, thick with unspoken tension. Your hands gripped the edge of your chair as you glanced at your mother. She sat stiffly, her face a mask of calm, but her eyes were fixed on you with a mixture of concern and calculation.

Daemon raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair as if amused by the sudden shift in conversation. His eyes darted toward Alicent, catching the faintest twitch of her smile.

“An excellent suggestion, my love,” Alicent said, her tone smooth and agreeable. She glanced at you, her eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite place. Pride? Possession? “She is of age, after all. And there are many fine suitors who would be honored to claim her hand.”

Your chest tightened as you realized what was happening. They weren’t talking to you — they were talking about you, as if you were a prize to be bargained over.

“Her future should be decided with care,” Rhaenyra interjected, her tone sharp, her eyes cutting toward Alicent. “She is still young, and such decisions must be made with her consent.”

Alicent tilted her head, a gentle smile still on her face. “Of course, Princess,” she said sweetly. “But surely, as her mother, you must understand the urgency of ensuring her safety. A strong match would protect her from the dangers that surround us all.”

“Her safety was never in doubt until you made it so,” Rhaenyra shot back, her voice laced with venom.

Viserys raised his hand, his face twisted with exhaustion. “Enough,” he rasped, his voice strained but firm. “This is a family matter, not a battlefield.” He turned his gaze back to you, his eyes soft with affection. “My dear girl, you will have a say in this. No match will be made without your will. You have my word.”

For a moment, you felt relief wash over you. But then Daemon’s quiet laugh echoed from the other end of the table.

“Words are wind,” he muttered into his cup of wine, glancing sidelong at Viserys. “Promises mean little when thrones are at stake.”

His words hung in the air, sharp and cutting. Alicent’s fingers drummed softly against the table, her gaze flicking toward Aemond, who sat with his arms crossed, his face as unreadable as ever.

Aegon let out a low chuckle, leaning toward you with that same mischievous grin. “Careful, little niece,” he whispered, his breath warm with the scent of wine. “They’ll have you betrothed before dessert.”

Your eyes darted to him, but you said nothing. Your mind was already racing. You could feel it — the weight of it all pressing down on you. It wasn’t a choice. It never had been.

Aemond’s voice broke through the tension like a blade through silk. “If she must marry, it should be someone worthy.”

His single eye landed on you, sharp as a dragon’s gaze. He didn’t smile. He didn’t blink. His words carried no jest, only a cold, calculated certainty.

“Someone strong,” he added, his eye slowly moving toward Jace. “Someone who knows the meaning of loyalty.”

Jace leaned forward, his eyes locked on Aemond, his jaw clenched tight. “Careful, uncle,” he muttered. “Loyalty is a word you use when you have none of it yourself.”

The table grew still. The air was so tense it felt like the walls themselves were holding their breath.

But you could feel it. This wasn’t about you anymore. This was about them. All of them. Your fate was just another piece on the board.

Silence fell over the room like a shroud. Every movement stopped — goblets paused mid-air, glances darted from one face to another. You froze, your breath caught in your chest.

King Viserys leaned forward in his chair, his milky eyes filled with quiet determination. “Aemond is a fine match,” he said, his voice hoarse but resolute. “A bond of blood. A union that will heal the wounds that have festered far too long.”

Your eyes darted to your mother. Rhaenyra’s face was pale but firm, her lips pressed into a thin, unmoving line. Her eyes found yours, silently pleading with you to stay calm.

Daemon let out a low, mocking laugh, swirling the wine in his cup. “A fine match, indeed,” he drawled, his sharp eyes flicking between Viserys and Alicent. “How convenient for some.”

Alicent kept her composure, folding her hands neatly in front of her. Her gaze shifted to you, her eyes filled with gentle resolve. “It is a wise decision, husbanb” she said softly, her tone carrying the weight of finality. “It strengthens the family, unites the bloodlines, and ensures her protection. It is what’s best for her.”

You glanced at Aemond. He sat still, his face carved from stone, his single violet eye locked on the table in front of him. No flicker of surprise, no sign of agreement or resistance. Just silence.

“Has anyone asked her?” Rhaenyra’s voice rang out, sharp as a blade. Her gaze burned with defiance. “Has anyone thought to ask my daughter what she wants?”

Viserys turned his gaze to you, his expression softening. “What say you, child?” he asked gently, his voice kind but expectant. “Would you accept this match for the good of the realm? For the good of your family?”

Every gaze in the room turned toward you. Jace stared at you in disbelief, his mouth opening as if to speak but no words came out. Luke’s wide, innocent eyes were full of confusion and hurt.

You felt your heart pounding in your chest. This was it. They were offering you the illusion of choice, but you knew the truth. This was not your decision to make.

Your eyes moved back to Aemond. His gaze was on you now, piercing and unwavering. He said nothing, but something about the intensity of his stare unsettled you. There was no kindness in it, no affection — only cold, hard calculation.

Rhaenyra rose from her seat, her voice trembling with barely restrained rage. “She is a child, Father. My child. She is not a pawn to be traded for your fleeting sense of peace.”

“She is not a child anymore, Rhaenyra,” Alicent replied, her voice deceptively soft but firm. Her eyes stayed on you, unyielding. “She is a young woman, and a young woman of her station must understand the duties that come with it.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes narrowed, her chest heaving with quiet fury. “You mean your duties, don’t you, Alicent? Duties that serve only your ambitions.”

“Enough!” Viserys’s voice boomed, louder than you had ever heard it before. His eyes burned with a fleeting glimpse of the king he once was. “We are family, and family must stand together!” His gaze softened once more as it returned to you. “Child, speak your heart. I will hear you.”

The weight of every gaze in the room pressed down on you like a mountain. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears. Speak your heart, he said, as if it would truly matter.

Aemond tilted his head slightly, his eye still locked on you, studying you as if he already knew what you would say. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe — he simply watched.

Jace leaned forward, his voice low but firm. “You don’t have to do this,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “Say no.”

But Daemon snorted, raising his cup in mock salute. “Say no, and they’ll find another way to force you,” he muttered, taking a slow sip of wine.

The silence stretched, endless and suffocating. Your gaze met your mother’s once more. She gave you the barest shake of her head, her eyes pleading with you to refuse. But in those same eyes, you saw something else — helplessness. If you said no, it would change nothing.

You took a slow, steadying breath, feeling your fingers tremble at your sides. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You were supposed to have a choice.

“Grandfather,” you said softly, your voice steadier than you felt. “If this is what is best for the realm… then I will not refuse it.”

Rhaenyra’s face crumpled like parchment. “No,” she whispered, taking a step toward you. “No, don’t do this. You don’t have to—”

“I do,” you said, cutting her off, your eyes flicking to hers with quiet resolve. “I do.”

The room erupted in murmurs. Luke’s small voice echoed faintly in the background, “Sister…?” Jace slammed his hand on the table, his chair scraping back as he stood. His face was flushed with anger and betrayal.

“You’re letting them use you,” Jace hissed, his voice trembling. “You’re letting them win.”

You turned away from him, your gaze fixed firmly on the stone floor. If you looked at him, at Luke, at your mother — you knew your resolve would crumble.

“Then it is decided,” Viserys declared, his tone final, his breath heavy with exertion. “The betrothal is sealed. She will wed to Aemond.”

Aemond finally moved. He stood slowly, his eyes never leaving you. He walked toward you, his footsteps steady and deliberate. When he stopped in front of you, he reached out his hand, palm up.

You stared at it for a moment, heart pounding, before placing your hand in his. His grip was firm, almost too firm, his fingers cold like steel. His face remained impassive, but his eye burned with something you couldn’t quite name.

Possession.

“Wise choice,” he said quietly, his lips barely moving. “You’ll find I am not as cruel as others would have you believe.”

The words were meant to be reassuring, but they sent a chill down your spine.

Rhaenyra was staring at you, her face hollow with betrayal and heartbreak. Jace’s eyes burned with disbelief and fury. Luke, sweet Luke, simply looked confused and hurt, like a child who didn’t understand why the world had suddenly changed.

Alicent placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, her touch light but firm. “You will be well cared for, my dear,” she said softly, as if she had won a great victory. “This is the beginning of a new future for you.”

But you knew the truth.

You hadn’t won anything.

You’d been claimed.

The room fell into a suffocating silence. All eyes turned to you as the words you had never dared to say finally spilled from your lips.

“You have no right over me, Mother. Not after you left me."

Your voice was steady, but the weight of it was undeniable. Rhaenyra flinched as if you had struck her. Her eyes widened, her breath caught in her chest.

“I left to protect you,” she said, her voice shaking with emotion. “I left to protect all of you."

“No, you didn’t,” you replied, your voice rising with the anger that had simmered for far too long. Your hands curled into fists at your sides. “You left with Jace. You left with Luke. You left with Daemon. But you left me here — alone.” Your chest heaved with each breath, and every word dripped with the pain you’d been forced to swallow for so long.

Jace took a step forward, his face contorted with guilt and disbelief. “It wasn’t like that—”

“It was exactly like that!” you snapped, cutting him off. Your gaze turned to him, your brother who had always been your partner in everything — until he wasn’t. “You followed her, didn’t you? You followed her to Dragonstone, and you didn’t look back. Not once.”

Luke’s wide eyes filled with tears, his small voice barely a whisper. “We didn’t want to leave you…”

You shook your head, your lips pressed together tightly. You didn’t want to hear it. Not now. Not when the wounds were already wide open.

“Don’t pretend it wasn’t a choice,” you said coldly, eyes locked on Rhaenyra. “You chose them. You chose Daemon. You chose your crown. But you did not choose me.”

Rhaenyra stepped toward you, her eyes desperate. “I never stopped loving you,” she pleaded, her voice cracking under the weight of her own guilt. “I thought you’d be safe here, with your grandsire —”

“Safe?” you echoed bitterly, your eyes narrowing. “Do you even know what it’s like to live here without you? To have everyone whispering about me, calling me a bastard to my face? ” Your voice broke, but you didn’t care. “You weren’t here, Mother. You don’t get to decide for me now.”

“How dare you speak to me like that?” Rhaenyra’s voice was trembling with a mix of disbelief and hurt. Her face twisted in pain, as though you had struck her. “You are my daughter—”

“You left me,” you interrupted, your voice cold and steady despite the pain that twisted in your chest. “You left me alone here, and now you’re telling me what I should do with my life? You have no claim over me anymore.”

The words stung, even as you said them, but there was a part of you that felt a small sense of relief. Finally, the weight of everything you had held in for so long had been released.

Rhaenyra’s eyes searched yours, her lips trembling as though she were trying to find the right words, but they eluded her. “You know that I had no choice… I did what I had to do for my children.”

“Your children? What about me?” you asked, your voice rising despite yourself. “What about me? I was supposed to be your daughter, your priority. But you left. You chose Dragonstone over me, over us.”

Her eyes filled with sorrow, and for the first time, you saw the weight of her guilt. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

The weight of your words settled over the room like a storm cloud. Jace looked at you as if he didn’t recognize you anymore. Luke looked heartbroken, tears spilling down his cheeks. Even Daemon, so often unbothered by the chaos around him, regarded you with quiet curiosity, his eyes sharp with recognition.

But it was Rhaenyra who wore the most pained expression. Her lips quivered as if she wanted to say something, anything, to refute your words. But she couldn’t.

Alicent stepped forward then, her presence steady and deliberate. She placed a gentle hand on your back, a silent show of support. Her green dress shimmered in the light of the flames, and for the first time, it didn’t feel suffocating. It felt safe.

“She has spoken her mind, Princess,” Alicent said softly, though her gaze was firm. “Her choice is clear.”

“Her choice was forced,” Rhaenyra shot back, her eyes blazing with fury as she turned on Alicent. “Do not pretend you had no hand in this, Alicent.”

“I did nothing but offer her a place where she was valued,” Alicent replied, her voice smooth as silk. Her hand remained on your back, grounding you. “Can you say the same, Rhaenyra?”

The words hit like a dagger. Rhaenyra’s breath hitched, her eyes darting to yours as if searching for something — forgiveness, understanding, hope. But you gave her none of it.

“Leave it, Mother,” you said, your voice hollow. Your eyes dropped to the floor, no longer able to look at her. “It’s already done.”

Your gaze lifted to Aemond, his sharp features calm but watchful. He said nothing, merely offering a small nod, as if he knew this moment had been inevitable.

Rhaenyra took a step forward, but you stepped back, shaking your head slowly. “Don’t.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and she clenched her fists at her sides. “I’m still your mother.”

“Then act like it,” you whispered, your voice cutting through the air like a blade. “But you don’t get to act like it now.”

Aemond, standing at your side, watched the exchange silently. He didn’t speak either, his face unreadable. But there was something in the air between you — a quiet understanding, perhaps. He didn’t need to say anything because the truth had already been laid bare.

Finally, it was Viserys who broke the silence, his voice shaking with the effort. “Enough,” he rasped, his frail form leaning heavily on his cane. “This is not the time for more conflict. Let us move forward with peace.”

But Rhaenyra’s eyes never left you. “I won’t let this happen,” she whispered, almost to herself. “You will not be forced into a marriage you don’t want, not by him.” Her voice was a low growl, filled with desperation and a hint of defiance.

“I’ve already made my decision, Mother,” you said, the words heavy on your tongue. “And I’m not asking for your approval anymore.”

The room seemed to shrink in the silence that followed. Rhaenyra’s face crumbled, the weight of your words settling deep within her. But you couldn’t bring yourself to regret them.

Daemon’s laugh echoed through the hall, cruel and mocking. “There it is, Rhaenyra,” he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Your precious daughter, no longer your little princess.”

Aemond took a step closer to you, his presence solid and unyielding. The tension was palpable, but he said nothing, only standing by your side as your mother and Daemon exchanged heated glances.

For a moment, you felt like the weight of the world was on your shoulders, and yet, for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a sense of freedom.

The silence stretched on, and though the room was heavy with unspoken words and emotions, you knew one thing for certain: you would no longer let your mother dictate your life. You would not be a pawn in this game anymore.

The decision had been made. And nothing would change it.

The sudden pull of Jace’s hand, harsh and forceful, sent a jolt of pain through you. You winced, feeling the weight of his grip, but your heart ached more from the words you knew were about to follow.

“Stop, Jace!” you gasped, struggling to break free from his hold. “Let me go!”

But he didn’t listen. His face was twisted with anger and desperation, and his eyes were filled with hurt as he tried to pull you away from the chaos, as though he could fix everything. “You can’t do this! You can’t marry him, you—”

Before he could finish, Aemond stepped forward, his hand swiftly clasping Jace’s wrist, pulling it away from you with surprising strength. The tension between the two brothers crackled in the air, and the room fell silent for a brief moment, everyone holding their breath.

“Let her go,” Aemond said, his voice low but commanding, his eyes never leaving Jace’s.

But Jace wasn’t done. In a fit of rage, he swung his free hand at Aemond, landing a sharp blow to his face. The room erupted with shocked gasps as Aemond stumbled back, more surprised than hurt, but his glare burned with intensity.

“You will not touch her,” Jace spat, his chest heaving with anger. “Not like this. Not ever.”

“Enough!” you shouted, your voice shaking but firm. The words felt like they came from somewhere deep inside, pushing past the confusion and hurt you felt. “Enough, Jace!”

You tore your hand from Aemond’s grasp and turned to face your brother. Your eyes, filled with a mixture of anger and sorrow, locked onto Jace’s. “You are not my brother anymore,” you said, the words leaving your lips like poison. “Not after everything you’ve done to me. Not after you abandoned me here, alone.”

Jace froze, the words sinking into him like daggers. His eyes softened, as if he didn’t understand what you were saying, but the hurt in your voice was undeniable.

“You think you can control my life just because we’re family?” you continued, your voice shaking with emotion. “You don’t get to decide what happens to me, not anymore. Not when you’ve done nothing but leave me to fight for myself.”

Aemond, now standing tall beside you, didn’t move, but his presence was a stark contrast to the chaos around you. He watched you with an unreadable expression, his hand still clenched at his side.

Jace stood there, his anger faltering as he processed your words, but his face twisted with disbelief. “I never left you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve always been here for you.”

“No,” you responded coldly, shaking your head. “You haven’t. Not when it mattered.”

The silence in the room was deafening, the weight of your words hanging in the air like a thick fog. The tension was so thick you could almost feel it pressing against your skin.

Jace took a step back, his face crumpling with a mix of guilt and confusion, but you didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. Not when everything you once believed in had been shattered so completely.

Without another word, you turned away from Jace, your heart heavy with the painful truth that you no longer recognized the people who were once closest to you. You didn’t look back as you walked toward the exit, your steps steady but filled with a new sense of resolve.

This was no longer a family. This was a war, and you had chosen your side.

Alicent’s arms enveloped you, pulling you into a tight embrace. Her warmth, unexpected and gentle, washed over you, grounding you in the midst of the chaos. For the first time in so long, you allowed yourself to break. Tears, which you had kept bottled up for so long, finally spilled down your face as you buried your head in her chest.

You had been strong for so long, but in this moment, the weight of everything—your family’s betrayal, your pain, and the overwhelming sense of loneliness—became too much. You cried in silence, unable to stop the flow of emotions.

Alicent didn’t say anything, but her hold on you tightened, a silent comfort that you hadn’t known you needed. She didn’t judge you, didn’t try to fix things; she just let you cry, offering a shoulder when the rest of the world seemed too cold to care.

Through your tears, you caught sight of your mother standing at the other end of the room, her eyes filled with sorrow. There was no anger, no harsh words—just a deep sadness. She looked at you as if she understood, as if she saw the broken pieces of the child she had left behind.

But that only made the pain worse. Her gaze pierced you, a reminder of the distance that had grown between you both. She didn’t come to you, didn’t offer comfort, and that only deepened the wound in your heart.

Alicent seemed to sense the shift in your emotions. She gently pulled away, cupping your face in her hands, her green eyes meeting yours with an understanding that felt both foreign and familiar. “You don’t have to face this alone,” she whispered softly.

You nodded, wiping your tears away, though they kept falling. But you knew, deep down, you had already made your choice. You had already chosen who would be there for you, who would stand by you when your family turned their back. And as much as it hurt, you knew the road ahead would be one you would walk alone, despite the faint hope that things could have been different.

Your mother’s eyes lingered on you from afar, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at her. Not now. Not yet.

The silence between you and Aemond as you walked toward your chamber was deafening. Every step seemed to stretch on forever, the weight of what had just been decided pressing down on you like an unbearable burden. You couldn’t even bring yourself to speak, the words trapped in your throat, your emotions tangled up in confusion, anger, and sorrow.

Aemond, for his part, said nothing either. His usually sharp, intense gaze was focused ahead, but there was an odd stillness to him. You could feel his presence beside you, the tension in the air thick enough to be felt, but there was no comfort in it. He didn’t offer any words of solace, nor did he attempt to break the silence. It was as though both of you were stuck in a strange limbo—neither fully facing what had just happened nor able to walk away from it.

As you reached the door to your room, Aemond stopped, his hand briefly resting on the handle before he turned to look at you. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes seemed to search yours for something—maybe understanding, maybe regret, or perhaps something else entirely.

“You should rest,” he said finally, his voice low, almost indifferent. “There will be much to prepare for in the coming days.”

You nodded, your gaze dropping to the floor. You didn’t trust yourself to speak, not without breaking down, not without giving voice to the emotions swirling inside of you. The last thing you wanted was to show any more weakness in front of him, or anyone, for that matter.

Aemond hesitated for a moment longer, then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts then.” He turned and walked away, his footsteps fading as he left you standing at the threshold of your room.

As the door closed softly behind you, you let out a shaky breath, the floodgates inside of you threatening to open. But you held yourself together. You couldn’t afford to break—not now, not in front of anyone.

Your mind raced as you stared at the empty space in front of you. The reality of the situation seemed impossible to accept. The wedding, the marriage, everything that had just been decided felt like it belonged to someone else, not you.

But there was no escaping it. This was your fate now. And no matter how much you wanted to rebel, to run, you knew you were tied to this family, to these bloodlines. The only thing left to do was endure.

With a heavy heart, you collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in your hands as the tears finally came.

As you walked through the quiet garden, the path ahead was bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. The air was cool, a slight breeze carrying the scent of blooming flowers, but it did little to calm the storm raging inside you. Your heart felt heavy with every step, each one taking you further from the bright, unbearable reality of your wedding preparations.

You couldn’t escape the thoughts that constantly echoed in your mind—the betrayal, the abandonment, the silence that had grown between you and your family. It was impossible to reconcile what was happening with the love and loyalty you once felt for them.

In the distance, you spotted Jace and Luke, their figures emerging from the trees, walking toward you. They had likely come to try and make amends, to explain themselves, but you knew their words wouldn’t change anything now.

You stopped in your tracks, holding up your hand to stop them before they could reach you. Your chest tightened, and a coldness crept over you. You had once been close to them, but now… now they were strangers to you. Their betrayal, their silence in the face of your suffering, stung deeper than anything else.

“Don’t,” you said, your voice cold and firm, though the pain behind it was undeniable. “I don’t want to hear it. I hate you both.”

The words hung in the air, heavier than you expected. Jace’s face faltered, his expression one of shock, but Luke—Luke’s eyes were full of something that hurt even more: regret. Yet, none of it mattered. It couldn’t matter.

They didn’t deserve your forgiveness, not after everything that had happened. Not after they had stood by as your life was stolen from you, as you were cast aside in favor of their own selfish desires.

Jace opened his mouth, as if to speak, but you shook your head, silencing him. You didn’t want to hear any more excuses or apologies. You had heard it all before, but it was never enough.

“Go back to your own lives,” you added, your voice trembling slightly despite the anger. “Stay out of mine.”

Without another word, you turned away from them, walking quickly in the opposite direction. You could feel their eyes on your back, but you didn’t care. There was no turning back now. You had made your decision, and it was too late for apologies.

As you left them behind in the garden, a part of you felt a strange emptiness—an ache where the love you once had for them used to reside. But you knew it was for the best. There could be no more pretending. You couldn’t keep clinging to people who had abandoned you when you needed them most.

You entered your room, the weight of the day’s preparations still heavy on your shoulders, only to be met by the presence of Alicent and Helaena. They were waiting for you, their faces soft with anticipation. Helaena smiled warmly at you, her eyes filled with quiet admiration, while Alicent’s gaze was approving, though there was something more restrained in her expression.

“Come, my dear,” Alicent said gently, guiding you toward the mirror. “It’s time to try on the gown.”

The dress, a stunning white creation, shimmered under the light as you stepped into it. The fabric clung to your form in all the right places, its delicate lace and intricate embroidery making you feel like you were stepping into a dream, albeit one you never wished for. The gown was undoubtedly beautiful, but it was also a constant reminder of the role you had to play in this political arrangement.

As you stood in front of the mirror, Alicent and Helaena’s gazes lingered on you, their approval evident.

“You will be the most beautiful bride the realm has ever seen,” Helaena said softly, her voice filled with wonder. “The gown suits you perfectly.”

Alicent nodded, a faint smile on her lips. “Indeed. Aemond is lucky to have you. This marriage will solidify not only your family’s power but also your beauty, my dear.”

You felt their words, meant to be comforting, yet they seemed hollow. In that moment, the gown felt like a shackle more than a symbol of celebration. The compliments were warm, but they couldn’t erase the feelings of betrayal, the weight of your family’s expectations, and the uncertainty of what your future with Aemond would hold.

Still, you forced a smile, nodding as they admired the way the gown fit you. “Thank you,” you said quietly, though your heart wasn’t in it. “It’s beautiful.”

Alicent’s expression softened, as if sensing the quiet storm raging within you. She placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, offering a small, reassuring smile. “This is a new beginning for you. You must embrace it, no matter how difficult.”

But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t a new beginning at all—it was the closing of another chapter, one that left you questioning everything you thought you knew about your family, your future, and yourself.

As you sat alone in your room, your gaze fixed on the flickering flames of the fireplace, the warmth doing little to chase away the chill in your heart. The weight of the approaching wedding, the tension in the castle, and the heavy silence that seemed to engulf you were overwhelming. For a moment, you closed your eyes, hoping to escape the reality of your situation, but then a sound broke through your thoughts—the scraping of stone against stone, followed by a faint, almost imperceptible sound of footsteps.

You turned, startled, as a figure emerged from the shadows at the far end of the room. Aemond. His presence, once so commanding, now seemed almost surreal as he stepped from the darkness of the secret passage. The cold air of the corridor seemed to follow him, making the room feel even colder than before.

“I needed to see you,” Aemond’s voice broke the silence, low and steady, as he closed the distance between you. His pale eyes locked onto yours, unreadable, as always.

You remained silent, unsure of what to say. He was always like this—so distant, yet somehow insistent on maintaining his place in your life, even when it felt as if there was nothing between you but obligation.

