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k4marina · 1 year ago

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— ii. Dragon Rider || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: a new routine in a new world

warnings: idek lol. unedited and not properly read (i kept falling asleep lmao)

series masterlist || next part

~ 2.5k word count.

game of thrones x modern!fem!reader

[gif found on pinterest]

Never in my life have I regretted anything more than I did now.

“Me and my big fucking mouth,” I grunted, getting up from the ground and dusting my leather pants. Gray Worm looks at me with a slightly amused expression. Of course he would, he just dropped me onto my ass for the fifth time today.

It had been almost two weeks after the Small Council meeting. There had been a few more since then, but no major topics were discussed, other than Varys begrudgingly backing what I had said about Cersie having scorpions when asked if his little birds had any news. The new armor and weapons for the Unsullied are also being made. After a few talks with Daenerys, Gray Worm, a few Unsullied commanders, and I, the new armor design was decided on. Surprisingly the Unsullied were very artistic people and had great ideas.

And, within the past two weeks, I’ve been tortured everyday, my limbs aching all the time, threatening to fall off. Everyday, I’ve been woken up at four in the morning for my sword lessons with Gray Worm for five hours a day. When I said I wanted to learn, I didn’t mean I wanted to train to be the world's best swordsman of all time.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” I say towards him, wiping away the sweat on my face.

“I have no idea to what you are referring to, My Lady.” Gray Worm says, feigning innocence.

“You can’t call me ‘My Lady’ and then drop me on my ass for the fifth time.” I pointed out.

Gray Worm smiled and got into a fighting stance and I mirrored. “Your defense has gotten better; however, your strength and stamina is lacking.”

He gave the signal and charged towards me, going to swing towards my left. I sidestepped and blocked the hit with my sword before knocking it back. This time, I went for the attack, but Gray Worm expertly blocked me and knocked the sword out of my hand. The sword clattered against the stone ground, landing a few feet away from me.

“Maybe it’s best we stop for today.” He says, picking up the sword and placing it back onto the rack. I let out a sigh of relief and walked over to the inches, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat away from my face and neck.

“Be honest,” I said, turning towards him. “Am I a lost cause?”

He snorts out a laugh and shakes his head. “Apologies, My Lady.” Once he’d composed himself he answered, “No, I do not believe you are a ‘lost cause’. It may seem difficult now, but it will get easier later on.”

“Wow, wise words,” I said sarcastically, taking a swig of water from the canteen. “They should call you ‘Gray Worm the Wise’.”

“I’m pleased that you think I am someone with wisdom.” He says, giving a small bow, making me chuckle.

After the lessons, I took a bath in my room, this time with the help of the servants. The first few days I would have them leave so I could bathe myself, but I guess over the days it just naturally happened. Once bathed and dressed in a white dress with gold embroidery and pearl beads before I made my way to the hall to have breakfast with Daenerys.

Not only was it a good way for us to get to know one another (mainly her learning about me) as well as discussing future events and how we would maneuver through it. However, not all of it. I had made the decision to not tell her about Jon Snow or the White Walkers, I think that’s something she should organically go through. All she knows about Jon is that he’s the King in the North is Jon Snow, Ned Stark's “bastard” and the former Nights Watch Lord Commander who came back from the dead.

The doors to the hall were swung open for me and I walked in, spotting Daenerys at the head of the table, looking through some documents. The sound of the doors closing, snapped her out of her thoughts. When she saw me she smiled, which I returned.

“What did I say about bringing work to the dining table,” I lightly scolded. She gave me a sheepish look and protested, “it can’t be helped, it's important work. As Queen I’m expected to do this and more.”

I walked over to her, carefully taking the documents and setting them off to the side. “Dany, you’ve been a Queen since you married Khal Drogo. You need to step back and take some time to just be Daenerys. Otherwise you’ll grow overworked.”

“Alright, alright. If you’re so sure.” She nodded towards the servants to begin serving the food. Like always, an array of food was laid out for us to eat. We both began to eat, making small talk and updating each other with any new updates.

“Gray Worm has been telling me that you’re quite exceptional with a sword,” She teased.

I playfully rolled my eyes, groaning, “not you too.” She let out a laugh, teasing me some more. “What? He says you’re a fast learner. He says he’s never seen someone land on their arse five times in a row.”

“Right, that’s it.” I huffed. “I’m running away.”

Daenerys laughed some more and I tried to hide my smile. Truthfully, she reminded me of my younger cousin in Volantis, Mera. Both of them had a heart of gold and an innocent child-like soul deep down.

“The servants told me that you refused to have your hair braided.” Daenerys points out. She’s not wrong. Instead of braiding my hair I opted to leave it in a ponytail or let it down.

“Well, I haven’t won any battles.” I said. “Each one of your braids represents a battle won, I haven’t won anything.”

“So if you win you’ll braid your hair?”

“Sure, why not. Why? Do you not want me to?”

“No, no. Actually, I would quite like that.” She smiled.

I eyed her suspiciously, “don’t tell me you’re planning on putting me in the frontlines.”

She shrugged. “Maybe. Your lessons with Gray Worm are going well. Who knows, by the time we’re ready for war you’ll be a master swordsman –or rather swordswoman.”

The rest of the breakfast went fine. Daenerys and I decided to take a stroll around the castle ground claiming she has something to show me. She dropped off the papers in her office before taking me through the back of the castle to the open fields in the back. The wind swept by us, carrying the saltiness of the ocean and the fresh scent of grass.

“Where are we going?” I asked as she led me deeper into the field.

“I just wanted to show you something. They’re right over there.”

We stood atop a hill and at the foot of the hill on the other side resting were Daenerys’ dragons. I felt my heart stop. No way. What the actual fuck. My mouth ran dry as I looked over the three dragons. Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion, all in their full glory. I looked over to Daenerys who was already looking towards me.

“You’re serious?” I ask. She smiles and nods. “What if they don’t like me and decide to eat me?”

Daenerys laughed, her cheeks turning pink. “They will do none of that sort, I swear. I have a strong feeling that they will like you.”

Carefully she led me closer to the three dragons. With every step they just grew more and more. They towered over the two of us and stood with immense power. And to think that these three are just a small fraction of the size of Balerion and the rest of the Targaryen fleet.

We stood a few feet away but I could still feel the heat that they emitted from their bodies. Their majestic eyes that were probably the size of my head watched me carefully. Shiny scales adorned their bodies that looked to be about the size of my hand or bigger. Their one claw nail was the same size as my limbs.

Holy fuck was this crazy. I’d read about these dragons and even saw a few drawings made by people who’d seen them in textbooks, but being this up close and personal with them was a whole other experience.

Oddly enough, for such dangerous creatures, they seemed to emit a sense of calm.

“You feel it too?” Daenerys eyes my reactions to the dragons. “Their calm.”

I nodded. “I thought my heart would be doing somersaults in my chest, but it’s not.” After the initial shock, I felt my body relax.

“They’re so beautiful.” I said to no one in particular.

We hung around them for some time, allowing me to get used to their presence while Daenerys told me stories about her and her dragons.

I looked over the dragons. Drogon, named after Daenerys’ husband Khal Drogo. Rhaegal, named after Rhaegar the Dragon Prince. Viserion, named after Viserys the Beggar King.

Daenerys followed my gaze to the cream and gold scales dragon that laid on the grass alongside his brothers. Viserion and Rhaegal seemed to play fight while Drogon watched.

“Despite their playful nature, those two are the oldest.”

“What?

The dragons carefully made their way over to where we stood. Drogon moved towards Daenerys, moving his tail around her as if giving her a hug. Rhaegal moved around behind us, opting to lounge. Viserion, however, moved closer to me. His green eyes bore into mine, as if it was trying to communicate with me.

He brought his face closer to me, like a dog wanting to be pet. I glanced back at Daenerys who nodded.

Viserion tilts his head when I carefully bring my hand up to stroke his gold and cream scales. A deep purr comes from him, nearly startling me. He nuzzles his head into my palm and purrs some more. It wasn’t like a cat's purr, more like a deep bass.

“Would you like to fly him?” Daenerys asks.

“Yes,” I replied without a thought, too entranced at the dragon in front of me.

She moves around Drogo, standing to the side of him.

“Stand like this,” she says. “This is what I find the easiest.”

I mimic her stance, standing besides Viserion. Drogon crouched down and Daenerys carefully stepped up, using his scales and spikes to seat herself atop the dragon.

I copied her, being careful to not hurt Viserion (not that I’d be able to) and sat myself on top of the gold dragon. It was uncomfortable, almost like riding a really large horse with spikes and scales. How Daenerys was able to ride her dragons without a saddle or harness was beyond me.

My hands gripped onto the spikes on Viserions back, holding on tightly as the gold dragon began to shift around from a crouched position to fully stand. My hands gripped onto him tighter as I tried not to fall off. I peaked over its massive body to see that Viserion was getting ready to take off.

“W-wait!” I looked towards Daenerys who was watching from atop Drogon. “Why is it taking off? What do I do?” Panic filled my voice.

There was no way in seven hells that she thinks that I can fly, right?

“Hold on!” She grins just as Drogon takes off into the sky. VIserion gets ready and I can already feel myself slipping off. He takes off just as I adjust my position, hunching down and tightening my grip onto his spikes.

Wind rushes past my ears and my hair flows all over the place. Instinctively, I closed my eyes while Viserion flew in the air. I could hear Daenerys call for me from across the sky.

“Open your eyes!” She says. “You’ll be safe, I promise.”

Carefully, I opened them. It was brighter up in the sky than on the ground and had a lot less clouds. I could hear the, surprisingly, gentle flaps of Viserions wings. I cautiously looked down, seeing that we were miles off the ground, so far up that we could see Dragonstone Island and I could feel my stomach start to buzz.

“Don’t look down,” I look up to see Daenerys. “When it was my first time I was terrified, as well, but you cannot let your fear control you or else it will transfer to your dragon.”

I nodded, taking in her words and sitting up straight with confidence. Despite still feeling uneasy I managed to get my grip on things (literally). Daenerys’ words rung in my ears.

“Your dragon,”

I’d read of Dragons bonding with non-Targaryens or non-Valyrians, case and point being Hugh Hammer riding Vermithor during the Dance of Dragons. But it would make sense if I could bond with Viserion in light of recent findings.

“Alright, let’s see what we can do.” I said to Viserion and I.

—

Daenerys and I spent the rest of the day riding our dragons. It was challenging, especially the part where you literally have to hold onto for dear life, but rewarding in the end.

In the end Viserion and I had truly bonded. He would know what I was thinking or how I was feeling without even saying a word to him. At first I thought it was just the two of us getting the hang of each other, but Daenerys explained that this was what she and Drogon felt. It was hard to believe that I was a Dragon Rider. But then again, this past week has shown that anything could be possible.

Getting off the Dragons was harder than getting on, my dress snagging on its scales, but not ripping entirely.

“I can help you with your riding,” Daenerys says as we walk back into the castle.

“I’d like that.” I replied. “I’m sure we can find books in the libraries that can help us too.”

“Have you uncovered anything else?” She asks, expectantly.

I shook my head. “Nothing of significance. I’ll keep reading and let you in on my findings.”

We split off so we could clean ourselves up and get ready for dinner. The bathtub was already ready for me when I entered the room. I pulled off my dress and sunk into the steaming hot water. The tension in my shoulders loosened and I dipped my head back to rest on the edge of the bathtub.

The weight of my necklace lay heavy on my chest, a firm reminder of my… predicament. I tried not to think about it all, otherwise I’d just spiral into some rabbit hole. Some days I wonder if it’s all some sort of dream. A long, vivid dream that I can't wake up from. A knot pulls at my chest, and my throat closes. My eyes flicker up to the ceiling, tears threatening to fall. I took a deep breath, the only thing I can do is take everything in day by day.

And then I fully submerged myself into the water.

a/n: finally, it’s here :) mb if there’s any spelling mistakes, i tried to proofread it but i kept falling asleep and couldn’t be asked anymore 😭 i’ll fix it later, trust 🙏.

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matchpointfaist · 17 days ago

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• how your words ring through, something kinda sweet and blue.

• finnick odair x reader

• tw for the hunger games overall, angst, smut

the sea had never felt so far away. even here, in the capitol’s golden cage, high above the streets in a glass tower reeking of perfume and lies, you could still smell the ocean on finnick. it clung to him like the ghost of home, like salt and sand embedded deep in his skin. maybe that was why you couldn’t stop looking at him. maybe that was why it hurt so much. "you're not listening," he said gently, his voice like rough linen. worn. familiar. sad. you blinked, realizing you'd been staring at his hands instead of the spear he was holding out to you.

"i am," you said, a half truth. you were listening to him, just not to the words. his voice was a lullaby from another life—the one where you were nine and he was thirteen and he used to carry you home on his back after long days diving for pearls. the one before he was famous. before you were reaped. "you're shaking," he said, stepping closer. his brow creased, and he touched your arm. "you’re scared," you wanted to say you weren’t, that you were strong. that you had a plan, that you'd studied every tribute, that you knew how to fight and fish and gut a man if it came to it, but your mouth wouldn’t open. finnick sighed, a soft, broken sound, and pulled you toward him. “i don’t want to do this,” you whispered against his shoulder. “i know,” he murmured into your hair. “i know," his hands were trembling, too.

training was hell. not because you were weak—you weren’t. you were smart, fast, with a good throwing arm and a mind like a net: everything stuck. but the capitol kids were brutal. careers twice your size sized you up like they were already planning how to kill you. even your ally, district four’s male tribute, looked at you with a distant kind of grief, as if he’d already buried you. the only place you felt real was in the private room finnick used to coach you. “i need you to stop hesitating,” he said on the third day, “you hesitate, you die.” you threw the spear. it buried itself two inches off-center in the dummy’s chest. “two inches is a kill shot,” you snapped.

“it’s not your aim i’m worried about.” you turned, taut with tension, “what is it, then?” he stepped forward, jaw clenched. “it’s you. you’re still kind. you still think there’s a way out of this that doesn’t destroy you," you opened your mouth. closed it again. there was a brief, heavy pause. “i don’t want to win,” you said finally. finnick’s eyes flashed, “don’t say that," “i want to live. that’s different. i’m not like you, finnick. i don’t want to be beautiful and deadly and haunted for the rest of my life. i just want to go home," he looked like you’d struck him, “you think i wanted this?” “no,” you whispered. “i think you survived. that’s worse,"

that night, you found him on the rooftop. you were in capitol pajamas, some silky thing with golden embroidery. he was sitting with his back to you, legs drawn up, a bottle of something expensive hanging loose in one hand. “i didn’t mean what i said,” you told him, voice soft and hesitant. “yes, you did,” he glanced at you over his shoulder, “that’s what hurt.” you sat beside him, not too close. not yet. he didn’t look at you when he said, “do you remember when you broke your arm on the docks?” you blinked. “i was nine," “you were crying, and i carried you all the way to your house. your mother threatened to gut me for letting it happen," you smiled a little.

