#wanderers library oc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

flwrstqr · 5 months ago

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★ 10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU — NRK

preview. there are two sisters: yu karina, a popular girl who's eager to date, and yu y/n, an antisocial girl who is totally uninterested in dating. their overprotective father finally agrees to let karina date, but only if y/n does too. to solve this problem, new student eunwoo, who has a crush on karina, teams up with daeho, a wealthy but narcissistic student. daeho pays the school's bad boy, nishimura riki, to take you out on a date. at first, you are a bit resistant, but soon you find yourself gradually falling in love with riki, who starts to genuinely care for you.

meet the cast. bad boy!riki x antisocial!fem reader (feat yeh shuhua from gidle, yu karina from aespa, choi soobin from txt, new ocs)

genre. high school au, strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, romance, crack, ten things i hate about you based, one sided enemies, medium fic

word count. 7k+

warnings. cursing, kissing, profanity (no nsfw or smut), riki just dating yn just for money at first, smoking, parties, drinking, yn being drunk, yn just being very very independent and stubborn, fighting, punching

danielle's note 𖥔 yes i'm cooking something good again... sorry for writing long/medium fics recently ... i've been obsessing over rom coms again and it gives me a new idea each time. LIKE i dont mean to but it just happens ☹️ but anyways this is for my no.1 fav riki stan (LOVE U)

﹙⠀ PLAYiNG . . . ⠀all-american bitch by olivia rodrigo, boyfriend by ariana grande, kill bill by sza, the perfect pair by beabadoobee, sunny day by beabadoobee, hot to go by chappell roan

YOU'RE WALKING THROUGH THE BUSTLING HALLS OF YOUR HIGH SCHOOL, the familiar scent of old textbooks and cleaning supplies filling your senses. Your best friend Shuhua is by your side, chatting away about the latest gossip.

Shuhua glances at you, a smirk playing on her lips. “You’re on a mission again, aren’t you?”

You rip a particularly flyer advertising the upcoming dance off the wall. “Someone has to clean up this mess,” you reply, crumpling it in your hand.

Shuhua laughs. “You’re such a rebel. Why do you hate these so much anyway?”

You shrug, “They’re just clutter. Besides, half of these events are pointless.”

Shuhua sighs dramatically. “You’re impossible. What about the spring festival? It might be fun.”

You give her a sideways glance. “You know I’m not into those kinds of things.”

She grins, linking her arm with yours. “That’s why I’m here, to drag you out of your comfort zone.”

You can’t help but smile at her persistence. “Good luck with that.”

EUNWOO WALKED THROUGH THE BUSTLING SCHOOL HALLWAYS, his eyes wide with curiosity and a hint of nervousness. His guide, Soobin, pointed out different rooms and introduced him to a few students along the way.

“Over there is the science lab,” Soobin said, gesturing to a door on their left. “And that’s the library. You’ll probably spend a lot of time there; it’s pretty nice.”

As they continued down the corridor, Eunwoo’s gaze wandered until it landed on a girl standing by her locker, surrounded by a group of friends. She had long, wavy hair that cascaded down her back and a smile that seemed to light up the whole hallway.

Eunwoo nudged Soobin and nodded toward the girl. “Who’s that?” he asked, his voice tinged with awe.

Soobin followed Eunwoo’s gaze and chuckled softly. “That’s Yu Karina,” he explained. “She’s pretty popular around here. Smart, talented, and everyone wants to be her friend.”

“She’s… wow,” Eunwoo said, unable to take his eyes off her. “She’s really something.”

“Yeah, she’s amazing,” Soobin agreed. “But there’s one thing you should know. Her dad is super strict. He doesn’t let her date anyone. So, if you’re thinking of asking her out, you might want to reconsider.”

Eunwoo’s heart sank a little, but he couldn’t help but be drawn to Karina’s presence. “Thanks for the heads up,” he said, tearing his eyes away from her and back to Soobin.

“No problem,” Soobin replied with a reassuring smile. “Oh, and by the way, I heard she’s looking for a French tutor. She mentioned it to a friend earlier.”

Eunwoo’s eyes lit up. “That’s great!” he exclaimed.

Soobin looked at him, puzzled. “You know how to speak French?”

“No,” Eunwoo admitted with a grin. “But I’m gonna after this.”

YOU'RE CURLED UP ON THE COUCH, ENGROSSED IN YOUR BOOK. Upstairs, you hear your sister, Karina, moving around. The front door opens, and your dad walks in.