Aemond’s eyes flicked to the fire, then back to you. “I know this marriage isn’t what you want,” he said quietly, his tone almost softer than you’d expected. “But it’s necessary. For both of us.”

You could feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you. His words, though practical, didn’t erase the hurt, the resentment, the confusion. He stood there, seemingly unaffected by the circumstances, and yet… his presence in your room, at this moment, felt like a faint attempt at connection. An attempt that was too little, too late.

“Necessary,” you repeated, your voice carrying a bitter edge. “Yes, I know.” You turned back toward the fire, trying to keep the emotions from spilling over. “For both of us. But what about what I want? Or what you want, Aemond? Is this really what either of us wanted, or is it just what’s been forced upon us?”

He remained silent for a moment, his gaze never leaving you. When he spoke again, it was measured, almost as if he were considering every word carefully.

“I don’t know if I want it,” he admitted, his voice surprisingly honest. “But I have a duty. And so do you.” His words hung in the air between you like a heavy cloud. “This marriage… It’s just another duty to be fulfilled, nothing more. But we’ll get through it, together.”

The weight of his words settled in your chest like a stone. You turned to face him fully, trying to find any trace of sincerity in his eyes, any indication that he might understand what you were feeling, what you were going through. But there was nothing. Only cold determination.

“Together,” you echoed, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. “Yes, I suppose we will.”

Aemond’s gaze softened for the briefest moment, but it was gone before you could fully process it. He looked away, his jaw tightening as if he were trying to steady himself against the emotions you both knew were lurking beneath the surface.

“You should rest,” he said quietly, his voice no longer as firm. “Tomorrow will be another busy day.”

You nodded, though you felt no comfort in his words. There was no rest for you, not with the weight of the coming days pressing down on your shoulders.

You looked at Aemond, a mixture of emotions swirling within you. His presence, despite the weight of your situation, somehow brought a sense of comfort—something you hadn’t realized you craved. You didn’t understand why, but for a fleeting moment, it felt like you weren’t entirely alone.

“Aemond…” you began, your voice soft but tinged with something that resembled vulnerability. “Stay. Just for a little while.”

His gaze met yours, his sharp, cold eyes seemingly surprised by your request, but he didn’t speak, just took a hesitant step closer, as if he, too, felt the strange pull between you. But before either of you could say anything more, a sharp knock on the door broke the silence.

You froze for a moment, instinctively bracing yourself. It was your mother. You could hear her voice—gentle but strained—calling from the other side.

“May I come in?”

Aemond’s presence suddenly felt too heavy, too dangerous in this moment. You didn’t want your mother to see him, not now, not like this. You quickly motioned for Aemond to hide, a silent plea in your eyes. His jaw clenched, but after a long pause, he nodded and slipped into the shadows of the room, his figure vanishing from sight like a shadow in the dim light.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come, and then called out.

“Come in.”

The door creaked open, and there she stood—your mother, her face etched with a mixture of regret and sadness. She stepped in cautiously, her eyes searching you as if she were looking for some sign of forgiveness. But you felt none. Not yet. Maybe never.

“I wanted to apologize,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “I should never have left you alone here. I… I failed you, and I know that.”

You felt a coldness settle in your chest as you looked at her, the years of pain and abandonment rising to the surface like a tide you couldn’t stop. Your heart, once full of love for her, now felt numb.

“I’m not sure that apology matters anymore,” you replied, your tone flat, devoid of the warmth you used to give her. “You left. And I was left behind. I’ve learned to live without you.”

Her face fell, a tear slipping down her cheek. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It wasn’t about the apology anymore. It was about what she had done—and what she hadn’t done when you needed her most.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t shut me out.”

You shook your head, the words coming out harsh, like the bitter truth you’d buried deep inside you for so long. “You don’t get to come back now, Mother. You don’t get to walk in and pretend like you can fix everything. You chose them. You chose to leave me.”

She seemed to flinch at the weight of your words, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t care. Not anymore.

“Leave,” you said, the words tasting like ash in your mouth. “Please, just go.”

Your mother stood there for a moment, silent, tears streaming down her face. She seemed to hesitate, torn between reaching for you and walking away. But in the end, she turned and left, the door closing softly behind her.

As the sound of her footsteps faded, you sank back onto the chair by the fireplace, your heart heavy but somehow… relieved. Aemond reappeared from the shadows, his eyes meeting yours in the silence that followed.

He didn’t speak, but his presence was comforting—an odd, unspoken understanding between the two of you. For a moment, it felt like you were not entirely alone in the world, and that strange comfort lingered in the air, even as you struggled to process the emotions swirling within you.

But for now, you didn’t have to face them alone.

You froze, startled by Aemond’s sudden movement, but before you could react, he gently pulled you into his embrace. His grip was firm, yet strangely comforting, as if he was offering a shelter from the storm that raged inside you. His hand moved up and down your back in a soothing rhythm, the tension in your chest slowly starting to ease with each touch.

“Everything will be alright,” he whispered softly, his voice low and steady. The words were simple, but the way he said them—calm, reassuring—brought an odd sense of peace you hadn’t expected.

For a moment, you felt the weight of your emotions shift. You had expected the emptiness, the bitterness, the pain. But in his arms, there was none of that. Just a strange, unfamiliar sense of security.

You didn’t know why, but in that moment, you allowed yourself to believe his words, if only for a second. It was as if his presence was a small promise that, no matter how twisted your world had become, you wouldn’t have to face it alone.

You closed your eyes, leaning into his embrace, the familiar ache in your heart slowly beginning to quiet. “Thank you,” you whispered, unsure of what else to say, but grateful for the moment of solace he had given you.

The day of your wedding had finally arrived. You sat still, surrounded by your servants who were fussing over your hair and dress, their hands moving quickly to ensure every detail was perfect. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, your heart heavy with a mix of emotions—nervousness, uncertainty, and an aching emptiness. The woman staring back at you seemed so different, yet familiar. The elaborate wedding gown, the delicate veil, the way everything had come together… it all felt like a dream.

As you sat there, lost in your thoughts, the door creaked open and Alicent stepped into the room. She paused for a moment, her gaze sweeping over you with a mixture of awe and pride. Her eyes softened as she took in the sight of you, the woman you had become.

“My dear,” she said, her voice trembling slightly with emotion. “You look… absolutely breathtaking.”

You managed a small, bittersweet smile, not quite sure what to say in response. Your eyes met hers, and in that moment, something shifted. Her presence was warm and comforting, and for the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel so alone.

Alicent stepped closer, her gaze tender as she placed a hand on your shoulder. “You’ve grown into such a beautiful woman,” she continued, her voice softening. “And I… I think it’s time for you to start calling me ‘Mother.’”

The words hit you like a gentle wave. “Mother.” You had never called her that before, not in the way she probably wanted. But now, in this moment, you realized that maybe it was time to accept the bond she was offering. There was no turning back now, and despite the complicated feelings you harbored, you felt a sense of comfort in her words.

With a deep breath, you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Mother,” you said, testing the word on your lips. It felt strange, but somehow, it also felt right.

Alicent’s expression softened, her eyes glistening with emotion. She gave a small, proud smile, her hand gently cupping your cheek. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispered.

The room fell into a comfortable silence as you both took a moment to soak in the weight of the occasion, the sense of change, and the new life that was about to unfold.

The journey to the sept was a quiet one, the rhythmic movement of the carriage the only sound accompanying the silence between you and Alicent. Your fingers nervously traced the edge of your veil, your thoughts swirling with uncertainty and apprehension. The weight of the day felt heavier with each passing moment, and despite Alicent’s comforting words, you couldn’t shake the anxiousness knotting in your stomach.

“Everything will go smoothly,” Alicent said gently, her voice calm and reassuring, as though she sensed the turmoil brewing inside you. “You’re ready for this.”

You gave a soft nod, though the tightness in your chest betrayed your uncertainty. The silence stretched, the muffled sound of hooves on cobblestones echoing outside the carriage. You closed your eyes for a moment, steadying yourself as the weight of the moment settled over you.

Eventually, the carriage came to a halt with a soft jolt, and the door was opened by one of the attendants. Alicent helped you out, her hand steady on your arm. As you stepped onto the ground, you were greeted by a wave of sound—a chorus of cheers and applause from the gathered crowd. The people of the Red Keep and beyond had come to witness the union, their excitement palpable in the air.

The sight of the crowd was overwhelming. The colorful banners fluttered in the breeze, the sun casting a warm glow over the scene. People called out your name, their voices filled with enthusiasm, but all you could focus on was the way the crowd seemed to part for you as you moved forward, your heart pounding in your chest.

Alicent, walking beside you, smiled proudly, her presence a shield against the storm of emotions swirling within you. “This is your moment,” she said softly, her eyes meeting yours with a look of reassurance.

As you walked towards the sept, your gaze lifted and you saw the familiar, yet distant, faces of your family standing at the altar. The weight of their gazes, mixed with the nervous excitement that filled the air, made everything feel surreal. The sound of the crowd, the warmth of the sun, the flutter of your veil, and the presence of Alicent beside you—it all blurred together in a haze of emotions.

The time had come, and despite the storm of feelings inside you, you knew there was no turning back.

As the High Septon’s voice rang through the hall, the final words of the ceremony echoed in your ears. “By the light of the Seven, I declare them husband and wife.” You stood there, the air thick with anticipation, the eyes of your family and the crowd on you. Aemond, beside you, remained composed, his gaze steady and intense, never leaving yours.

The moment felt surreal, the weight of the vows just spoken sinking in. You could feel the tension building, as the next words hung in the air.

The High Septon then turned to Aemond, his voice clear and firm. “Aemond, you may kiss your wife."

For a brief moment, there was a quiet stillness, and you felt the world around you blur. Aemond’s eyes locked with yours as he slowly stepped forward, his hand gently cupping your face. The soft brush of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and in that moment, you understood the gravity of the life you were about to share with him.

Then, with a movement as deliberate as it was tender, Aemond leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that felt like the beginning of a new chapter. The kiss was brief but full of unspoken promises, sealing the union in front of all who gathered.

As you pulled back, your heart raced, unsure of what the future held, but in that moment, you were bound to him, for better or worse. The cheers and applause of the crowd filled the room, but you were lost in the silence that followed, in the realization that your life had just changed forever.

As you and Aemond descended the steps from the altar, your hand firmly in his, the cheers and applause of the gathered crowd filled the air, echoing through the sept. The weight of the moment settled heavily upon you, but there was a strange, quiet calmness in the chaos of celebration.

Amidst the joyful noise, your gaze found Alicent. Tears shimmered in her eyes, reflecting the light of the candles around you. Without thinking, you reached out and embraced her, the warmth of her embrace offering a fragile sense of comfort in the whirlwind of emotions.

“You’re beautiful,” Alicent whispered softly, her voice full of pride and love. Her arms tightened around you for a moment longer before she pulled back, wiping her eyes gently.

As you stood there, holding her, you couldn’t help but notice the figure of your mother standing at the far end of the hall. Her eyes met yours, and in them, you saw a sadness so deep it nearly took your breath away. Her face was an expression of regret, of longing for something that had been lost.

But it was too late, wasn’t it?

You couldn’t stop the lump that formed in your throat as you held Alicent, her comforting presence a stark contrast to the emptiness you felt when you looked at your mother. You knew you had to turn away from her. Your life had changed, and the bonds of the past could not be rekindled so easily.

Yet, even as you walked away with Aemond, his presence beside you strong and resolute, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of your mother’s gaze on your back, knowing that this new chapter of your life had already set you on a path that would never allow you to go back.

As the carriage rocked gently, you sat beside Aemond, your hand resting on your lap, and your thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. The celebration was still fresh in your mind, and the weight of the vows you had just taken hung heavily in the air around you. Despite the grandiosity of the wedding, the tension between you and your new life was palpable.

Aemond sat with his usual composed demeanor, his eyes gazing ahead through the window, his face unreadable. The silence between you both was thick, a stark contrast to the celebrations you had just left behind. He glanced at you briefly, his sharp gaze briefly meeting yours, before turning back to the window.

You could feel the unease in your chest, the uncertainty of what the future held now that everything had changed so dramatically. The faces of your family, especially your mother’s sad, distant eyes, lingered in your mind. You wanted to ask Aemond something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come.

After a few moments of silence, Aemond finally spoke, his voice low and steady. “This is just the beginning,” he said, his tone unreadable. “Tonight will be a celebration, but our real journey starts now.”

You nodded silently, unsure of how to respond. His words, while true, only served to deepen the unease in your heart. The path ahead felt uncertain, filled with obligations and expectations that you hadn’t been prepared for.

The carriage jolted slightly as it continued down the road toward the Red Keep, and you couldn’t help but wonder what awaited you there. Would it be a new chapter of your life, one you could come to accept? Or would it be a never-ending struggle, one you were ill-prepared for?

For now, you stayed silent, lost in your thoughts, while Aemond remained ever watchful, his presence a constant reminder of the new reality you both now had to face.

The grand hall of the Red Keep was filled with an air of formality as the feast began. The tables were laden with food, and the chatter of the nobility filled the air, but the weight of the moment hung heavily over you. You sat beside Aemond, your hand resting lightly on the table, surrounded by the most important figures of the realm.

Alicent sat beside you, her presence a reminder of the expectations that now rested on your shoulders. Across from you, your mother sat next to Aemond, her face carefully neutral, though you could feel the distance between you. Aegon and Helaena flanked the table, their expressions unreadable, their usual carefree demeanor absent.

The king, Viserys, raised his goblet, his voice booming through the hall as he stood to give a speech. “Tonight, we celebrate the union of two great houses,” he began, his eyes briefly meeting yours with a solemn smile. “Aemond, my son, and my dear granddaughter, we welcome you into this new chapter of our family’s legacy. May your marriage strengthen the ties that bind us all.”

The guests raised their glasses, their eyes upon you, as the king continued with a few more words of congratulation, but his voice felt distant. You could feel the tension in the room, the expectations, the silent judgment of those who were watching you both closely. It was as though your marriage was not just a union of two people, but a political alliance with the power to shape the future of the realm.

Aemond remained calm, his gaze steady and unwavering, as always. His posture was perfect, the image of a prince, and yet you couldn’t help but feel the distance between you both. Your fingers tightened on the edge of your goblet, your mind swirling with the reality of the path ahead.

The king’s speech concluded, and he returned to his seat, raising his glass one more time in honor of your union. Everyone followed suit, including your mother, who briefly met your eyes, her expression a mix of sorrow and pride.

But you were left with your own thoughts, the words of your new husband echoing in your mind. “This is just the beginning.” What did that truly mean for you, for your family, for your future?

The night continued on, the banquet proceeding with laughter and conversation, but the weight of it all remained on your shoulders.

As Aemond stood and extended his hand to you, the noise of the banquet seemed to fade into the background. The warm glow of the torches in the hall illuminated his intense gaze as he led you to the center of the room. You hesitated for only a moment, before accepting his hand. There was a silent understanding between the two of you as he guided you to the dance floor.

The music played softly, its slow, melodic rhythm matching the beating of your heart. Aemond’s grip was firm, his touch grounding you as you moved together in perfect harmony. For the briefest of moments, the weight of the world seemed to lift. The chaos, the whispers, the tension—they were all forgotten as the two of you danced.

“You don’t have to think about any of it,” Aemond’s voice broke through the silence between you, calm and assuring. “The whispers, the looks, the expectations—they don’t matter now. You have me.”

His words, simple yet resolute, settled into your chest. The unspoken bond between you both deepened in that moment, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to feel something other than the heavy pressure of duty and destiny.

You met his gaze, a small, quiet smile playing on your lips. His presence, steady and unwavering, was a comfort amid the storm of your emotions. You didn’t have to say anything. His words alone, as rare as they were, were enough.

The dance continued, your bodies moving effortlessly together, and for the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be different. Perhaps there was more to this than just an arranged marriage—perhaps there was a chance to build something real, something of your own.

For now, it was just you and him, lost in the rhythm of the music, the eyes of the world no longer mattering in that moment.

As the music reached its crescendo, Aemond spun you gracefully, your gown swirling around you like waves of silk. The world seemed to slow, the flickering glow of the torches casting golden light on the two of you. When you turned back to face him, his hands found your waist, steadying you with a firm but gentle hold.

His gaze locked onto yours, unwavering and intense. There was something different in his eyes—not the usual cold calculation, but a warmth reserved only for you. Without a word, he leaned in, his movements slow and deliberate, giving you every chance to pull away. But you didn’t.

When his lips finally met yours, the room erupted in cheers and applause. The lords and ladies clapped, their voices rising in celebration, but it all faded into a dull hum in your ears. The kiss was soft but sure, filled with a quiet kind of promise. His touch was not a claim of possession but one of reassurance, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your fingers curling lightly into the fabric of his tunic. The warmth of him, the weight of his presence, was steady and constant. You could feel the world watching, but for once, you didn’t care. Here, in this moment, it was just the two of you.

When he pulled back, his gaze lingered on you, his hand lifting to brush a loose strand of hair from your face. His eyes traced your features as if memorizing them, his lips curving into the faintest of smiles. The cheers grew louder, but Aemond didn’t turn to face them. His eyes remained on you, as if to say, Let them watch. Let them see who you belong to—but more than that, see who belongs to you.

The moment lingered like a held breath before he finally turned with you in his arms, facing the crowd with that familiar cool, commanding presence. But his hand never left yours, his thumb tracing soft circles on your palm—a silent reminder that, no matter who watched, he was yours now, and you were his.

The hall fell silent at the lord’s boisterous shout, the echo of “Bedding ceremony!” reverberating off the stone walls. Whispers spread like wildfire through the crowd, lords and ladies exchanging glances with growing excitement. The atmosphere shifted, filled with a mixture of amusement, expectation, and mischief.

Your mother, Rhaenyra, rose from her seat, her face tense with barely restrained anger. “That will not be necessary,” she said firmly, her voice cutting through the noise with regal authority. Her eyes darted toward you, a silent plea for you to follow her lead.

But before she could say more, you stood. Your eyes swept across the crowd, meeting the stares of lords and ladies alike. Their gazes carried a mixture of curiosity and judgment, but you did not falter. Aemond’s hand tightened around yours, a steadying presence at your side.

“Tradition is tradition,” you said, your voice clear and calm. The murmur of the crowd quieted as your words settled in the air. “If this is what is expected of us, then we shall fulfill it.” You raised your chin, every inch the daughter of a queen. “Let them see that I am not afraid.”

Aemond glanced at you, his gaze unreadable for a moment. Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth curved into a small, sharp smile. Pride flickered in his eye, and he turned to face the hall, his voice sharp and commanding. “You have asked for tradition,” he said, his tone like steel wrapped in silk. “Then tradition you shall have.”

The lords erupted into cheers and laughter, their earlier whispers turning into roars of approval. A few of the younger knights began to rise from their seats, ready to follow the old custom of carrying the bride and groom to the marriage bed.

Alicent’s eyes widened in shock, her lips parting as if to protest, but she quickly pressed them into a thin line. She glanced at you, her face filled with something that looked like pride… and perhaps a flicker of guilt.

Rhaenyra, however, looked furious. She stepped forward, her eyes locked on you, pleading silently. But you didn’t look away. This was your choice now. Her power over you had waned the moment she left you in the Red Keep. She knew it too.

As the knights approached, you glanced at Aemond, and he inclined his head ever so slightly—a silent promise. You knew, in that moment, that you would not be alone in this. You were no longer just a daughter of Rhaenyra. You were now a wife, a queen in your own right, and with Aemond by your side, you would not be moved by whispers or judgment.

The hands of the knights reached for you and Aemond, lifting you both into the air as the crowd’s cheers grew louder. Your heart pounded in your chest, but not from fear. You met Aemond’s gaze as you were carried together toward the chamber doors. His eye was sharp with focus, his lips barely moving as he whispered words only for you to hear:

“Let them watch. Let them know we are unbreakable.”

And as the doors to your chamber swung open, the noise of the crowd behind you felt distant, their jeers and cheers like echoes from another world. The heavy oak doors shut behind you with a resounding thud, cutting off the outside world entirely.

In the quiet of the chamber, with only the soft crackle of the hearth to fill the silence, Aemond’s gaze shifted. Gone was the sharpness, the command. His eye lingered on you with something softer—something only for you.

“Are you afraid?” he asked, voice low but steady.

You met his gaze, steady as your heart finally calmed. “No,” you replied softly. “Not anymore.”

He reached for you slowly, his hands gentle as they touched your face, his thumb brushing lightly along your cheekbone. “Good,” he said, his voice a whisper of steel and warmth. “Because neither am I.”

you looked at aemond, his hand gently caressed your cheek. his touch was so soft, you closed your eyes when you felt his lips touch yours. he slowly untied your dress until it fell around your feet, then he led you towards the bed without breaking the kiss.

you lay down while staring at his face, his silver hair framed his face softly. he slowly opened the tunic that was attached to his body, you could hear whispers from behind the curtains in your room. they were watching. but you weren't afraid, no.

Aemond kissed you again and then he moved to kiss your shoulder, you sighed softly when he started kissing your neck. "are you ready?," he whispered softly in your ear, making sure only you could hear his voice. you nodded.

without thinking aemond kissed you again, you put your hands around his neck. giving him orders to do more to you, his hands began to untie his pants and now he and you were both naked.

"I need your permission" he breathed into your skin.

his fingers dancing around your entrance. you can feel the eagerness radiating off of his body, daring him to push forward into you. He needed to hear you say it.

"Oh god..." you breathed, "yes- Aemond please."

Without warning, he pushed two fingers deep inside of you, hitting your sweet spot. Your mouth dropped open, silent gasps escaping between those swollen lips. You pushed your hips up against his hand, searching for more. You was searching for release but he didn't want to give it to you yet.

His thumb flicked against your clit, sending your eyes into the back of your skull. "Fuck, she looked so fucking good like that." he thought as he feel his erection growing and pushing against your inner thigh. It was enough to drive him mad - utterly insane.

"I want you..." he hissed into your mouth, your breath mixing together in perfect harmony.

"Then take me….." you fired back, That's all the permission he needed you to say. His lips crashed into your with passion and hunger. Your hands moved up into his hair, yanking and pulling at it.

He snaked his head back down to your neck, sucking the sweet, sensitive spot that he knew would cause you to moan.

Sweet, earth shattering moans escaped your lips and your eyes rolled back in your head. Instantly, you pushed and pulled against him, trying to get the friction to release the pressure that you was feeling between your thighs. You wrapped her legs around him tightly and he pulled you in closer, feeling his cock push against your cunt. In one smooth motion, you both feel backwards into the bed. Your kisses become erratic and sloppy as you gripped onto each other for dear life. It was like you couldn't get enough of each other in that moment; you both needed more.

Herubbed his hand over his throbbing length. Slowly, he rubbed his tip over your opening, feeling your arousal coating the tip.

"this one might hurt" he breathed through clenched teeth.

He grabbed your hips and slowly pushed into you, letting you adjust to his size. He watched as your back arched in sheer pleasure and pain.

"You are squeezing my cock" he growled, "relax." as he kissed your face, he pushed into you deeper, gripping your hips tightly. He slowly move in and out of you.

"You are so tight" he breathed.

He felt your walls squeeze his length tightly. He watched as you squirmed under him, wanting more from him.

"Please, Aemond fuck me " she demanded.

You reached up for him, pulling his body against your own. The feeling of your bare flesh against each other was so erotic. he could feel your all around him in that moment. You snaked your hand around his neck, pulling his head to your's as your foreheads collided.

"Fuck..." you both moaned in unison.

His hips thrusted into you over and over again, causing you to cry out in pleasure each thrust. He watched you under him arch your back in sheer pleasure. His hands pushed into your hips, keeping you steady while he fucked you as deep as he could.

"I'm going to...." your eyelids fluttered shut.

"That's it-" he breathed into you, "come undone for me, love."

He hovered over you, throwing your legs over his shoulder, thrusting deeper inside of you. You felt so good, he was losing his mind. Your walls clenched around his, as your mouth fell open. He felt a rush of liquid move over his cock as you covered him with your wetness. He wasn't finished with you just yet. He grabbed your hips and in one swift movement flipped you around, bending you over the bed.

He wrapped one hand around your hair, yanking your head back. His other hand reached around your body. Moans escaped your lips, echoing throughout the stonewall of your chambers. He watched as his cock slid in and out of your wetness.

"Fuck" he breathed.

You looked over your shoulder at him, your wet hair plastered to her face and your dark eyes bright.

"Come for me, Aemond" you breathed. "fill me with your seed"

those words made him come inside you, you moaned as you felt his warm seed fill you up. you felt him kiss your shoulder and then he hugged you and laid you down on the bed

He pulled the blanket over you with gentle hands, his touch careful and deliberate. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead — warm, steady, and reassuring. It wasn’t the fiery passion you expected from a husband, but something deeper. Something that made you feel safe.