“i hated seeing you hurt,” he said quietly. “i still do.” you turned your head slowly, “finnick-” “no. don’t say it," his voice cracked like a wave against stone, “if you say it, i won’t be able to let you go," your throat tightened. “i don’t want you to let me go," he looked at you then, eyes full of storms. when he kissed you, there was nothing soft about it. it was made of desperation, of goodbye. he carried you back to his bedroom just as he carried you all those years ago, tender and careful, his arms your only sense of security through everything.

he took his time with you, learning every inch of your skin like it would stop you from slipping away. he was patient and kind, eyes shining when he looked up at you from between your thighs, reveling in your pleasure as if it was his own. “you’re so beautiful,” he must have said it a thousand times, over and over like a mantra, like he needed you to believe it. he fit inside of you like he belonged there, like you were made for each other, taking your breath away with each thrust of his hips. “oh, honey,” he panted, brows drawn together, the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen, “you’re so amazing,”

you’d had sex before, meaningless boys from four, summertime flings with stolen kisses and brief moments spent in their beds. this was something else entirely, like you and him had become one in more than just the physical sense, cementing your preexisting belief that whatever you were made of, finnick was the same. it felt right, felt real, his weight on top of you like an anchor. he was doting and generous, making you finish with his mouth, then his fingers, then one last time while he was inside of you. he treated you like you were sacred, like he worshipped you, all the adoration spilling over at once.

it wasn’t supposed to happen. you told yourself you were just going to talk. just to lie beside him one last time. but when he opened his arms, you folded into them like you belonged there, like you always had. “i’ll stay until sunrise,” you whispered, your cheek against his chest. he shook his head. “stay until i forget what goodbye tastes like," you woke tangled in his sheets, and he was already watching you. eyes rimmed in red, hands gripping your fingers like he could memorize them through skin. “don’t be brave in there,” he whispered, “be ruthless.” you gave him a sad smile, “you always said I was too soft," “you are," his voice broke, “that’s why I love you," the room was quiet. time stopped.

you stood in the launch room with your arms bare and trembling. not from fear, not entirely. but from the ache of him not being there, of the fact that he was watching you from some capitol screen, powerless. bleeding inside and smiling outside because he had to. you closed your eyes, remembering his voice. “trust your instincts, don’t hesitate," a shaky kiss pressed to your temple, the smell of salt and warmth, "stay alive," and then— “i love you," the platform rose. the light burned white. the games began.

the roar of the arena echoed in your ears as the platform shot upward, hurling you into a sun-baked hell. the games were just beginning, and the bloodlust was already rising. the world around you was savage. every face, every sound, was a reminder that the only law here was death. survival. kill or be killed. your fingers were shaking, but not from fear. you weren’t afraid anymore, not truly. the warmth of finnick’s touch, the softness of his kiss—those memories felt distant, like they belonged to someone else. when the cannon fired, it wasn’t someone you knew. it was just another dead tribute. another body to add to the pile. you didn’t flinch. you survived the bloodbath. that’s all that mattered.

the first few days blurred together; water, food, heat, death. you killed without hesitation. you didn’t have to think about it. it was a reflex, a tool. the spears finnick had taught you to throw became an extension of your body, your will. each throw was a message to yourself: i’m alive. i’m still here. there was one boy, a career from district 1, who thought he could intimidate you. he was bigger, faster. but you were smarter. it took three seconds. three seconds of pure, raw instinct. your knife cut across his throat, and he crumpled before he had the chance to register the betrayal of his own body. the taste of blood in your mouth was metallic and cold, and for a second, you almost remembered the feel of finnick’s fingers against your skin. almost. but you buried it. you buried it deep.

far above you, in the capitol’s pristine viewing room, finnick was watching. his breath was shallow, his hands tight against the armrest as he clutched the edge of his seat. he could see everything—the traps you were setting, the bodies falling to your hands, the cold look in your eyes. it was like a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. he knew what the arena would do to you. he knew what it did to him. but this? watching you, someone he’d known his entire life, become a shadow of the person he loved—it was too much. "you promised me you wouldn’t become like them," he muttered under his breath, his voice breaking. he rubbed his hands over his face, desperate to look away, but he couldn’t. he couldn’t stop watching. every kill, every moment of brutal survival. the way your eyes hardened with every passing tribute that fell. he couldn’t help it. the thought of you—his friend, his love, the girl who used to smile at him as they ran barefoot through the sand—turning into something else—something cold, calculating, dangerous—it ate at him like allfire.

the night was quiet. the arena had turned into a war zone. tributes were thinning out, picking each other off in the shadows. the trees were a canopy of whispers, the ground a patchwork of blood, mud, and death. you were alone now. the alliances you’d formed—those fleeting moments of fragile trust—had dissolved like salt in water. you crouched behind a tree, your hand clutching your spear, watching a shadow in the distance. your breath was steady, focused. you moved, soundless as a predator, closing the gap. the girl from District 2, the last of the careers, was sitting near a fire, unaware of your presence. your fingers tightened around your weapon. and then you saw her face—the one you had only glimpsed in passing, the one who had tried to make alliances with you, the one who had looked at you with hope. her hope was long gone now. you threw the spear. she barely had time to scream before the weapon pierced her chest, and she fell forward, lifeless. you didn’t even flinch. you didn’t feel anything anymore. except, distantly, for him.

the wind carried the scent of salt through the arena, a faint echo of the ocean you’d left behind. and for a brief moment, you felt like you were home again—standing beside finnick, feeling the cool breeze against your skin. you closed your eye, his voice drifting into your mind. “stay alive.” you clutched your chest, the pain seeping into your bones. his words were like a brand, etched deep into your soul. he was the only thing tethering you to humanity, to who you had been. you weren’t sure if it was enough to keep you from slipping into the abyss, but you held on. you held on for him.

soon, another cannon fired. the sound of death was louder now, closer. the last of the tributes were falling, and soon, it would come down to you and the boy from district 7. he was strong, quick. you had no choice but to eliminate him before he got too close. your hands trembled with anticipation. you couldn’t afford to hesitate, just like he taught you. hesitation meant death. just as you raised your spear, a thought flashed through your mind—one of finnick, standing beside you, his arms around you, holding you together. and then, like a wave crashing over you, the warmth returned—the love you had buried under the weight of survival. the spear flew from your hand. the boy from 7 collapsed, the sound of his body hitting the ground like thunder. you were alone.

the train ride back to district four was a blur. the bright lights of the capitol fading into the background, leaving only the quiet hum of the train’s wheels on the tracks. you sat in a compartment, hands resting in your lap, staring out the window, but seeing nothing. the games were over, you had survived, you were a victor. but all you could feel was numbness. they’d cheered when your name was called. the capitol loved a victor, especially one who had survived the games with such cold, calculated efficiency. but when the last cannon fired, the crowd’s roar felt empty to you. hollow. you had become exactly what they wanted you to be.

finnick had been by your side through it all. watching, helping. but now, back in district four, he seemed like a stranger, even though his eyes never left you. his concern was written all over his face, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze for long. you had won, but you had lost a piece of yourself in the process. he found you alone on the beach the first night you were back, standing at the water’s edge, staring into the endless horizon. you hadn’t spoken much since the games ended, not to him, not to anyone. the weight of it all—the blood, the bodies, the fear—it was crushing. you felt like you were drowning, even with the shore beneath your feet.

“you don’t have to pretend,” finnick’s voice broke through your thoughts. his hand brushed against your arm as he stood beside you. he didn’t try to touch you more than that, but the offer was there. the comfort was always there. you didn’t reply at first. the silence stretched between you, heavier than anything the arena had thrown your way. “i’m fine,” you lied. your voice was raw, hoarse. you could feel the cracks deep inside, the parts of you that had shattered in the games, pieces of yourself lost forever. finnick exhaled slowly, and when he spoke again, his voice was rough with emotion. “you’re not fine. and I’m not fine either. you’ve seen things… done things," “i did what I had to,” you snapped, a sharp edge to your words, “you told me to survive, and i did. i did exactly what you wanted.”

he flinched, “that’s not what i meant," you turned away from him, your gaze lost in the distance. the ocean, the sound of the waves—it was a distant memory, the sound of something that used to be your life. you couldn’t hear it the same way anymore. “you’ve changed,” he said quietly, more to himself than to you. the words hit harder than the wind. you didn’t want to admit it, but you knew. you were different. you weren’t the girl who’d walked into the games—bright-eyed, terrified, full of hope. you were a victor now, yes. but the victory had left you empty, shell shocked.

the first night after you got home, the nightmares came. it was always the same—screams, blood, the faces of the tributes you’d killed. the spear you’d thrown, the boy from 7 falling, the light in his eyes fading, his blood soaking into the ground. you woke in a cold sweat, gasping for air, your heart pounding in your chest. the sound of your own breathing was too loud, too harsh. you couldn’t tell where the nightmare ended and reality began. you stumbled out of bed, your legs shaking as you made your way to the door. the house was dark, the stillness oppressive, the air thick with silence. the ocean should have comforted you, but it felt like an eternity away. then you heard the footsteps. finnick. his shadow appeared in the doorway, his face illuminated by the dim light from the hallway. his eyes were wide, filled with concern, but there was something else there—something darker, more uncertain.

you didn’t have to say anything. he had heard you, just like he always did. “i hate this,” you whispered, voice trembling, “i hate what i've become," he was silent for a long time, his expression unreadable. he didn’t say anything at first, just reached out, his hand steady and warm on your shoulder. you felt his touch, and for a moment, it was the only thing grounding you. and then, slowly, he pulled you into his arms. his warmth, his familiar scent, the way he held you—it was like coming home. but it didn’t fix anything. you thought, ruefully, that nothing would.

“you didn’t become this,” finnick murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "you had to survive. it wasn’t your choice, alright? but i see you. i know you," the words should have comforted you, but they didn’t, not really. not when you could still feel the weight of every death in your hands, when the echoes of the games rang in your ears every time you closed your eyes. but when he kissed you, the rest of the world faded.

it started slow. tentative. almost like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you anymore, after everything. after what you’d both become. but then you kissed him back, desperate, clinging to something real. something warm. something you could still feel. it was the only thing that felt like life. real life. you pulled him closer, your hands sliding over his chest as you deepened the kiss. his breath quickened, and for the first time in days, you felt something other than numbness. finnick’s hands trembled as they slid down your back, tugging you closer. the need, the desire—it was impossible to ignore, even with the weight of everything that had happened between you. but it was more than that. it was the pain. the longing, the need for comfort, for a connection that didn’t feel like it was tearing you apart. you were so close to losing yourself, but in that moment, with him, you felt like you were coming back together. and for a moment, that was all that mattered.

the first time, before all of this change, had been slow, beautiful, achingly tender. this time was new, desperate touches and shining eyes, bitten lips and fingernails sunk into his back, holding him as tight as you could manage. “missed you,” he moaned between messy kisses, thrusting into you like you were his for the taking, filling every bit of emptiness you’d slipped into, “god, i love you,” “love you,” you felt hot tears streak your face, but couldn’t place the source, which of you they came from, “finnick, you’re so good, missed you s’much,”

you came undone quickly, all the tension finally snapping, your lips meeting his urgently, muffling your cries of pleasure. “there you go,” he worked you through it, his touch growing more gentle, “feel so good around me, honey, so perfect for me,” he was slower then, taking his time, careful not to overstimulate you as he continued to fuck you, slow and steady, eyes shining with admiration. your thighs trembled, your hands gripping his toned shoulder tightly, like he might slip away. “i’ve got you,” he mumbled into your chest, leaving a trail of red marks, just dark enough to remind you both that he’d been there, “oh, god, i’m so close,”

you watched in awe as he came undone, crumbling before you, his beautiful features all screwed up together as the pleasure rolled through him. his lips were parted and red, raw from your kiss, his cheeks tinged pink and glowing with heat. “beautiful,” you pulled him back down to you, clutching him like a promise, “love you so much, finny,” “love you more, my darling,” he pressed slow kisses anywhere he could, pulling you over onto his chest, “get some sleep, i’ll be here when you wake up,” for the first time in months, you let yourself fully relax, trusting him enough to believe that he’d keep you safe.

the next morning, you woke tangled in the sheets, the warmth of his body beside you still fresh in your mind. you could feel the weight of the night, the rawness of what you had both shared. but the room was quiet now, and the silence felt heavier than before. finnick was already awake, sitting at the edge of the bed, staring out the window. the light of dawn cast a soft glow across his face, but his expression was distant, lost in thought.

“what are we doing, fin?” you asked, your voice hoarse. he turned to face you, his eyes dark and full of things unsaid. “i don’t know,” he admitted. “i don’t know anymore," but you did, you had an idea. surviving wasn’t enough anymore. you reached for him, your fingers brushing against his hand. "we can’t go back. not to what we were," finnick looked at you for a long moment, then nodded, a slow, painful understanding in his eyes. “i know,” he whispered. and as the morning light broke over the horizon, you both knew that nothing could ever be the same again.

#finnick odair #thg finnick #finnick x reader #hunger games finnick #finnick fanfic #finnick x you #finnick imagine #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair smut #finnick odair angst #finnick odair au #finnick au #finnick fic #finnick angst #the hunger games #thg #thg finnick odair

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girlyteeth · 1 year ago

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Let's Talk About Girly-Kei Substyle Names!

Since this style has been gaining some popularity in j-fashion communities, I wanted to do a small lesson on how to refer to different styles of girly-kei. I've noticed some strange names being assigned to this style, and I want to clear up any misunderstandings people may have about these terms.

There are many labels people put on this fashion style, but for some reason it's anything but girly. It's understandable how some terms could be mistaken for the name of the fashion, especially since some stereotypes associated with these styles have heavily contributed to the wrong terminology being used. Examples of terms that have been associated with girly-kei are... Ryousangata: (meaning a "mass-produced" type of person, who's heavily involved in wota culture) J*rai-kei: (a stereotype referring to an emotionally unstable person who "explodes like a landmine".) Subcul: (It used to have the meaning of "poser" in Japan, but nowadays it is used to refer to any type of alternative fashion. While this one is more harmless, it doesn't do any good to refer to a style that already has a name as just "subcul fashion")

In the girly-kei community, we label these colour combos a bit similarly to lolita substyles. So, let's name some some girly styles that have been getting popular! Sweet Girly: This style consists of sweeter elements, such as ruffles, bows, hearts, and cute prints. Sometimes, you can find sweet girly sweaters with plushie embroidery! Bijou details are also popular with this style, as the jewels seem to compliment the overall cuteness of these outfits!

Dark Girly: This style focuses on more darker/edgier elements, and these outfits seem to have a more gothic look to it. Characteristics such as chains, leather, and religious imagery can be found in this substyle. Despite the name of this substyle, the clothes don't need to have a dark colour palette. Just as long as they fit the criteria!

French Girly: This style is meant to resemble a more European style of fashion! This elegant style also maintains a sense of simplicity, as their silhouettes and designs tend to be neat. As you can see, berets are especially popular in this substyle, but other accessories such as pearls, gold jewelry, and hairbands are also used in these outfits.

I find that among girly discourse, some argue that "girly-kei" is way too broad of a term, but that's where you can have fun with your outfits! It's not a requirement to specifically adhere to a certain substyle when wearing girly-kei fashion, and honestly just wear what makes you happy! A lot of these substyles can overlap as a result, which can create pretty cool outfits!

Referring to these substyles by their proper name not only sounds nicer, but it can help erase stigma around wearing girly fashion as a whole.

If you wish to read about more substyles such as otona girly, retro girly, himekaji (yes, even the gyaru substyle can be considered girly!) and casual girly, there is a more detailed list of all the different substyles in their aesthetics section! Thank you for reading <3

#girly kei #terminology lesson #sweet girly #dark girly #the graphic was very fun to make and maybe I'll start making these types of illustrations more :)#girly discourse #retro girly #french girly #girly fashion #me posting after 100000 years

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fellominaarcher · 2 months ago

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GOT MARRIED - KARINA X IDOL!FEMREADER

13. Finale; Redamancy 2.

chapters || prev. || special chapter

The Sareureuk Gala - 5:30PM

Aespa’s sleek black limousine rolled to a stop at the venue’s grand entrance, its polished surface reflecting the dazzling city lights. The moment the door cracked open, a wave of flashing cameras erupted, lighting up the night sky like a meteor shower.

Dressed in breathtaking gowns tailored to perfection, each member stepped out with the effortless grace of seasoned superstars. Their assistants moved swiftly, adjusting trains, smoothing fabrics, and ensuring not a single hair was out of place.

Karina led the way in a Balmain backless dress, midnight blue with silver embroidery that mimicked constellations wrapping around her figure. Her long dark hair perfectly framing her beautiful face, there were glitters present on her hair, and her diamond earrings caught the light just enough to blind anyone.

Winter followed in a sleek Givenchy gown, a mix of white and icy silver, reminiscent of a shooting star streaking across the sky. She gave a tiny wave to the cameras but blinked rapidly against the aggressive flashes. “Oh my God, do these cameras have a stun setting or what?” she muttered under her breath.

Giselle, ever the cool girl, rocked a custom Alexander McQueen number — a structured black dress with shimmering silver celestial patterns, paired with sheer gloves that added a touch of mystery. She smirked at the cameras, tilting her head just enough to give her best ‘effortlessly cool’ look.

Ningning, the youngest, was draped in a breathtaking Elie Saab gown, ethereal in shades of lilac and soft blue. With her hair styled in loose waves and soft pearl accessories, she looked like she had just stepped out of a fantasy drama. She waved enthusiastically to the crowd, soaking in the attention.

A suited man gestured for them to proceed down the red carpet, leading them to the interview station. The interviewer, a polished woman in a dazzling navy gown, greeted them with a bright smile.

“Ladies, welcome to the Sareureuk Gala! You all look absolutely stunning. How are you feeling tonight?”

Winter, still slightly dazed from the camera flashes, answered first. “Like I just walked through an explosion of lightning bolts, but in a very glamorous way.” She replied to the interviewer while giggling at the whole experience.