Karina descends the stairs with a hopeful look on her face. "Dad, can I go out tonight with Daeho?" she asks, her tone carefully respectful.

Your dad doesn't miss a beat. "No, you can't go. There are two rules in this house. One, you can't date until you graduate. Two, you can't date until you graduate."

Karina groans, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Come on, Dad, that's not fair!"

He folds his arms and gives her a stern look. "Rules are rules, Karina. And you know why we have them."

Karina sighs heavily, clearly frustrated. "This is so unfair," she mutters.

Your dad pauses, considering something. Then, unexpectedly, he says, "Fine, Karina. You can date... but only if your sister finds a date."

Karina's jaw drops. "What? That stupid girl? She can never find one! She's always in her little corner reading books and obsessing over her little bands!"

You roll your eyes, barely glancing up from your book.Without a word, you close your book and stand, walking out of the room, leaving Karina to her whining and your dad to his lecturing.

As you start climbing the stairs, you hear Karina shout in frustration, "Can you just find a stupid retard who can take you on a date so I can date?"

KARINA AND EUWNOO SAT AT A TABLE IN THE QUIET CORNER OF THE LIBRARY, French textbooks and notes spread out before them. Eunwoo was doing his best to tutor Karina, but her attention was clearly elsewhere. She tapped her pen against the table, her eyes glazed over as she stared out the window.

“So, uh, for our next class,” Eunwoo began hesitantly, trying to regain her focus, “how about we get some, uh, French food? On Saturday, at 6 pm?”

Karina snapped back to attention, with a huge grin her face. “Are you asking me out?”

Eunwoo scratched the nape of his neck, clearly flustered. “Listen, I know your dad doesn't let you date, but if it’s for French class…”

Karina cut him off, her eyes narrowing. “Wait a minute, my dad just came up with a rule that I can date if my sister does.”

Eunwoo's face lit up with a hopeful smile. “Oh, then that’s great—”

“No, it’s not great,” Karina interrupted again, exasperation in her voice. “She’s a total loser. Well, she used to be popular, but things changed.” She shrugged dismissively.

Eunwoo frowned thoughtfully. “I mean, uh, I can go find someone that would be willing to date her—”

Karina's eyes widened, and she leaned forward excitedly. “Wait, really? That would be great!”

“Yeah—” Eunwoo started to reply, but Karina was already on her feet.

“Oh my god, thank you! Gotta go, bye!” she exclaimed, grabbing her bag and dashing out of the library, leaving Eunwoo sitting there.

EUNWOO AND SOOBIN WANDERED AROUND THE CAMPUS, their mission clear but their progress slow. Finding the perfect guy to date you was proving to be more challenging than Eunwoo had anticipated. He approached student after student, but each one turned him down, unwilling to go out with someone they considered too independent or too stubborn.

Finally, they found themselves in the science lab, Eunwoo ready to give up. His shoulders slumped as he glanced around the nearly empty hallways.

Then, Eunwoo's eyes landed on someone unexpected. Nishimura Riki, the school's notorious bad boy, was leaning against a lab table, his eyes half-lidded in boredom. A cigarette dangled from his fingers, the smoke curling lazily into the air.

Soobin noticed Eunwoo's gaze and quickly shook his head. "The thing is, he's the bad boy of the school," Soobin explained, lowering his voice. "He smokes, he commits crimes, and someone even told me he sold his own liver for a speaker in the dark markets."

Eunwoo stared at Riki,"That's our guy," he declared with a determined nod.

Soobin looked at him incredulously. "Are you serious? He’s the worst possible choice!"

Eunwoo set his jaw. "Sometimes, the worst choice is the only choice we have. Besides, we don’t have any other options left."

AS THEY WALKED AWAY FROM RIKI, Eunwoo turned to Soobin, a worried expression on his face. “Do you think this is a good idea?”

Soobin shrugged. “Honestly? Probably not. But I’ve got another idea.” A smirk spread across his face. “I have someone in mind who might be willing to ask Riki.”

During lunch, Soobin led Eunwoo over to a table where Daeho, the narcissistic, rich, and popular boy, was holding court with his friends. Daeho looked up as they approached, his expression a mixture of curiosity and mild annoyance.

“Hey, Daeho,” Soobin began smoothly, “you like Karina, right?”

Daeho raised an eyebrow, nodding slowly. “Yeah, and?”