“Rest now,” Aemond murmured, his voice low but firm, the kind of tone that left no room for argument.

And for once, you didn’t argue. Your eyes grew heavy as exhaustion from the long day finally claimed you. The last thing you felt was the warmth of his presence next to you, the steady rise and fall of his breathing lulling you to sleep.

When you woke the next morning, the sun was peeking through the curtains, casting soft golden rays across the room. You blinked a few times, adjusting to the light. Slowly, you sat up, stretching out the stiffness in your limbs.

But something was missing.

You glanced to your side, your hand brushing against the cold, empty space on the bed where Aemond had lain. Frowning, you scanned the room. The chair near the hearth was empty. The sound of footsteps, the rustle of clothes — none of it was there. He was gone.

Your fingers lightly grazed the pillow he had used, still faintly warm but already cooling. A sigh escaped your lips. You knew where he was. It was Aemond, after all. Of course, he was already up.

“He must be training,” you muttered to yourself, rubbing your eyes. It was just like him to be up at dawn, perfecting his swordplay while the world still slept.

You lay back down for a moment, staring at the ceiling with quiet thoughts swirling in your mind. It wasn’t like you expected him to stay, but… a part of you had hoped he would.

You stood before the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of your gown. The rich green silk hugged your form perfectly, adorned with delicate golden embroidery that shimmered in the morning light. This color — once foreign to you — had become a part of you now. It no longer felt strange. It felt inevitable.

With a steadying breath, you turned from the mirror, lifting your head high as you made your way toward the door. The clinking of your heeled footsteps echoed down the stone corridor as you stepped out. Your gaze was sharp, forward-facing, and unwavering.

Servants and courtiers paused as you passed, their murmurs and whispers too faint to hear but their eyes loud with judgment. Some glanced at you with shock, others with disapproval, and a few with quiet respect. “The daughter of Rhaenyra, wearing green,” you imagined them saying. But none of it mattered. Not anymore.

You didn’t slow your pace. You didn’t lower your head. Let them stare. Let them talk. Their words were hollow, and their gazes held no power over you. You had learned that power didn’t come from pleasing them — it came from walking forward, unbothered and unyielding.

The warmth of the sun filtered in through the narrow windows, streaking the cold stone with golden light. The air smelled faintly of the sea and ash, a scent so familiar it had become part of you. Your gown flowed behind you like a banner, the symbol of your new place in this game of thrones.

Green. Not red, not black. Green. And as you walked, you realized something. You no longer felt the need to justify it.

You were walking along the corridor of the Red Keep, your steps light as you made your way to the balcony that overlooked the training yard. The sounds of clashing swords and the shouts of soldiers filled the air, the yard alive with activity. You spotted him almost immediately—your husband, Aemond, sparring with Ser Criston. The two were moving with precision, their swords flashing in the sunlight.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you watched him. There was something oddly reassuring about seeing him in his element, focused and commanding, even in the midst of a battle. You felt a warmth spread through you, a strange comfort knowing that this was the man you were now bound to.

But before you could indulge further in the moment, you heard footsteps behind you. A familiar voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Is this how you spend your days now?” Jace’s voice was tinged with frustration as he appeared in your line of sight. His expression was a mix of sadness and anger, but it softened when his eyes met yours.

You turned to face him, your smile fading slightly as you noticed the hurt in his gaze. “Jace,” you greeted softly, feeling the tension in the air. “What brings you here?”

He stepped closer, his eyes flicking toward Aemond in the yard, then back to you. “I had hoped you’d be different,” he said quietly. “I never thought you would join them, that you would choose this… this life.”

You felt a pang in your chest. Jace’s words, though quiet, cut deeper than you’d expected. But you couldn’t let them sway you, not now. You had made your choice.

“I didn’t choose this easily, Jace,” you replied, your voice steady, though there was a hint of sadness lingering. “But it is my choice, now."

Jace looked at you for a long moment, his face softening. He opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could speak, you turned your attention back to the training yard. Aemond had finished his sparring and was now walking toward the side of the yard, wiping sweat from his brow. He was still too far to hear, but you could feel his presence in the air.

“Please understand,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Jace. “This… this is the life I have now.”

Jace didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on you. It was clear he wasn’t ready to let go of what once was, but you had to. You had no choice.

Aemond’s voice cut through the tension, his presence near you a steadying force. Both you and Jace turned to face him, and you could see the protective glint in his eyes as he stood beside you, his posture poised but fierce. He glanced at Jace for a moment, his gaze sharp, before looking back at you.

“Is he bothering you again?” Aemond’s voice was low, but there was a clear edge to it.

You shook your head quickly, not wanting the situation to escalate. “No, Aemond. Everything is fine,” you said, offering a small smile, though there was a lingering sadness in your heart. You didn’t want Aemond to get involved in this—didn’t want him to see the cracks in your relationships with your family.

Jace, however, didn’t look convinced. His gaze lingered on Aemond for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully before speaking. “I’m not here to cause trouble,” Jace said, his tone cooler now. “I just wanted to talk. But it seems things have changed.”

You sighed, stepping away from the edge of the balcony, feeling the weight of both men’s eyes on you. “Things have changed, Jace,” you said softly, unable to avoid the truth. “I have changed.”

Aemond’s hand subtly brushed against your back, a silent gesture of support. His presence was a comfort, even if Jace’s disappointment was hard to ignore.

Jace took a step back, his gaze lingering on you one last time. “I wish you hadn’t chosen this, but… I understand.” There was no anger in his voice now, just a quiet sadness. He turned to leave, but before he did, he looked back once more. “Take care of her,” he said to Aemond, his voice surprisingly soft.

Aemond gave a curt nod, his expression unreadable, but you knew that he would honor the unspoken promise. As Jace walked away, the silence between you and Aemond grew, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“You okay?” Aemond asked, his voice now gentle, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder.

You looked at him, grateful for his understanding. “I am now,” you whispered.

tag list : @danytar @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @julessworldd

[lovetwist]

Veil of Deception (I)

SYNOPSIS: In a world where political alliances are forged in blood and treachery lurks around every corner, you find yourself thrust into marriage with Feyd-Rautha, the enigmatic scion of House Harkonnen. Born to be his perfect mate, you grapple with the terrifying prospect of becoming entangled with a man known for his brutality, obsession, and madness. As your union unfolds, you navigate a landscape of deception and dark desires, struggling to find your footing in a marriage fraught with danger and uncertainty. Caught between duty and defiance, summon your strength and resilience to survive in a world where loyalty is a luxury and love is a dangerous game.

WARNINGS (R18+): mildly dub-con, smut, first time, weapons kink, mentions of violence, manipulations, genetic breeding, power play

Word Count: 3.5k

PART 2

Below the towering spires of obsidian and steel, against a backdrop of opulent extravagance that flaunted wealth and power, a tension hung heavy, pregnant with the promise of destiny.

As Lady Atreides, sole daughter of Leto Atreides, you stood poised on the precipice of a meeting that would shape the course of your future. Your heart seized with nerves as you awaited the arrival of your betrothed.

Since your 15th name day, you had known of your engagement to the na-Baron. It was an inescapable fate predetermined by the Bene Geserrit. Your mother, Lady Jessica, had gone against them by giving birth to Paul, a male heir for Leto. Two years later, she gave birth to you – a gift of compromise for both sides. In return, Lady Jessica and Leto achieved the familial harmony they wanted, through the sacrifice of their daughter.

Every year, the Harkonnens requested your portrait to be sent along with a lock of hair. In exchange, they sent House Atreides jewels, gold, silks, and spice; disguised bribes for the upkeep of such a fine lady. They had only sent a portrait of Feyd-Rautha once. It was taken during his coming-of-age ceremony, a lean young man dressed in black fighting leathers. You stared often at the picture, looking to find some clue that could reveal his character. His demeanor was unnaturally cold and collected, yet his dark eyes barely concealed a burning rage. You wondered if Feyd-Rautha poured over you pictures as you did his.

Years passed and the engagement felt more like a false formality than reality. Unlike other noble families, you never exchanged letters with Feyd-Rautha or even met as a courtesy. Having completed your Bene Geserrit training under your mother, you learned that such things did not matter when it came to pairings arranged by the Reverand Mother. You caught whispers of conversation between your mother and her Bene Geserrit sisters. There would be no chance of failure, this union would be perfect. You were genetically engineered to be his absolute mate. Attraction and physical compatibility was assured. Everything about you was designed to lure him in – your scent, your voice, your everything was to be his undoing from the moment he would lay eyes on you.

Yet the thought gave you no confidence as you stood here now in Giedi Prime. Sexual attraction differed greatly from love, he didn’t need emotions to breed you. Feyd-Rautha, the enigmatic scion of House Harkonnen, was a man followed by countless stories of brutality and wickedness. You heard that he laughed when Reverand Mother subjected him to the Gom Jabbar. He didn’t endure pain, he reveled in it.

Your palms grew clammy, breath becoming increasingly shallow as you pondered the dark fate that awaited you in the form of this formidable man. Would Feyd-Rautha be the embodiment of all the whispered sin that had reached your ears, or would he prove to be an enigma beyond your wildest imaginings? With each passing moment, the anticipation mounted, weaving a delicate web of uncertainty around your heart as your braced yourself to meet the man who held your destiny in his hands.

The grand doors of the chamber swung open with a regal flourish, your heart quickened its pace, echoing the rhythm of anticipation that thrummed through the air. Through the gray haze of incense, you beheld Feyd-Rautha, a vision of masculinity and charisma, whose presence seemed to command the very essence of the room. His eyes met yours across the expanse of the chamber, a charged moment filled with unspoken tension, as if the universe itself held its breath in anticipation of this meeting.

You were ensnared in a tempest of conflicting emotions, thoughts swirling like sand caught in a desert storm. You questioned your own composure, wondering if you could maintain the facade of confidence expected of a lady of House Atreides in the presence of the young Harkonnen and the terrifying Baron. Feyd-Rautha may be your future husband, but he was not required to provide you a good nor happy life. After all, why would he? You were the daughter of his family’s sworn enemy. He may have been bound in marriage to you by centuries of bloodline manipulation, but he maintained a free will.

Would his words falter, betraying the tumult and hatred raging within him? Or would he summon the grace and poise befitting his station, masking the turmoil that churned beneath the surface? Your apprehension mounted, a symphony of doubt and fear playing out in the recesses of your mind. Yet, amidst the chaos of your thoughts, a glimmer of determination flickered like a distant star on the horizon, urging you forward into the unknown with a quiet resolve born of necessity.

For in the labyrinthine dance of politics and power that defined their world, you knew that you could ill afford to falter now. With a steadying breath, you squared your shoulders and prepared to face your destiny, whatever form it may take in the guise of a madman husband.

Feyd-Rautha, with an air of effortless confidence, strode forward, his gaze a smoldering ember that ignited a spark within your soul. In that fleeting moment, as your paths converged amidst the darkness and mist of the surroundings, you felt a surge of something unfamiliar yet undeniable—an electric current that crackled between your bodies, binding your fates together inextricably.

Words eluded you as you struggled to articulate the wave of emotions that threatened to consume you. Yet, in the silence that stretched between you two, you found solace in the understanding that this meeting was but the first step on a journey fraught with uncertainty and possibility. He bowed without taking his eyes off you. In greeting, you extended a gloved hand, Feyd-Rautha grasped it with a firm sense of resolve. You knew that your lives were now intertwined in ways neither could fully comprehend nor stop.

And in that moment, amidst the hazy dream of your shared future, you glimpsed the faintest flicker of something akin to desire dance across his eyes. You noticed a dilation of his pupils as he laid a kiss on the back of your hand. Then, his grasp of you tightened and tightened. Your face contorted in pain as a crooked smirk appeared on his features.

In the dim light of the chamber, your eyes traced the contours of his cheekbones and the fullness of his lips, searching for traces of the young man you once memorized in a portrait. Yet, try as you might, only a beast stood before you in the guise of a gentleman. When he stood at his full height with his darkened leer, you held yourself back from cowering. His gaze was vicious, his smile vulgar with blackened teeth, and he exuded an air of savagery.

“How delightful it is to finally meet you, Lady Atreides.”

His deep, raspy voice caught you off guard. What a performer he could be! Long gone was the ethereal allure he displayed when first entering the room, now you could see him for what he was.

“Likewise, my Lord Feyd-Rautha.”

Uncertainty lingered like a specter in the room, casting a pall over the impending union that would bind you with him. You let your gaze lower onto the floor as your parents approached to talk with the Baron and na-Baron.

You could feel his intense gaze burning through your body even as you moved away to be with your brother. Could his eyes pierce through your facade, unraveling the intricacies of your soul like fine thread? Such questions gnawed at the edges of your consciousness, casting shadows on your will to remain strong.

As the evening progressed, the tension in the air thickened like a fog, suffocating any semblance of ease. Seated at the long banquet table surrounded by your family, the Harkonnens, and noble guests, you found yourself ensnared in a delicate dance of propriety and peril.

Across from you, Feyd-Rautha lounged in his seat, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he watched you with unabashed fascination. His demeanor was that of a predator toying with its prey, his every movement calculated to instill a sense of discomfort. Your family would leave to Arrakis after the wedding festivities, then you would be truly left alone with him. The precariousness of your position tugged at your heart.

As the meal commenced, the atmosphere grew increasingly tense, punctuated by the clinking of silverware and the strained chatter of polite conversation. You forced yourself to engage in small talk with those seated around you, your words measured and careful, lest you betray the fear that coiled like a serpent in the pit of your stomach.

Despite your best efforts to maintain a facade of composure, you couldn't shake the feeling of being scrutinized by those dark, probing eyes. It was as if Feyd-Rautha could see straight through you, peeling away the layers of pretense to expose your most secret vulnerabilities. You found yourself growing increasingly unsettled. You longed to escape, to retreat to the safety of your chambers and away from the suffocating presence of the Harkonnen heir.

But you knew that there would be no reprieve, no sanctuary from the darkness that had descended upon your life like a shadow. For tonight, and every night thereafter, you were bound to him by the cruel machinations of fate, condemned to walk a path fraught with danger and uncertainty. And as you raised your glass to Feyd-Rautha’s toast to your impending union, you couldn't help but wonder what horrors awaited you.

“To the most beautiful bride in the world, I will certainly savor tomorrow’s…memories.”

The men at the table chuckled darkly while your father’s and brother’s jaws clenched. You lay your delicate hand over theirs, do not mourn me. If I am to die, I shall do so with honor.

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

As your mother lowered your veil, you noticed tears forming in her eyes. You never thought you’d live to see the day the impenetrable Lady Jessica shed tears for you. I must really be walking into my death, you thought.

You looked at your reflection in the mirror. There were no words to describe the vision you saw. Crafted from the finest silk and satin, your wedding gown exuded an air of majestic elegance with flowing skirts cascading like waves of moonlight around your figure.

The bodice, adorned with intricate beadwork and delicate lace, hugged your curves with a tailored precision, accentuating a slender waist and graceful neckline. A row of tiny diamonds trailed down your body, gleaming against the smooth expanse of your back. While the front of the dress was conservative, your back was tastefully exposed through a combination of sheer silk, diamonds and pearls.

Your hair was pinned neatly into a bun with a delicate braid on each side. The veil was gauzy, making your face seem like a daydream. The ivory fabric of your dress pooled at your feet in a sea of frothy tulle and satin, forming a train that trailed behind you like a regal cloak. The wedding dress was embroidered with delicate motifs of growing vines, mountains and ocean waves – a reminder of Caladan.

At your collar, a border of intricate lacework added a touch of timeless elegance, its patterns catching the light in a dazzling display of shimmering beauty. With every movement, the gown seemed to whisper tales of romance and splendor, a clear hope to the love and devotion the seamstress had prayed you’d find. You choked down a sob.

You’ve made me an angel for him to ruin.

The wedding hall was adorned with such grandeur, you’d expect the emperor’s daughter was getting married instead. The flickering silver torches cast dancing shadows upon the ebony stone walls. As guests gathered in hushed reverence, the air crackled with anticipation, as if the very walls themselves whispered of your impeding damnation.

At the front of the hall, beneath a canopy of arched black silk, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen stood, an imposing figure in his ceremonial garb. His porcelain skin was stark against the darkness of his clothes as he awaited his bride.

You approached with measured steps, hardening your grip on your father’s arm. Your eyes must’ve betrayed your fear and resignation because you could see Feyd-Rautha biting the inside of his cheek to suppress a laugh.

As you reached the altar, his lips curled into a predatory smile, his voice dripping with malice as he spoke the vows that bound you together in unholy matrimony. The words echoed through the hall like a curse, sealing your fate alongside his.

As you exchanged rings, a union forged in the fires of despair, you vowed that though your body may be bound to Feyd-Rautha, your spirit would remain forever free.

Standing before him, you felt the weight of his gaze like chains around your soul.

With a solemn nod from the officiant, you and Feyd-Rautha were instructed to seal your union with a kiss. He removed your veil, his eyes lingering on your face. As his lips met yours, a shiver ran down your spine.

The kiss was surprisingly gentle, but devoid of love. You gasped when his tongue entered your mouth. It was a macabre dance of dominance and submission, a twisted mockery of affection that left a bitter taste upon your lips. You try to push him away, but he holds your hands firm against his chest. The Harkonnens roar with applause and laughter. As you pulled away, a sense of profound emptiness washed over you, a hollow echo of the dreams and desires that had once burned within your heart.

The rest of the wedding banquet was a blur. As you were led to the high table by Feyd-Rautha's side, you couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped, ensnared in a web of malevolence. The guests, mostly Harkonnen allies, noble families, and sycophants, feigned smiles and exchanged whispers, their eyes gleaming with a perverse curiosity at the spectacle of your union.

The feast itself was a decadent display of excess, with platters of exotic delicacies and goblets overflowing with rich wines. But the opulence only served to accentuate the suffocating atmosphere, as the room was closing in on you with each additional piece of ornate furniture.

Feyd-Rautha, ever the consummate host, played his part with calculated charm, his laughter ringing hollow in your ears as he regaled the guests with tales of conquest and murder. You watched him from across the table, his features twisted in a mask of false benevolence, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of revulsion mingled with a sliver of pity. He, too, was playing a part – ever the performer. 

Throughout the banquet, you were subjected to the leering gazes and whispered innuendos of the Harkonnen cronies, their crude remarks slicing through the thin veneer of civility like daggers. But you held your composure, steeling yourself against their taunts and jeers, refusing to let them see the cracks in your mask.

As the night wore on and the wine flowed freely, the mood grew increasingly raucous, the revelry descending into a frenzied ecstasy. You found yourself adrift in a sea of faces, each one a grotesque caricature of humanity, their laughter and applause a cruel mockery of your predicament.

And amidst the chaos and debauchery, you couldn't help but wonder what was in store for you, chained to a man whose heart was as black as midnight. As you absentmindedly finished your last sip of wine, Feyd-Rautha stood suddenly, his chair loudly rattling against the granite floors. A chilling silence descended upon the hall.

He extended a hand towards you and you immediately understood his intentions. You departed the hall, hand-in-hand as men watched with envy and women stared with pity. You couldn’t bear to look at the faces of your family, afraid that you might beg them to take you home.

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

As you left the banquet hall with Feyd-Rautha, a heavy sense of foreboding settled over you. The echoes of the evening's macabre festivities lingered in your mind, each laughter, each lewd jest, a reminder of the gilded cage in which you now found yourself imprisoned.

You walked beside Feyd-Rautha, his grip firm upon your hand, guiding you through the labyrinthine corridors of the Harkonnen estate. There was an eerie stillness in the air. With each step, you felt the weight of your predicament pressing down upon you, the reality of your situation sinking in like a cold, unyielding truth.

You stole a glance at Feyd-Rautha, his expression unreadable in the dim light. Occasionally fireworks would alight by the window, allowing you to see his eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger that made you look away immediately.

As you walked in silence, your mind raced with a flurry of thoughts and emotions, a storm raging within you. You couldn't help but wonder what awaited in the bedchamber. You weren’t ignorant to the act of consummating a marriage, but your husband was no ordinary man. What horrors lay in store for a woman bound to a man as cruel and cunning as Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen… what would satisfy a man like him? But amidst the fear and uncertainty, a flicker of desire burned within you, a stubborn resolve to claim him as much as he claims you.

He led you into a large room with double doors. Compared to the gaudy decorations of the wedding hall, this room was relatively simple: a chamber of dark elegance and understated grandeur. There were only the bare necessities required of a bedroom, but each piece had been impeccably handmade with the most exquisite of materials. At its center, a massive four-poster bed stands as the focal point, its frame crafted from polished ebony wood, intricately carved with motifs of serpents and ivy. Perfectly sized above the bed, stretching over the ceiling was pure reflective glass. You swallowed thickly, this man had no shame.

A grand chandelier hangs from the center of the ceiling, its crystals casting prismatic rays of light across the room, illuminating the space with a haunting allure.

The walls are lined with dark, navy paneling, adorned sparingly with antique tapestries depicting scenes of forgotten battles and dangerously sharpened weapons. A sleek, black writing desk sits nearby, stacked with books on war strategies and adorned with quill and parchment.

A sense of regal simplicity pervades the space, each element carefully curated to its master. This is a sanctuary of solitude, where one can retreat from the heaviness of the Harkonnen world and immerse themselves in the embrace of peace.

Busy admiring the room, you didn’t notice Feyd-Rautha locking the doors behind you. You tensed when you suddenly felt the coldness of a blade against your back. With one precise slice, he cut your wedding dress open leading all the decorative pearls to fall to the ground. Your hands instinctively went to cover yourself, but his newfound grip on your wrists was even faster.

“You are mine now, pet.” His hands slowly guided yours down as he ripped away the rest of your dress. “Do not resist me, I want to see you in all your beauty.”

Your face flushed as you looked away from him. You knew objecting to his wish was futile, perhaps if you appeased him then he’d be gentler. You learned this was a useless thought the moment you saw his expression – raw, animalistic hunger chipped away at the edges of his sanity. His pupils dilated so wide that his eyes became monochromatic orbs of obsidian.

He removed his own clothes with swift and lithe movements, revealing pure sculpted muscle. Through the rapid rise and fall of his chest, you could see that he was barely holding back his lust. Feyd-Rautha was going to devour you without leaving a single morsel for the world.

“I-I… If you hurt me, I will scream.”

“Go ahead, it’ll only stroke my ego if you do. Scream loud enough for the whole banquet to hear. Let them know what pleasures your husband bestows upon you.”

With each step he took towards you, you took two steps back. When you felt the bed come into contact with the back of your knees, you realize you’ve been trapped.

“Lie down.” he commanded.

Sensing the tonal shift in his voice, you obeyed. You felt his long, slender fingers enter your most intimate place. When he curved against your inner wall, you let out an involuntarily moan – which he quickly swallowed from your lips. You had touched yourself before, but only rarely during occasions when you couldn’t sleep and the moon was hanging high.

However, this was different – he was different. His fingers reached places where yours never could. Your body made lewd sounds as he pumped in and out of you with torturous speed. The way you grind against his hand was indecent, but he rewarded you with such sweet friction. Hearing his low pants against your ear, you couldn't help but writhe into his touch. When you came undone, he smirked and licked your essence from his fingers.

Before you could catch your breath, he was on top of you again; caging you between his toned arms. He reached out to grasp your chin before roughly crashing his lips down on yours. The kiss was all-consuming, he was drinking in every part of you without letting you breathe. Your eyes wandered down to where his member stood unnaturally stiff and enlarged. Your new husband sneered at your expression before his right hand circled around your throat.

“Your throat… it shall be my axis tonight.”

[zkg2318]

Blood on Fire ~ pt. 3 | PJS

A/N: this is part 3 of the BOF series, please read part 1 for the story to make sense as these are heavily driven by plot. Also, i apologize if the smut is a bit too vanilla for your liking, but i tried to add a bit of uniqueness to it. as compensation, i wrote a slight aftercare scene (and i almost never do that cuz im bad at writing it) have fun reading. also, sorry for the ending lol

genre/tags for this part ✶ MDNI reverse harem!hyung line x afab!reader, angst, smut, gore and violence, supernatural themes, (sirens, werewolves, vampires, shapeshifters, phoenixes, frost elves, dragons, witches, and more…), major character death (don't worry), blood, verbal and physical violence, lots of murder, manipulation, lots of death, panic attacks, government themes (not political), fight club au, ot7

synopsis ✶ In a city where the supernatural are arrested on sight, the only refuge for their pent-up rage is “The Enha Arena”- an exclusive, hidden venue where creatures engage in brutal, blood-soaked battles with one another. Concealed beneath the unassuming exterior of “Dusk and Dawn,” a gym that serves as the front of a totally legal business, this underground fight club acts as the epicenter for this violent world where supernatural beings not only fight for dominance and pride but for the sheer thrill of it all. In dire need of some money, you find yourself drawn into the fight club when you come across a black market job posting- an offer for a new trainer at the gym. Desperate for new ways to keep your own abilities under wraps and even learn about other supernatural beings, you accept the position, completely unaware of the dangers and complicated relationships that await you

WC ✶ 12.7

part 2

smut warnings under the cut

smut warnings ✶ monster erotica (obviously), unprotected sex, very brief dom!reader, grinding, slight overstimulation, fluffy aftercare, emotional sex

In the darkness of Luxta’s hidden underbelly, K slaves away for the black market, The Veil in particular, scraping by on a barely livable wage. Desperation has become his best friend now; daring him to escape these circumstances, no matter what. He moves through the outskirts of Luxta with an agonizing slowness, the years worth of working evident in his gait.