The interviewer chuckled. “Well, you all certainly look like celestial beings. The theme really suits you.” She complimented the girls.

The members all smiled, nodding in agreement.

“Now, Aespa is no stranger to events like this, but is there anything or anyone you’re looking forward to the most tonight?”

Ningning leaned into her mic first. “The food. No hesitation.” The maknae glanced at the camera for a few times, smiling from ear to ear.

Giselle nodded. “Yeah, I second that.” Agreeing with Ningning's tonight's intention.

Karina smirked. “The performances will be great, I’m sure.”

Winter added, “I’m looking forward to seeing all the pretty outfits. This is basically Met Gala: K-Pop Edition.” She gave a small nod of her head to the camera.

The interviewer laughed. “Absolutely! Now, Karina—” she suddenly leaned in, her tone shifting slightly, as if she was about to drop a bomb. “I’m sure you know that Daydream is also attending tonight. What do you think about that?”

A murmur rippled through the nearby press members. The question was a curveball, and everyone knew it. The cameras zoomed in, waiting for a reaction. The crowd hushed slightly, leaning in.

Karina blinked, her expression unreadable for a moment, before tilting her head slightly, feigning the perfect mix of mild confusion and innocence.

“Umm… okay?” she said slowly, blinking again as if she had just been asked the most irrelevant question of the night.

The interviewer pressed on. “Any thoughts on them being here?” A part of it because some nosy press requested her to ask this specific question.

Karina smiled, her tone polite, measured. “Honestly, I’m happy that they’re here. We don’t have that much relation anymore, so I’d appreciate it if everyone could stop dragging my name around with hers.” And then, like she had been waiting for the perfect moment, she added, “What we had on We Got Married was bittersweet and simply the best of my life.”

Simple. Neutral. Yet lethal.

The mention of hers — Jang Y/N of Daydream — landed like a meteor impact.

A moment of silence. Then, all at once: Cameras raised. Microphones pushed closer. Murmurs turned into gasps. The press, fans, and even some fellow attendees felt the ground shake metaphorically.

The interviewer, momentarily caught off guard, nodded with a polite “Of course, understood.” But the damage was done. This statement was going to break the internet.

Aespa’s manager subtly signaled for them to wrap up, and the members were smoothly escorted away. As they stepped onto the other section of the red carpet of the gala, the buzz around them was immediate.

Giselle grinned. “Karina just gave Dispatch a month’s worth of headlines.” The night had only just begun, but one thing was certain, this moment was about to go viral.

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@kpopnewz: BREAKING — Karina of Aespa just shut down all rumors regarding her connection with Jang Y/N of Daydream at the K-Muse Gala 2025. “We don’t have that much relation anymore, so I’d appreciate it if everyone could stop dragging my name around with hers.” But then she ADDED—“What we had on We Got Married was bittersweet and simply the best of my life.” Fans are LOSING IT. #Karina #Aespa #SareureukGala #Y/N #Daydream

──────────────────────

@aespa4everr: Wait, WAIT! DID SHE JUST HARD LAUNCH A DISMISSAL???

@daydreemlefttoes: I have never seen someone so politely set fire to an entire ship before.

@kwangya_insider: This is NOT how I expected the gala to go. But also… why do I feel like there’s more to this? 🤨🤨

@y/n_cvmdvmp: Oh we are SO BACK.

@hearts4jimin: So you’re telling me I should be worried AND hopeful at the same time?????

@rina_y/niee_child: KARINA, WHO ALLOWED YOU TO BE SO POLITE WHILE ENDING US???

Inside the Sareureuk Gala

Right on cue, Aespa and Daydream stepped onto the grand staircase for their final pose before heading inside. The moment both groups stood together, a tidal wave of cheers and screams erupted from the crowd.

Even after Karina’s statement earlier, the energy was electric — fans were losing their minds over their faves being on the same steps.

We Got Married had its perks, but its disadvantages were just as relentless. No matter where Karina and Y/N went, their names were always linked together, their past impossible to escape.

Maybe there was more to the story. Maybe not. But for now, Karina — Yoo Jimin herself — had shut down the speculation, and that was that.

A suited staff member gestured for Aespa to head inside, and they gracefully followed his lead through the towering double doors of the grand hall. The doors shut behind them with a soft but definitive thud, leaving Daydream still outside, braving the flashing cameras and screaming questions.

Reporters weren’t holding back:

“Daydream, look over here!”

“Y/N, was that true?!”

“Yurim, you look stunning tonight!”

“Hayeon! Over here!”

“Y/N! Y/N! You weren’t dating Karina at all?!”

Despite the media chaos, Daydream kept their composure, waving politely before a Gala staff member signaled them forward.

It was their turn to enter.

This was Daydream’s first-ever high-profile gala. Their first time stepping into a world where entertainment, fashion, and business royalty mingled in one extravagant setting.

And unlike the red carpet, there were no cameras inside.

The Grand Hall - Fashion Exhibit

The first part of the evening was dedicated to a fashion exhibit, showcasing high-end brands alongside standout local designers.

From the mezzanine balcony, guests in couture gowns and tailored suits watched as celebrities strolled through the exhibit, admiring the artistry of the pieces displayed in glass cases, a necessary precaution against wandering hands.

Aespa and Daydream, though not interacting, were not far apart in the exhibit. The two groups were separated only by BIBI and Chungha, who were partners for the night.

Y/N’s eyes flickered toward Karina.

She wasn’t even being subtle about it.

No matter how much she tried to focus on the dazzling gowns and meticulously crafted suits, her gaze kept gravitating back to Aespa’s leader.

She could admit it — this was one of her favorite looks on Karina.

The backless Balmain dress. The way the fabric shimmered under the warm glow of the chandeliers. The diamond earrings.

Karina looked... beautiful.

Her fingers twitched against the fabric of her dress as an idea formed in her mind.

What if she just walked up to Karina right now and said it?

What if she, in the middle of this gala, just casually strolled over and told Karina, "Hey, you look really pretty tonight." Wearing a confident smirk on her face and how the light focused on both of them.

Y/N imagined it.

She’d walk up confidently, a relaxed smile on her face. The kind that said she had zero ulterior motives. Just a normal compliment from one idol to another. No big deal.

Karina would blink at her, processing the words. Then Ningning, blinking too, would turn to Winter, who would turn to Giselle, who would turn back to Karina.

The silence would be deafening.

Karina, after a solid three seconds of staring, would tilt her head and go, “…Okay?”

Y/N imagined turning slightly, just to check how her own members were reacting — only to find Yurim looking absolutely mortified, Hayeon with her hands covering her face, and Soojin visibly pretending she didn’t know her. The same goes for the other three members.

Even BIBI and Chungha would be giving her side-eyes of concern.

The imaginary scene crashed to a humiliating halt when reality snapped back—

“Oh, you have a busy pair of eyes, buddy.”

Y/N jumped slightly, blinking back into the present moment. Yurim had stepped beside her, smirking.

“…What?” Y/N asked, trying to keep her voice casual.

Yurim raised an eyebrow. “What’s got you so interested? The gowns? The lights? Or something or someone a little shinier?” Yurim's voice raised a pitch and she's already teasing the poor girl.

Y/N, visibly thrown off, cleared her throat. “This place has pretty lights. I love lights, remember?” she replied smoothly, her deflection almost too perfect.

It wasn’t even a lie. Y/N genuinely loved pretty lights.

That was one of the reasons she’d always wanted to visit Shanghai, Hong Kong, and Chongqing’s night districts — the dazzling neon signs, the city skylines, the glow of the streets at midnight.

Yurim let out a quiet snort. “Right. Lights.” Almost rolling her eyes at Y/N's answer.

Then, with a mischievous grin, she added, “You love lights so much that your entire room looks like a discount planetarium. The fairy lights, the fifteen sleep lights, and oh, let’s not forget, the ring with a tiny flashlight that you bought just because ‘it’s useful.’” Yurim reminded Y/N of her lights collection.

Y/N groaned. “It is useful.” She retorted immediately and defended her random interest.

“Sure, buddy,” Yurim patted her back dramatically. “And I’m sure this gala has the most fascinating lights you’ve ever seen. Totally why you’re so distracted.” The Daydream leader teased Y/N once again.

Y/N rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Because, yeah. The lights were beautiful. But Karina? Karina looked otherworldly.

Gala Dinner & Performances

The grand hall transitioned into the dinner and performances segment of the night. Guests settled at their assigned tables, where a multi-course meal would be served while top-tier artists performed on stage.

Coincidentally. Again.

Daydream and Aespa’s tables were right next to each other.

It wasn’t the worst thing ever, but it certainly wasn’t great — especially not for Y/N, who now had a direct line of sight to Karina. The cross-facing (if that’s even a word) was real. Y/N was directly opposite Yoo Jimin.

Karina, for some reason, was always perfectly within view no matter where Y/N looked. She could try to focus on her wine glass, the cutlery, or even the table centerpiece, but somehow, Karina’s stupidly elegant existence was still right there.

Meanwhile, Aespa was sharing their table with models and high-profile public figures. Their group of ten sat in refined poise as servers poured chilled apple juice into their crystal glasses — a silent cue that the first course was about to be served.

A familiar voice filled the venue as the stage lights dimmed, then focused on the main stage.

D.O. stepped into the spotlight.

The audience quieted, their attention shifting to the celebrated vocalist as he opened his performance with his song, "Somebody."

Over at Aespa’s table, Giselle, Uchinaga Aeri herself, subtly nudged Karina with her elbow.

Then, with a small, amused smirk, she leaned in and muttered, “We’re so lucky fans aren’t allowed in here, or they’d be recording every single second of this and turning it into ‘evidence’ of you and Y/N dating.” Yes, those annoying videos on YouTube about the littlest of interaction that will be evidence or any photos idol post on their socials.

Karina, deadpan, took a slow sip of her apple juice. Then, with perfect comedic timing, she replied:

“…We Got Married Season 2 incoming.”

Giselle choked on nothing.

Ningning, who had been listening in, leaned forward with an entertained grin. “Honestly, at this point, they should just hand you two an award for Best Situationship.” The main vocalist chimed in to joke about the whole situation too.

Karina sighed. “It’s not a situationship if there’s no —” She paused, waving her hand vaguely, “situation.”

Ningning quirked a brow. “Uh-huh. Sure.” She gave the Aespa leader a good 2 seconds look of judging her answer.

The teasing continued for a bit before they moved on to their meals, their conversation naturally shifting to other topics.

But somewhere in the middle of listening to Ningning rant about a recent fashion scandal, Karina’s eyes betrayed her.

She snuck a glance at Y/N.

Over at the next table, Y/N and the Daydream members were engaged in polite conversation with their sunbaes — Rosé, a few actors, and well-known figures in the industry.

Y/N, in particular, seemed comfortable catching up with Rosé, nodding along to whatever the BLACKPINK vocalist was saying.

Karina felt her lips twitch, the beginnings of a smile creeping up.

And then—

The lead vocalist snuck a glance towards Karina's direction and Y/N let out a small, barely-contained laugh.

It was soft, but Karina caught it immediately.

A slow blink. Then a raised brow.

Without hesitation, Karina gestured toward Y/N before mouthing silently:

"What? Keep it to yourself, dumbo."

Y/N immediately bit down on her smile, but her amusement was already written all over her face. Instead of responding, she turned away, fixing her expression into one of pure neutrality before leaning toward Soojin, one of her members.

“Anyway,” Y/N said, in a very forced casual tone, “did you see that one dress in the exhibit earlier? The one with the, uh, the sparkly details?” She even tilted her head a little speaking to Soojin.

Soojin gave her a long, knowing stare. Y/N pretended she didn’t see it.

A few minutes later...

By now, the first course had been served and enjoyed, light snacks and refreshing drinks keeping the guests entertained as the gala smoothly progressed.

As staff prepared the next meal, another performance was introduced.

D.O. took the stage again.

This time, the music was different. Slower. Nostalgic. A few murmurs rippled across the tables as the opening chords of a classic R&B song filled the venue.

“End of the Road” by Boyz II Men.

The moment D.O. started singing, the entire hall seemed to pause.

"Although we've come to the end of the road

Still I can't let go

It's unnatural, you belong to me, I belong to you…"

And just like that, the atmosphere shifted. For a song that had nothing to do with them, it sure felt painfully relevant.

Y/N, who had been chatting with Rosé a second ago, suddenly wasn't chatting anymore. Her fingers lightly traced the rim of her glass, and her gaze, like a reflex, drifted across the table.

Right back to Karina.

Karina, despite her earlier resolve to focus on anything but Y/N, was also glancing back at the exact same moment.

Their eyes met.

A split second. Nothing. And yet, it felt like everything. The song played on.

Neither of them looked away immediately. Y/N swallowed. Karina’s fingers tightened around her glass.

Then—

A loud snicker.

It was Ningning. "Not you two making this song your background music," Ningning teased, entirely shameless.

Karina sighed, exasperated but caught.

Giselle, being just as insufferable, leaned in. "Oh, I don't know, Jimin. Seems kinda unnatural." The Japanese girl seemed so content to tease her friend about it too.

Winter gasped dramatically. "You belong to me, I belong to you…" She perfectly sang-whispered that one particular part in the song with a hand on her chest.

Karina shot them all a look. "I hope your desserts come out half-melted," she muttered, reaching for her juice.

Ningning, unimpressed, shrugged. "And yet that won’t change the fact that you two just had a moment." She wiggled her brows with a sly smile playing on her lips.

Karina exhaled sharply and looked away, trying to focus on anything else. Unfortunately, “anything else” just so happened to be Y/N, who was also trying very hard to act normal.

She was nodding along to whatever Soojin was saying — but Karina saw the way her lips kept pressing together, like she was fighting off a grin.

Somewhere across the room, D.O. kept singing.

"You belong to me, I belong to you…"

And the wandering glances never really stopped.

Hours Later – The Gala’s Grand Ending

The night was coming to a close.

The tall, grand doors of the venue swung open, signaling the official end of the event. Outside, the chaos was waiting.

A sea of media outlets, flashing cameras, and eager fans had been stationed there for hours, braving the night just to catch glimpses of their favorite celebrities.

Two seconds after the doors opened — boom.

A flood of A-list Korean actors, top-tier idols, renowned soloists, influencers, and power figures in the industry began stepping out into the spotlight.

Cameras raised. Flashes blinding. Reporters shouting over one another.

“Kim Taeri, can we get a quick interview?”

“Won Bin, it’s been years! Where have you been?!”

“Please look here!”

“One pose for the cameras, please!”

“Can we get an interview?”

The gala might have ended inside, but outside? It was only getting started.

Back Inside

Aespa was still inside, making their way toward the exit with their assistants trailing behind, adjusting their long gowns to keep them from dragging on the floor.

Halfway through the hallway, Jimin suddenly stopped. “You girls go ahead,” she said abruptly, her tone casual but her eyes flickered back toward the dining area. “I left something at our table.”

Aeri, Minjeong, and Yizhuo exchanged glances.

A beat.

Then Minjeong squinted. Suspicious. “Uh-huh. Come back quickly,” she responded, but she didn’t push.

Jimin simply nodded before spinning on her heels, heading back without another word. The Aespa members watched her retreating figure, their gazes filled with silent, knowing amusement.

Then — Daydream walked past them, also on their way out. Except there were only six of them. Where’s the seventh?

Before anyone could voice the question, Aespa was ushered forward, their presence requested for media interviews and photo ops.

Outside. Back at the red carpet.

At the Red Carpet

Aeri, Minjeong, and Yizhuo — now outside — decided to drift over to the Daydream girls.

“It’s been a while.”

That was the excuse they went with.

But really, the last time they’d properly interacted was during the filming of We Got Married and they all knew that was messy history.

As they stood there, a camera or twenty zoomed in on the rare girl group interaction. Fans were silently losing their minds behind their screens, already clipping moments to post online.

But something felt… off.

Each group was missing a member. The thought barely settled before it happened.

The air changed. A sudden eruption of screams. Cameras immediately snapped toward the venue’s entrance.

The members of both groups instinctively turned, eyes widening at the sight that greeted them.

Some of their mouths fell open.

Walking out of the grand hall, hand in hand, were Karina of Aespa — Yoo Jimin — and Y/N of Daydream.

Smiling. At the crowd. At the cameras. At each other. Their interlocked hands were firm but natural. A flicker of anxiety danced across their faces, but it was masked well beneath their poised expressions.

The media lost its mind.

Flash. Flash. Flash.