“Well, I’ve got a plan,” Soobin continued. “Karina can’t date until her sister dates. So, you need to hire a guy who’ll go out with her.”

Daeho leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “And who would that be?”

Soobin pointed across the cafeteria to where Riki was sitting, eating with his friend. “That guy.”

Daeho followed Soobin’s gaze and let out a disbelieving laugh. “Him? I heard he ate a whole live duck.”

Soobin nodded, unfazed. “Except for the feet and beak. Look, he’s a full investment.”

Daeho glanced at Riki again, skepticism written all over his face. “Fine, I’ll think about it.”

Soobin clapped Daeho on the shoulder. “Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

As they walked away, Eunwoo whispered to Soobin, “Are you sure this is going to work?”

Soobin grinned. “We’ve got the rich guy on board now. What could go wrong?”

Eunwoo sighed, still feeling uneasy about the plan but hopeful that somehow, it would all work out.

RIKI WAS OUT ON THE FIELD, smoking and lazily watching the soccer game. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the grass. As he exhaled a plume of smoke, he noticed Daeho approaching him, looking uncharacteristically determined.

Riki raised an eyebrow as Daeho stood before him. "Do I know you?" he asked, clearly unimpressed.

Daeho sighed, trying to remain patient. "Listen, you see that girl?" He pointed across the field to you, where you were playing soccer with an intense focus, your hair tied up in a ponytail as you skillfully kicked the ball across the whole field.

"That's Yu Y/N," Daeho continued. "I want you to go out with her."

Riki let out a laugh, the idea seeming ridiculous. "Yeah, right."

Daeho clenched his jaw, trying to keep his frustration in check. "Look, I can't take out her sister until Y/N starts dating."

Riki smirked, shaking his head. "That's a really good story," he said sarcastically. "But not my problem." He stood up, ready to walk away.

"What if I add some money to this?" Daeho offered, desperation creeping into his voice.

Riki paused, turning back around with a raised eyebrow. "How much?"

"$30?"

Riki scoffed. "Movies, that's like $15. Popcorn, that's $45, and then the ride back home, that's like $25. So we're looking at about $75."

Daeho frowned, realizing he was being haggled. "Take it or leave it."

Riki gave him a challenging look. "Fine, $50?"

Daeho hesitated for a moment but then nodded. "Deal."

Riki smirked, pocketing the money. "Alright then, you've got yourself a deal." He turned his gaze back to the field, watching you for a moment. "This should be interesting." As Riki walked away, Daeho couldn't help but feel a mixture of relief.

AS THE FINAL WHISTLE BLEW, signaling the end of the game, you wiped the sweat off your forehead and grabbed your water bottle. Just as you were about to head off the field, Riki approached with a confident stride.

"Hey, princess," he greeted with a teasing smile.

You rolled your eyes, pausing just long enough to respond. "Need anything?"

Riki didn't miss a beat. "I'll pick you up on Friday."

"Oh right, Friday," you replied sarcastically, the skepticism clear in your tone.

"Well, I'll take you anywhere you like," he offered, trying to sound accommodating.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes again. "Yeah, super fun. Listen, you probably don't even know my name."

Riki's smirk didn't falter. "I know a lot more than you think."

"Oh, very doubtful," you retorted, walking away with a wave of your hand.

Riki stood there, scoffing in shock, watching you go. For the first time, he realized this might be more challenging than he imagined it to be.

A FEW DAYS LATER, you found yourself at a local record store, browsing through the vinyls and picking out your favorite albums. After paying, you stepped outside with a bag full of records, only to see Riki leaning casually against your car.

"Not a bad car," he remarked, smirking.

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, so now you're following me?"

He shook his head, pointing towards the nearby mart. "I was over there and saw your car, so I thought I'd stop by and say hi."

"Oh, well then, hi," you retorted, making your way to the driver's seat.

"Not a talker?" he asked, watching you with amusement.

You shrugged, your patience wearing thin. "Listen, I'm not interested."

"You're not afraid of me, are you?" Riki teased, trying to gauge your reaction.

"Why would I be?" you shot back, giving him a challenging look.

"Because you want me," he replied, leaning in closer with a mischievous grin.

You laughed, the sarcasm dripping from your voice. "Haha, I want you so bad, baby."

With that, you motioned for him to move. "Now, won't you move?"