Raised like most of the supernatural around here- alone without the guidance of a parental figure, K has brought it upon himself to pay his dues by giving back to the supernatural youth- children who have yet to be sold in the black market or older adolescents who were lucky enough to live in The Veil’s residences.He spends his nights navigating the narrow alleyways located on the outskirts of Luxta that have slowly become the habitat to these ‘monsters’, a notepad in hand as he records statistics and hands out supplies. 

In the beginning, it fulfilled K, knowing he was giving these kids some sort of temporary comfort during the hardest part of their lives. But at some point in time, that comfort dissipated and turned into burn out. Seeing their faces every night, many much too young to be carrying the burden of survival, was just too much for him. But there wasn’t an easy out for K, the supernatural didn’t exactly have access to everyday jobs like humans did. Many had to rely on underground jobs like dealing drugs and committing illegal acts. 

It’s storming now, and the only protection there is are the tents that The Veil has graciously put out for children to commune under. The harsh rain pounds against the makeshift shelters, deafening the murmurs of the children underneath them. K walks around with a sheet of paper in his hand, greeting several children of various ages huddling together for warmth, creating a list of their abilities and what they are. He blinks away the rain infiltrating his vision as he watches some of the children ignite small flames from their palms, a small attempt at experimenting with their powers in order to offer a subtle warmth for others around them to share. Other children aren’t as lucky, shivering as the harsh wind hits their bones. 

As K moves through this particular camp, he spots a figure moving in the distance- his face obscured by the hood of his cloak. A small boy, who stands in front of K, is quickly moved behind him as he straightens his posture to hide him from the strange man’s view. “Don’t you think the sky’s a bit dark for you to be out this late?” K asks, suspicion creeping away in his voice. 

“It glimmers or some shit,” the man grumbles as he shoves a wet envelope into K’s hand. His tone is dismissive and groggy as he continues to speak, “If you want to get out of this shit show, follow the instructions of this envelope.” 

Before K can say anything, the mysterious man turns on his heel and disappears into the shadow. But his eyes catch onto a glint of metal that shines under the moonlight that’s tucked under his cloak, almost completely obscured if not for the bulk of the item being so big. With furrowed eyebrows, K realizes what it was that caught the moonlight’s glint- a government scanner. 

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When K had come to Yuqi the other day after a long winded workout, she hadn’t expected him to say much, let alone reveal something so rattling. His presence never failed to make her unsteady, no matter how much she told herself she trusts him. There was just something in his aura that left the serpent hybrid on edge. Yuqi had expected to be the last person K chose to confide in, memories of her venom searing into his face burned her vision like bright flashes. Yet he was still there, standing before her with something dark in his eyes. 

“Yuqi, there’s something I need to tell you.” There was sweat decorating his hairline as he addressed Yuqi, seriousness hanging in the air based on how he kept his head hung low. 

Yuqi turned to him with an unsuspecting gaze that masked the unease settling in her stomach, “Is everything okay?” 

K seemed to grimace before her and swallowed a growing lump in his throat before speaking, “Not really, no.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “I know my character may not be the most likable, especially after I let things get out of control when I sparred with Heeseung, but I’m hoping you’ll hear me out with honesty.”

“I’m listening.”

K hesitated, unlike him to waver in what it was he wanted to say. “The other day, I overheard Y/n on the phone. Something was off. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, especially because she sounded so distressed- but I heard enough. She spoke about the enforcement division and I learned from there that it was her idea to send the officers in to inspect the building.”

Yuqi’s stomach twisted at K’s reveal. “What are you saying, K?”

“I dropped something by accident, out of surprise. She noticed my presence and hung up her phone immediately. Y/n came straight over to me and told me that if I ever tried revealing what she said, she’d spin it back on me.” 

Yuqi’s mind raced a mile a minute, she wasn’t sure what to believe. Y/n? The same Y/n that was slowly making her way into their fractured community? The same Y/n that spent her vulnerable time cleaning up the team’s wounds after matches, or the same Y/n that held them in her arms when they let their defenses down. That didn’t seem like you. But no matter what Yuqi thought about you, anxiety burned in her chest. 

“Do you know how absurd you sound?”

“Yes…” he said with a strained sigh, “But you know I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t sure of it myself. I was shocked to see firsthand the kind of lengths she’d go to in order for the gym to shut down. She mentioned during one of our conversations that as a phoenix, she wished for the people of Luxta to see the supernatural in a better light. I think exposing the gym was her way of doing that, at least the first step of it.” There’s a tense look of pity on K’s face as he recounts his observations to Yuqi. Despite what he showed on the outside, K  was brimming with excitement and he was lucky that Yuqi’s hearing wasn't good enough to hear the loud pounding of his heart. “For now, I think we should just keep an eye on her.” 

Yuqi’s breath caught in her throat and she kissed the inside of her teeth. “I’ll keep it in mind.” She said with strained tension, but the words felt like lead on her tongue, a poison that was inching its way down her throat like the revelation of your possible betrayal. K nodded and then proceeded to place a comforting hand on Yuqi’s shoulder in a forced reassurance, but she brushed it away. He took that as his cue to leave and gave her a parting glance before disappearing. 

In his absence, Yuqi’s throat felt tight. She couldn’t find it within herself to believe his words. She had watched you from afar, observed you slowly get closer and closer to the boys, with Minnie. The idea of you going behind their backs to betray them crushed her like a vice, like her own serpent tail was constricting her organs from inside. 

Then came the night you approached Yuqi, and Yuqi felt her heart drop a million feet. Your story was so carefully constructed to shift the blame onto K that it almost seemed believable. But his accusation echoed like a drumbeat in her head as she listened to your quivering confession. 

Yuqi wanted to believe, God did she want to trust you. But the weight of her responsibilities overshadowed that benefit of doubt she would have given you had K not come to her first. She was more worried about the safety of her gym and the boys to pay any mind to you as a person. So in a moment of haste, she fired you- and the boys followed. They said hurtful things to your face and Yuqi could see their every word break you down just a little bit more. 

You lost your friends, your job, the family you built with them all within a matter of seconds. She told herself it was for the greater good, but the look on your face was too much; it took everything in her to go through with your dismissal. The last she saw of you was when she forced herself to look away from you and leave the area after firing you. It tore her apart on the inside to see such a shattered looking face on you while also knowing you had the audacity to betray them all. Yuqi wasn’t sure she deserved her own forgiveness- whether it be for letting a traitor into the gym, or for fooling herself into what she thought was a lifelong friendship with you. 

Jungwon, on the other hand, laid awake for days following your departure. He had already had some suspicions regarding K’s integrity, ever since he lost control on Heeseung, he’s remained wary around the older man. Seeing the way K acted after you officially left solidified that little doubt in his mind. He saw first hand how quickly K filled your void. He started to approach Jungwon in an effort to gain his trust, but Jungwon saw through it all. He saw through the forced smiles and practiced words like it was a poorly executed performance.  The cracks in K’s facade were only getting bigger with each interaction Jungwon had with him. 

And it wasn’t just Jungwon that had been approached, but all the others. K’s efforts to get closer- even closer than he was before, increased by tenfold. None of them noticed though, too busy dragging their feet in the ghost of your absence. Jungwon didn’t say anything, but he knew he should. 

He needed to see you. 

After a painful week of sleepless nights and self-doubt, Jungwon decided tonight was the night to confront you, to check in with you. So he gave the maknaes a brief goodbye and waved to his hyung’s before leaving the gym in a hurry. The usual fifteen minute walk to your new apartment felt like an eternity, and the weight of his duffel bag and the burden he carried with him didn’t help. Jungwon wasn’t sure of what it was that he wanted to get out of seeing you, but he was void of any expectations because he knew from a long time ago what a mistake it was to have hope. And the cold wind biting at his red-tinted cheeks only reminded him of that dark resolve. It was colder than usual. 

Given the early hour of the day, the streets Jungwon walks along are eerily silent, quiet enough he could hear a pin drop. Jungwon thrived in silence, but this one felt impending. 

When he turns the corner and comes face to face with the brick material of your building, Jungwon straightens himself. What would he say? Should he apologize? He realizes now that he really should’ve planned this better, but before he can even ascend up the steps to your apartment, he hears a strained gargle coming from your alleyway.  He almost turns away, thinking it’s probably just a stupid raccoon getting into the trash, but he walks down to inspect the noise as a way to delay the inevitable of seeing your face. 

As he walks further down the alley, he squints his eyes and spots a small figure on the ground. Upon moving closer, his eyes catch on something white- the same white sneakers he used to bully you about for always getting scuffed. Before he can even process it, Jungwon jumps into a full sprint. 

When he gets to your side, he collapses to his knees right beside you and ignores the warm feeling of your blood staining his sweats. “Y/n!” He calls in a hurry, scanning your body. “Stay awake for me!” He says as he attempts to shake you awake. 

You barely stir under his touch, a weak groan leaving your lips as he nervously cradles your face. Jungwon winces internally as he takes in the state of your body. There were cuts and bruises marring your face and a stream of blood that was crusted from your nose. Below your face, there was a dark stain of red that was staining your hoodie, and ultimately him as well. You needed help, help from someone that knew how to deal with this sort of stuff. But Jungwon felt conflicted, torn between not wanting to be caught meeting with you but also not wanting your condition to worsen. Deciding in a hurry, he fishes out his phone. As the line rings, he takes a look at the rest of you and dry heaves. 

Though he can’t see much past your clothing, he is able to make out the shape of a boot print left all over your hoodie and a hole where your blood slowly seeps out of. “Shit,” he whispers, pressing a hand to your side. You instinctively flinch under his touch yet again, the sudden pressure having you writhing around in agony. 

“Please- don’t do this K!” You mutter through broken sobs, barely conscious enough to process what was really happening. You choke on the thickness of your blood pooling in your mouth and lurch forward to spit some of it out. “Don’t hurt me, I promise I- I won’t say anything!” 

Jungwon’s heart drops and he rushes to whisper soothing words into your ear. “No, no- Y/n, it’s me, Jungwon. You’re safe.” 

The line finally picks up and Jungwon lets out a strained sigh of relief. “Jay hyung! Please, I need you to come to my location right away.”

“What? Ok, hold on.” There’s some shuffling on the other line and then, “What the hell are you doing at Y/n’s place?” 

Jungwon flinches at his best friend's words, unsure if he made the right choice. But one look at your squirming figure is enough to tell him that he didn’t, “Just get the hell here, Y/n’s been attacked.”

Silence. And then a groan. “What do you mean, attacked?”

“Just get your fucking ass down here, I don’t know what to do, I think she’s bleeding out.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m already in the car. Sunoo is coming with me.” 

Minutes feel like hours as Jungwon presses his hands up against your wound, struggling to maintain the steady flow of blood leaving your body. Finally, when a set of headlights pierces the cold haze of the night, Jungwon’s body slumps. “Over here!” Jungwon calls weakly, finding himself losing feeling in his hands. Jay and Sunoo sprint down to where you and Jungwon are, their faces morphing into horror as they take in the situation. 

From an outside perspective, it looks as though both you and Jungwon were attacked as shown by the blood ruining his clothes. “Jungwon-” Jay says, hurrying to grab Jungwon’s shoulders. The older boy gently pulls him away and whispers comforting words into the panicking boy while Sunoo quickly takes Jungwon’s place. His hands replace Jungwon’s and he winces at the feeling of your blood spread around his palm. 

Jungwon begins to hyperventilate once he’s removed from the situation, the shock kicking in as adrenaline leaves his body. He lays there protectively in Jay’s arms as Sunoo begins to bark commands.  “Jay, grab my phone and call Kim Namjoon.” 

Jay moves with purpose and grabs the phone peeking out from Sunoo’s back pocket, “What should I say?” 

“Tell him to meet us at this address and that he needs to bring his kit. Now.” 

Jay follows Sunoo’s directions, hanging up the phone when said man confirms their location. “Alright, now we need to move her into her apartment, we can’t take her to a hospital.” 

Lifting you is done with delicacy, though it’s excruciating for you. It starts with your arm, the movement sending a splintering pain through your shoulder and you scream. Shortly after getting you up to your feet, a splitting headache swarms your head. You can’t do anything more than scream and let out a string of incoherent words. 

Eventually, you’re moved inside with a shaking Jungwon following after you all. “Her keys- they’re in her pocket.” Jungwon hiccups, his face streaming with fresh tears. Sunoo grabs your keys and unlocks your apartment door slower than he would have liked, but it doesn’t matter. Once the door is open, Jay and Sunoo burst inside and move to set you down on the couch, not caring that your blood quickly makes its home in the fabric. You can buy a new one. 

“Should we call the others?” Jungwon asks, shutting the door behind him.

“No.” Jay is quick to answer as he shakes out his arms, the awkward position of carrying you likely forming a knot in his shoulder. “They’ll freak the hell out and we do not need that right now.” 

In the minutes that follow, Sunoo runs to grab towels and sets them under your body while a knock on your door sounds. Sunoo looks at Jungwon and silently asks for him to get the door. Jungwon runs to the front of your place, opening the door to a tall man with metal framed glasses perched on his nose. “Tell me what happened,” he says, pushing past Jungwon and straight to you and Sunoo. 

“There’s a stab wound to her right side, we can’t manage to stop the bleeding and it seems like her arm may have been broken. I can’t really tell you much else, I’m sorry.” Sunoo sniffles, moving back to let the man open his kit. 

Namjoon works with a sharp efficiency, quickly attaching you to an IV and pushing morphine through the clear tube. As the older man rips open a dressing tray, Sunoo turns to Jay and Jungwon’s confused expressions. “This is Namjoon, a griffin. He fled Luxta many years ago to pursue a career in surgery.”

Jay, more present than Jungwon, looks to his friends with his eyebrows raised. “He went to Chambers, it’s three cities over. The supernatural don’t exist there, so Namjoon could live his own life there freely without the same restrictions we face in Luxta.”

There was little known about what lay beyond the outskirts of Luxta, its borders heavily guarded by government officials as a way to prevent the supernatural from escaping. The few that tried were never heard again. How Namjoon managed to get past them remains a mystery. 

“Namjoon came to Luxta one day and took me in when I was 7. We went right back to Chambers and he raised me as his apprentice until I turned 20. When I became of age, he told me to go back, and said I’d make a difference.” Sunoo continues to explain with a slightly softer voice than before, finally at ease with the way Namjoon works around your body. 

Jay, feeling that same wave of relief, walks over to Jungwon who is slumped against the wall with his head in his knees. “Jungwon…” he whispers, approaching the young boy with concern. He fights the urge to lash out at Jungwon, to scold him for breaking the group's trust and going out to see you. Jay decides to change his approach out of pity for the younger boy, a soft side he doesn’t hold for the other boys.  He couldn’t stand to keep looking at the way Jungwon quivered in the corner and hid in his own shell- it had taken so long to get him out of it when they first started living together, he didn’t want him going back. “Can you tell us what happened?”

The smaller boy looks up with red-rimmed eyes and snot dripping from his nose. He hiccups a few times before speaking. “She- she said his name, K.” His stare is blank as he replays the sound of your screams and sobs- your broken pleas to get K to stop. His heart rips at the memory of you all bloodied and vulnerable, completely helpless and waiting there for death to consume you. Completely unaware of his surroundings, Jungwon’s breathing speeds up and Jay hurries to slide down the wall and sit beside him.

“Breathe for me, Jungwon,” He coos, caressing the younger boy's hair. Jay tucks Jungwon’s head into his chest and looks at Sunoo with despair. “Can you feel your hands?” 

Jay knows Jungwon is panicking, and he knows that when he does, he loses feeling in his extremities. So, he ushers Jungwon to put his hands in Jay’s and begins to massage them, restoring blood flow. “Shh, it’s ok. She’s safe now.” He whispers with every sniffle of Jungwon’s. 

At some point, Jungwon’s breathing calms down just as Namjoon finishes stitching you up. Sunoo takes that chance to look at your body, hoodie sheared off and bruises finally presenting themselves to the world. Sunoo’s heart clenches with despair and a single tear finally makes its debut on Sunoo’s face. The sight of your bruises makes Sunoo nauseous so he looks away.

Namjoon seems to notice the blossom of bruises spanning across your torso and clicks his tongue. He brings out a stethoscope from his kit and presses it over various spots of your body, listening carefully before taking it off. Following that, his hands move to your side and he palpates the area, stopping when you let out another choked sob. “I think she’s broken a few ribs, maybe even fractured some. There’s no way for me to confirm without an x-ray, but I didn’t hear any signs of a collapsed lung, thankfully.”

“Will she be okay?” Sunoo whispers with a shaky voice. 

Namjoon offers him a comforting nod. “She’s a phoenix.  With enough rest and medicine, she’ll be back to normal before you know it. Phoenixes- they’re resilient; they’re self healing.”

Namjoon phrases his words in a way to be reassuring, but he knows they do little to relieve the weight of the situation. From his observations, it seems that these boys were connected to you in a way not many others could relate. 

Collectively, they all turn to Jungwon next for an explanation. He breathes in a shaky inhale. He was gonna have to explain to them why he was visiting you. “I… I’ve been suspicious of K hyung for a while. I’ve had doubts about him since he hurt Heeseung, so I came to Y/n’s to talk about him. But then I found her like that, begging me to not hurt her.” Another river of tears follows before Jungwon can finish. “She- she thought I was K. She thought I was hurting her.” 

Jay shakes his head slowly and sighs, tightening his grip on the younger boy's hand. “I believe you, I know you wouldn’t lie. But, getting the others to believe us is another story…” 

Sunoo chimes in too, “I believe you too. I’ve had my own reservations against K, but I lost focus when Y/n left. I was so consumed with my own grief, I couldn’t see any true colors.” He looks to the ground with shame, lacing his fingers through your limp hand. Though he speaks quietly, his words carry the weight of a thousand apologies. Turning to address you, he croaks out an apology. “I’m sorry, Y/n. We should have never questioned your loyalty to us, your genuineness.”

Jay looks like he’s about to do the same, ready to echo Sunoo’s words, but Namjoon steps forward and demands their attention with just his presence.

“There is one way that we can confirm everything that’s happened.” He says, dropping his voice. “As a griffin, I have the ability to see people’s memories through touch.” 

The room falls silent and Namjoon takes that moment to get rid of his latex gloves. With a softened gaze, he kneels beside you and presses a hand to your cheek. The veins in his hands light up and a rush of your most recent memories flood Namjoon’s mind- fast and overwhelming. The recollection of your most recent memories twists your face into a look of anguish and the three boys standing off to the side can only do as much as exchange a look of pain. They remain silent though, a witness to Namjoon’s powers. 

After what feels like an eternity, Namjoon finally takes his hand off of your face and watches the glow of his veins fade away. He turns to the boys with an unsteady cadence in his breathing. 

“Would you rather I tell you,” he starts with a hitch in his breath, “or show you?” 

Jay answers Namjoon with a look of desperation, “Can you show all of us?” 

Namjoon gives the boy a nod and beckons them forward, settling on the back of his calves as the three boys crowd around him. He grabs Sunoo’s hand, who is standing in the middle, and tells the others to press their foreheads to Sunoo’s temples. 

When they move to connect themselves to Sunoo, visions of what Namjoon saw surge through their own minds. It hits like a tsunami, all at once and unrelenting. Tears fall from Jay’s closed eyes as he watches through your own point of view the discovery of K’s betrayal. His heart clenches with guilt, heavy with shame as he helplessly observes you battle with the strain of his secrets, your own health deteriorating at the hands of K.  

Sunoo doesn’t fare much better, trembling with a coil of shame that’s daring to burst at any minute. He squeezes Namjoon’s hand tighter with every passing second, wincing at the way the boys looked at you when you were let go. The quiet accusation in their eyes, he feels everything- your heartbreak, your isolation, your despair. He wishes he could take it all away, erase what you saw, but it’s too late. 

And then the attack. They listen to the words exchanged between you and K. A tense back and forth that only leads to you being slammed against the wall. Visions of you twisting violently in the grasps of your attackers flash through their minds, a reflection of your pain surging through their bodies, but at a fraction of what you actually felt. 

Jungwon gasps and stumbles away from Sunoo before the memories can get too vivid. He clutches his  stomach in pain, absolutely nauseated by the memory of your attack. It was too raw, too vivid for him to watch. He didn’t want to see first hand how you came to be a sad, pitiful lump of flesh in the middle of your alley. Yet, Jay and Sunoo stay, faces twisting into looks of anguish as they finish the rest of the attack. 

When Sunoo breaks the connection, Jay drops to his knees and scrambles to your side, clutching at your hand with a gut wrenching sob.”Y/n, fuck.” He pleads through a wave of tears, “I- I’m so sorry. What- what should I do?” There's a storm of guilt thundering beneath his skin and it takes all his willpower not to scream out. Sunoo watches Jay’s grip on your hand tighten to the point your skin turns white. 

“Don’t, don’t hurt her more.” He says quietly, placing a hand over Jay’s. 

Jay hesitantly listens to Sunoo, easing up on your grip and falling back. He drops his head and presses himself to the back of your hand. “Yuqi and Minnie, can you show them? And the others?” 

Namjoon responds with a strained voice, “I can.” He pauses, resting a hand on Jay’s back. “Not now, later. I’ve done what I can, she just needs rest now. Would one of you be able to stay with her?” 

Jay’s head snaps up immediately, his hand shooting up in the air, “I can do it.” He says with a look of determination. He barely registers Sunoo’s bittersweet smirk. 

“Good, I’ll see you all tomorrow at the gym.” Namjoon says before guiding the other boys out of your apartment. 

When your apartment door shuts, Jay finally allows himself to crumble. He rests his head against your thigh and relishes in the feeling of your warmth- a reminder that you were still here, still breathing. Without blinking, he watches the ragged rise and fall of your chest, a minute detail that barely keeps him grounded. The boy lets out a shaky breath, face damp with tears as he lets the weight of his guilt cave in on him. 

How could he make this right? Would he still be able to reclaim that bond he once had with you? Just thinking about you refusing to accept him back into your life makes his chest tighten, the ache of turning his back on you spreading like a slow poison. How could he forgive himself for clinging onto K in your absence, led blindly by his false narrative. He could only blame himself for his misplaced trust, and it killed him inside. It killed him that he could’ve stopped your attack from happening if he had just listened. His head feels like it’s going to explode with the relentless pressure of his thoughts. Drained of any energy he once had, he shakes his head and carefully picks you up, arms carrying the emotional weight of the situation more than the physical. 

Your body is limp in his arms and it makes Jay wince knowing that you're completely helpless in his presence, relying on him to keep you safe; something he didn’t feel very deserving of right now. You are like a rag doll in his arms, your consciousness having fled from the face of trauma. With a heavy heart, Jay carries you to your bedroom and as gently as he can, places you in your bed. 

He tucks the comforter around your body and then moves to pick the stray pieces of hair stuck to your face. In that moment of strained serenity, he focuses on the sound of your breathing. It should comfort him, ground him to know that you’re safe now, but it doesn’t. It only serves as a recipe for the bitter knot forming in his throat. 

He can’t bring himself to leave you alone, not after everything that just happened. So rather than retreating to the living room to give you the privacy you rightfully deserve, he hesitantly creates a makeshift bed right beside you on the ground. Just a few pillows and a throw blanket thrown to the ground is enough. He lies flat on his back with his hands clasped together across his stomach and lets his mind drift off. 

He thinks about you. About that stupid pull-up contest you roped him into on your first day, a catalyst for the impending competitions you’d share with him in the next few months. He thinks about your trust, and how you made every effort to look past his flaws and see him for who he is. All those times you laughed with him, an ache growing in your abdomen from laughing so much. It’s a punishing reminder of what he’s just lost. 

Several hours pass before you begin to wake up. Your eyelids feel heavy, like they’re weighed down by the events of last night. But you force them to open, blinking away the dryness that impedes your vision. Immediately, you feel pain shooting all over your body. You try to sit up anyways but a sharp throb radiating around your side keeps you from getting far. 