A wave of photos snapped in an instant. And not just that, the whole thing was being live-streamed. And comments? Flooding in at lightspeed.

──────────────────────

Live Stream Comments

[@STAYsmashARMY]: HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO BREATHE RN??????

[@ChoiYeonjun’sEyebrow]: NAH THIS IS SO UNREAL LMAO I CAN’T.

[@Ningning’sTeaSpill]: NINGNING PLEASE SAY SOMETHING I KNOW YOU’RE DYING TO COMMENT ON THIS.

[@Winter’sLeftShoe]: THEIR HANDS. INTERLOCKED. HELD. INTERTWINED. CONNECTED. PHYSICALLY.

[@kpopstan_99]: NAURRR DIDN’T SHE HARD-LAUNCH DENIAL A FEW HOURS AGO??

[@karina_y/n_cult]: I CAN’T BREATHE. HOLDING HANDS?? IN THIS ECONOMY??

[@winterbabyyy]: THE OTHER MEMBERS’ FACES LMFAO Aeri is internally SCREAMING

[@jaewookkarinanation]: I am DISAPPOINTED. Karina should’ve been with Lee Jaewook instead :/

[@smentmessupdate]: We need SM’s press team to wake up immediately before the whole company burns down.

[@kwangya_insider]: seeee I told y'all that there's more to this whole thing!!

──────────────────────

So… Didn’t Karina just shut down their dating rumors a few hours ago?

Yes. Yes, she did. So then… what was this? Well, both Y/N and Jimin would like to call it, planned.

A messy, risky, wickedly satisfying plan.

Jimin had no regrets. If she was going to do something crazy, she’d do it right. Y/N, mildly overwhelmed, glanced at her.

Jimin gave her hand a firm squeeze, a silent cue that said—

"Let’s give them something real to talk about."

And so they did. Right there, in front of everyone. The night had just become legendary.

The moment Y/N and Jimin walked further forward, positioning themselves in full view of the crowd, the energy shifted entirely.

The Aespa and Daydream members were still processing what was happening, their wide eyes tracking the couple’s every movement.

Aeri, arms crossed, gave a knowing nod, thumb resting against her chin like a detective. “Knew it.” She squinted. “They’ve been looking suspicious as hell recently.”

Minjeong, still in shock, turned to her. “Why didn’t you tell us then?!” While raising a brow close to her hairline.

“I wanted to see how long they could keep up the act, duh.” Aeri flicked her hair over her shoulder.

Meanwhile, Yizhuo, forever the savage maknae, arched a brow and smirked. “Damn. All that denying just for a ‘We Got Married’ re-run in real life. SM gotta be shaking right now.” She always had something good to say.

Minjeong gave her a look. "You literally just screamed when they walked out holding hands." The lead vocalist of Aespa pointed out her previous antics.

"Okay, but that was for dramatic effect." Ning Yizhuo countered back and she raised both hands up, mouthing, "Hashtag, guilty."

Meanwhile, Yurim and Dajeong of Daydream had fully frozen in place, their disbelief evident. Yurim’s knees even wobbled, prompting Dajeong to grab her arm.

But the real moment, the one that would rewrite K-pop history was about to unfold.

Jimin took a deep breath, then turned to Y/N, eyes filled with something undeniably real. Her hand slid to the back of Y/N’s neck.

And then—

She leaned in and kissed her.

Right there. In front of everyone. A wordless announcement. A statement bolder than any press release. The screams that followed rattled the venue.

Flash. Flash. Flash.

Every camera in the area went off at once, catching the moment that would go down in history.

Jimin and Y/N could faintly hear their members losing their minds in the background.

Yurim? Looked like she might faint. Dajeong? Mouth wide open. Aeri? Screaming internally. Minjeong? Still buffering.

And Yizhuo?

"They better not break up, or this reveal will be embarrassing as hell—"

Minjeong slapped a hand over her mouth before she could finish. "Alright, alright, we get it. Just let the girl have her moment, Ning." Minjeong nodded her head and tamed the maknae down.

But there was no stopping this now.

The Aespa and Daydream members watched in absolute shock as Jimin and Y/N broke the kiss, turning to face the media like they hadn’t just shaken the entire industry to its core.

Y/N’s hand instinctively found Jimin’s again, fingers intertwining effortlessly.

And just like that, K-pop had its new ‘IT’ couple.

The press, recovering from their shock, immediately pounced. Reporters rushed forward, their voices overlapping.

“Karina, didn’t you just deny these rumors earlier?! What happened?!”

The Aespa and Daydream managers were already on alert, positioning themselves between the girls and the reporters.

Jimin, ever the composed one, cleared her throat, putting on a casual smile. “No reason,” she replied smoothly. “It was all part of the act. The only mistake was that Y/N couldn’t keep her composure.” She shot a playful glance at Y/N, who snorted.

The reporters, not missing a beat, threw another question.

“How long have you two been together?”

Without hesitation—

"It's been a month!" Y/N yelled as she tugged Jimin forward, the two of them power-walking away from the press with their fingers still locked together.

This was the plan all along — to deny, deny, deny, then hard launch at the biggest industry event of the year.

And it worked.

53 notes · View notes

clockwayswrites · 2 years ago

Text

Like Betta Fish Do Part 25

WC: 3,537 Masterpost CW: Canon typical violence

“I can’t believe I’m in a custom suit,” Danny said as he admired himself in the mirror.

“It is really weird the first few times,” Jason agreed as he did up his own cufflinks.

Danny twisted so that the very faint blue on blue pattern sewn into the suit caught the light. It gave the impression of rolling waves. “So how many fish things did you manage to fit in?”

He watched the reflection to catch Jason’s lips tick up into a pleased smile.

“Well there’s the fabric itself, deep ocean blue.”

“And patterned like waves,” Danny finished. “I caught that.”

“Your shirt and tie are sea foam white.”

“Okay, that one might be a stretch,” Danny said, but he touched the fabric gently.

Jason rolled his eyes. “I’m counting it. The pocket square, very nontraditional, is a Japanese indigo linen in a pattern that is a historic representation of waves. The buttons are abalone, the cufflinks red coral, and the tie pin is mother of pearl.”

“Six, if I give you sea foam white.”

“You better, I worked hard on this. And it’s actually seven, one last thing,” Jason said. He picked up a blue velvet jewelry box off his side table and held it out.

Danny took it curiously. It was bigger than a ring box, but smaller than a necklace case. He brushed his thumb over the soft covering before he snapped the lid open. His breath caught.

Inside was a set of earrings. Simple silver studs for for his cartilage piercings, a pearl earring for his left ear, and then the show stopper: a crystal studded and delicate woven silver betta fish on a chain for his right ear. Its black pearl eyes were bright. They almost made it seem alive.

“Jason…”

“I tried to stay subtle with the rest, but this I couldn’t resist,” he said. “You’re my fish, and everyone at the gala should know that.”

Danny carefully closed the box before he flung his arms around Jason’s neck and pulled the other down for a kiss.

“Careful,” Jason murmured when the kiss broke, “if we show up late and mussed Tim will frown at us the whole night.”

“That would be a shame,” Danny whispered back before kissing Jason again.

“I can’t believe I’m being the voice of reason,” Jason said, “but you have to let me get dressed.”

“Fine,” Danny said, even if it made him want to pout. “Maybe… I can take it off after the gala then?”

The pink that Jason blushed was more than worth being bold and Danny took a moment to admire it before he turned to put in the earrings.

Behind him, Jason knotted a white (or sea foam, Danny supposed) tie and shrugged on a matching jacket. The suit looked bright, almost glowing, against the rich blue dress shirt that complimented Danny’s own suit. He couldn’t be sure what it was from this distance, but Danny thought he saw the glint of white on white embroidery on the cuffs and lapels of the suit. It was the silver fish bone tie pin that made him laugh.

“People are going to have questions.”

“Let them,” Jason said with a cheshire smile.

“I’m starting to get what going to a gala with you will be like,” Danny said.

“Oh, this is tame for me,” Jason said. “I’m behaving.”

“I know, it’s part of your charm.”

“If only the press thought that,” Jason said, grabbing his phone as it beeped. “That’s our car.”

“I wish we could just take your bike,” Danny said, watching Jason put his phone back down, “and our phones.”

“Suit lines. I’ve got a connection to the family,” Jason assured Danny.

“Still. But I guess those suit lines do really great things for your ass and it would be a shame to ruin that,” Danny agreed with a put upon sigh.

“You’re incorrigible tonight,”Jason said (not that he seemed to mind if his smirk was any hint).

“Maybe it’s just that new years mood,” Danny said with a little shrug, lacing their fingers together as they left. “This year turned out pretty great, and I bet next year is going to be even better.”

“Yeah? Any reason for that?”

“Well, I happened to move to a city that’s pretty weird but also pretty awesome,” Danny said.

“Good reason,” Jason agreed. “What else?”

“I’m finally in the degree for what I want to do, and I’m kicking ass at it.”

“Of course you are, you’re brilliant,” Jason said, holding the door open to the town car after he subtly checked the plates. “Nothing else?”

“Well,” Danny drew the word out as he slid into the car. “There’s this guy I met, maybe you know him? Tall, dark, and handsome?”

“I don’t know, he doesn’t sound real,” Jason teased and leaned into Danny’s space.

Danny leaned up and pressed Jason into a light kiss. “He is pretty magical.”

“The red carpet, less than magical,” Danny said once they were through the sea of reporters and photographers. “I’m going to be seeing camera flashes for weeks.”

“Only a few hours at most,” Jason said.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not, your whole being is just one blinding white blur,” Danny said, motioning at Jason, who laughed and caught Danny’s hand.

Jason pressed a quick kiss to the fingertips. The cameras went off in another round of flashes, apparently not having enough of the lost Wayne and his boyfriend. “Come on, let’s head further in away from this circus.”

“Is your family here yet?” Danny asked as they headed into the gala proper. Jason was skilled at keeping them moving without getting caught up by any one group, even as he greeted some of them.

“Bruce, Damian, and Duke arrived pretty on time so Bruce could greet people. Tim is around here somewhere too, networking I’m sure unless Bernard has distracted him. He’ll have arrived with Cass and Steph, who you haven’t met. Steph isn’t family, but she’s family, you know?”

“I think so?” Danny at least assume that meant she was in the Bat life.

“And Dick should be around here or will soon, likely with Barbie.”

“Barbie?” Danny took one of the drink glasses that Jason had snagged. The tart tang of cranberry bloomed across his tongue followed by the burn of alcohol and lingering taste of sugar. It was good.

“Yeah, but don’t call her that. Her name is Barbara, but she goes by Babs.”

“But you can get away with Barbie?”

“He was a very cute kid,” a voice behind them said. “Somehow he convinced me to let him.”

Danny spun and then had to look down to meet the gaze of the red headed woman in a wheelchair. He couldn’t help but feel a pang for Jazz, but it was softened by the fact that he’d get to see her soon.

“Bull,” Danny said with a smile, offering his hand. “I refuse to believe that Jason was ever not a little shit.”

“Oh, no, he was still a little shit,” Babs said, returning the handshake firmly. “But he was a cute little shit.”

Danny sighed dramatically and looked over at Jason. “Where did you go so wrong?”

“Hey, I believe it was you who were extolling the virtues of my ass in this suit not that long ago,” Jason said with just the hint of a pout.

“I think most of the press will be doing that too, so I’m not sure how much weight that has,” Babs said, painted lips ticked up in clear amusement.

Jason just sighed while Danny laughed.

“I like you, Babs. Is Babs okay for me to call you?”

“Of course, you’re Jason’s man, so you can call me Babs. And I really do prefer it to Barbara. The name is just a little old fashion, you know?”

“And you’re a modern kind of woman?” Danny asked with a smile.

“In so many ways,” Babs said. “But I better go make the rounds, or at least find where Dick is. He got distracted.”

“Isn't he always?” Jason said and bid Babs farewell.

“Are they together? Dick and Babs?” Danny ask as he watched her wheel away.

“Not anymore, but they were,” Jason explained. “They’re still really close. And Babs has been close to the family for a lot of years, so she’s special to all of us, you know? She’s a real inspiration to Cass and Steph.”

Oh, that sort of friend. “Wait, was she?”

“Yeah. So you know.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Danny said. The wheelchair meant something a little differently now. He took a breath and looked around the gala, which was already swarming with beautiful, laughing people. He felt out of place without Babs’ friendly face distracting him.

“Come on, I bet we can find some family to talk too,” Jason said, taking Danny’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “There are a few people who I’ll need to hit up tonight for the Foundation stuff, you know, try to get some donations from them or build up the start of that, but you don’t have to hang with me during any of that. There's plenty of siblings around for you to chat with and use as a distraction. Hell, could always introduce you to Lucius or some of the other inventors we have and you all could talk nerd shop.”

“Nerd shop,” Danny repeated with a sigh. “You say Lucius who I’m going to assume is the Lucius Fox and call it nerd shop like that man is not out there breaking barriers and changing the world with his inventions? And that’s just the stuff that’s been announced to the public! Who knows what else he’s been doing behind closed doors! It must be mind blowing.”

“Well, thank you, but I have a lot of very smart people working for me, so it’s hardly just my work that’s out there making waves,” a silky voice said from behind them.

Danny spun and couldn’t help the little squeak he gave.

Jason chuckled and reached out to shake the man’s hand. “Lucius, how are you doing? Did you manage to drag any of your family to tonight’s event?”

“Just my lovely wife. The rest found excuses, you know how it is.”

“I do. Sadly I’m in a position of note now,” Jason said, the words practically had air quotes around them, “so I’m afraid that my days of excuses are gone.”

“Oh, I’m sure that you can still find a few when you truly need them. You’ve always been mighty good at that.”

Jason just shrugged with an unrepentant grin. “Well, you know. But anyway, Lucius, this is my boyfriend Danny. Danny, this, as I guess you know from that sound you made, is Lucius Fox.”

“Of course I know. Really, sir, the work you and your teams have done… amazing.”

“Just Lucius, Danny,” the man said, reaching out to shake Danny’s hand. “If you’re dating Jason I expect that we’ll run into each other from time to time and I am too old for formalities like that.”

“Alright, just Lucius then. I can’t wait to tell my friend Tucker I met you.”

“Another one for, what was that you said Jason, ‘nerd shop talk’ like you are?”

“Totally. He’s in computer sciences, but he’s not bad at engineering some hardware when he needs to. Mostly to be able to get his software to run on, but I always make fun of his soldering.”

“So you must solder a lot then?”

“Yes s— er Lucius. Aerospace engineering, but I grew up always tinkering and things. I still do it some, but it’s harder here when I don’t have the space, you know? First dibs on tables and tools go to the other majors, which I get, since they need them more than us.”

“Still, hard not to be able to get your hands dirty when you want to. Are you going to be in Gotham for the summer? Not sure where you call home.”

“Well, at the moment, home is Gotham. I want to visit some friends and my sisters, but I’ll be here, yeah. I might take a summer course and get an advanced math knocked out or something.”

“A good plan. You should reach back out to me around early May then. I bet we can find a corner of one of the labs for you to at least use on the weekends when no one is around doing work much.”

“Really?” Danny said, hands twitching at just the idea of getting into a space where he could do some inventing. He had so many new ideas from his time at Gotham U on to improve some of his parent’s inventions or even make new things.

“Really. There will be the usual red tape and all, background checks and paper work and hours you’re allowed in, but those things can be worked out. Can’t keep a curious mind and skilled hands stagnant, now can we?”

“I know I can’t,” Danny said with a little laugh. “Thank you Lucius, really, I’ll definitely take advantage of that again. And start planning! I mean I have plans, of course I do, but a lot is just rough sketches, you know? I need to do some proper diagrams for a few things.”

He didn’t want to waste a moment once he had access to tools again— especially not the tools that were available to him at a place like Wayne Enterprises. Danny idly wondered if it would be out by summer that he knew about the Bats. Lucius had to be involved in that work and it would be so cool to take a look under the proverbial and the literal hood of those gadgets. Did they store the Batplane here?

Lucius chuckled and smiled. “Yes, I think you’ll fit right into that corner. You two boys behave now.”

“Never,” Jason said with a laugh and shook Lucius’ hand one more time as they parted ways.

The night turned into a slew of little meetings like that— people coming up to talk to Jason. Some of the conversations were enjoyable like with Babs and Lucius (Steph was overwhelming, but cool), some were with the many family members Jason had, and some were with the tpyical the socialite crowd. Those people seemed either to be there to get their claws in Jason or to observe Danny like he was some curiosity. Danny really could do without that type. Luckily, Jason seemed to know this, and Danny was passed off to Dick a few hours in and then freed to the food table after some teasing.

Really, even with the gawkers, the night was pretty fun.

“Hey Barbie, have you seen Danny recently?” Jason asked as he crossed her path at the party.

“No, but I’ve been talking tech. Have you tried over by the food?”

“That’s where I just came from,” Jason said with a little frown. These things were really too busy, one of the many reasons that he hated them. “I guess I’ll go try another sibling. Dick hadn’t seen him in a bit either, he got distracted by one of the people from the foundation that works with kids.”

“I keep waiting for him to join you there, you know. You could try Tim if he hasn’t been co-opted by Bernard yet,” she suggested. “How long has he been schmoozing?”

“Too long, Tim is worthless to me I’m sure. Cass would be—”

Jason dropped instinctively to cover Babs before he even registered the sound of shattering glass.

“Jason—”

The all to familiar muzzle of a gun pressed into the base of Jason’s head. “Turn around slowly. Try anything and I’ll shoot through you to get your lovely friend.”

Jason locked eyes with Babs, a thousand messages passed in that look as he slowly raised his hands and turned around.

It was one of the waiters.

Okay, it was a number of the waiters, Jason mentally corrected as he took in the room. Each of them with a gun pointed at some portion of the party. Jason spotted Bruce and Damian where they were being rounded up and Steph over on the edges of the room, but he couldn’t find Tim, Dick, or Cass on the quick glance at the space.

He snapped his focus back to the gunman at a popping sound. The man raised his left hand to his face and smeared the popped paint pellet across his face, coating half of it in a splotchy blue.

Guess they knew what Two Face was up to now. Speaking of the man of the hour, Two Face walked through the shadowed window, black and white suit spotless and fit for the event, and flanked by henchmen. He was clapping. Head tilted so that the bright lights caught his good side.

“Lovely event Bruice! Really, a shinning light in Gotham to ring in the new year. Don’t mind us, please, we’re just here to pick up the usual, jewels, watches, money clips, wire transfers. I’m afraid we need the extra funding…” He twitched, twisting so that the scarred side of his face was tilted forward. “Because the damn Bat made sure we lost it all! I’m hoping he shows tonight. I’d like to make sure he doesn’t make it to the new year!”

Dent cleared his throat; his right hand smoothed back his hair, tipping his head back the other way. “Sorry about that. Just some… linger resentment. You all know how it is. But let’s not get too serious yet! Brucie! And his adorable little spawn! Some of our guests of honor too! Behave if you don’t want to be shot in the head.”

Jason watched helplessly as Bruce, Damian, and several other social elite like the mayor were lashed together with rope. Two Face walked over after they were trussed and slapped a bomb to Bruce’s chest. While the the henchman secured it, Two Face turned to the crowd.

“Where is he? Our darling lost prince of Gotham?”

The gunman stuck the cold metal back to the base of Jason’s neck and pushed him forward.

The bomb started ticking down.

“There you are! When I heard you returned to us, my heart swelled, truly,” Dent said, looking up with his good eye as if praying to heaven. “And now! Now I hear you’ve found love!”

Dent bent over, cackling. The enlarged, yellow eye looked up at Jason from under the white bangs. “So let’s play a game while we count down to midnight.”

Two Face’s goons dramatically rolled out a podium. Two bright red buttons were mounted to it, right below a large television.

Danny was on the screen.

He was tied to a chair in some building’s basement. A bruise was already blooming to life around his right eye, deep blue as his suit. He had clearly caught a fist to the lip too. The fish earring was bright silver, catching light reflected from the pool of water that the chair was sat in.

“As you see, we’re giving your boyfriend some hospitality,” Dent said, smooth side of his face to Jason as he walked around the podium like some perverse Vanna White. “So you have a simple choice: decided what type of love is more important to you. Do you press the left button and save your boyfriend, letting your family and these other lovely people die to the bomb…”

He rounded the screen, scarred open eye starting at Jason accusingly. “…or do you press the button on the right and save the people in this room, but fry your boyfriend to death with electricity?”

Two Face snapped his fingers.

Danny’s head jerked up, unfocused eyes staring just to the right of the screen.

“Hey, dead boy,” Danny rasped. Just talking made the split on his lip crack and bleed again, adding another line of blood to his chin. On the screen the red was bright, bright, bright—

Jason clenched his hands. He was going to kill Two Face. “Hey, fish.”

“You know, the irony of this whole thing is that it does make me realize I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you.”

“Yeah? That's convenient. I've been in love with you for weeks.”

Dent cackled and motioned grandly at the trussed up people. The bright, bright red of the bombs’ timer counted down another tick. “Looks like you're all out of luck! True love always wins.”

He twisted to Jason with the scarred side of his face and growled, “Forty-five seconds left.”

“You know what you have to do, don't you?” Danny asked.

He was smiling at Jason, a soft calm thing. But Jason didn't know if he could trust it. He didn’t know Danny's limits. He didn’t know if this would kill him the rest of the way.

But he did know what Danny would never forgive him for. He knew he didn't really have a choice. “I do. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.”

Jason lunged and hit the right button. On the screen, the wires sparked bright with electricity, lighting up the pool of water. And Danny screamed.

And screamed.

The camera cut out.

---

AN: We're finally here! To the scene I wrote last year! Aaaaaah~

I would say I'm sorry, but this time I truly am not. (Please don't stab me.) ._.

It will be fiiiiiiiine... right?

#dp x dc #dead on main #like betta fish do

654 notes · View notes

kyu-piddy · 1 year ago

Text

The Mother-in-law

In celebration of Mother’s Day in my country, here are some headcanons of meeting characters' moms (and a grandma).

Gn reader x Jade, Floyd, Kalim, Sebek

Afab reader x Ruggie

Tw: None

1.8k words

Having a boyfriend comes with extra relationships, and you’re about to meet one of the people most important to him.

Mama Leech

Mama Leech is a classy lady. Tall and lanky like her sons, she exudes an air of elegance but also threatening, her sharp teeth gleaming like pearls.

She sometimes comes to land on business matters, and knowing that you were dating one of her sons, she just had to meet you.

Sitting across from her at the Mostro Lounge is a nerve wracking experience. You feel like you have forgotten how to even use a fork.

She daintily stabs hers on the steak, her enigmatic yellow eyes never leaving yours.

Her voice is velvety smooth, sharing pleasantries with you, all talk but with as much substance as water has flavor.

Suddenly, she goes quiet, her teeth seemingly becoming more jagged.

“I hope you do have good intentions with my son. He’s a nice boy who deserves the best, don’t you think so?”

“I don’t know what the “best” could be, but I do think he deserves to be happy in the way he wants to be.”

She continues with amicable and innocent topics thereafter.

If you’re dating Jade, she’ll say:

“My dear Jade is such a hard worker. You must help him relax from time to time, or he’ll overwork himself.”

If you’re dating Floyd, she’ll say:

“My dear Floyd changes like the currents. When you’re around him you’ll never know how he’ll react! It’s so delightful.”

Regardless of who has captured your heart, she’ll offer you a little trade secret.

“There’s something nobody knows, not even his twin, that when he was little, he…”

Before she can continue, the tweels appear to retrieve the plates and silverware.

If you’re dating Jade:

“I hope the meal was to your liking.” says Jade.

“Jadeeee! Mamma was about to share something fun! ___ wants to know too, right?”

“But it is rather impolite to share others secrets, is it not, mother?”

If you’re dating Floyd:

“Mama! Ya can’t talk about me behind my back! I'm the one who’s gonna share secrets with ___!”

“Now, now Floyd. We shouldn’t interrupt our clients' meal.”

Mama Leech smiles innocently at her children.

“It seems time has passed by way too quickly. I must take my leave.”

She stood up so graciously you would have never believed she had fins instead of legs most of the time.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, my dear. And you, my darling boys, don’t forget to answer my messages more often!”

With that said, she gave you and her sons a tight hug, before disappearing out the door.

Lady Al-Asim

Lady Al-Asim is a beautiful woman. She’s not called the rose of the desert for no reason. But unlike what that title might suggest, she is not fragile.

Once she learned that Kalim had gotten a partner, she wanted to meet them as soon as possible.

You’d be invited to spend some time with her in her wing of the Al-Asim estate, along with Kalim, so he could introduce you to her.

The meeting place is a room filled with pillows and carpets. As you sit on a plush purple pillow with golden embroidery, you can’t help but think that it must be worth more than everything in Ramshackle combined.

Kalim grabs your hand and smiles radiantly at you, calming your nerves.

Lady Al-Asim enters, a goddess among humans, ladened with jewelry and precious silks.

But the most beautiful part of it all is her warm gaze at seeing her son, and the way she walks slightly faster than what you assume is protocol to greet him.

After inspecting her son and filling him with kisses, she sits in the middle of a dune of pillows in front of you.

“Hello, my dear. How do you do?”

“You must be feeling awfully warm. I’ll ask for some drinks to be fetched. Are 12 varieties of tea and 23 of soft drinks alright with you?”

Her words are polite and warm, and the conversation is pleasant.

Kalim sings your praises at every opportunity, and so does his mother, remembering with staggering accuracy the things he has told her (and they were many).

It feels like you’re in a competition to see who can praise you the most.

It’s embarrassing, but they’re both so genuine in their compliments and admiration that you can’t help but feel your heart well up with happiness.

“Oh goodness, look at the time. It’s getting rather late and you both need to go to bed early.”

Kalim deflates a little, but perks right back up.

“That’s fine, mother. After we graduate we’ll have way more time to chat like this, as a family!”

You almost spat the tea you were drinking, but Lady Al-Asim's smile just got bigger.

She escorted you both personally out of the room and into the teleportation mirror, giving Kalim a big hug and ordering servants to bring him piles upon piles of things.

Kalim went ahead, leaving you alone with his mom for a bit.

“Take care of my dear Sunshine. He loves you very much and I reckon you love him too. And above all else, be happy.”

Out of her pocket she retrieved a small golden bracelet.

“Ground my son. But also let him sweep you up in his magic carpet once in awhile.”

You arrived at NRC feeling warmer than when you were in Silk City.

Grandma Bucchi

Grandma Bucchi is a kind old woman. Her face is marred with age, but she moves with the speed of someone three times younger than her.

Ruggie wanted to introduce her to you, seeing as she is the most important person in his life.

Initially he was a bit reluctant to bring someone like you to the slums where he grew up, but since you were so insistent on meeting her, he eventually relented.

Once inside the house, a humble abode filled with knick knacks of various origins, a tasty smell fills your lungs.

Grandma Bucchi leaves the kitchen with her gray hair in a bun, cleaning her hands in her apron.

“Ruggie boy, is that you?”

“Yeah, Grandma. It’s me.”

The small woman approaches her grandson and squeezes his cheek.

“I could barely recognize you. You’re almost skin and bones. Don’t they feed you at that fancy school?”

As she stops pinching his cheeks she turns to you.

“So you’re the famous ___? You’re rather pretty aren’t you?”

Before you can thank her, the old woman is already walking back to the kitchen.

“I’m finishing my stew. Sit down and sip some dawa.”

“Grandma, let me help ya. You know your bones aren’t what they used to be.”

“Ah, boy! Don’t get between me and my kitchen. And don’t leave your datemate hanging.”

You sat down on the wooden chair and sipped the warm drink on the table. It had a sweet, and despite being warm, fresh after taste.

You both sat in silence, the sound of the sizzling water filling the background.

Soon after Grandma Bucchi came out of the kitchen holding a big pot, a heavenly smell permeating from it.

“Dig in, children.”

You gladly started eating, and soon the lul of chewing and conversation filled the room.

“I hope my grandson has been treating you well. He can be a handful sometimes, I tell you. But he’s a great cook.”

The day soon turned to night, and the time to leave was approaching.

“Before you leave, children, take the rest with you. I want you both to be eating well!”

“Granny, ya should keep it for you and the kids.”

“Oh, Ruggie, we have enough for all of us. Just don’t give me any more kids to take care of! At least for now.”

You both blush profusely, heat creeping up to your ears.

“We ain’t gonna do that! Bye, Grandma!”

You both hastily left, but you could swear you could hear the old woman chuckle under her breath “ah young love”.

Mrs Zigvolt

Mrs Zigvolt is a tall imposing woman, boisterous, full of pride for her family and also a truly powerful fae.

From the moment your relationship became official, Sebek wanted you to meet his mother.

To him, she’s perfect, and he wishes for her to approve of his relationship.

When he got news that she’d visit the NRC campus he was overjoyed, and immediately designed a plan to teach you as much about fae culture as possible.

His passion is admirable, but it’s obvious he’s incredibly nervous, practicing in front of his mirror what he’ll say to his mother.

On the day of the visit, he waits for her in the mirror hall, standing as straight as if he was practicing a drill.

You put your hand on his shoulder, and see him relax just a tiny bit.

When his mother arrived, tall and full-figured, she reminded you of a well trained soldier, but the moment she saw her son her face lit up, and she quickly strode to him, hugging him with all his might.

“I missed you so much, Sebby! Look at you! You’ve grown so much!”

Her deep and mature voice was surprisingly complementary to her words.

Sebek kept his straight posture, his eyes gleaming like stars.

“Yes mother! I have grown exactly 2,7 cm since you last saw me.”

Mrs Zigvolt smiled lovingly at her son.

“And who might this be?” She asked, turning to you.

“Mother, this is the person I am romantically entangled with. They do not distract me from my studies nor my duty to protect Lord Malleus.”

“And do they make you happy?”

Sebek's cheeks turned bright pink, his posture becoming stiffer.

“Yes, mother. They make me very happy.

His mother clapped her hands and gave you a bright smile.

“That’s what I wanted to hear. Has my son been treating you well, young one? I sure hope so! He can be a bit of a handful.”

She leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“We thought he’d never let himself find someone, especially so soon. But he did, and from what he has told us, he’s quite head over heels for you.”

“Mother, we must hurry if we want to complete the school tour on time!” called Sebek from the entrance, already on his way out, the tip of his ears pink.

“Yes, yes, Sebby. We’re coming!”

He left the mirror hall, and you started walking to catch up to him.

“One last thing.”

She lightly tapped your forehead with her clawed finger.

“Use your head, but don’t forget your heart, okay?”

You nodded your head, and she smiled, booping your nose.

“Now let us go to our Sebby, or the poor boy might die of stress waiting for us.”

You left the mirror hall with a good feeling about this first meeting.

#twst #twisted wonderland #x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #Jade Leech #Floyd Leech #Kalim Al-Asim #Sebek Zigvolt #Ruggie Bucchi #Kyusbow

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galactic-magick · 11 days ago

Text

Pippin and His Sisters

(There’s not much about them in any of the texts so I like to come up with headcanons about his relationship with them)

Pippin adores his sisters. They helped raise him in many ways and he has the utmost respect and love for them.

Pervinca is the closest to his age, maybe around 5 years older. So he’s the closest with her probably.

Pearl and Pimpernel are 10 years older or more, so he’s very much the baby of the family to them.

I could see him learning a bunch of the traditional “women’s work” things from his sisters. As a very wealthy family, the Tooks have servants that do a lot of the cooking and cleaning stuff, but I could see him and his sisters enjoying a hobby like embroidery or something like that. Pippin is very fidgety and needs to constantly be doing something with his hands so I could see him picking up an art like that to stay busy on rainy days.

Pippin has his sisters to thank for his perfect soft hair. He likes using their conditioners and oils and stuff. They’re also usually the ones who give him haircuts and trims.

He enjoys going golfing with them. The Tooks invented golf so I’d imagine it’s a common activity in the families. He can get pretty competitive, especially with Pervinca.

I don’t know what the general age is that hobbits first start drinking, but his sisters were definitely the ones to take him out for his first ale.

His sisters are very protective of him. If he ever got bullied or teased for being loud and annoying sometimes his sisters would absolutely not put up with it.

Pippin is very musically talented, both with singing and with instruments. His sisters probably taught him how to play them and many of the songs he knows.

As the oldest, I think Pearl would have the most sibling beef with him. She’d probably get a little irritated that he gets away with so much since he’s the youngest and only boy. But she still loves him to death.

He was a very vocal baby. Like he came out of the womb trying to talk. He would babble 24/7 and said his first word earlier than any of his sisters did. They were very entertained by him and loved playing with him and watching him.