Suddenly, vivid memories of last night flash across your mind all at once- the cruel voice of K in your ear, the recollection of him treating you like a mere rag doll. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the memories to go away but they don’t. It happened, and it rips your heart apart. You feel as though you’re reliving the experience, every painful minute of it. 

You’re unaware of the fact that you’re hyperventilating until a hand rests on your shoulder. The touch comes suddenly and you flinch away from it, crying out in pain. “Y/n! It’s Jay. You’re safe, you’re safe.” He’s desperate to reassure you but he can’t help the way he repeats the last words like it’s a reminder to himself too. 

When you open your eyes, you see Jay. He looks horrible, eyes brimming with tears and a frown on his face that’s so broken you almost weep. But you don’t. Instead, you scowl at the mere reminder of him turning his back on you, leaving you in the dust.

You try to scream at him, to curse him out for being so selfish and leaving you without a second thought, but nothing comes out. Only a strangled moan leaves your throat. “Y/n…I-” his voice cracks with emotion and he coughs, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, there are not enough words in the world to express how sorry I am. I should have believed you.” He stares at the floor as he chokes out an apology, but you stay silent. Though you don’t have much of a choice. 

Jay knows his apology is only a bandaid over a gaping wound, but it still hurts him to see the anger on your face. Simmering just beneath your anger is a hollow ache that chases after your heart and you’re not sure if his words will be enough to fill it. 

You spend the rest of your day in bed with Jay doing everything he can to make you comfortable. A tense silence clouds the air, acting as an unspoken barrier that he doesn’t dare to break. You’re not speaking to him either- not because you don’t want to, but because you physically can’t. And you know all you’d have to say to him is a string of curse words and insults you probably wouldn’t mean a few days from now. 

With your voice shot, you have to rely on a bell to get his attention, but even with the bell, Jay doesn’t need it- constantly hovering around you every five minutes just to check in on you, afraid you’ll disappear if he looks away for too long. And every time he enters the room, he’s sporting the same broken look from before. It’s a look that haunts you when he changes your bandages, or when he feeds you, even when he’s adjusting your pillows; it’s the same solemn look every time. 

It’s a repetitive cycle that lasts throughout the entire day, him tending to your every need without you so much as lifting a finger. He does all of this in a painstaking silence, but you can feel the weight of his sorrow leaking past your defenses. But it’s too fresh, too soon to start unwrapping what’s been weighing on everyone’s minds lately. You’re afraid of confronting reality. 

Outside of the protection of your home, word of your attack reaches the rest of the group. Coincidentally, the news breaks on a day that K is nowhere to be seen, though his absence does little to alleviate the strain on Jungwon and Sunoo’s chests. The weight of yesterday’s events make every breath they take sharp and painful, like it’s stealing their air. 

They start with Yuqi, finding her at the front desk of the Dawn gym spinning around in her chair. “Yuqi,” Jungwon calls out, greeting her at the front. She quirks a brow at the three men, glancing at Namjoon who was a few feet behind him and Sunoo. “This is Namjoon- he’s a griffin.” 

“Yuqi, there’s something important we need to discuss. We need everyone.” Sunoo says with an uncharacteristic seriousness in his tone. 

She seems to hesitate for a second- something she’s started doing since the night you left, but nods her head and takes them into the Dusk gym. “Okay… Care to explain why you’re being so ominous?” She asks, a lame attempt at a joke. She can sense the tension, she’s not stupid. But with her confidence rattled, she’s not sure what to expect. 

Jungwon only shakes his head at Yuqi and anxiously awaits the arrival of the rest of the group once they reach the benches. When he sees the others approaching them, he starts to pick at his fingers, but Sunoo notices and takes his hand to hold in his. As the group settles around the benches, Sunoo steps up to speak, granting Jungwon the much needed reprieve he’s silently desired for. “Y/n was attacked last night.” 

Sunoo’s words hang at a stand still, like they’ve rendered the world of its ability to keep turning. He feels himself trembling with anxiety and he relies solely on gravity to keep him anchored. The silence is overwhelming, practically suffocating as he waits for his words to process through everyone- but it doesn’t last long. 

Sunghoon breaks the silence with anger, voice sharp and bitter that brims with the memories of your earlier betrayal. “I’m not surprised. Karma will always make its way around eventually.” 

Sunoo clenches his fist at his sides, heat rising through his body like a steaming pot. “You hate her that much?” He asks with a slight waver in his voice, struggling to control the anger at bay. The rest of the boys keep their eyes glued to the ground while Sunoo stares at him with a fury he’s never felt before. Jungwon must notice because he desperately tugs at Sunoo’s sleeve, an attempt to get him back on track. 

Sunoo lets out a forced exhale and straightens his posture, quickly pushing away the heat building in his body. “I’m going to choose to ignore that,” he starts, shooting Sunghoon a glare. “This is Namjoon, he’s a griffin. He can show you the truth.”

Before Namjoon can step forward, Jungwon chimes in, “Where’s Minnie?” He asks, noticing the lack of a second female from the group. 

“She called in sick.” Yuqi answers, focusing her attention on the older man behind him. 

Namjoon then steps forward with a solemn expression and reaches out for Yuqi’s hand. “I need you all to hold hands with Yuqi in the middle. This way, you’ll be able to see the same vision, the same truth.” 

The boys link hands as directed, a connection between the group eventually forming. Namjoon doesn’t say anything more, only closes his eyes and lets his veins light up again. Jungwon looks away once he sees the familiar radiance pass through his hands, the scene in front of him only acting as a harsh reminder of what happened just last night. 

Seconds pass by and then the first gasp. Yuqi’s heart drops and her face contorts into a twist of horror, the truth crashing through her like a tsunami. The first of your memories flash through her; the phone call, K’s voice, everything. The same fear that you felt when K caught you rips through Yuqi’s body like she was there herself. She was wrong, she was so wrong.

The boys react in varying degrees. Heeseung’s breath hitches and his guilt suddenly begins to eat him alive as he watches you deal with the burden of carrying K’s secret. Niki isn’t doing much better, a few stray tears slipping past his cheek as he clenches his jaw. And Sunghoon, usually so composed and well kept, screams in silence.The realization that they had it all wrong weighs heavily in their hearts, though Sunghoon remains motionless. The weight of their collective mistake scratches their insides like a hungry beast. 

And then it happens.

A strangled gasp rips from Sunghoon’s throat and he breaks off the chain, immediately finding eyes with Sunoo. He takes a step forward but Jake, who has also let his hands go, rushes to hold him back, unsure of what the frost elf was about to do. “She’s safe.” Namjoon says, taking his own hand back and pushing them into his pockets. “Sunoo, Jungwon, Jay and I worked together to make sure she’s stable.” 

“That fucker-” Sunghoon seethes, eyes glowing blue. “I’ll kill him!”

While Sunghoon thrashes in Jake’s grasp, the werewolf trying his hardest to keep the frost elf calm, Yuqi loses her grip on reality. “Oh my God…” She breaks her silence and brings a hand to her mouth, pupils expanding with her panic. “She was telling me the truth.” The serpent falls to the ground, body trembling as she clutches her burning chest. An unrestrained sob rips from her throat and a tear finally falls from her eyes. Sunoo winces; watching Yuqi- someone he grew to admire- break in front of him. 

“I need you to get up, Yuqi.” Sunoo says through gritted teeth, residual anger still lingering in his body. When she stands, body swaying slightly, Sunoo continues despite the growing lump in his throat from suppressing his tears for so long. “So now you all know what really happened. Y/n never lied, and the consequence of telling the truth was her being brutally attacked.”

Standing behind him, Jungwon flinches, startled by Sunoo’s sudden aggression. “Hyung- please…” he whispers, his hand reaching out to the older. 

Sunoo shakes his hand away from the boy but mentally kicks himself for his hypocrisy. He knows he harbored the same doubts as they did, but his resolve to fix what they so easily broke is persistent. The only way he could forgive himself was to get the others to come together. “We need to get rid of K.”

“And how the hell do we do that?” Jake asks, his mind crowding with thoughts as he finally lets go of Sunghoon, albeit reluctantly.

Heeseung, who was silent until now, steps forward. “We tell him the truth. If his mission was to give the government information, he’ll have to find another way. Kicking him out will keep him from monitoring us.” His voice holds steady, but on the inside, he’s crumbling. Burdened with the knowledge that you were left in the dark and faced only with the backs of those you trusted, he experiences an ache that could only be the equivalent of a stake driving through his heart. 

The room falls into a heavy silence, but an unspoken sense of unity slowly develops under the tension. With their eyes meeting under the harsh lights hanging above them, they nod their heads and redirect their grief towards getting rid of K. Memories of his betrayal echo against the walls of the gym, the place where it all started and the place where it’d all end. They just had to find him. 

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 That following night, Jay and Y/n lie awake beside each other, yet it’s the furthest they’ve ever been emotionally. In the silence, Jay twiddles his fingers. “Y/n…” His voice pierces through the darkness of your room, quiet, but unmistakably there. “Are you still awake?”

You tell yourself not to answer him, to not give him the satisfaction of knowing your wall was slowly falling, but that stubborn part of you that’s been desperate for some semblance of comfort, doesn’t care. “Yes.”

Jay can’t say it surprises him when he hears the thorn in your voice, despite only giving him a one word answer. He doesn’t have the liberty to wince, only repent. Your simple response is like a betrayal to the storm that’s been brewing inside you the past few nights, ones that were never captured with sleep or rest. Night after night, you’ve woken up in a cold sweat gasping for air, memories of your own demise playing through your mind like a film reel. Not just K, but the undead too, the sickly stench of decay follows you like they’re still there, still holding you captive in their brittle arms.  You’re suffocating. 

“The others know, now. Yuqi and Minnie. The boys. Everyone.”

So why hadn’t you seen any of them- is what you want to ask, but you stay quiet. 

“They all feel awful.” He adds quickly, like he needs to reassure himself that it wasn’t just him that felt guilty.

You scoff with a bitter taste on your tongue, “They should.”

The anger, the rage that’s been building up over the last few days , suddenly courses through you all at once. You no longer feel an ache in your chest which has been overflowing with feelings of betrayal and abandonment, that was foreign now. All you felt now was a rage as hot as the flames you produced. “Not a single one of you gave me the benefit of the doubt, or stood up for me when I needed you guys the most.” You spit with accusation heavy in the words. 

“Y/n… I-“ he starts, but you cut him off. 

“Don’t say it.” 

You sit up suddenly, a sharp ring blaring in your ears when you do, but you ignore it. Jay’s laying on the floor with the blanket from your living room clutched in his hands, eyes dark with regret. “Don’t say sorry. Not again.” You seethe, bending forward to grab a fistful of his hair. “If you were really sorry, none of this would’ve happened.”

His face flashes with pain and he lets out a groan, throwing his hands up to your wrists in an attempt to get you to let go. “Y/n, please- I’ll do anything for you to forgive me.” 

Without a second thought, you clutch at his hair even tighter- the sudden power surging through your body. You were desperate for control, you needed something- someone- to break. “Come here,” You say. Your words are quiet but they burn with authority. 

The older boy moves to sit beside you, frantic eyes searching your face. “Wh-what do you need?”

“Kiss me.”

He freezes, but you don’t care. “If you’re really sorry for what you did, you’ll let me use you.” 

There’s a brief moment of silence, one that’s just long enough for you to second guess your words, but he leans forward, cutting you off from your thoughts. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips and you preen under the intimacy, but it’s not enough. Not nearly enough to quell the fire growing inside you. 

“Harder,” you mutter, grabbing at the back of his head and pulling him towards you. Your next kiss is fueled with rage and desire, a complete juxtapose from the one just seconds ago. Your fingers twist the locks of his hair painfully and he groans into the kiss, a pain he slowly learns to crave for more. You slip your tongue into his mouth and swirl it around his own. It’s lewd and messy, spit exchanging between your mouths and falling past your swollen lips as you move your mouth against his. He closes his lips around your tongue, gently sucking on the muscle until you pull away. 

Breaking the kiss with only a string of saliva keeping you connected, you push his chest back until he’s laying flat on your bed. His breath catches in his throat as he watches you straddle his lap. “Y/n-”

“Shut up, just stop.” You say absently, settling into his lap and riding his shirt up his chest. He presses his mouth closed when you move to drag your fingers down the outline of his abs, tracing the subtle contour on his stomach. They flex under your touch, sensitive to the tips of your fingers. “So pretty,” you whisper to yourself, pressing your full palm to his stomach. Seeing him underneath you, lust quickly fills your thoughts and you grind down on his lap. It doesn’t do much to satisfy the growing need flourishing in your core, but it’s enough for now. 

His golden skin seems to glow under the moonlight shining through your window, shimmering against the sheen of sweat that’s quickly started to form on his abs. Your fingers move with a mind of their own, crawling upwards until they capture his nipples in the pads of your fingers. The pinkish-brown of his nipples perk up immediately, hardening in an instant under your touch. “Fuck…” he says through a sigh, throwing his head back onto your pillow. 

“Am I making you feel good?”

“Yes- Y/n, fuck.” 

Your fingers continue to twiddle with his nipples, his sudden twitches only stirring you on. With his quiet moans prodding against your defenses, you lean down and take one of them into your mouth. Your tongue swirls against the bud and Jay lets out a string of curses, throwing his hand up to hold back your hair. “Yes, keep doing that.” He pleads, gripping your hair tightly. 

You continue to flick your tongue against his nipple until your jaw aches for a break while you mouth at the bud. When you lean back, you flip your hair to the side and grind your ass down into his lap, earning a throaty groan from the boy. “Will you let me ride you?” you gasp between the back and forth of your hips. 

He nods hurriedly, throwing his hands to grab at your waist. You’re about to tell him off, but he starts to move your hips in tandem with your swaying and it extinguishes the scolding that rests on the  tip of your tongue. For a moment, the both of you enjoy the small act of desire as you use each other’s body to get off, but you quickly grow impatient when you feel the hardness of his cock underneath you.  “God, you make me so mad.” You say, feeling yourself let the anger run its way through your body.

You quickly get off of him and move to pull his shorts down, only leaving him in a pair of boxers that are stained with precum and his shirt that you had ridden up earlier. “This looks painful,” you say, palming at his bulge. 

He catches his bottom lip in his teeth and sucks in a gasp. “You like it when my hands are on your cock?” You ask, tracing the outline with your finger. 

Jay doesn’t manage more than a meager nod as you tighten your grip around his member, sliding your hand up and down. He’s achingly big in your grasp and it throbs with your every touch. Practically drooling for something to fill you up, you pull his boxers down and he springs free. His abdomen quickly stains with his precum and you lap at the shine, smiling up at him with your tongue sticking out.

You move off the bed to strip yourself of your panties, but a wave of hesitance washes through you and you freeze. You're completely out in the open for Jay to see and it burns a pit in your stomach, reminding you of your earlier vulnerabilities in the alley, but he quickly places a hand on your thigh and caresses it, sensing your unease. The sudden wavering of your confidence eliminates any sense of dominance you managed to exert on him and you melt like putty in his hands.  “So pretty, so beautiful.” He says quietly, holding eye contact with you as he gestures for you to sit back on him. 

The timbre of his voice unnerves you, extinguishing what little confidence you once had. You move to sit back on his lap again, your juices soaking his cock as soon as your folds wrap around his member. The heat of his arousal melts into your core and you shudder, “Move, baby.” He says, hands finding purchase on your hips. 

You begin to slide your hips back and forth, letting your arousal spread over his cock until it’s drenched in your slick. With every grind forward, the tip of his cock prods at your clit, eliciting a sharp gasp from Jay each time. “Put it in, princess.” He says, stilling your hips. 

Jay grabs the base of his cock and keeps it still for you as you sink down his length, the sudden stretch drawing out a wanton moan from your throat. “Mmph-” you moan out and bite your lip when the tip of his cock kisses the hilt of your cervix. With his cock breaching your body, you relish in the feeling of being full again. While temporary, that empty feeling in your belly quickly fills with a fire that blossoms further with your every movement. 

“You’re taking me so well, princess.” He praises, watching you with admiration in his eyes. “Will you take this off for me?” He tugs on the end of your shirt and you quickly rid yourself of the fabric, revealing the absence of a bra underneath. His dick twitches in response and he quickly moves his hands to hold your tits. “That’s it, baby.” 

You put a hand on the center of his chest to anchor your weight as you grind on his cock, his navel stimulating your clit whenever you push your hips forward. “Bounce, baby, ride it correctly.” He grunts, pushing your hips up slightly. 

“God, I hate you.” you whimper out, feeling his hardness slip in and out of you as you move to adjust yourself.

“I know, baby, I know.” 

It’s as though the heat of his touch is working to unravel the string that’s been knotted around your heart, guarding your weakest vulnerabilities. You fall weak to the closeness of his body, an intimacy you had been craving since you were let go. Your body subconsciously surrenders itself to him and dampens the strength of your anger. 

He squeezes his fingers around your hips and helps to lift you up and down his cock, the two of you working in tandem to reach the highs of your own pleasure. The drag of his cock moving through your pussy draws out a series of moans that you can’t hold back. He wraps his arms around your waist and brings you down to his chest, changing the pace of your act and thrusting upwards instead.

You feel vulnerable in his hold, exposed- but you finally begin to breathe. Your bitterness towards Jay still lingers, but it’s no longer the centerpiece of your emotions. Before you can stop it, tears begin to sting your eyes and your next blink has them falling down like a downpour. “Let it out, baby.” Jay whispers, stroking your back as he slows his thrusts. “I’m here for you now, I’m never gonna leave.” 

You sit back up and lean your hands back onto his knees, giving him full view of your body. Your hips move up and down on their own and you throw your head back in pleasure, all while your heart brims with an unresolved anger. Every one of your suppressed emotions seem to make their debut in the heat of the moment, your body slamming down onto his hips as you cry out. Pleasure erupts in your lower core and you shudder around his length, cumming until the girth of his dick is wrapped in a creamy white. He keeps going.

He bends his legs so that he can plant his feet on the bed and thrusts into you aggressively, “You can take it, I know you can.” He grunts, squeezing your hips till they’re sure to bruise later. The force of his thrusts easily have you jostling about in the air, your grip on reality slipping as a familiar coil of heat forms in your stomach again.

“Jay-” You clench down hard on his cock and push against his chest to ground yourself. “I’m cu-cumming again!” The words barely leave your lips before waves of pleasure surge through you. Jay brings a hand down to your heat and toys with your clit, orchestrating the peak of your pleasure so that you can ride it out for longer. 

As your shaking reaches an end, he moves his hand back to your hips and roughly flips you over onto your back. He throws his shirt off and throws it somewhere without a care in the world before continuing. “You’re doing so well for me, baby. Keep taking my cock, yeah, just like that.” He says while pistoning into your throbbing cunt. “Your pussy feels so good wrapped around my dick like this.” 

“I- I can’t, it’s too- too much!” you stutter through each thrust, feeling the bundle of nerves down there light up like a fire. The intensity of his fire makes you squirm underneath him, his lustrous gaze penetrating you. 

His thrusts begin to meet with an equally desperate desire to have him closer to you and you grab at his neck and pull him into a messy kiss. Your fingers trail past the ridges of his dragon scales, armoring him from your desperate claws as he fills you to the hilt. The feeling of his scales has your stomach twist with arousal, the unnatural hardness of his body only fueling your lust. “You- you feel so good, Jay.” You gasp between thrusts. 

He pulls away from you to see his cock disappearing into your pussy, the sight of him buried so deep inside of you making him twitch with desire. “Fuck, I’m close.” Jay grips your tits in his hands as he works towards his orgasm with fervor, incoherent words escaping his lips every few seconds. 

You arch into his touch, feeling on fire from the way he ravishes your body. He pants between thrusts and you move a hand up to his nipples, pinching the delicate bud between your fingers. Your touch pushes him over the edge and his hips stutter to a sudden stop. With one last snap of his pelvis meeting your ass, the most erotic moan leaves his mouth and he shoots his cum into you. The pit in your belly heats up and you drink his moans up like a drug, gasping along with him. He leans over you and drops his head, proof of his efforts meshing with your own sweat.

Exhausted, you pull him back in for a desperate hug, suddenly feeling your heart sting. He flips you onto your side with his member still keeping you connected to him. “You did so good, baby.”

It seems that the release of Jay’s arousal has dampened the fire in your heart and so you cry out, both from pain and pleasure as Jay continues to coo into your ear. “I- I hate what you did to me,” you sob, the intensity of your harboured emotions suddenly rushing out. In an act of desperation and vulnerability, you inch forward to bury your head into the crook of his neck. “You broke me, all of you.”

Jay just listens, soothing you through the caresses on your back and the humming of his voice. His cock softens a bit inside of you and the tip is starting to become overstimulated, but he doesn’t make any effort to pull out. You needed this, you needed his closeness. “I know, baby.” he whispers absently, moving a hand to card his fingers through your hair. 

Maybe it was the crash from your high, but you find yourself shaking in Jay’s hold. The intimacy you craved for so much in that week you were alone, you were finally getting it. You continue to sob into his chest, not minding the trail of tears that started to decorate his sun kissed skin or the snot that unceremoniously rubbed on him. It was like a storm of loneliness was pushing its way to the surface, gripping you from Jay’s embrace. You mind was your own worst enemy, blocking you from the solace that you desperately need. 

“Let it out, Y/n. I’ll be right here to hold you up,” It pained Jay to see you like this. So broken, so shattered. You were usually so confident and walked with an unwavering authority that he had grown to admire, but it was all gone now. The you he used to know was dead and it was all his fault.

Slowly, Jay slides out of you and tongues his cheek when he feels his cum pour out of you and onto his thigh which was slotted between your legs. He needs to clean you up, but the iron grip on his body prevented him from doing so. “Baby, can you let go for just a few minutes?” Your desperate whimper could have been mistaken as a cute refusal to not let him go, like you were wanting to cling onto him like a koala for just a little more, but it wasn’t funny in the slightest. It was dark and embarrassing and it stripped you of your defenses. 

You feared for your life and so you finally let yourself feel Jay’s body on yours. You couldn’t let that go. He was so easily taken from you with just a few manipulative words from someone else, what’s to say he wouldn’t leave again? Anyone could take you, hurt you, the moment he leaves. The cocoon he holds you in feels like your last bit of resolve, the strength of your fire dimming with each passing second. So you clutch onto him even tighter. 

Jay uses every fiber in his being to pry himself off of you, “I’ll be right back, Y/n. I just need to clean you up.” The cold of his absence hits you immediately once he disappears into your bathroom, only the sound of him rummaging around acting as a reminder you weren’t alone. The feeling of his warm skin no longer being held in your fingers suddenly feels foreign and you grasp at the bed sheets as a desperate attempt to replace that pitiful feeling. When he comes back, he has a damp washcloth in his hand. 

“I’m gonna clean you, ok?” His voice is spoken in a soft whisper and he gently pries your legs open. A wet cloth prods at your folds, but it’s warm and you feel your body melt into the sensation. Jay moves meticulously between your legs so as to not aggravate the tissue down there, trying his best to not bother you. It collects both of your guys’ essence and when he finishes, he goes to toss the cloth into your washing machine. Coming back, he plants a delicate kiss on your shoulder and slides back into the bed, pulling you into him. 

“What do I do?” You feel like your insides are ripping apart. Part of you wants to stay mad at them all, to never forgive them. But the other, lonely part of you that’s still stuck in your isolated past, craves their touch. 

“You take it one day at a time, baby. And I’ll be right here the entire time.” He presses his hand to the back of your head and brings his lips down to yours and it’s so delicate you don’t even know if he really kissed you. “I’m so sorry for everything, and I’ll spend the rest of my life working for your trust and forgiveness.” 

A stray tear slips from your eyes and he quickly wipes it away with his thumb, “Don’t cry, love. Things are going to be okay.” 

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“I just don’t get how someone so nice could have done something so deceptive?”

“I know, but red roses have black shadows soo.” Jungwon answers, crossing his legs over each other. “He may have seemed perfect on the outside, but he was harboring a multitude of secrets on the inside.” The boy looks at you with a fragile expression, a bittersweet reminder of your attack. His eyes were glossed over as if the memory was still fresh in his mind, and for a second, you wonder if Jungwon blames himself for what happened. You can see the shame on his face, the way his dimples no longer show or the way his eyes no longer shine when he speaks. You wanted to reach out, tell him that everything was okay, but everything was not okay. 

“I’m not glass, Jungwon.” You tell him with a firm voice, pushing yourself up from your couch. The fabric was still stained with remnants of your attack. As much as you rubbed at it with a heavy dose of stain remover, it seemed like the red would never fade away. Unfortunately, the stain remover was only so strong, and so were you. 

Jungwon follows your movement as you move to the kitchen, watching as you occupy your hands with the dirty dishes in your sink which have managed to pile up since you returned to the gym last week. “I know that, Y/n. But we don’t know where K is, he could be waiting for a chance to jump from the shadows and attack you again.”