He is very protective of his sisters in return once they start getting married. If he doesn’t like someone his sisters are courting he has no problem saying so. He will absolutely not put up with any mistreatment of them.

Going off of that, Pippin knows how to treat women right because of his sisters. Like he genuinely loves and understands women. You will never catch him being ignorant of women’s struggles or being grossed out by periods or anything like that.

He travels around The Shire with Pervinca the most. Since Pearl and Pimpernel are so much older, they’d likely be settled down in Tuckborough with kids and their own Smials and not have as much time to visit other places. But Pippin and Pervinca travel to Buckland and Bag End at least a few times a month to see their cousins and spend some time at The Green Dragon.

Pippin likes matching clothes with them. Whenever they go to events and parties as a family he likes wearing the Took family colors (green and gold)

As much as the fandom likes to joke about Pippin being stupid, I think he’s actually very well educated. When he was really little he loved cuddling with his sisters by the fire while they read to him. As he got older they helped him learn to read and write and taught him about Took family history.

I think Pippin would really like writing. He loves writing letters to his cousins and writing down silly songs he comes up with. Whenever he’s traveling to other parts of The Shire he likes writing letters back to his family members back home about what he’s doing. His sisters will often receive really long letters of him over sharing every single thing he did and ate and telling them he’ll bring them home some pies from the bakery (he always eats them before he gets home, but it’s the thought that counts)

He’d be a wonderful uncle once his sisters have their own kids. He’d get into all sorts of mischief with them and they would really look up to him. They’d love hearing stories about his journey.

#more hobbit headcanons!!!#pippin took #peregrin took #lord of the rings #lotr #hobbits #lotr headcanons

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skyeslittlecorner · 1 year ago

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Oh no, everyone has great ideas and you turn them into such amazing stories 🥹 Love family stuffs ahhhhh 😩

How about the kings and their kids prepare for Mother's day? 👀 The kids ask for advices and join their dads in prepare them (...and the king's gifts too... if you know what I mean 👀👌👈)

I love bringing your ideas to life! And I'm glad that you entrust them to me, you don't even know what an inspiration it is, that I can write for you, and you like it. Stay amazing as always 🙏

Family time, let's go!

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

Satan and the twins had some trouble with their gift for you. They said they wanted to do it themselves, without dad, because it would be a surprise for both of you. Of course, he agreed, but he still ordered the nobles to keep an eye on them. First they went to Sitri and wanted to paint the cups, but they broke them. Then they approached Paimon to make you your own stickers, but after half an hour, glitter was everywhere. Before they accosted anyone else, Astaroth intervened. He took them to the meadow (so they could run around and shake off some glitter) and only when they got tired did he start telling them about how their father was a child, when they were picking wild flowers for bouquets for you.

Satan himself will give you a box of mint-blueberry chocolates, which you regularly carved at 3 a.m. during your pregnancy, and a smirk with the words "I'm ready for round two." Of course, he pissed you off with that. And since he also brought good wine, get ready for the next five rounds.

Mammon and your little gang will present you with a whole collection of jewelry. You expected them to be pasta necklaces and modeling clay earrings, but of course you underestimated them. Pearl necklace, ruby bracelets, cufflinks with gold beads. Of course, they are made a bit crooked and clumsy, the younger the child the more so, but you and Mammon look like the proudest parents in the world. This is the only jewelry you want to wear.

From the king you will receive a beautiful silk set (actually five sets, each matching one piece of jewelry you received), underwear and a long dressing gown, (and a matching dress, shoes and even a handbag), which you will have to try out together.

Beelzebub loves scribbles, and so does his little girl! The card you will receive will be the messiest, most colorful conglomeration of colored tissue paper, photos and ribbons you could ever imagine. Beel made sure that there was no shortage of materials, so in one place you have shells from the Caribbean, a heart made of Chinese silk and amber with a fossil (where did they get it from? Did he really take your daughter for a walk around the world? You don't ask, you don't want to know the answer).

Beel will give you markers with edible icing. He had a great time with the little one, but now it's time for mommy to show off her artistic talent. Preferably on his body. You can trace his tattoos with a marker, or maybe write something new. He's ready to be your canvas all night long.

Your daughter has Leviathan’s perfectionism, but in a specific version that when daddy likes something, it means it's already perfect. Usually. Sometimes she says daddy has no taste, and that's the sassy part she inherited from you. She would spend a good week sitting in her father's office and embroidering a pillow as a gift for you, with small flowers, because she doesn't know anything else yet. Levi makes sure she doesn't gouge out her eye with the needle, and every time the needle almost pierces her finger, the thread pulls it back. He usually doesn't worry about it, let the child learn. This time he would prefer there was no blood on the embroidery because the gift for you has to be more perfect than anything else.

Leviathan will give you a choker, also embroidered, but with black thread on black material. You can read it only by touch. What does it say? Only you two know. It's so adjustable that it's perfect for both wearing and choking.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb satan #whb leviathan #whb mammon #whb beelzebub #skye's little talk

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girl-lostconnection · 1 month ago

Text

Addition to this one because I’m so unwell for this woman, you have no idea

Amira of House Karim comes into your life with courting gifts from her brother and heavy eyes that feels, see right through you.

There is one short, almost non-existent, moment when she blinks, as if stunned, as if she was expecting anyone but you.

She had a long way, travelling from a country where sun in the sky is hot enough to bring people to their knees, where neighbouring kingdoms do their best to ravage her home, where people speak in language so old it’s sacred.

Amira of House Karim does not give you her name — she is tight-lipped and stern, soft accent of hers bellies the steel of her character.

Amira of House Karim doesn’t want to make friends, she is not here for pleasantries and tea parties, she does not enjoy the blatant flaunting of wealth from the high lords that smirk in her face and laugh behind her back.

Amira of House Karim is a woman in a place where women are so rarely considered, the steel of her character seen as a sin rather than an advantage.

High lords sneer that no one would take a woman like that as a wife.

You catch just a glimpse of her rage when she muses “I wouldn’t take any of you as a husband either”, her eyes cold and heavy, her back straight as an arrow.

Amira is the diamond of her house, amira is the best there is and the example of proper lady.

When she wants to be it, of course.

You hide your smile behind your sleeve, looking in away when one of the lords stutters in her presence.

Not noticing the way amira’s eyes linger on you.

Thoughtful, curious, contemplative.

Amira of House Karim does not understand how in a place like this exists someone like you. She doesn’t understand how you can live like that.

How you can live with that.

How you manage to keep getting back up even after these greedy lords, these fools, these men try to topple you any chance they get.

This is undignified behaviour, princess, you shall not allow anyone look down on you. You shall do better.

Amira says like it’s easy, like she knows your court better, like anyone can be the diamond.

You just hum, finishing up your embroidery and looking up at the face of hers. She is beautiful in a way that makes you tongue-tied and slow, in a way that tugs on something inside of you slowly unraveling, in a way that makes you want things you shouldn’t.

Because amira is not here to make friends, she doesn’t like you and she clearly doesn’t think much of you.

And still you follow her to the gardens, ignoring worried whispers of your ladies-in-waiting, ignoring your knight and closing the gates behind you.

They don’t understand what amira feels.

They don’t understand how much it hurts to be reminded time and time again that no matter how smart and royal you are, no matter how confident and educated, how beautiful and capable — first and foremost you are a jewel of the house.

Not the head of it.

Amira of house Karim doesn’t look at you when you sit down next to her, doesn’t speak to you, doesn’t respond to your questions.

Amira doesn’t want you here.

What can you do, princess? She saw the way you smile to these men, she saw the way you make peace and the way you compromise even if you are the one on whose feet they step on.

Don’t you have any dignity? Does your royal blood not heat at their casual cruelty?

Don’t you have any honour, princess?

You let her pour it all out, you silently listen, your eyes distant as you watch the water fountain.

This whole garden is a gift for you — the only daughter, the pearl of the family, the favourite child of the king.

But the king is just a man, even if that man is your father.

King believes garden is more suitable gift than the library or the stables, king believes you should be wed before you are out of your prime, king believes that he knows what’s better.

And he never asks.

Why would he, right? Kings rarely ask, that’s not their prerogative, that’s not how it works, you learned that a long time ago.

Amira of House Karim hates everything your homeland stands for.

Amira of House Karim hates this she doesn’t hate you.

You, with your rows of pearls and bright eyes and soft whispers of witty comebacks you are not allowed to say. Glimmers of a person behind the beautiful empty portrait. Cracks in the fine porcelain of a royal doll your father adores.

You, with your long skirts and braided hair and gardens filled to the brim with roses-roses-roses.

Red and white and yellow and gorgeous pinks and wonderful magentas. Every possible colour, every single variety. Each one with thorns sharper than the previous one.

Must be expensive to take care of this many flowers, amira says in passing and the smile on your face — delicate, sharp and fleeting — stops her in her tracks.

You have no idea, you say, suddenly throwing away all the titles and honorary suffixes, pearls around your throat a heavy collar.

Pearls around your throat a gorgeous reminder of your position.

Amira tilts her head to the side, one of her braids siding off her shoulder, her eyes — the velvet of the night sky, the dark soil in which your roses grow, the promise of privacy you are so not allowed nowadays.

But you have been utterly perfect all your life.

You deserve a little break, don’t you?

There is a small pause before you offer amira your hand and pull her out of the ballroom, your skirts heavy, her palm in yours a steady weight that grounds you.

Something shifts that day. Something small that gives way to unavoidable change.

Amira of House Karim watches you whenever you don’t look, her fingers careful as she rebraids your hair, her lips cool and soft when they press to the nape of your neck.

To your shoulder, to your vertebrae, to the vulnerable spot between your shoulder blades.

Amira of House Karim waves off your maids and helps you with your corset herself, her fingers lacing it up.

Her fingers lingering on your waist, heat spreading under your skin, your cheeks warming up when she smiles like she knows something you don’t.

Like she finally sees something she likes.

Amira of House Karim doesn’t like your court, your kingdom, your knight and your father.

Her fingers dip between your legs late at night, coaxing all these little sounds that she drinks in, holding each one between her teeth like a pearl she has a pleasure of swallowing.

Amira’s name is Farah and she didn’t come to make any friends, she says. Her fingers trace idle patterns on your soft belly, gliding up to press her while palm under your breast.

Holding your heart in hand.

“So we aren’t friends?”, there is a small crack in your voice, pearls on your throat a choking reminder of how much you do not amount to no matter how hard you try.

Farah lies in bed with you, her head on the same pillow, your heart in her palm when she kisses you for the first time. Properly. Like she means it.

“We aren’t friends, princess”, she breathes out softly and wraps her arms around your waist, smiling at the way your whole face lights up.

You are the prettiest pearl of the court, the sharpest thorn in the garden, the most sensitive princess Farah has ever encountered.

“Would you let me take you away?”, she murmurs one night, her fingers moving inside of you in a rhythm that melt your spine and clouds your head. “I could bring you home with me. Could show you the other life there is to live”, Farah breathes out quietly, her eyes the velvet that wraps around your body, her eyes the soil in which you bloom like never before.

There are no words coming out of your throat, no sentences left in the empty bright place of your head, your thighs falling open for her, your heart pulsing against her palm when she unravels you again.

Amira of house Karim didn’t come to make friends.

Good thing that she never considered you one.

Good thing Farah of House Karim wants you as a wife.

#royal!au #farah karim #farah cod #farah x reader #call of duty #cod mw2 #girl.snippets

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bumblebeesfromvenus · 1 year ago

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https://www.instagram.com/reel/C5EyqjvSs_h/?igsh=MTV5dmt0OWUyYmVneg==

(I'm sending this to all ghost writers I can find because I want everybody to see this)

Bestie. You have no idea what you just started.

THIS is my favorite thing ever now.

I couldn't resist writing something!!

Just imagine attending a ball, and this mysterious man shows up with that skull mask?? It's giving phantom of the opera, and I live for it!!!

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Phantom of the Ball

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The large, shining chandeliers almost blinded you, the bright sparkle emitted from them making you keep your head lower. The ball had been dragging on for hours and, as fun as it looked, actually dancing for 4 hours without having anyone to converse with was more a curse than a blessing.

You swore your corset had tightened over the course of the evening and the many alcoholic beverages were doing little to refresh you. Your feet were starting to hurt, not only from dancing but from more than one clumsy man stepping on them, with no chair in sight.

The small crystals embroidered on your skirt had all your attention now as your gloved fingers fiddled with them.

At least it would pass the time faster, you supposed.

Unfortunately, your peace was quickly disturbed when someone ran into you, making you stumble forward. With a scoff on your lips you were swiftly pulled into the dance circle, your head spinning as you were hastily swirled around and passed off to the next man.

There were no pleasantries exchanged as you merely had time to catch your breath, trying to keep up with the pace, before the spiel repeated itself and you were meet with another unfamiliar face.

You were spun around like a dreidl, blinking to stop yourself from becoming too dizzy and falling.

Within the flash of a moment, there was a black wall in front of you. Gasps and murmurs filled the room, and the music slowly died down as all eyes were curiously set on the tall stranger.

He was dressed in the finest silks and velvets, all in black, setting a strong contrast to the creams, beiges, and whites everyone else sported. You craned your neck to take a better look at him, only to be met with an elegant mask, resembling a skull.

He peered down on you in an intimidating manner, sending a, surprisingly, pleasant shiver up your spine. You stared in amazement at the fringe at the bottom of his mask, making up the teeth of the skull.

They were still for now, but you wondered how they'd behave once he'd move. A quick glance around the room made you aware how many couples had taken a few steps back from the dance floor, leaving you and the mysterious man, quite literally, at the center of attention.

"May I?"

He broke the suffocating silence. Despite the roughness of his voice, there was no ill intent to be found towards you, only gentle words.

He held out his hand for you to take, wearing gloves that mimicked skeletal hands made up of various beads, embroidery and pearls.

There was a breath stuck in your throat, you only managed to nod, taking his offered hand. You gasped softly when he pulled you close to him, a firm hand on your waist as he gently cupped your hand in his large one.

He began moving, quite gracefully for someone his size. The music picked back up and, although hesitant, more and more couples joined in on the dance.

You were positively enchanted by this man, watching intently as the fringe at the bottom of his mask moved like a chime in the wind. You managed to make out a pair of mesmerizing brown eyes behind the mask. They made you feel hot and cold at the same time, adding to the exciting feeling in your chest.

He guided you with ease, almost making you float as he twirled you around like a delicate porcelain doll in a music box. Your hand fit into his so perfectly.

You wondered if the soft and rich fabrics he wore felt as pleasant underneath your fingertips as they looked, your hand resting on his shoulder. The outside world started to bleed and fade away as your thoughts were only occupied with him.

There were so many questions and mysteries surrounding the man. It made your heart swell with curiosity.

Before you could inquire more information about your strange suitor, he vanished. His hand slipped from your waist, and although his hand lingered in yours just a moment longer, it was gone in the blink of an eye.

He'd left you alone in the center of the ruckus of obnoxiously large skirts and clacking heels. You turned in every direction, hoping to catch a glimpse of where he went.

The mass made you feel suffocated as they seemed to close in on you. You whipped around like a whirlwind, your eyes flitting over every possible exit.

You managed to see an all too familiar skeleton hand slipping from the doorframe, and determination boiled up inside of you like never before.

You hiked up your many skirts, swiftly ducking under swinging arms and spinning around dancing couples. Your chest was heaving with heavy breaths when you managed to escape, but there was no time to rest.

You continued on, rushing through the door you saw him last. Your skirts rustled, your shoes clacked against the floor, and your breaths were labored as you ran down the long and empty hallway, keeping an eye out for the mysterious skeleton man.

Maybe you should be scared, running from him and not after him.

But there was something so intoxicating about his presence. His gentle touch, the deep, rough voice that you wanted to soothe with honey. And those intriguing brown eyes that held more secrets for you to uncover.

He was like an opioid, making you addicted after the first taste, to have you coming back until the end of time.

Your chase brought you to the moonlit courtyard of the estate.

You leaned forward, hoping to get more air into your lungs.

Damned corset.

Taking a rest on a stone bench, you looked around the blooming courtyard, admiring the many varieties of beautiful flowers. It smelled sweet, a tense fragrance having in the air like a heavy fog.

You were burning up from running, but the chilly evening breeze made you shiver. It was eerily quiet, only a few cicadas and crickets singing their songs for the summer.

You listened closely, hoping the stranger had tried to find some peace here.

You perked up when the crunching of grass under heavy footsteps reached your ears. You quickly rose from your seat and rounded the large hedge.

Your breath for caught in your throat when you spotted his broad back, calmly admiring the red roses, it seemed.

Unfortunately, the man had noticed you and made an effort to swiftly disappear into the night.

"Wait!" You reached out your hand, making him stop in his tracks.

"At least tell me your name." You pleaded, carefully stepping closer, as if not to scare away a wild animal.

You saw his shoulders drop slightly before he turned to face you, looming over you once again.

"They call me Ghost." He answered lowly, looking down on you with caution.

"Will I see you again?" You urged, stepping even closer.

His entire presence was pulling you in. You truly had no control.

You could've sworn you saw an amused glint in his eyes.

"I'll come back to you." He sounded sincere and soft as he spoke.

"Do you promise?" Your brows were pulled together as you swallowed, the urge to touch him twitching in your fingertips.

He glanced to the side before expertly plucking one of the deep red roses off the bush. He offered it you, and you gladly took it, being careful of any thorns.

"I promise." He said softly, brushing a lock of hair out of your face.

In an unexpected move, he gently took your unoccupied hand and slipped off your glove, making you gasp.

He proceeded to gently take your hand and guide it under his mask, the pearly fringe brushing your skin as he pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. Your face was burning up, your heart pounding inside your ribcage.

He slipped his hand from yours again, making yours twitch in an attempt to keep his touch. He chuckled deeply, a fondness in his eyes you would never expect from someone like him.

You swallowed thickly as you glanced down towards the rose he'd gifted you. The aroma was strong. It made your head spin.

When you looked up again, though, he was gone, only the dark sky adorned by twinkling stars staring back at you.

Like a phantom, he disappeared into the night, only leaving you clutching your glove, the flower in the other hand, and a promise you hoped he'd keep.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ��───── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I am in love with this!!! Tootin' my own horn, I know...

Anyway, let me know what you think! 👀

🩷

More of my works -> 💫

#bumblebeesfromvenus #Fi answers 🐝#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x female reader #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #cod mwii #ghost mw2 #cod x reader #cod x you

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ashblooddragons · 3 months ago

Text

Tides Of Love (Chapter 3/?)

Series Masterlist

Driftmark

105 ac

Laenas pov

I sit at the high table as each lord is announced. There is more than I thought would come, the whole of Grand Hall is filled with different lords and ladies. Some from inland such as House Baratheon, and some from Essos like a prestigious Lord from Pentos, or at least that's what Mama said when I asked why Papa was talking to the mysterious man.

Most want to talk to Mama or Papa, some want to talk to Laenor, but very few have looked at me when saying happy Nameday. Though Mama says this is normal but it doesn't make it feel any better.

I decide to look down at the dress Papa had made for me. It's a gorgeous pink that Mama says looks perfect against my warm skin. It has ruffled sheer sleeves with small white pearls all the way down to my wrists. The neck is straight or square from what Mama said to the seamstress. It has golden embroidery that seems like waves. The skirt is so poofy I can't even feel the wooden chair under me. It has layer upon layer of that sheer fabric but instead it's white and on top is a soft smooth fabric the rest of the dress is made of. From skirt to bust. I think it is one of my favorite dresses ever.

I've gotten many compliments already and Papa says more are to come.

But my favorite part of my outfit is my hair. Mama had made many small braids beading in pearls. She even braided in golden thread. And finally ahe put some animal fat that smells like oranges to lay down my baby hair so they look like little waves. It took hours but by the end I looked like a Mermaid in one of Papa’s paintings or tapestries.

When I look back up I see Nyra and Ali next to their Papa's who talk to mine. I waste no time getting out of my chair and running down the steps to see them.

Nyra is dressed in a yellow dress with long sleeves that fan out when she moves. It has some brown embroidery that I assume are to look like scales all the way down the sleeves. I can already tell she had the same idea I did, to dress like my dragon. Her hair is in two braids that go from her forehead to her middle back, I can tell they are to be like her dragons slicked back horns. There are sapphires beaded into her hair. There must be more than fifty in her hair alone and that is just from a glance. I know they are to be like Syrax's glowing blue eyes and they truly do match.

To look like Syrax's eyes no doubt. I think before taking how Ali looks.

She is in a light blue dress with short sleeves and silver embroidery of flowers along the hem of her sleeves and dress and neckline. The dress is simple but her hair is the star of the show. Many intricate braids meet to make a makeshift bun with silver thread braided in and I believe diamonds beaded into her hair.

I can tell they both put much thought into how they would look tonight, and if this is just for the opening feast what will they wear for the rest of the week's festivities?

“Laena!” Ali exclaims when she sees me rushing forward as quickly as she could while also seeming lady-like. Which is much different to how Nyra greets me, having blotted from her spot and collided into me with such force I almost tripped and fell.

But I don't mind she is always like this, she often has made me fall and scrap a knee or bruise my bum. But I know she doesn't mean to hurt me.

“Happy nameday!” She exclaims holding me tighter.

“Rhaenyra, I think Laena needs to breathe.” Ali says when she catches my pained expression from the uncomfortable way my ribs pinch.

Nyra quickly lets me go, giving me a sheepish smile. “Sorry, it's just been so long since I've seen you.”

I only nod in agreement, it's been two moons since I have seen the two of them. We send Ravens but it isn't the same.

“You look beautiful by the way, I love what you did with your hair.” Nyra says touching one of my braids.

“Thank you, my Mama did them.” I say with a smile.

“And your dress, it's so poofy!” Nyra exclaims, eyeing my dress.

I swear I saw anger in her eyes but just as quickly as it came it disappeared. I brush it off as my mind playing tricks on me but a part of me remembers Nyra doesn't like to be outshined. Ali's last nameday comes to mind. She's wearing a pretty white dress with blue gems all over her. Nyra swears it was an accident when she spilled wine all over Ali, but I don't know if I believe her.

“I think you both look beautiful, you outshine all the ladies in this room.” I exclaim, hoping this little comment will save my dress.

“Thank you, Laena.” Ali says while Nyra only smiles as she eyes my dress.

“I see we had similar ideas, you dressed like Syrax and I dressed like Brightfyre.” I say finally catching Nyra's attention again.

“I did, I was trying to figure out if you did that too. Yours is more subtle though.” She says and I swear she gives me a smug smirk that quickly disappears when our parents come over.

“I see you girls have found each other.” Ali's Mama says as she pushes some of Ali's loose hair behind her ear.

“Oh and they all look so lovely. Truly an eye-catching group.” The Queen says as she hold the King's arm and rubs her swollen belly.

I watch as Mama walks over to me running her hands down my head before looking at Ali and Nyras Mama's. “And it seems all three of their Mothers made sure they would be the most beautiful things here.”

They all three laugh before looking at us again and telling us to go sit at the high table and talk. That way they can keep an eye on us easier.

I don't know why they are so concerned about whether they can see us or not, Papa invited his friends, that should mean he trusts them, right?

But just as the thought comes, do I notice the way some of the lords look at us. It's like the way Nyra looks before she eats a lemon cake, as if a sweet treat is all but in their grasp. I quickly take Ali and Nyra's hands and practically drag them up the steps to the High table.

Maybe Papa doesn't have the best friends after all. I think before noticing the Prince staring at one of the men I noticed. He doesn't seem happy, no far from it. I watch as he slowly looks up at me before giving a nod of approval. And then he is lost in the crowd once more.

Daemons pov

I move through the crowd making my way towards Corlys who seems to be in a debate with my pink faced brother.

Gods it's only been an hour since we've arrived and he's already drunk? I think with a scowl.

“Brother, I'm afraid I need to borrow Lord Corlys.” I say not even letting the two men have a chance to respond before I grab the man by the arm and drag him out of the Great Hall.

Once the sound of chatter and music drowns out to nothing but a hum do I finally let the man go and glare at him.

“Do you know who you invited to your Daughter's nameday? Your lucky she caught on to their stares or else who knows who may have snatched her, the Princess, or the Hightower girl.” I say with such rage there is ringing in my ears.

“Yes I do Daemon. Do you think I wanted to invite them? Because if you do you obviously have mistaken me for your idiot of a brother.” Corlys hisses back.

I think about his response. Though Corlys is an ambitious man he wouldn't outright put his children, especially his daughter in harms way. And though I hate to think it, my brother would put his daughter in harms way unknowingly just to please some lord or two. Which leads to the question of why he invited these Invalides in the first place.

“Then why, why invite them if you don't want them in reach of your little girl?” I ask calmer now.

“I am a sailor Daemon, I make trades with men you wouldn't believe. And at times to keep good relations I must let them into my home. I must let them celebrate and see all that Driftmark has to offer. Why do you think I have so many guards in that room? It isn't to show wealth, it is to show those men whether from Essos or Westeros that the women and children are safe and not to be harmed. I have taken each and every precaution I can.” He responds with a look of defeat.

It is this moment that I realize why he told his wife to move the girls. That there were at least four guards ready to slit any mans throat. Rhaenys knew, and I wouldn't be surprised if Ottos wife does as well. Though I doubt Rhaenys would put that stress on Aemma, more than likely saying they would ruin their dresses or hair. This is the farthest Aemma has gotten in a pregnancy in quite some time. Rhaenys wouldn't risk it, so it's clear Aemma doesn't know. But what of my brother?

“I assume Rhaenys and possibly even the Florent knows. But what of my Brother and the Hand?”

Corlys sighs before nodding. “My wife, the Hand and his wife know. Though I was trying to tell the King, but he kept acting like I was a fool. The Queen doesn't know, Rhaenys refuses to put undue stress on her unless completely necessary. She has put it upon herself to look after our children and the Princess.”

I sigh before turning around and walking back to the Great Hall. “Then let us get back, the more looking out for those girls the better.”

I hear him chuckle before he falls into step with me. “Yes I completely agree.”

When we enter I see my brother down another glass of wine, and if the scent that permeates from him is any indicator he has been enjoying that disgusting Lannister honey wine.

“I think you've had enough brother, perhaps some water.” I say snatching the glass from him when he turns to fill it once more.

Of course when I come back to this party the first thing I have to deal with is my brother. He's King and yet it feels like taking care of a toddler at times. I think when he goes to argue but not giving him the chance when I hand him a chalice of cool lemon water.

“Drink, do not make a fool of our house let alone the realm more than you have.” I say, eyeing his red cheeks and droopy eyes.

He grumbles before taking a gulp of water, I only leave when I know the glass is empty and he fills it with lemon water once more.

I turn and see the girls giggling at the high table. I don't think they realize what they are showing just by being friends. The King's daughter, the Hands daughter, and the greatest sailor in history's daughter are all friends. They are showing to any lord in this room who thought otherwise, that the council is a united front. That the three strongest and most influential men in the seven Kingdoms are united. But no, these girls only know they are getting to play cards with their best friends.

I look at her gift pile and see many swords, bottles of wine, books, though I would guess they are far from fairytales and more likely to be philosophy or history books. There is a trinket or two that a little girl like herself would enjoy. Some dresses that are obviously too small or too big or down right horrendous to look at. And finally one piece of jewelry, a simple gold necklace with a seven pointed star.

It brings me pride to know I got her things she would actually enjoy. And I'm thankful that Rhaenyra demanded to pick a gift for her, I believe she got her a wooden whale trinket for her fireplace. And from what my niece said the Hightower girl got her a set of pearl earrings. Both simple and lovely gifts for their friend.

But I know mine is better.

I'm snapped back to the present when I hear Corlys voice resound through the room. He's holding Laena in his arms and from the way she beers with joy it's hard not to smile.

“I wish to thank you all for coming, I must admit I don't like my little girl being so close to those double digits. But I also must say thank you, for showing me so much joy in all the simple moments. Here's to my daughter, Laena, happy nameday.” He says before kissing her cheek making her giggle.

The room erupts in applause, I can see some of the men with daughters nodding with his words. Some even exclaim with a ‘here, here!’. I know each and everyone of them wished for a son, and yet it seems it is their daughter's that hold their hearts.

It is now that her gifts are brought to her, or I suppose her father's gifts. I move to my cousin's side as she watches her husband and daughter open each gift or at least hold it up and say thank you to the respecting lord.

“Most of the unsavory men have left, it seems they came for the good wine and gossip.” I say which seems to relax her if only a bit.

“Good, and that is usually how it goes. They feast and jest but as soon as the speech is done they are gone like that.” She says with a snap of her fingers.

“Why did so many come for her nameday? I mean no disrespect but she is a–” I start when my raven haired cousin interrupts.

“A daughter? Yes, well you need to remember something. My husband may be those lords or whatever they call themselves, only way to communicate with the Seven Kingdoms. If keeping that line of communication means coming to a little girl nameday party, then they will do it. For there is nothing men desire more than war, sex, and gold.”

I can't help but chuckle at her words. Rhaenys has always been straight to the point, Grandmother said it was the Baratheon in her. But I think it's just Rhaenys nature.

“Yes, well I suppose that is how your husband can afford to down your daughter in priceless jewels from head to toe?”

Rhaenys turns to look at me, I always feel a cold chill when I look in her eyes. They are so vibrantly purple, not lilac, periwinkle, lavender, or even violet, they are purple in its most purest form. It is unsettling to look at to say the least.

“My husband has worked for every piece of gold in our coffers. What can you say about yours?” And with that she walks away toward Aemma who seems to have found a seat by the beverage table.

I decide instead of dwelling on her jabe I would give the nameday girl her gifts.

“Happy nameday, Laena.” I make sure to emphasize her name which brings a smile to her face and shows her dimpled cheeks.

“Thank you, Prince Daemon.” She says looking at my hands and then her dwindling pile of gifts. “Which is yours? If you wish for me to open it?” She asks with a frown when all she sees are wine bottles and books.

I reach into my jerkin pocket holding out my enclosed fist. She quickly holds her hands under mine waiting for whatever I am about to give her to drop.

I smirk when I let it drop and her little hands try to catch only to find a necklace dangling from my fingers.

It's a golden necklace with small diamonds along the chain but what catches her attention is the pink diamond in the middle.

“It's Brightfyre!” She exclaims touching the meticulously carved link diamond. There was at least three that cracked or broke in the craving process, but I made the jewler try again each time. It had to be perfect, it had to look like her mount, no simple jewel would do.

“I love it, thank you!” She exclaims jumping into my arms and hugging me tight. I never would have thought this frail little thing would be so strong though I suppose she needs to be to ride that pink beast of hers.

“You're welcome, Laena.” I say as I stroke her hair. I notice how Corlys eyes the necklace, and then looks at me. I know he knows I paid a hefty amount for this necklace, but maybe when I break her heart this will make it a bit easier.

How wrong I was, for I would soon realize the next time I saw her, I had no chance of breaking her heart, but she had all the power to break mine.

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @classicsimpforaaronwarner @sachaa-ff @mmogurl @athzhowakar @themoonlitquill @thelastemzy @baybaybear1

Special thanks to my bestie @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I swear I'd be lost without you girly!

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bitchy-craft · 2 years ago

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Your Future Spouse Their Clothing Aesthetic | Pick A Pile

Hello and welcome to this Pick A Pile! In here you'll find out how your future spouse dresses / their aesthetic. I hope you guys enjoy and find this useful. Do make sure to leave comments down below on your experience! I do want to remind you all that this is a General Pick A Pile which means this is for a lot of people; therefore keep what resonates and leave what doesn't.

Masterlist > Ungoing Tarot Game

Pick A Pile!

Pile 1:

Minimalist Aesthetic: The minimalist aesthetic is characterized by simplicity, clean lines, and a focus on functionality. It embraces a "less is more" approach, with a limited color palette, minimal patterns, and streamlined silhouettes.

Key elements of this aesthetic include well-tailored basics, neutral colors such as black, white, gray, and beige, and a preference for high-quality fabrics. Minimalist fashion often emphasizes the importance of quality over quantity, and accessories are kept to a minimum.

Pile 2:

Bohemian Aesthetic: The bohemian aesthetic, also known as boho or boho-chic, draws inspiration from the free-spirited and unconventional style of the bohemian counterculture. It is characterized by a relaxed and eclectic mix of patterns, textures, and colors.

Bohemian fashion embraces a sense of individuality and self-expression, often incorporating elements such as flowing maxi dresses, loose-fitting tops, fringe details, embroidery, floral prints, and earthy tones. Layering and accessorizing with items like floppy hats, beaded jewelry, and suede or leather accents are common in this aesthetic.