The subtle reminder of your attack twists the knife K had plunged into your side that night, ripping you open and leaving you bare. You felt so small despite your repeated efforts to appear strong. All your life, you wished for freedom beyond the four walls of your parents’ apartment, and eventually your own. You yearned for freedom, whispering it against every birthday candle you blew out alone. And you had it, until you didn’t. For so long, you desired a sliver of freedom, only for it cost you your safety when it was finally in your hands. Exchanging your freedom for your safety was a cruel bargain that you didn’t know would happen, like it was hidden in the fine print of your metaphorical contract to life. You could never truly exhale until K was found and the world knew who you were. 

K hadn’t been seen since the night that Namjoon had visited. It sat in the back of your mind like an anchor weighing you down from looking up. His absence was like a double-edged sword: a relief that he was gone, yet there was a terrible sense of dread that was left in the wake of his disappearance. Not once could you shake the feeling of being watched, but you kept quiet. Whether it was smart or reckless, you weren’t sure, but you know you’ve been more of a burden than you’d like. The boys didn’t need another reason to glue themselves to your side like a second shadow. 

When you first met with them again after your attack, you weren’t sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t see them on their knees with tears stinging their eyes. Sunghoon, ever so guarded and trapping his heart in a layer of ice, was the most devastating of all. He was trembling on his knees, begging, pleading with you to meet his gaze. “Please- please…” he had whispered, his face paler than it normally was. 

And Heeseung, who was usually so composed and well kept, seemed empty. His eyes were no longer that vibrant red you had grown so used to. Now, there was a haze over them that flickered like a dying ember. He couldn’t meet your gaze, but he repented his regrets to you like a mantra. 

Jake was no better, and if he had an actual wolf tail and ears, they would’ve been pressed back with his tail tucked between his legs in shame. He had pushed himself against your leg and looked up at you like a kicked puppy. He murmured sorry over and over again until the weight of his regret tired him out so much he fell asleep at your feet. And you stood there, all two hours of it, looking at him as he slept, subconscious whimpers wracking his body, until you could find it within you to forgive him. 

So maybe yelling at them and cursing them out didn’t end up happening, but you still felt that anger and betrayal deep within you like a scar. But like it had with Jay, your desire for human touch trumped your resolve to stay mad at them. 

Yuqi, Minnie, and Niki had also apologized to you- groveled, really. They confided in you about their remorse and how much your departure weighed on their minds. It was a mess of tears and whispered promises to never leave each other again. 

Since that night, you were never left alone again.

The boys were relentless in their protection, trailing every foot step of yours. Heeseung had even insisted on accompanying you to the washroom at the gym, “just in case” he said as he shrugged off your concerns. And Jake even scented you, committing your scent to memory so that he’d always be able to find you no matter how far you were. Sunghoon was no better, insisting he be the one to walk you to and from the gym like a personal escort. Their protection was bittersweet, filling you with a sense of love and security, but also acting like a metaphorical cage that felt all too familiar. 

And today was no different. While the boys had begun to back off, keeping you in their field of vision rather than following you around, they were still hyper aware of their surroundings. K still hadn’t come back despite two weeks passing since your attack. The boys were expectedly on edge, checking corners and keeping tabs on you like he could pop out of nowhere, and he did. 

A horribly loud crash pierces through the peace of the gym and you flick your head back to see what happened, but you see nothing. Before anyone can even move, the one way door to the gym slams open and a mirage of men in black, tactical gear storm in with guns holstered and riot shields protecting their front line. A smoke bomb is chucked into the air and lands with a blinding fog that quickly surrounds the area. 

“Y/n, get behind me!” Jake shouts above the chaos, sounds suddenly mixing into one big blur as he pushes you behind him. 

The gym erupts into chaos- panicked shouting from all over and bodies moving so fast you can hardly keep up through the haze. In the cloud of smoke, you spot a pair of red eyes- Heeseung- rip past you. Not far behind him, another figure follows after him- Yuqi. 

Her voice booms through the gym, “The government is here!” 

As the smoke finally clears up, you steal your first glance at your group fighting with the soldiers head on. A horrible realization dawns on you right then, you were outnumbered. There’s several dozen soldiers storming into the gym now and for a second, you think this is the end. But then you see your gym members flying past you and putting themselves in direct line of fire. 

Heeseung’s familiar red tendrils move through the air and pick up soldiers left and right before slamming them back into the ground. You hear the disgruntled screams of soldiers being thrown around by his shadows while the owner of the tendrils works through the crowd one by one at supernatural speeds. 

Yuqi mirrors the same ferocity as Heeseung, relentlessly attacking the first few soldiers she comes across. Searing venom shoots off her tongue with deadly precision, burning the eyes of those it lands on. She’s relentless in her attack, her snake-like grip allowing her to throttle the soldier’s throats like an iron vice. 

Sunghoon jumps into action at the same time as Heeseung and Yuqi. He’s quick to coat the area around him in a layer of ice and gracefully advances through his own wave of soldiers, ice blade slicing through their torsos and an ice-forged shield knocking others off their feet. 

In the corner of your eye, Niki and Jay fight side by side. The younger shifts in and out of his kitsune form and pounces from soldier to soldier, alluding them with horrific visions and auditory hallucinations, allowing Jay to use that momentary distraction as a way to burn them all to ashes. 

You’re still with Jake, who is leading you over to the locker room. He’s about to hurry you in, to tell you to stay there until it’s safe to come out, but a piercing scream interrupts him. Your eyes flick towards the sound and you spot Sunoo who has broken the glass of the staff room that hangs over the gym. He sings  his heart out, temporarily paralyzing every soldier.

You use this distraction to escape Jake’s hold, finally free of your own mental captivity. He shouts after you but it’s no use, you’ve already teleported to the front lines in a flash of flames. You flash balls of fire at the men in quick sequence, watching them fall to the ground as they writhe about in agony. Your fire’s not enough to kill them, so you pick them off one by one by forcing their skulls into the ground with your foot, your super strength aiding you in this unique endeavor. As you work through the men, you see Jungwon in the background, working with Minnie to blind soldiers and disarm them of their guns. 

In the midst of all the chaos, you had barely registered the fact that the soldiers were armed. Your heart sinks at the realization, the fact that they had the one thing that could instantly kill you all, dawning your mind like a storm. Despite the supernatural gifts that you all possessed, you knew your bodys’ would not be able to withstand the threat of a bullet. In your own moment of realization, a soldier surges forward and slams the butt of his rifle into your skull. 

Pain rips through your head like an explosion as you hit the ground, your vision going white. Forcing yourself to gather your bearings, you bring a hand up to your head and quickly let your flames seep into your skull, kicking your regenerative abilities into action. You blink through the dissipating pain until finally, your vision comes back- just in time for you to lock eyes with your attacker: K. 

The sight of him has your stomach churning in waves, his twisted smile rekindling the flames of that night. Your breath catches and you feel your throat go on fire as bile rises upwards. You can’t move, your body locking up and freezing over with fear. Despite the shock to your system, you force yourself to call out, to scream as loud as you can, “It’s K!”

In the midst of all the movement, your voice rings through the space and draws every gaze towards you. The boys’ have a look of dread on their face, only onlookers to the sight of you on the ground faced with a domineering K. “Kill her!” K’s voice booms through the chaos, black tendrils rising from behind him like a second pair of arms. 

Yuqi’s world seems to still in that moment. Being the closest member to you, the men she was just attacking divert their attention to you, drawn by K’s voice. In that crucial moment, memories flood Yuqi’s mind and she’s reminded of your abilities and the research she took it upon herself to conduct when she hired you. In that same storm of memories, she also recalls the fierce protection the boys have over you, the way they would break under their own rage if they saw you get hurt. 

A sickening realization settles in Yuqi’s mind. You needed to die. She knew in her heart that you’d survive, make it to live another day, but the others didn’t, and she needed to use that to her advantage. 

So, Yuqi decides to stay still. Jake’s voice cuts through the chaos as he screams to Yuqi, screams at her to do something, but she stays rooted to the spot. Eventually, Heeseung, Sunghoon, and the rest begin to join in, their voices increasingly desperate as they beg Yuqi to save you, too far to make a difference themselves. But she remains unmoving.

In the middle of their desperate shouting, the cluster of soldiers surrounding you increases and K moves in on you. His black tendrils wrap around you like a halo and slowly shroud your vision and intoxicate your air. Then, the first gunshot rings out and your chest explodes with pain.

Taglist: @heesimp, @kyunlov, @quill-ink, @lunaritex, @jiryunn, @jakeswifez, @fancypeacepersona, @nshmrarki, @ikaw-at-ikaw, @wilonevys, @strxwbloody, @capri-cuntz, @riribelle, @machambrx, @vousty, @rebeccakan, @wonnienyang, @koizekomi, @heeweenie, @skyearby, @rxlxvr, @missychief1404, @doveblackboat, @prkhoonielvrss,

Permanent taglist: @kittys00, @ikaw-at-ikaw, @17ericas, @tunafishyfishylike

[covetyou]

sleepless

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: unprotected PIV, creampie, fingering, cumplay, pet names (baby, sweetheart, darlin’), mild praise kink, very mild dubcon (sleepy reader), bratty reader, no use of Y/N. word count: 3.5k summary: It’s been days since you last got anything resembling decent sleep. You’re exhausted, but more than that, you’re angry. Every little thing is pissing you off, and you just want to be left the fuck alone. Joel, ever the gentleman, has a solution to your sleeplessness, and your bad mood.

A/N: This was an out of body experience and I don’t know how it happened. Seriously, I stood up out of bed and wondered what the fuck I’d done. I haven’t written a single thing in an entire year (and that was for a funeral), and I have never written smut and don't know what I'm doing. So. Enjoy?

This one is for all of us who get really grouchy when tired. Or hungry. Or if the phase of the moon just isn't right. I see you honeybuns, and so does Joel.

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terrible graphics by me

“What's got your panties in a bunch?”

You were in a shit mood. It was a shitty day, and you were in a shit mood and Joel was not helping.

“Nothing.” You huff out. Totally believable.

Joel runs his tongue over his teeth, eying you. “Okay… You need to go make yourself come or somethin’?”

You slam your mug on the counter, hot tea sloshing over the edges with the force. ”No Joel, I don't need to fucking come.”

It was true. You didn’t. What you needed was to be left the fuck alone with your bad mood and misplaced rage. What you needed even more was to get some goddamn sleep.

“Right.”

“Just fuck off, Joel.” You say. And he does.

An hour later and you still haven’t left the kitchen. You haven’t seen Joel again either - he knew better than to bother you when you were like this. He’d just piss you off more, which hardly seemed fair when he wasn’t the one to piss you off to begin with. You were the one to piss yourself off to begin with. You’d barely gotten more than a full night's sleep across 4 whole days, you were tired as hell, and the sleeplessness-induced irritation was starting to seep into every part of your day. You didn’t want to inflict your bad mood on anyone, but you would if it came to it, just to be left the fuck alone in peace and quiet.

Slamming doors as you tidy away the things you'd used that day, you continue to stomp around the kitchen. It was your mess. You'd used the coffee pot. You'd used a mug, a spoon, a plate. But it still pissed you the fuck off and you were trying to conceal the blind rage that was flowing through you.

You slam yet another door, putting a plate away - why did you use a fucking plate instead of eating over the sink - and suddenly your front is crushed against the counter, a warm, solid mass pushed against your back and strong arms boxing you in either side. Joel. You could hit him. You could fucking hit him. But you don't.

“Fuck off, Joel.” You say through gritted teeth, gripping the counter in front of you.

“When did you last sleep?” He growls in your ear. You feel his warm breath ghost the side of your face. How the fuck did he know. As if it wasn’t obvious.

You don’t answer, and he nudges a shoulder forward, momentarily pushing you more firmly against the counter to get you talking.

“At night.”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he sighs. “Which night, smartass.”

You’d taken the opportunity given by the movement of his arm to slip out from where he’d pinned you. You were not in the mood to play this game.

“I don't know.” You sneer at him as you fold your arms over your chest. It may have been childish, but you didn’t care.

“Yeah you do.”

“I said I don’t -”

“Yes. You fuckin’ do.” He was stern now, pointing a finger at you, daring you to be a smartass one more time. “Because I know it sure as fuck weren't last night.”

Busted. “The night before.” Looking away, you busy yourself with folding a dish towel.

“Really.” It’s not a question. Joel cocks an eyebrow at you with a twist of his head.

Shrugging your shoulders, you mumble back to him. “Couple hours.”

“And the night before that?”

“Didn't know you were the fucking Spanish inquisition.”

He cocks an eyebrow. Again.

“A couple fucking hours, Joel. Now fuck off and leave me alone or I swear I'll -”

He grabs you as you’re about to slap the dish towel onto the counter in anger and pulls you forward into his chest. His nose is practically touching yours and his eyes are impossibly dark.

“Shower. Now.” He means it, but you resist, trying to pull from his arms. You're pissed off. Now is not the time for him to be telling you what to do.

“No, I-”

“Get in the fucking shower.”

You can feel your top lip preparing to curl itself into a snarl. 

Instead, you turn on your heel and head for the shower.

You’re still damp, wrapped in nothing but a towel, when you exit the bathroom.

“You done?”

Joel is stood there at the foot of the bed, his t-shirt already discarded somewhere in the room. His belt is unbuckled and he’s beginning to unbutton his jeans and pull down the fly. You can’t help but stare. The sleep-deprived rage that’s flowed through you all day feels an awful lot like arousal when your brain is too muddled to know which way is up. And when you’re looking at Joel. Especially when you’re looking at Joel. 

You gawk at the hard planes of his body. Broad shoulders, muscle built from years of working on construction sites, and a softness around the edges given to him by the comforts you know he loves so much.

It’s only 6pm. You were now more tired than angry, some of your anger washed away in the shower, somewhere between scrubbing your body and rinsing conditioner from your hair. 

You float toward the dresser and open a drawer, planning on readying yourself for bed - you suspect that’s the plan anyway. “Shower and bed” is your usual routine, after all. You distantly register that he’s talking again, but the words don’t compute until he’s twisting your head toward him with a firm finger on your chin.

“No panties. Get on the bed.” He cocks his head toward the plush bed in the middle of the room. You don’t move. “Get on the fucking bed.”

Dropping your towel, you move to the bed. You’re compliant. So tired you’ve given up. So tired, the rage can’t take hold in the same way any more. So tired, you’d do just about anything to get a few hours sleep. The fight in you has all but fucked off. For now.

Your limbs feel like lead as you pull yourself onto the comforter and fall back somewhere toward the center of the mattress. You’re too tired for grace right now. You just need to sleep. If only you could fucking sleep.

There’s a rustle of discarded jeans, and a moment later, the mattress is shifting under Joel’s weight and the heat of him radiates up you as he shifts his body on top of yours. At some point your knees were knocked apart and his own had settled between them, but you don’t remember exactly how. All you're focused on is the heat of him. 

A large hand ghosts over your hip, down the soft swell of your thigh and between your legs. He starts stroking gently at the soft skin of your inner thighs. Moving up, and up, and up, he switches sides just before meeting the apex of your legs and moves to give your other thigh attention.

You don’t know if you’ve been breathing, but you’re not dead yet so you must have remembered at some point. All you know is you’re somehow sensitive and numb in equal measure - feeling everything so harshly, but so distantly.

Soft kisses are being pressed to you - your neck, jaw, temples, chest. Up and down, just like his hands. The movement of him could send you off, but the heat above of him is burning through you too much for you to be lulled to sleep.

Swapping from side to side, he caresses your soft flesh until he’s so impossibly close to your center yet not close enough to be touching. A soft sweep of his hand over your cunt, and you’re pulled from your daze with a jolt.

“Joel, I said I don't want to come.” You try to be firm, gripping his arm and lightly tugging, but you don’t want to be. You do want to come. You’re tired, you didn’t want it before, and you’re being stubborn because fuck you always are, but now that he’s here - now that he’s there - you want it.

“I ain't makin’ you come. I'm gettin’ this pussy wet so I can fuck it.” He says it so matter of factly you could headbutt him.

Instead, your mouth falls into an o-shape and you stare at him. Your grip on his arm weakens, partly with your resolve, and partly with exhaustion.

“I -”

“Shut up.”

“But I -”

The firm fingers that were caressing your thighs so softly a moment ago are suddenly gripping your chin hard, and your eyes snap directly to his. “I said shut the fuck up.” He lands a gentle peck on your lips before releasing you, trailing his hand back down the contours of your body. His nose brushes up and down the side of your neck and jaw, occasional soft kisses being pressed to the sensitive skin there as he breathes you in. 

You are floating.

His fingers meet your folds again, relentlessly teasing and stroking the softness of your labia, a flare of something coursing through you that stokes a fire no longer built of rage, but arousal.

Joel looks down the stretch of your body as he feels at your entrance, parting you with two fingers. Teasing, he swirls his finger tip just outside of you, collecting the veritable oil slick you'd generated in the last few minutes of his careful teasing.

“There we go. We got there, huh?” He almost sounds condescending and you want to slap off the smug look you know is on his face.

“Now. Here's what we're gonna do.” He murmurs into your ear as he still teases around your cunt, dipping a little further in but never down to a knuckle. 

“You're goin’ to shut the fuck up and take what I give you. Then you're goin’ to go the fuck to sleep whether you like it or not.” 

He pulls his finger from your cunt, and before you have a chance to protest the loss of sensation or his instruction, he’s slipping the slicked finger between your lips. Your brain stutters to a halt and all you can do is gently suckle on his digit, tasting the sweetness of your own pussy.

“That taste good?” He strokes your hair, your face, and a soft whine escapes you. “Yeah I know it does baby.”

He brushes your hair back as he takes his finger from your mouth and puts it into his own, tasting the remnants of you. You stare at him, dumb from sleep, dumb from the wetness you know must be dripping out of you. 

“I know.” He coos as he sits back on his haunches. His heat is so far away now, and you almost whine again until you feel him notch at your entrance. Your eyes widen. “I know.” He pushes in the weeping tip of his cock - you don’t know how long he’s been hard but you can feel it- and slides in with a gentle thrust. Rocking his hips, you take more and more of him until he slides home and pushes his hips until they’re flush with yours. 

You are so impossibly full, stretched without much warning, and your mind so deliciously blank that breathing has to become a conscious effort.

He pulls out slightly, giving you room to breathe, before pushing back in, deeper than before. “That's it. You take it. You're getting your medicine now, huh? I'm goin’ to come in this pussy and you're goin’ to go the fuck to sleep. Ain't ya? Huh? Answer me sweetheart.”

Practically going cross-eyed with the effort, you look him in the eyes. “Mhm.”

“Good. There's a good girl. Just take it and then you'll sleep. You been needin’ this. Too damn pissy for your own good to be able to ask for what you need.”

He’s fucking into you so deep, so gently that you can do nothing but quietly gasp with each rock of his hips into yours.

“Once you get some come in your pussy that'll send you right to sleep.” He’s right. You know he’s right and it’s all you want. You need it, but words are lost to you so you nod your head softly, before letting out a deep moan. He’s pushed himself even deeper and he’s holding there for a moment before releasing. He repeats the action a few times, and your moans get higher and higher pitched.

“I'm goin’ to get it nice and deep, just how you like it. This is where you need it, ain't it?” He pushes low on your stomach. He’s always been big, but like this he feels even bigger. You let out a whine. If you had the energy to sustain your rage and be fucked, you'd be furious at your own pathetic noises, but you were so past any of it.

“Yeah.” Too sleepy and too cockdumb, it’s the first word you’ve been able to utter for what feels like an hour.

“Oh, baby, I know, you're so tired.” He tuts and picks up the pace of his movements, his solid length slowly drawing out of your messy cunt before punching back in.

Maybe if you were even more tired, the smooth, rhythmic movement of his hips slapping against yours would let you drift off to sleep, but it has the opposite effect. You can’t possibly sleep now. You need him, you need more. He’s everywhere but not everywhere enough and your arousal pools and drips down from your needy hole, down the crevasse of your ass and onto the bed below. 

Words are gone again, so you whine, high pitched and needy.

“You're taking your medicine so good baby. So good.” His words shoot right fucking through you. You could come. Oh fuck, you want to come. But you don’t know the words anymore - you don’t know any words.

So you whine again.

“Oh, it's okay, it's okay.” He shushes you, kissing your temple. “I know what you need.”

He doesn't tease. He simply brushes a hand down between your legs, never breaking the rhythm of his cock thrusting in and out of your dripping cunt. He splays his fingers around your pussy for a second, feeling his length as it slides in and out of you, collecting your wetness in the process.

Those same fingers trail up and find their place on your neglected clit, circling lightly.

He searches your face, waiting for the connection of his fingertips with your clit to register in your eyes. There it is.

“That's it, huh? That right there.” He adds a firmer pressure to his fingertips as he swirls them around your slicked clit. Your eyes have glossed over and you let out a keening whine at his ministrations, your pussy already twitching around him. 

“Thank you. Thank you.” It’s barely a whisper, but it’s words, so you’ll take it.

“Oh now she's polite, huh. Gettin’ what she needs and suddenly she remembers her manners.” He teases. Asshole.

He was so good at this. All of it. He knew the exact buttons to push, the exact way to get you wet, the words to say, the way to be. If you wanted it hard he'd give it hard, if you wanted it gentle he'd give it gentle. And this, some delicious no-man's land in-between where his movements were gentle but his words were somewhat harsh, was sending you over the edge.

The rhythm of his fingers and cock is so in sync, so perfect, that you feel your whole body begin to quake as the beginning of your orgasm flares through you.

“Oh that's it, you fucking come. You come. Didn't even know you needed it huh. Don't even know your own pussy like I do, baby. You needed all this. Needed my cock in you, feelin’ so good, needed to come around me.”

Your walls flutter around his rock solid length, gripping him, and your legs clench, trying to snap shut but unable with the press of his body between your thighs. Your orgasm washes over you, briefly blinding you and you feel Joel’s fingers and thrusts speed up, fucking you through it and rocking you back and forth as your mouth opens in a silent scream. 

One ragged intake of breath later and you go limp against the mattress. Joel stills, removing his fingers from your oversensitive clit, stroking at your arm and making you twitch.

He nuzzles his nose into you and gives a deep press into you with his hips. You gasp and open your eyes. His face is softer now - no condescending wrinkle of his raised brows, no smirk.

“You gonna play stupid next time? Huh?” He softly traces a finger over your chin and mouth.

“No.” You try not to pout at him, you really do. You’re not sure you succeed.

“You gonna ask for what you need when you need it?” His finger moves to trace over your nose, your forehead.

You nod, soaking in the feeling of his hands, acutely aware of his cock still impaling you so deeply. “Mm.”

“Good. Good girl.” He mumbles into your mouth, kissing you, licking at the seam of your lips.

With a sudden movement he pulls out and snaps his hips forward, swallowing your gasp with his mouth.

You’re fucked out and exhausted, but he’s not finished.

“You're gonna take this come now.” He practically whispers it, and you want to scream with how it reignites every nerve ending in your body to his touch. “I'm gonna come in this pussy and then we're getting those panties on you.” His head ticks over to the dresser, where the drawer still lies open from earlier. Oh. You’d forgotten about that.

“Then, you're goin’ the fuck to sleep.”

“Mm.” You nod weakly. You'll do anything. Anything he says.

“We'll deal with the messy panties when you wake up, sweetheart. See how much of a mess I make in you.” 

His movements barely speed up, barely get harder, but you know he's close. He’s been close for a while - he likes it when you fight but he likes it when you’re feeble too. 

"Yeah. Ohhhh - fuck - yeah." He doesn't stop moving, fucking you in the same steady rhythm as he empties himself deep into your cunt, thick ropes of come filling you and making you feel even more impossibly warm and wet as it leaks out of you already, still stuffed full of Joel's cock.

"Fuck. There we go.” He says with a sigh, stroking your shoulder and kissing your neck. “There we go baby.”

His cock twitches as it starts to soften, but he holds it, and his come, inside of you for a moment until it’s an impossible task.

You’re delirious from the orgasm, from the constant rhythm of Joel’s fucking setting a metronome up in your body, and from so little sleep.

A deep kiss is pressed to your lips, you try to catch it and return the pressure, but your reflexes are so slow that he’s away and sliding out of you before you can even register what’s happening. Another stroke of your shoulder and his weight is suddenly off of you completely.

You could float away without him there to tether you down.

Distantly, you hear the slide of a drawer in the dresser. You're dozing when he slides one foot then another into the legs of your panties, before pulling them up your legs to your knees. Fingertips ghost up your legs, and meet at your dripping core. He looks at the mess made of your pussy, clicks his tongue, and he fingers some of the escaped come back into you with two thick fingers.

“Up.” His voice gruff with post-orgasm relaxation and his fingers still gently moving inside of you. You lift your hips, probably barely, but it's the most you can give right now. Joel shimmies them up the rest of the way with one hand, and pulls his fingers from inside you once they're settled in place.

He rubs the soaked seat of your clean panties. "We'll keep that right there, right where you need it.”

"Mm." You nod, barely seeing him now through the haze of your sleepiness and that post-fuck haze. He was right. You did need it. He was always right.

Another soft kiss is pressed to your temple, and you feel a soft caress across your arms, shoulders, neck, face. 

Just as you register the cold you feel without him on top of you, you feel the weight of a soft blanket fall over you. Your eyes are impossibly heavy now, but you realize you haven’t been seeing anything for a while anyway. You almost don’t recall ever being angry - your frustration from the day flipped into arousal so quickly, and melted away with the waning of your orgasm.

“Sleep.” His voice is so deep and so inviting. Your body so relaxed and ready to give in to him, give in to sleep.

You’d been chasing sleep for weeks, only for it to evade you. Being given dregs of what your body would let you have. But this time, for the first time in weeks, you don’t let your eyes fall closed, you close them. You don’t let sleep take you, you take hold of it. 

“Sweet dreams, darlin’.” And you’re gone.

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[blueicequeen19]

Rights & Wrongs

Warnings: dub-con, blackmail, cheating, mentions of sex for money, cum play, Rafe being 😈

You search everywhere for JJ but he doesn’t turn up. The party is getting out of hand and you just want to go home. You were tired of the fighting and the drama but JJ couldn’t be bothered with. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to lash out. There was no reasoning with him when he was like this.

“Wait.” A firm hand grabs your wrist, halting you in your tracks. You turn to face him, hating the way he’s looking at you with so much concern and need.

“Let go, Rafe.”

“Please tell me you’re not looking for that loser.” Rafe practically begs, his eyes pleading.

“It’s none of your business.” You snap, attempting to yank yourself free but his grip is firm. Rafe ushers you down a small hallway leading to the houses garage, concealing you both in complete darkness and from watchful eyes.

“You are my business. I can help you. I can give you any—.”

“I don’t need or want anything else from you, Rafe. I want JJ. I love JJ.” Rafe’s expression drops, the blow landing almost as hard as a slap to the face. You felt bad for hurting his feelings but the arrangement was strictly business. Rafe’s eyes harden and he steps towards you, crowding you in the corner and away from prying eyes.

“Rafe..”

“Will he still want you when he finds out what you did?” His voice is calm, lethal. Your eyes narrow as you glare back at him, your throat tight.

“He will believe me over you.”

“You know he’ll question how you got the money.”

“Don’t worry about it, Rafe. I’ll come up with something.”

“Really? And what if I show him how you got it instead?” Rafe whispers, a deadly smirk forming on his lips as your stomach sinks.

“No..”

“Yes.” Rafe tucks your hair behind your ear before resting his palm on your bare shoulder. “I have all three hours of you selling your virginity to me.” You flinch as heat races through your veins and down to your toes. You were still a little sore even as memories clouded your mind. You couldn’t feel guilty. Not when everything was riding on this money. You raise your hands and shove against Rafe’s chest but he only grins.

“Fuck. You.”

“I’ll show him.” Rafe ushers you into a small powder room, crowding you in the dark as you fill with rage and.. needs .

“Give it up right now or I’ll go find him and show him what you sound like on my cock.” Rafe growls, lifting you on to the vanity. Rafe’s hands slide up your dress, gripping your hips as he yanks your panties down. You want to fight but there’s no point with him. Rafe gets what he wants.

“I’ll never love you.” You spat as Rafe pulls his cock free and slides it up and down your slit. You were already soaked, your body ready for him.

“You’ll get there.” You push at his chest but it doesn’t stop his cock from slowly inching inside you or his mouth from claiming yours. A moan slips free from your lips and Rafe yanks you closer by your hips so he’s balls deep.

“God, you’re so fucking tight. I love that I’m the only one who’s ever been here.” His grip is bruising on your hips as he starts to slam in to you, over and over again. When you refuse to let him kiss you again, he growls before delivering harder thrusts.

“T-that will change.” You gasp, fighting to keep your eyes from rolling back. Rafe snarls like an animal, fisting your hair to hold you in place as he crowds you.

“Watch your fucking mouth.” He spats, hitting you so deep and hard that the mirror rattles on the wall. You squeeze your eyes shut, fighting off the impending orgasm.

“Y/N?” JJ’s voice in the hallway is like a bucket of cold water and you fill with panic as you push at Rafe’s chest. A dark laugh leaves Rafe’s lips as he rolls his hips, hitting you deeper than you thought possible.

“Rafe.. please..” You whisper, tightening your legs around his waist as JJ continues to call out for you.

“Do you think he’d cry if he caught us?” Rafe chuckles, lifting one of your legs higher so he can reach even deeper. You bite back a moan as you fight off the orgasm that’s building despite everything.

“You better cum like a good little slut or I’m not stopping. We’ll be here all fucking night.” Rafe demands in a low whisper. Your phone starts to vibrate on the counter top as JJ’s steps get further away. You hit silence before digging your nails into Rafe’s biceps, his movements slowing to the point of insanity.

“Just cum already and leave me alone.” You bite out.

“You first.” Rafe pulls out long enough to yank you off the counter and bend you over it, making you watch as he slips back in from behind. His eyes roll back as he shoves in deep and you have to ignore how hot it is. When he starts to move, you have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from crying out. This position was deeper and seeing the effect you had on him didn’t help. His hands slide around to grope your breasts, pinching and pulling on your nipples as your eyes squeeze shut.

“Stop fighting me or I’ll cum inside you.” Rafe growls, making your eyes snap open in shock.

“Don’t you dare.” You hiss just as his fingers find your clit.

“What would he do if he reached under your little dress and felt my cum running down your legs? Would you fuck him with me still inside you, dirty girl?” His filthy words are your undoing. You whimper when it feels like a bomb goes off and you detonate around him, covering your own mouth to keep from screaming. Your body seizes, sucking him in deep as you tighten and shake uncontrollably.

“There it is.” Rafe’s hands tighten on your hips as he pounds harder and faster. All the energy seems to drain from you and your knees feel weak as you lock eyes in the mirror until he yanks free with a groan and you feel his hot cum splatter on your ass.

“I hate you.” You growl just as Rafe starts to rub his seed in like lotion along your flesh. You spin around to slap him but he catches your throat, pinning you against wall before shoving three cum covered fingers in your mouth.

“Break up with him before something bad happens, Y/N. I paid you. I bought you. I own you.” His taste coats your tongue as tears fill yours eyes and you gag as he fucks your mouth with his fingers, the look in his eyes telling you all you needed to know. This wasn’t over.

[akutasoda]

hi! jing yuan,aventurine,blade, dan heng and sunday with a teen!reader like collei? (not for the event)

they were used as an experiment from a very young age, thankfully [insert character]rescued them, they also took them in but they were still traumatized from their time as an experiment,they are chronically ill which makes them weak and are scared of being touched due to their time as an experiment subject

experimental beginnings

synopsis - they save you from a past of experimentation and try to help you get back on track includes - dan heng, blade, jing yuan, aventurine warnings - gn!teen!reader, fluff, angst w/ comfort, mentions.of experimentation, wc - 1.7k

dan heng ★↷

↪the astral express always stopped at other planets to help them. meeting plenty of people and experiencing vast cultures. dan heng normally went with the group when they landed on new planets or re-visiting old ones - often being one to help those that need so.

↪but he hadn't expected to help you. normally the express crew would help those after seeing the situation through and deciding what was best - although this time, everyone could agree that you needed rescuing.

↪the unanimous decision led to the express crew very quickly rescuing you and getting you to board the express - they knew that they needed to get you as far away from that planet as possible and as quickly as they could.

↪the astral express crew understood why you were so closed off and scared, they didn't blame you but they did wish they could help you even a little. they would have to quickly learn to just try and help you break out of that shell little by little.

↪dan heng didn't quite understand at first why you began spending most your time with him. you barely spent time with anyone and they couldn't blame you at all, but it was a surprise that he was the first one you began seeing a miniscule amount of trust in - but he didn't see it that way.

↪he understood that trailblazer and march could be quite overwhelming or confusing at times, that welt and himeko could be rather intimidating. so he began to reason that his usual calm and reserved demeanor might seem like the best option to you.

↪he didn't mind you hovering around him. he could tell that you weren't much better off than the first day you boarded the express, but atleast this could be seen as a little bit of progress.

↪due to your unfortunate illness, you were extremely weak and so he'd have to keep on you to make sure that your condition dis not worsen - they all kept an eye out but since he saw more of you, it only made sense. they couldn't cure you but they didn't want you experiencing more pain.

↪dan heng would be happy to help you with anything, he wanted you to trust him so he could help you. he wanted to help you forget all about everything taht you'd been put through and hopefully make better memories with the found family that helped him.

blade ★↷

↪elio always knew how missions would play out, it would be weird if elio didn't seeing as it was always “elios script”. but elio never told them exactly how their missions would play out, only telling them who as required and where they would be going.

↪a rescue mission wasn't exactly blade’s first thought when elio told him and kafka that they had a new mission. blade never complained however, he would go along with elio's script.

↪when kafka and blade found you, he seemed indifferent to your situation - if anything it seemed like he couldn't care less about your sorry state. but in truth, it was quite the opposite.

↪kafka's concern was much more obvious, from the way she gently tried coaxing you to come with them and leave that horrible place, to the way she offered you help along the way. blade's concern was more concealed into anger, a rage directed toward the sick freaks that thought they could get away with doing what they did to you and who knows how many others.

↪you being put into the arms of the stellaron hunters didn't seem like the greatest option after everything you've been through, but it was in the script. clearly it was meant to be. the hunters could just hope that they'd help you get back on track.

↪most would've assumed you would first start opening up to any of the other hunters, blade didn't exactly seem like the best option. but due to his normal silence and rather neutral actions, he provided you the comfort of knowing that he wouldn't do anything. so you started hanging around him because he seemed like the best option.

↪blade didn't push you away, in fact he wouldn't dare. he knew what you'd been through and he knew how kafka or elio would reprimand him for making your state worse - that and he wanted you to recover himself, to try and re-build your life.

↪eventually, the time you spent in a comfortable silence with him developed into you starting to trust him - admittedly not massively but it was still a very welcome step. blade seemed like he would protect you, and you'd be right although a verbal answer would never occur, that he wouldn't let uou fall back into the hands that hurt you.

↪in a very distant way, blade could sympathise with your illness more than the rest of the hunters - in a way, his mara was an incurable illness. and because you spent most your time with him, blade was automatically put in charge of watching over you and your condition.

↪blade would always look out for you, he may seem cold and distant but he had his own ways of helping because they were determined to help you in any way they could.

jing yuan ★↷

↪jing yuan was first introduced to you when he was called to assess a rather serious situation aboard the luofu. you were placed under bailu’s care for the time being, your state was not one of a healthy body and nobody else seemed suitable enough to care for the extent of your “injuries”.

↪although bailu was having a difficult time. due to what you'd been put through, you trusted nobody and they couldn't blame you, so you refused to let anybody come near you. jing yuan felt an immense amount of empathy for you, he couldn't begin to imagine what they did to you and he could only regret that it wasn't discovered quicker.

↪he saw it as a personal fail on his part, representing the whole of the luofu's failure to save you sooner. and so he decided that he would personally see over your recovery - with the help of bailu of course, but he would help you any way he could.

↪again, you were very opposed to being near anybody and it took alot of convincing from jing yuan to eventually get you to come with him. he wanted to help. no matter how long it took or the challenges he would face along the way.

↪initially, you showed him zero trust and he respected and understood it. jing yuan would always go out of his way to try and prove that he was trying to help. although he was extremely glad when you began taking a liking to mimi, who also seemed to take a liking to you as well.

↪eventually, you developed a small bit of trust with the general and jing yuan was over the moon. he saw it as a massive step for you, it was a starting point for helping you get back on track.

↪it pained him to hear from bailu that you had an illness that couldn't be cured. he hoped that you could get better but now that wasn't possible, but he'd still insist that there must be a way to help you a little bit - even if bailu found something for you, they both knew you'd be against it and they would understand.

aventurine ★↷

↪he met you by accident. it was more of a wrong place wrong time situation, but he knew that he couldn't do nothing. he couldn't ignore it and so his main goal was no longer whatever his original intentions where, it was now rescuing you.

↪you unfortunately reminded him of himself around your age. it pained him to see that in you but it pained him even more to know just how much and how long you suffered - and if anything, aventurine was determined to help you himself so that you wouldn't fall into the hands of the IPC like he did.

↪he kept you to his private life, away from the IPC's prying eyes for that exact reason. although you were extremely distant and rather scared if anything at first, he couldn't blame you and if anything it hurt to see someone as young as you like that.

↪slowly but surely, aventurine tried to build up your trust with him, if he was really going to help you he needed your trust and cooperation, but he didn't mind how long you needed to build that trust.

↪it didn't take long for him to notice how you were much weaker most if the time, it worried him in honesty. so aventurine reached out to a very close acquaintance of his to see if he knew anything about how to help you. it pained him even more so to learn that you had a chronic illness - there was nothing he could do to help and it hurt to know that.

↪aventurine was dedicated to giving you the best life possible. with all that you'd been subjected to up to recently meant that he needed to help you recover - he understood he wasn't exactly the best person for it but he was determined. determined to help somebody.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

[chimielie]

sun seeker

summary: you are a princess, a future queen. somehow, this is still not enough.

word count: 1.5k

cw: fighting, oikawa’s an asshole (sorry), arranged marriage/royalty au, fake history stuff, angst to fluff (i guess), i’m not telling you who the love interest is but like. Guess, misogyny, ambiguous ending

a/n: if i tell you that i imagined a whole other side for oikawa will you forgive me? also this was supposed to be a short drabble related to between lightning strikes but it very much was not. my bad

Your betrothed is unexpectedly quiet.

It had only been a few days since you met the crown prince, having been sequestered in your father’s court in the country for most of your life, learning to fill the seat of someday-Empress. The capital is huge, bustling with people, always noisy—or so you surmised from within your veiled carriage. You had thought, as you bowed before the Emperor and Imperial Heir, that your life was finally beginning, finally growing beyond the narrow confines of etiquette training and religious rituals.

Instead, you felt your dreams shrivel and die as your daily routine proceeded exactly as it had for close to two decades. The only difference was time mandatorily spent with Tooru, who seemed… less than enthused by your match.

You had dreamed of someone who chafed against authority as you had, who felt as bound by propriety despite the privilege of your positions. Alas, you found him to be both sullen and arrogant, eager to rule but in denial of his own dissatisfaction with a noblewoman such as yourself. It made you want to scream. You had not chosen the circumstances of your birth, the path which you had been led to walk. It was not your fault that fate had pushed you two so forcefully together without regard for your desires, ambitions, or personalities.

“I was told you visited the temple this morning,” you say, watching your fiancé pause a long sip of tea, his brown eyes temporarily widening. Your face slips momentarily into a frown; you cannot conceal your frustration with his clear disdain for such small talk but unwillingness to bring anything more engaging to your table.

“Yes,” he says finally, setting down his cup. Light brown liquid sloshes over the rim and onto his fingers; he wipes them on his robes without care for the expensive fabric. “There are many rituals that must be done to ensure the most auspicious wedding possible.” His voice catches noticeably on the word wedding. You take a sip of your own tea to hide your grimace.

It is lukewarm. How long have you been sitting here, trying to force civility?

“Did it go well?” You ask in turn, your pitch straining. Behind you, one of the imperial guards snorts. When you try to discern which of them broke character, they have all returned to a stoic, uniform position. You straighten your posture.

“It was satisfactory,” Tooru says. You hear the snort again, and the crown prince’s lips twitch, just barely.

You shut your eyes tightly for a moment, trying to take in a deep breath. Your chest feels tight, though, bound by heavy fabrics and scarlet ribbon. There doesn’t seem to be anywhere for the air to go.

“What did you do this morning?” He asks, and you throw the cup at him.

His Imperial Highness is athletic beneath his aristocracy, and he dodges it easily. It bounces off one of the silk screens behind him and lies, cracked in two, in a puddle of lukewarm tea on the floor. You bury your face in your hands and scream through your teeth, a short, guttural noise that carves a little more space in your chest to breathe.

When you look up again, he stands over you, his perfect brows pulled into an expression of concern. You know without looking that two of the Imperial Guard are standing behind you, hands on their weapons.

“You have asked me that,” you say slowly, fighting to push the words out through the red haze of rage, “twice now. And you asked what my plans were yesterday. And the answer is always the same: wait in my rooms for you to call, because I am a painting of a woman waiting for you to walk in and criticize my form and decide that I am satisfactory.”

“I didn’t—” he says, and for a moment you become a fairytale heroine instead of a scorned princess, sitting on the floor looking up at him with despondent eyes that betray your desire to be loved. “This is what we are,” he decides finally, expression no longer concerned. “I think perhaps you need some rest.”

“You cannot be serious,” you seethe, pushing yourself to your feet. One of the guards puts a hand on you, ready to restrain you.

Tooru turns, his back facing you. He glances back as he exits, tone bored, eyes cold.

“Do not worry yourself,” he tells you, “I still find you satisfactory.”

You lunge after him, but two strong hands clamp down on your arms, hauling you back. You writhe and kick, but when you look up at your guard, his face is impassive, his eyes distant.

“I hate you,” you snarl, and watch as his eyes flicker down to your face. Seeing you. “I hate you,” you say again, but it sounds much more like a sob.

You can’t sleep that night.

The moon is full, high and bright, and every time you close your eyes, you see visions of your future. A glorified concubine, living in an expensive sanitarium, surely to be driven to insanity before your husband can ascend the throne.

You sit up, wild-eyed, and throw your door open with more force than you realize.

“Princess,” says your guard, startled.

“I can’t sleep,” you say, your heart thrumming in your chest. “Hajime, please, I can’t sleep.”

“I can’t let you out of your quarters,” Iwaizumi Hajime, head of your security detail, says.

“I don’t want—” you start, and he gives you a knowing look. “I know. Please just come and—talk with me. A little.”

He sighs, deeply, a rush of wind through cypress trees, and follows you into your room.

“Sit,” you order him, and the moonlight affords you the ability to see his green eyes flash with panic. “I am your future queen. Sit.”

He sits, trying to maintain his stern, professional face, even as you peel his helmet off and run your hands through his flattened hair.

“You lied to me,” you hum, and he jerks under your touch, façade breaking. “You told me Tooru never shut up.”

“I knew him a long time ago,” says Hajime. One of the few who had come with you to Kyoto, he had been raised here and come to your father’s court as a youth to learn to fight. “He’s not—he’s stubborn. He’ll soften eventually.”

“I don’t care,” you say bitterly. “Why did you hold me back?”

“He’s the prince,” Hajime says, his voice rasping with exasperation.

“I am the princess,” you say, and his lips press together into a straight line.

“My princess,” he murmurs. Hajime has always run warm, much more suited for Kyoto’s climate than your hometown’s. When he wraps an arm around you and pulls you against his side, you can feel his body heat through his armor.

“You let him say horrible things to me,” you say. His hold on you tightens.

“He is my oldest friend.”

“I am your—” you sigh heavily, pushing away from him, looking out at the moon. “I am nothing to you. I will live, though I am ungrateful. Many would say I am the luckiest woman in all the land.” The air is very cold without his touch.

“You are not nothing to me,” Hajime says, and you smile wistfully at his selective hearing.

“At least I am satisfactory.” You don’t see what happens, but Hajime’s helmet clatters loudly on the floor a moment later. “What—”

“He is my oldest friend,” he repeats himself, but his voice is low, so deep in his chest you can barely hear him. It does not matter; you can feel his words. “I wanted to kill him.”

Your lips part on a silent gasp, and he leans in close, so close that you can nearly taste him. You’ve always loved the way he smells, something base that relaxes you instantly. You haven’t been this close to him since you left home.

“He’s the Emperor,” he continues, “I can’t hurt him. I held us back.”

“Us?” You ask, his fingers suddenly tightly intertwined with yours.

“Ask me to help you leave,” he says, and you shut your eyes against his gaze, frightening and familiar all at once. “Ask me to take you away from here. I had—I have plans, and you will not be happy with him, Princess. You will be more than satisfactory, satisfied—you will be loved.”

Something knotted tightly unspools in you, red threads laying themselves out in perfect lines. You duck your head and nod against his shoulder, face rubbing against the metal of his armor.

You aren’t likely to succeed, you know, no matter how thoroughly Hajime has planned. Your fiancé will look for you: a stubborn man, like he had said. You do not know if his disdain for you or his love for Hajime will protect you. You could both die.

“Take me away,” you say, voice ringing out like a queen’s.

The moon, at its fullest cycle, chases its estranged wife into the day. The crown prince wakes without his betrothed. The world only spins forward.

[oneforthemunny]

soft!mafia!eddie pulls reader into his lap and her head in his neck when she gets upset over something and he just soothes her (bonus points if he goes and grabs the puppy doberman to come cheer her up)

Knock! Knock!

Eddie huffed, looking up at the large mahogany doors of his office. It was closed, which meant he was not to be disturbed. He knew his people knew that, and Gareth would have said something if it was important.

He ignored it, brushing it off as the house keeper's lapse in judgement until that same rapping came again, soft, luring him in. Eddie's nerves screamed, hair at the nape of his neck standing tall with alert. His hand was on the glock, cocking it as quietly as he could, side stepping softly towards the door.

Someone had got in. Someone had got in and killed the dogs, killed Gareth, killed anyone who would warn him, and now they were here for him.

Eddie's mind raced, leaning against the door softly, carefully trying to stay concealed while listening until he head it. That sniffle. Your sniffle.

"Ed?" You called, voice wavering and wobbly, muffled through the thick door.

Eddie felt himself relax at the sound of your voice, pulling the door open. "Hey, sorry, sweetheart, I was- why are you crying?"

You tucked your lip in, trying to keep in your emotions under Eddie's intense stare. Hard and commanding, demanding to know what had got you so upset- who had.

"Are-Are you busy?" You asked, your voice smaller than you wanted it to be, fingers twisting in front of you. Eddie shook his head, pushing the door open further so you could come in.

"Why are you crying?" Eddie repeated, watching you carefully, every tiny quirk in your facial expression, he caught easily, trying to read you like he was interrogating you.

Your lip quivered, brows creasing the way the did before you were about to cry. Eddie's heart lurched, dark eyes widening at the reaction. "I just... I had a bad day." You shuddered, a stuttered sigh falling from your pouting lips, eyes shining helplessly up at him.

"Yeah? 'm sorry, baby, come here." Eddie muttered, pulling you towards the couch. He wanted to demand you tell him who upset you, tell him so he could take care of them. Hurt them for daring to hurt you, cut their tongue out so they could never speak another hurtful word to you.

Instead, he stayed calm, pulling you between his spread legs so you were on his lap, cradling you close to him. Your nose turned into his neck, like he knew you would, his hand rubbing your back gently. "You wanna talk about it?"

"No," You muttered, the vibrations of your voice tickling his neck. You pulled back, cheek resting on his shoulder. "I just... I wanna go take a bath, and-and cuddle my dogs," Your eyes lifted to his so sweetly he was sure he would melt into a puddle on the couch. "With you."

"If-If you're not working." You added, neck craning towards the desk. "I don't-"

Eddie shushed you, a soft shake of his head. "I was finishing up anyways." He muttered, lips pressing to your forehead. "You want the jets on in the tub? Champagne? Wine? What do you want, baby?"

You turned into his chest, the sweetness in his tone, so doting it made you dizzy. "I don't care." You mutter, rubbing your face against his chest, soothing the sting the burn of tears had left. "Whatever you want."

"Oh no," Eddie shook his head. "Nuh-uh, what do you want? I'll get it for you, baby, just tell me."

You melt into his touch, head lulling back to look at him. Eddie's grip tightened around your waist at the sight of your tear stained cheeks, the primal rage tearing through him in a hot, blinding flash.

"I just... I just want to take a bath. Nothing crazy, just... want to get the gross feeling off. I feel grimy." You mutter.

Eddie doesn't press, he'd find out soon enough. Instead, he led you to the bathroom, the large tub he had built just for you. Even kneeling down to shimmy your work tights off, kissing your bare calf while he did. It made you grin, that tiny giggle floating out that had his head spinning. Sinking beside you in the bath, letting it fill up until it was to your chin almost, you between his legs while he worked out the knot in your shoulders sweetly.

He didn't even complain when the dogs bounded on the bed, even lifting baby Beelzebub up without having to be asked. The way the puppy ran to you, smothering you in slobbery puppy kisses that had you laughing and squealing- it was worth it.