Pile 3:

Streetwear Aesthetic: The streetwear aesthetic originated from urban youth culture and has become a prominent fashion style. It blends elements of sportswear, casual attire, and a rebellious attitude. Streetwear is often associated with brands and logos, graphic t-shirts, hoodies, sneakers, and baggy or oversized garments.

Key features of this aesthetic include bold colors, statement prints, unique patterns, and a mix of high-end and streetwear-specific brands. Accessorizing with caps, backpacks, and statement jewelry is also common in streetwear fashion.

Pile 4:

Preppy Aesthetic: The preppy aesthetic draws inspiration from traditional Ivy League and upper-class fashion. It exudes a polished and sophisticated look with a focus on classic, timeless pieces. Key elements of preppy fashion include well-fitted clothing, clean lines, and a mix of vibrant colors and patterns.

Typical items associated with this aesthetic include polo shirts, button-down Oxford shirts, khaki pants, tailored blazers, pleated skirts, and loafers. Accessories like pearl necklaces, headbands, and structured handbags are often incorporated into the preppy style.

Pile 5:

Gothic Aesthetic: The gothic aesthetic is characterized by its dark, dramatic, and often theatrical style. It draws inspiration from the gothic subculture, with influences from Victorian and medieval fashion. The color black is predominant in gothic fashion, and it is often combined with rich, deep hues like burgundy, purple, and dark green.

The gothic style embraces unconventional silhouettes, intricate lace details, corsets, leather accents, fishnet stockings, and platform boots. Accessories like chokers, statement jewelry with occult symbols, and dramatic makeup are also common in this aesthetic.

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It's important to note that fashion aesthetics can vary greatly, and these descriptions provide a general overview of each style. Fashion is highly subjective, and individuals often incorporate elements from different aesthetics to create their own unique personal style.

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cdragons · 1 year ago

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Bound by Embroidered Chains - Aemond Targaryen x Seamstress!OC x Jacaerys Velaryon - Chapter One

Prologue

Summary: Dragons have a habit in hoarding the prettiest of jewels, and pearls are of no exceptions.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ Obsessive Behavior (we all knew this was coming), tiny!Aemond is delulu, tiny!Jace is delulu, Dark Themes, not betaread we burn like Harrenhal, etc. Also translations for Valyrian will be added at the bottom! Also I used an online translator for the High Valyrian, so it may not be great 🫠

Author's Note: Hello everyone! Thank you all so much for the amazing support for this story's prologue, I did NOT expect so many positive reviews! I'm sorry this took so long, but I had a ton of applications and finals. But since I am on winter break, hopefully I will be able to upload more fics! Happy Holidays and big shoutout to @valeskafics, who continues to be the HOTD fanfic writing ICON that we all know and love! If you liked reading this work, reblog and comment if you want to be tagged in future installments of this work! Also I apologize for any grammatical errors, I wanted to post this as soon as possible.

You have known your entire life that you were going to be one of the many seamstresses that serviced the Royal Family.

By the age of three, your mother would teach you how to begin your very first stitches, which soon shifted to learning the most complicated patterns of embroidery. You still remember the tears in her eyes as you presented the silk-woven handkerchief that had lovely little purple and blue flowers embroidered on the borders for her birthday. Your face flushed to an almost too bright red when she insisted on showing all the other royal seamstresses and tailors your first handkerchief. But it made you smile in remembering how big her smile was that week, as she was so pleased by how much you’ve progressed at such a young age.

When you were only six, your mother had begun to teach you how to properly extract the dye from beautiful flowers and the scales of brightly-colored insects. So skilled and nimble were your fingers that you even gave your childhood playmate, Aemond Targaryen, a thick green wool cloak with green and silver dragon embroidery. The cloak’s wool had been dyed by your hand with copious amounts of goldenrod and indigo flowers. You then carefully stitched silk to line the inside of the cloak to prevent him from overheating, as even the harshest winters in the Crownlands were hardly anything compared to the summers in the North. It had caught you off-guard in the almost too-tight embrace he locked you in, but you eagerly reciprocated as you could tell he appreciated the gift more than words could describe.

It was not just a gift for is name-day from a childhood companion, but also a way to reassure him that he will one day have a dragon. And even if the gods do not grant him worthy in their eyes, he would always be considered a prince worthy of the Targaryen name in yours. After all, there were not many princes that would willingly spend all their free time with a lowly seamstress’ daughter – even if the supposed seamstress that was your mother was so heavily favored by the Queen.

“Pearl,” came a voice with a tone far too serious despite its youth, “what are you doing in the Godswood?”

You lifted your head from old tome you were studying, only to see a young boy of only nine name-days, that stood as straight as one of the stone pillars that stood in the Sept of Baelor. His white locks nearly blinded you with how the sunshine seemed to reflect on them.

“Well my prince, as you can clearly see, I have decided to take advantage of this fine day to do a bit of studying of my own.” You lifted the near ancient tome on your lap to show him the title, Myths and Legends of the Jade Seas.

Whatever outwardly beauty the book possessed had long diminished, the spine was bent from the hundreds of hours spent looking through its contents and the letters were near faded to a dull grey as the pages yellowed from age. But the colors of the ink remained as vibrant as when they were first painted on the frail sheets, accompanied by beautiful imagery of magical dragons and elusive mermaids. The details were so fine and intricate that it felt as if you only needed to touch the ink in order to be transported into the stories. You remembered how you begged either your mother or father to read it to you every night, as utterly transfixed by the colors back then as you remained so now.

“You are more than welcome to join me, but if – and only if – you share one of those apples hiding in your knapsack.”

Finally showing an expression appropriate for his age, the young prince reached in his pouch to show two gorgeous apples – the skin was practically gleaming in the sun as your mouth watered for its taste. Aemond handed one to you as he sat by your side underneath the plentiful shade of the heart tree. Scooting over to make room on the overgrown root you sat on, you eagerly showed him strange text.

“Look Aemond!” you exclaimed as you shoved the book to his nose. “This book says that there were dragons in Yi Ti! Isn’t that amazing?”

Aemond looked at you as if you had suddenly grown two heads and five eyes. “How can there be dragons in Yi Ti? All the dragons save the ones in the dragonpit and the rocky shores of Dragonstone had perished in The Doom that sunk Valyria. Everyone knows that pearl.”

“These dragons are different! According to my kepa, Yi Ti dragons don’t even need wings to fly!”

The young prince rolled his eyes at that. “How could they fly if they don’t have wings? Even Carraxes the Blood Wrym has wings, and he looks like an overgrown red snake.” Honestly, his pearl could be so silly. “Besides, what would your father know? He’s a bastard from the Iron Islands, that’s nowhere near the Jade Seas.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “He heard so on his travels with Lord Velaryon and Prince Laenor! Apparently, these dragons use magic and live in the ocean. And they don’t even breathe fire! They make it rain and control the oceans!”

“…Pearl, I think you’ve been spending too much time making those dyes. The fumes must have gotten to your head.”

You openly gaped at your friend’s comment, completely in shock for how blatantly he dismissed you. It made you want to pound your fists on his person until he took it back. So naturally, you did just that.

“Aemond Targaryen, you take that back right now!” you shrieked. Although your actions told otherwise, the smile on your face showed that you took no true offense to his words. If anything, it pleased you to know that you could still make the stone-faced prince giggle as a boy should at his age.

“Never!”

As the two of you giggled and played, several pairs of wandering eyes spied and grimaced at the distasteful display. Although your friendship with the next generation of the royal family was no secret, much of the court disapproved of how highly the royal family thought of you and Prince Aemond’s friendship. After all, he was the second born prince of House Targaryen, born of King Viserys and Queen Alicent. By the time the Targaryen prince could toddle, great things were expected from him. From a very early age, he immersed himself in his studies befitting of a prince of Westeros. You, on the other hand, were only the daughter of a seamstress and a bastard knight who became a lord of a holding so minor that it had no name. You only skills were that you could make pretty dye, and stitch pretty pictures with a needle and thread.

But he always treated you kindly and defended you whenever his eldest brother decided to use you as his latest target for mockery. You were a precious pearl – his precious pearl – Aegon may be his brother, but he could never love Aegon as much as he loved you. True, your father being a bastard did you no favors in the Red Keep’s court, but Aemond would never tell you that himself. Instead, he openly acknowledged his bravery and commended his loyalty to the Crown. After all, how many bastards can boast that they saved the Lord Corlys Velaryon, holder of the Driftwood Throne, from a siege of pirates during one of the lord’s many voyages to Essos?

In turn, you always made sure to provide comfort and support whenever his brother and nephews decided to pick on him. Without fail, he would seek out your company – his eyes red and puffy, while his cheeks were wet from hastily wiped tears. You would take his hands and the two of you would venture out to the library’s more secluded sections. You made sure to pack whatever you have been working on with you. While you were glad that he came to you for comfort, it would do little good for either of you if you were to be punished for not completing whatever tasks your mother assigned you.

“Who cares if you don’t have a dragon?” you once asked him as the two of you laid next to each other, surrounded by books. “There are plenty members of the Targaryen line that did not have dragons, but they still lived out important lives in serving their family however they could. King Jaehaerys was considered a great ruler for how he served the realm– not for riding Vermithor. And even if you had a dragon, is that all you wish to be known for? Your grandfather, Baelon the Brave, was wise and beloved by the small folk for how he tried to make their lives easier. But all he is known for in history books is how he burned down Dorne with Vhagar.”

“Better to be known for a dragon than to disappear, not being known for anything – not even a dragon worthy of the Targaryen name.”

Sitting up against a bookshelf, you repositioned Aemond to lie his head on your thighs. Luckily the candlelight made the area dark enough so that you wouldn’t see his ears turning red. Instead, he buried his face in the soft cotton of your blue tunic as you stroked his soft silver white locks. Although his heart was beating erratically, your sweet scent along with your body’s suppleness was enough to take away any ire left in him.

“Stop that,” you ordered, “you will not be forgotten, don’t be so dramatic.” Eyes softening at his tense shoulders, you eased on the sternness of your tone. “Nyke pendagon iksā brilliant. Eman dōrī rhēdan anyone else qilōni kostagon ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie hae sȳrī hae ao. Kostā solve problems bona aegon ēza trouble lēda during aōha lessons lēda se Giēñatī. Aemond, iksā ñuha sȳrje raqiros. Gaomagon daor ivestragon kesā sagon daor rūnas.”

You pretended not to notice how tightly he clenched your dress as you ignored the how warm the spot where his hot tears grew.

As you continued to stroke his hair, Aemond made a silent vow that when he finally claimed a dragon, you would be the first person he would ride it with. He thought about how his bastard nephews would always try to take you from him, especially Jace, how he despised that boy. No, your touches would belong to him, and only him. Your sweet words and kind demeanor were his to cherish. You were his pearl – his pearl – and no one else’s, especially not the pretend Targaryen that was Jacaerys Strong.

Yes, it pleased Aemond to know that he was your best friend. But sometimes it frustrated him in how you refused to take him seriously as a man. For example, he once announced that when he claimed his dragon, he would finally be a noble dragon knight who would protect you from the most vicious of beasts. No matter how he insisted on his sincerity, you only rolled your eyes at the proclamation. You told him that you had no need for a knight, let alone a dragon knight. You had your dearest kepa for protection, and there was no finer knight in all the Seven Kingdoms in your eyes. So silly was his pearl indeed.

“Ashi’!” a new voice called out, interrupting the comfortable silence between him and his pearl. It belonged to the king’s eldest grandson, Prince Jacaerys Strong Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne after his mother, Princess Rhaenyra. “Your mother is looking for you! She said that she needs your help with Mother’s clothes!”

“Alright!” When you stood from you spot, you made sure to brush away any dirt or debris left on your skirts. You gathered your mother’s book in both arms when you made your way to the prince. “But why did my muña not send one of her attendants instead? It would not have been difficult to find me. Everyone knows that I enjoy reading under the Hearts Tree in the Godswood during my spare time. Are you not busy with your own duties, my prince?”

Straightening his posture to appear taller, Jace did his best to sound as authoritative as his father had taught him. “I just finished my lessons for the morning, and I volunteered to escort you. Besides, I figured that it would do me some good in practicing escorting you. I’ll need to do it in the future when I am king after my mother.” His round freckled cheeks reddened to a rosy hue at that last part.

Not at all catching the terribly obvious implication, you shrugged off his words as you figured that he meant that he was using you as practice for whichever future noble lady he would court in the future. However, the suggestion was not at all lost on your friend, who was still sitting on the overgrown root, glaring at his eldest nephew with a fury that rivaled the Great Doom that sunk Valyria.

“Well, we should be on our way then. Come on Aemond, we should get going!” You held out your held for your friend to hold on to, but were quickly interrupted by the brown-haired Targaryen at the side.

“He can’t! I mean-” stammered Jace as did his best in thinking of an excuse, “-I’m afraid my uncle cannot join us. You see, um – his mother, the Queen, requested his presence in her solar.”

“I’m sure my mother won’t mind waiting for a few moments while I join you in escorting my pearl to her favorite friend, nephew.” This wasn’t a lie on Aemond’s part. While he didn’t like the idea in keeping his mother waiting for him, he despised the thought of you being alone with the Strong Knight’s eldest bastard even more. Besides, his mother adored you as if you were her own daughter. It would have gone without saying that she would be happy with her son spending time with her best friend’s daughter.

“But why would you want to risk it, uncle?” Jacaerys wasn’t going to let his selfish uncle hog all of your attention. You were his friend too! It wasn’t fair that he had find crumbs of your time and affections, while his uncle got to feast on your smiles and laughter. He had spent hours with the dragon keepers of the dragonpit to help him train Vermax, all so that he could finally show you how close he was in riding him! But you were always too busy comforting his stupid dragonless uncle!

Enough was enough. Jacaerys may have been a Velaryon like his father, but he was also a Targaryen like his mother. It was he who carried the dragon’s blood, and dragons took what they desired or felt what they deserved. And he desrved to be with you more than Aemond.

“It’s alright Aemond, we’ll talk more later! Let’s go Jace, we shouldn’t keep our mothers waiting any more than we have.” Grabbing his hand before walking out of the gardens, you weren’t able to see the younger prince throw a triumphant smirk to his uncle before once more facing you with the story of how Luke accidentally got egg in his hair.

Watching his literal bastard of a nephew walk hand-in-hand away with his pearl, Aemond Targaryen felt his fury grow more potent with each step. He hated that you called his nephew by his nickname, all while he had none. What’s worse was the fact that you allowed him to refer to you as “Ashi.” What a ridiculous name, only a lowborn such as his nephew would refer to someone as precious as you as something as study and simple like “Ashi.” You were a pearl – his pearl, in fact. A fact that he felt was important to emphasize as he watched your head being thrown back in laughter. His anger grew to an all-time high when he watched you ruffle Jacaery’s hair with abundant affection.

Not wanting to make a scene, he walked to his mother’s chambers in fuming silence. While her presence wasn’t yours, maybe he could think of a plan to get you away from his whore of a sister and her illegitimate offspring.

If worse comes to worst, he might need to recruit his sister to his cause. He knew that Helaena would especially be thrilled in receiving your presence. You were the only one besides your parents that did not treat his beloved sister like an oddity. If you were not with Aemond, you were often found stitching with the young princess. It seemed that you were the only person in the entire world that could get her to smile.

Such a sweet girl, his pearl. Someone so kind was not meant to endure the presence of lowly bastards – even if they did technically carry royal blood.

He needed to come up with something fast.

Translations:

“Nyke pendagon iksā brilliant. Eman dōrī rhēdan anyone else qilōni kostagon ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie hae sȳrī hae ao. Kostā solve problems bona aegon ēza trouble lēda during aōha lessons lēda se Giēñatī. Aemond, iksā ñuha sȳrje raqiros. Gaomagon daor ivestragon kesā sagon daor rūnas.” - “You’re brilliant. I’ve never met anyone else who can speak such fluent High Valyrian, especially at your age. You can solve problems that Aegon has trouble with during your lessons with the Maester. Aemond, you are my best friend. Don’t say that you will be forgotten.”

Tagging:

@valeskafics, @faesspace, @aphroditesmoon, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @nellychick, @asa-do-your-thing, @arcielee, @bellamys-girl1, @immyowndefender, @xxlovingfandomsxx, @elinedjarin, @meg-egg-blog, @marvelescape, @mandiiblanche, @lokiofasgard12, @boxedpandas, @anewpersonthatexists, @toodlesxcuddles, @mckiquinn, @cvspians, @aemondslove

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd au #house of the dragon x you #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon x oc #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys x oc #aemond x reader #aemond x oc #reader insert

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