[mrtabbo]

hear me out tho like

a scenario in which the decepticons and autobots have to team up for whatever reason (unicron, quintessons, whatever — take your pick)

and it becomes common knowledge among the autobots that megatron and starscream are together. it isn’t overt, just lingering touches, stares held between the two for just a moment too long, starscream gets away with things that would leave a lesser mech begging for megatron’s mercy while starscream gets the equivalent of a slap on the wrist and a stern glare.

but during a botched raid, starscream is injured. nothing terrible by megatron’s standard, so he elects to forgo seeing to starscream himself until after they debrief

ratchet doesn’t though. he’s the medic after all, has to make sure that every mech on their shoddy team is in the best shape possible if they want any chance at winning this.

so imagine his surprise when he discovers that starscream is sparked, nearing the end of his carriage. and imagine his rage at megatron as he marches his way up to the command center to give megatron hell for sending starscream - still unconscious and unaware of the absolute shit storm that is about to transpire - carrying megatron’s sparkling, into such a dangerous battle

helms fly up when he thunders into the room and there’s a collective hush that falls over them as ratchet goes straight for megatron and decks him square in the jaw

megatron flexes his jaw, optics bright with barely concealed rage as ratchet stares him down, fuming

“did you know?” ratchet hisses dangerously.

“know what?” megatron glares.

“that he’s carrying?”

“who’s carrying?” jazz says bravely from across the table, where he’s sitting with his fellow autobots.

“jazz,” optimus reprimands, having already pieced together what the rest of the room hadn’t.

“starscream,” ratchet snaps.

megatron is up and shouldering past ratchet, knocking him off balance in his hurry to get to the medbay

[novaursa]

Hi

Can I have a fem!targ x daemon Targaryen

she’s Rheanyra younger sister. During the first tournament she got engaged with one of the Lannister twins. But when Daemon heard that a came back to have her.

You know the scene between him and viserys after he found out about the whorehouse. What if it was him and her, and when he ask for her hand he threatened to burn the whole kingdom

Bound by Fire and Blood

Requests are closed!

- Summary: When your father, Viserys, gives your hand to Tyland Lannister, your uncle takes what is his.

- Pairing: niece!reader/Daemon Targaryen

- Note: The reader is younger trueborn sister of Rhaenyra. I've also put in information you have provided that is important only for this scene. The other things were left out. I hope you don't mind.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne

The echo of footsteps fills the throne room as Daemon is dragged before the Iron Throne. The guards flanking him hold their breath, sensing the tension that crackles in the air like wildfire. You stand off to the side, your heart pounding in your chest as if it might burst free.

Viserys' face is a mask of fury, a deep vein throbbing at his temple as he glares down at his younger brother, seated upon the cold metal of the Iron Throne. The silence is heavy, the kind that swallows everything whole. You feel as though you might be suffocating beneath the weight of it all, your hands trembling at your sides.

"Explain yourself," Viserys' voice booms, shattering the silence like a hammer on glass. His eyes flash with rage, the hurt behind them barely concealed. "What madness drove you to take my daughter—my second-born daughter—into a den of filth?"

Daemon smirks, not in the least bit remorseful, his dark eyes gleaming with something wild. “Madness?” he repeats, voice rich with mockery. “I would not call it madness, brother.”

You feel your throat tighten. He doesn't shy away from it. You knew he wouldn’t. Daemon Targaryen never bows, never apologizes. He is fire itself, untamable, dangerous.

Viserys’ hand tightens on the arm of the throne, knuckles turning white as he leans forward, his voice a low growl. “You brought my daughter into the whorehouses of the lower city! My blood! My own flesh—” His voice cracks with barely-contained anger, and it’s all you can do to keep standing where you are, your gaze locked on Daemon. “Did you think I wouldn’t hear of it? That I wouldn’t know what you’ve done?”

Otto Hightower lingers nearby, his cold, calculating eyes watching the exchange with barely hidden satisfaction. He had been the one to tell Viserys of your indiscretion, relishing in the chaos he knew it would bring.

Daemon’s smirk widens. "I didn’t think you wouldn’t hear, brother. I simply didn’t care.”

You hold your breath, feeling the weight of his words crash down like waves against stone. Viserys rises from the throne, his face pale with anger.

"How dare you!" he bellows. "My daughter is to be wed to Tyland Lannister. A match befitting her station—a match I arranged for her! And you… you take her to some—some pleasure house?"

Daemon steps forward, uncaring of the guards who shift nervously at his side. His posture is lazy, but there’s a coiled power in the way he moves, like a predator circling prey. "Tyland Lannister is no man for her. He is weak, unworthy of her, and you know it, Viserys. I did what had to be done. I claimed her, just as our ancestors claimed their own. She is mine, by right."

Your heart races. The words echo through the chamber, each syllable dripping with intent. The air feels thicker, harder to breathe. You knew what he would say, but hearing it aloud still sends a shiver down your spine. Claimed.

Viserys' face twists in fury. "She is not yours! You defiled her in front of everyone—debased her in the eyes of the realm! And now you demand her hand? Are you mad, Daemon? You would ruin her—our family’s honor—for your own selfish desires?"

Daemon’s eyes flash with something fierce, something raw and ancient. He does not falter. "Our family’s honor?" He scoffs, letting out a short, bitter laugh. "This is our family’s tradition, brother. She is of Targaryen blood, and our blood binds us stronger than any Lannister gold or promises." His voice lowers, but it loses none of its intensity. "I will marry her, as is our custom. In the traditions of House Targaryen."

“No,” Viserys says sharply, shaking his head. “No. I will not allow it.”

Daemon takes another step forward, closer now, his presence filling the room. His eyes narrow, dark and dangerous. "You will allow it, Viserys. Or I will mount Caraxes, and I will burn this city to the ground."

The room seems to freeze, the threat hanging in the air like smoke. Viserys’ face drains of color, his mouth slightly open, as if he cannot believe what he’s hearing. But you believe it. You know Daemon means every word.

The silence that follows feels like a held breath. The guards shift uneasily, eyes darting between the king and his brother, unsure of what to do. Even Otto, always so composed, looks taken aback, his brow furrowed in thought.

Finally, Viserys speaks, his voice lower now, but no less filled with anger. "You would destroy everything for her? You would kill, burn, and ruin for her?"

Daemon’s gaze flickers to you, just for a moment, and something softens in his expression. "Yes."

The single word is spoken with such conviction that it steals the breath from your lungs. You feel as though the ground beneath your feet has vanished, leaving you weightless and dizzy. You never asked for this, for any of it. But in Daemon’s eyes, there is no regret. Only fire.

Viserys shakes his head, looking away from his brother as if the sight of him disgusts him. "You are insane," he mutters, voice broken. “You’ve always been insane.”

But Daemon only smiles, a sharp, predatory grin. "Perhaps. But you will give her to me, brother. You have no choice."

You feel the tension coil tighter and tighter until you fear it might snap. Viserys seems on the edge of collapse, torn between his love for you, his duty as king, and his revulsion for Daemon’s actions.

Finally, with a voice that is barely a whisper, he speaks.

“Get out,” Viserys says, his voice hoarse. “Both of you. I cannot look at either of you right now.”

Daemon’s eyes linger on Viserys for a moment longer before he turns, striding out of the room without a backward glance, the guards barely able to keep up. You hesitate, but as you move to follow, you catch the broken look on your father’s face, the hurt buried beneath the fury.

But there is no turning back now.

As you walk beside Daemon, the weight of your decision presses down on you. Your uncle will have you, no matter the cost.

And the flames will rise higher than ever before.

[buckyalpine]

Drip

18+

Fuckboy College Bucky x Reader 

This is just dirty af. 

No thots, just: 

It was hot.

You hummed contently, stretched out on a patio chair with an ice cream cone in hand while the rest of your friends lounged in the pool or mingled on the side; the summer heat making your treat melt faster than you’d like. 

Before you could catch the dribble with your tongue, it ran down the cone, over your finger's and onto your chest; you’d managed to avoid getting any on your bikini thus far but it was nearly impossible. Your tongue darted out again, twirling around the scoop of vanilla, before running it along the side of your cone to catch the melting drops. 

You were in your own world, too busy to notice the way you had driven Bucky up the wall, his steel blue eyes locked on you and the sweet mess on your lips. He’d shifted from the pool to standing behind the grill to waiting behind the snack table in a poor effort to conceal the raging hardness that pressed against his swim trunks each time you let out a satisfied moan, licking up more of your ice cream. 

It was torture. 

Bucky knew you were off limits; you were best friends with Nat who was dating his bestfriend, Steve. Nat refused to let Bucky go anywhere near you, deeming him nothing more than raging hormones on legs; the number one fuck boy on campus. Not like it was his fault he was so pretty and irresistible. 

Your tongue swiped up before your lips nipped at the top of your cone. 

Bucky nearly growled to himself, watching the sugary cream get you all messy, making your mouth work overtime with the summer heat. 

Nothing would ever look as pretty as you did right now, sticky white cream clinging to your lips, dripping down your neck, flowing between your breasts. Your hand was covered in little streams of deliciousness, a drew stray drops spilling onto your tummy. 

Fucking hell.

Not a single part of his mind was thinking about ice cream as he watched the milky liquid trail down your body, barely covered in that skimpy thing you called a bathing suit. 

If he had his way with you, he’d clean you up and then get you really messy and sticky with his cu-

“Does anyone have a tissue” You pouted, breaking Bucky away from his thoughts, whining when another drop of sticky sweetness dripped onto your collarbone, trickling down between your chest. 

“Here, I have-mmphhh” Sam’s eyes grew wide, his sentence cut off midway with Bucky’s hand slamming his mouth shut, muffling his voice. Bucky grabbed the pile of napkins that sat on the snack table shoving them under a pile of chip bags. Sam snorted when he saw where Bucky’s eyes were focused, throwing his hands up in defeat and walking far, far away. 

“You are something else” He shook his head while Bucky bit his lip, his mind still occupied over how good you’d taste right now. There was no way he was going to let you clean yourself up with a lousy tissue paper when he was right there. He quietly slipped away while you scanned the area for something, anything to wipe off the mess but there was nothing in sight. 

“Where the hell did they all go” You grumbled to yourself  as you walked into the kitchen from the patio, not a single paper towel or napkin in sight. All the dish towels had disappeared, even the kitchen roll had vanished into thin air. You groaned, deciding to wash off in the bathroom, making your way down the hall instead. 

You yelped as a hand grabbed you, trapping you against the wall, pretty blue eyes staring down at you. 

“Bucky what are you-

“Shhhh” His arms caged you in, chest just ghosting against yours, “You’re somethin’ else, y’know that?” 

“Bucky” You squeaked as he smirked, biting his lip, his eyes flicking from your mouth, down your neck, to your cleavage, following the sweet trail that ran down your tummy. 

“Were you lookin’ for something doll?” He whispered while you gave him a tiny nod, your voice caught in your throat. The last thing you wanted was for him to see you like this, with ice cream drops all over you, running around to clean off. 

“T-tissue” 

“For?” He cocked an eye brow, tilting your chin up with his thumb while you refused to meet his eyes, your face growing hot. 

“Clean up the ice cream” Your eyes widened when he shook his head, keeping you in place. 

“Don’t think so babydoll, M’gonna clean you up and you’re gonna be a good girl and be keep still for me” His tongue darted out to swipe across the corner of your lips before trailing down to your chin, peppering soft kisses along each drop of cream that touched your skin. You whimpered as he continued down, gently licking between the valley of your breasts, not living a single drop of vanilla behind. 

You couldn’t process a single thing happening, blood coursing through your body causing a dull buzz to drown out any other sound other than his devious tongue lapping you up. You squeezed your thighs tightly together, hoping he wouldn’t be able to tell how soaked you were, your breath hitching in your throat as he dropped to his knees, his nose nudged against your needy clothed core. 

“Jamie” You squeaked out when he looked up at you with his devilish smirk, softly nipping your hip before pressing his fingers between your legs, feeling your dampness soak through. 

“Oh sugar, you’re even messier down here” He groaned, pulling your bikini bottoms to the side before tossing your thigh over his shoulder, diving straight into your folds. He didn’t give you a chance to register what was happening, immediately latching onto your clit, alternating between dipping his tongue into you and suckling. “God, you taste so sweet baby, better than all the cream you covered yourself in”

“B-Bucky!” Your head hit the wall, moaning as he dove in again, growling at your hand came down to tug at his short locks. He couldn’t help himself, pulling his cock out, jerking himself to your taste and pretty noises, precum glistening at the head. 

“That’s right princess, get my face all messy, want you to soak my cock next” He stood up, hoisting you and wrapping your legs around his waist. He pushed your bathing suit bottoms aside, rubbing the silky head of his cock through your folds before letting it catch against your entrance. He groaned at the feeling your pussy already clenching and throbbing, trying to pull him in already.

“Fuck, Bucky, do-do something” You pleaded, your heels digging into his ass, nails clawing at his back while he started to push into you. You cried out at the stretch, gasping as he started to thrust without giving you any time to adjust. 

“You that needy, sweets? Already wanna be pounded like this?” He grunted in your ear, letting out a dark chuckle at the way your walls fluttered around him. “You look fuckin’ beautiful like this petal but I’ll tell you what I wanna see baby, wanna see this gorgeous little face covered in my cream. You know how pretty you looked eating your little treats outside? Making a sticky mess all over yourself like a dumb baby, can’t even keep herself clean? You know how badly I wanted to pull my cock out and jerk my cum onto your face, get you real fuckin’ messy?” 

“OH GOD-” You bit down onto his shoulder, tears streaking down your face as he started to fuck you harder, shoving his cock all the way in, barely pulling out, making sure you could feel him in your belly. He grasped onto you harder while one hand trailed between your bodies to play with your clit, rubbing and flicking it till you were sobbing from pleasure. 

“You like that huh baby, you fuckin’ love it” He growled, fucking you harder while you cried out, milking his cock as your orgasm ripped through your body. He gritted his teeth, willing himself not to cum, fucking you through your high before the selfish side of him took over. 

“M’gonna get what I want, get on your knees petal, suck my cock” He growled, yanking his cock out of you and pushing you to the floor, his leaky tip covered in your mixed arousal. You wrapped your hand around his length, giving him long hard strokes while you pushed the tip between your soft lips, your tongue swirling around in circles. “That’s right, look at you baby, putting that little tongue to good use, knew you’d be so good at sucking dick, knew that innocent mouth would take it so good” 

You doubled down, letting your hand alternate between cupping his balls and stroking him, humming contently at the way he got harder, the veins in his cock throbbing on your tongue. Bucky growled, his balls pulling up to his body, abs tensed as you laved at his slit, slobbering all over his length as if his cock in your mouth kept you alive. 

“Oh-oh fuck that’s it, m’gonna make you look so pretty baby, cover you up with me. C’mon pretty girl, lemme see how beautiful you’d look with my cream on your face, jerk my cock sweets, that's it-that’s it” His hand came down to grasp at your hair, tipping your head up and pulling you off his cock, his hand guiding you to jerk the head of his cock. You stuck your tongue out, batting your lashes at him while he let out a deep groan, his cock growing stiffer in your hand, a string of pre-cum falling onto your lips.

“M’gonna-fuck-gonna cum baby, gonna cum, you’re gonna look perfect, s’fuckin’perfect with my cream, fuckfuckshit-HNGGG UGHH!!” His warm cum shot onto your face in ropes, white cream covering your cheeks, nose, chin and lips. You gasped as more dripped out, while needy whined slipped past Bucky’s lips, his hand coming down to squeeze out every drop. “Oh fuck petal, you look pretty, fuck me baby” Bucky bit his lip, letting his softening cock drag across your face, the tip tracing through his cum, getting it all over your face. He let his cock drag through more of his cum, smearing it on your neck, ensuring there wasn’t a dry spot on your face, practically rutting his semi hard length onto your face until he was fully spent. 

He pulled you up, licking a fat stripe up along your neck to your cheek, gathering his cum onto his tongue before squeezing your cheeks together, making your lips pout open. He spat into your mouth, groaning at the way you moaned, swallowing his load. You looked at him with doe eyes, tugging his hand when he went to tuck his cock back in, pouting while he chuckled at your needy expression. 

“What is it baby” He gave you a smirk, hissing when you squeezed his balls, his cock already twitching again. 

“Wan more” You whined, pulling him in for a filthy kiss, letting his tongue into your mouth, your tongues tasting more of each other. 

“Don’t worry my pretty petal, gonna fill you up with my cream next” 

Tags: @glxwingrxse @hungryyeyess @sebsgirl71479 @beabutterfly987 @teambarnes72 @witchywhore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan @buggy14 @whimsyplaty92 @sergntbarnes @inkedaztec @pono-pura-vida @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z @elle14-blog1 @justsebstan @littlelightnings @psychomanniac-blog @happyt0exist @emmabarnes @bethyruth @matchat3a @cjand10 @getwellsoontana @cherryschaos @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @ashenc-blog @buckybarnessimpp @potatothots @goldylions @high-functioning-lokipath @morganemorganite-blog @kingfleury @peaches1958 @spiderman-stilinski @peaceinourtime82 @gublur @wintersmelodie @geeky-politics-46 @lolawassad @almosttoopizza @a-poor-gryffindork @alternativeprincess @buckycallsmeaslut @kamaria-sweet-writes @charmedbysarge @xnorthstar3x @kryoee7 @alina02 @gh0stgurl @polishprincess999 @jessybarnes @alltheficsiwant @chemtrails-club @eralen @perdidosbucky-yyo @clqrosmgc    

[hyvyinjie]

𓂃ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒙𝒊𝒂༄˖°

ᴄᴀᴍᴀʀᴀᴅᴇʀɪᴇ | ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱɪᴅᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴀʀᴀᴅɪꜱᴇ

ᴍ! ᴍᴜʟᴛɪ-ꜰᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ! x ɢɴ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⋆｡ ✧° ☁︎ come be lonely with me ✧˖°.

𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝓃 𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹, a shadow that lingers long after the sun has set.

how curious that something so jagged and raw can be the only companion that remains.

'are you okay? '

a query like a wisp of smoke from a forgotten altar; bewitchingly deciptive, answered by a mirrored gilded lie—a guise that conceals the soul’s deepest lament, like a siren's song cloaking hidden depths.

are you okay?

of course you are.

even as the cold rain—an icy deluge that seeps into your very marrow pours. the unyielding cascade chilling you to the bone.

of course you're okay.

in a reality alive with fleeting visages and laughter like the songs of ancient bards, why does the heart still bear the burden of solitude?

people flit like restless shades, phantoms that never truly pierce the essence of your soul, leaving behind the bittersweet ache of a connection unformed.

it feels like a movie, doesn’t it?

a grand performance where you are but a spectator, watching your own life unfold on a stage where you aren’t the protagonist in your own tale.

'it'll get better!' they chirp, voices bright as the sun, yet their words seem hollow, echoing in the cavern of your heart.

but did they ever consider if it was advice you truly crave?

of course.

...not.

what you seek is a stillness, a presence that holds space for your unspoken truths.

someone who listens, even in silence.

someone like a scroll of old; their pages turned with unguarded ease, revealing tales laid bare for you to read.

'i love you.'

'i care about you.'

such phrases, tossed around like autumn leaves slowly losing their weight in the wind.

just because they slip from the tongue, do they resonate with the mind? the heart? the soul?

perhaps they do—but will one act on them when the tempest of need rages the fiercest?

the brutal truth is, the chance that words blossom into action is as rare as finding a rose in a desert.

yet, when one hurls, 'I hate you.' you feel the sting of authenticity in those words, a far more potent rawness louder than any hollow praise of love.

drip.

drip.

drip.

Is it really the rain that falls, or are those the tears you didn't know you were shedding?—

wait—you’re..crying?

the hand that reaches to brush your cheek feels like a mirage, a distant echo of touch, as if you are caressing a specter, even while knowing it is real.

'why the tears?'

ask that question, and though you don’t have the words, the tears continue to flow, a silent rebellion against a world that insists you should stay strong.

even more perplexing is the emptiness that accompanies your sorrow.

why does even crying feel so void of meaning?

"guess we're both hiding in the rain."

the effort to engage, especially with a stranger—feels monumental, leaving you unmoved, eyes cast downward, heavy with the weight of unspoken words.

everything feels exhausting.

yet, it’s clear he stands with you. and regardless of the umbrella in his hand, he never once offered shelter to himself or to you.

amidst the howling winds of a titanic uproar; a mere shadow of the inner maelstrom that echoed the battles of gods—you both stood, steadfast warriors against the squall’s wrath.

his gaze is drawn upwards, rapt in the skies as if searching for answers among the clouds—while yours remains tethered to the ground, too heavy to lift.

thunder rumbles, a low growl in the distance.

but it feels..strangely comforting now.

the stranger offers no more than his initial greeting—was it even a greeting?—and the silence stretches between you like a vast ocean.

you are two strays, wandering adrift in a deluge.

lonely together.

♡ ˚ · . 良い一日をお過ごしください、愛 !

[hrefna-the-raven]

I don't need your help!

Notes: I'm obsessed with the Harry Potter movies again and of course my main obsession, yet again is Snape 😇😍😅 so yeah, here you go, a small female reader and Severus Snape moment 😉

Words: 727

Summary: Snape gets yet again bullied by James and his friends. It's your first year at Hogwarts and despite having never talked to Snape, you won't tolerate bullies and step up for him.

"Expelliarmus!", a male voice shouted, being cheered on by a group of other students around him.

You glanced in the direction of the commotion and identified the culprits immediately. A Gryffindor student, encouraged by his companions, had taken away the wand of a tall, thin Slytherin student who was peacefully sitting at a tree before they showed up. Having attended a non-magical school prior to receiving your acceptance letter from Hogwarts, you were familiar with this type of behavior. Whether in a regular or magical setting, bullies always stood out and intimidated those they considered vulnerable and insignificant. You've been here for only a few months but you were determined to not let anyone bully an innocent person, so, naturally, age and height differences did not deter you as you instinctively rushed towards the unfolding situation. The Slytherin student hovered in mid-air while the Gryffindor boy maintained his wand's pointed position.

"Right", he laughed, "do you want to see Snivillu-", his sentence was abruptly interrupted by a loud gagging noise.

The boy's gagging persisted as he collapsed on his knees, his complexion turned pale as his lips parted in agony and pain, a slimey green slug slithered out of his mouth, causing those around him to gasp in disbelief. Their heads turned towards you as they took a step back upon seeing you standing there, your wand aimed at the bully on the ground.

With a loud thud, the Slytherin student fell to the ground as the spell wore off. His eyes cautiously met yours while his mind struggled to comprehend what had just happened.

"Take your friend and leave!", you commanded the group rather calmly, given the rage that was bubbling within you, "and if I ever see him doing this again, he'll throw up more than just slugs!"

As you observed the group escort their companion away, you carefully stowed your wand back into the pocket of your robe. Your attention then shifted back to the student who had been targeted earlier, allowing you to truly see him for the first time. Compared to you, he possessed an impressive height, which seemed to surpass what his uniform could accommodate with his trousers barely reaching above his ankles. His sleek black hair cascaded down, concealing a significant portion of his face; however, it couldn't hide his defined jawline and prominent hooked nose. Eventually, your gaze ascended towards his captivating dark eyes that contrasted beautifully against his pale complexion. You may have spotted him on several occasions in the library but never dared to speak to him as he was obviously at least four years older than you and always occupied the farthest corner, engrossed in his reading material.

"Are you ok?", you tilted your head curiously, your voice gentle and calm.

"I don't need your help!", Snape shouted angrily, tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes.

In an attempt to push away his sorrow, he sought solace in seething rage. James had once again targeted him for humiliation in front of everyone, but a new emotion was now brewing within him. Although just a young first-year student, you bravely defended him without any personal gain or knowledge of either him or Potter. Your actions appeared to stem from genuine kindness and a strong sense of moral obligation, something he never thought to witness, most certainly not directed at him.

Severus experienced a touch of gratitude mingling with his usual feelings of shame. Although he wouldn't confess to you, today he truly appreciated your decision to step in.

"I don't care", you shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, "it was the right thing to do and I'd do it again, whether you like it or not."

You turned around and walked back towards the castle, slightly annoyed at the boy's hostile attitude towards you.

"Wait!", Snape yelled, taking a hesitant step in your direction, "what's your name?"

You stopped in your tracks, huffing out your name without even turning around to look at him.

"I-I'm Severus", his voice cracked, doubt and fear seeping through his initial angry tone.

You let out a sigh and looked at him, feeling an inexplicable fascination. There was an intangible attraction that drew you to him and if he allowed it, you would stick by his side to get to the bottom of it.

"Well Severus who doesn't need my help", you gave him a mischievous wink, "despite all, it still is a pleasure to have met you."

And with that, you turned around and continued to head back to the castle.