Riki stepped aside, still taken aback by your bluntness. You got into the driver's seat and started the engine, leaving him standing there in stunned as you drove away. As he watched your car disappear down the road, he couldn't help but feel that it might a bit tough to get you.

THE NEXT DAY, Riki was leaning against a locker, a casual look on his face. Daeho approached him, glancing around to ensure they weren't being overheard.

"How's the plan?" Daeho asked, his voice low.

Riki smirked. "I just upped my price."

Daeho raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "By how much?"

"$100," Riki replied confidently.

Daeho hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Deal." He reached into his pocket and pulled out another $25, placing it into Riki's hand. "I expect some results."

Riki pocketed the money, "You'll get them."

With that, Daeho turned around and walked away, leaving Riki standing there, thinking of what to do next.

LATER THAT DAY, Riki was hanging out near the bleachers when Eunwoo and Soobin approached him. Riki glanced up, noting their determined expressions.

"Hey, Riki," Eunwoo started, "we heard about your little arrangement with Daeho."

Riki raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"Soobin and I want to help," Eunwoo continued. "I like Karina and you know her sister, yn, needs to get a date first."

Riki leaned back, "What's in it for me?"

Soobin stepped forward. "Well you know, we can do some research about her. No money involved, just a mutual benefit."

Riki smirked, nodding. "Alright, deal."

Eunwoo grinned, sharing a knowing look with Soobin, "and we have a perfect opportunity for you to ask her out."

"What would that be?" Riki raises his eyebrow.

"The upcoming party hosted by Bogey Lowenstein."

"i'll think about." Riki smirked as he walked off

LATER THAT WEEK, Daeho spotted Karina by her locker. With a confident look, he approached her, his usual smirk plastered on his face.

"Hey, Karina," Daeho called out, leaning casually against the lockers.

Karina looked up, slightly taken aback by his presence. "Oh, hey, Daeho. What's up?"

"I was thinking," Daeho began, "you should come with me to Bogey Lowenstein's party this weekend."

Karina raised an eyebrow, "Really? And why's that?"

Daeho shrugged, flashing a cocky grin. "Well, it’s the biggest party of the year. Wouldn't you want to go with the guy everyone’s talking about?"

Karina closed her locker, "A party?"

Daeho chuckled, unfazed. "Come on, Karina. It'll be fun. Besides, you deserve to be seen with someone who can actually keep up with you."

Karina hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "Alright, Daeho. I'll go with you,"

KARINA WALKED ALONGSIDE EUNWOO VENTING HER FRUSTRATION. "Ugh, I can never go to that party... My dad is gonna kill me!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

Eunwoo thought for a moment. "Okay, well, I got a plan. I set your sister up with a boy, but things aren't going that great."

Karina sighed deeply, feeling defeated. "I'm never gonna get to go..."

Eunwoo glanced at her, determination shining in his eyes. "Okay then, tell me what your sister likes."

Karina rolled her eyes. "She said before she would die before dating someone who smokes. And her types are 'pretty boys,' which I don't even know what that means."

Eunwoo nodded, taking mental notes. "Anything else?"

"How am I supposed to know my crazy sister's little mind?" Karina replied, exasperated.

Eunwoo sighed, realizing the complexity of the situation. "Well, nothing has worked so far. We have to go behind enemy lines here."

LATER THAT DAY, Karina and Eunwoo found themselves sneaking into your room, carefully rummaging through your drawer.

"Aha! A date book, concert tickets, and a reading list," Karina exclaimed, shoving the items into Eunwoo's hands. "That should give you enough information, right?"

Eunwoo looked at the pile, nodding slowly. "Uh, right. This should help. Um, how about your room?"

Karina quickly shook her head. "Oh uhm I think we've got what we need! Let's get out of here,"

EUNWOO AND SOOBIN approached Riki at school, determination in their eyes.

"Okay, so we figured out some information about her," Eunwoo began. "She hates smokers, so you might have to drop that cigarette."

Riki raised an eyebrow but complied, dropping his cigarette and stepping on it. "Okay, so I have to say I'm a non-smoker?"

Soobin nodded. "Exactly. And she likes feminist prose and angry girl music."

Eunwoo handed Riki a list. "Here's a list of the CDs she had in her room."

Riki scanned the list, his expression skeptical. "So you're saying all I need to do is go to some stupid concert with her?"

Eunwoo nodded. "Well, her favorite band is playing tomorrow, and she'll be there since she got the tickets."

Riki groaned, clearly not thrilled by the idea. "No way I'm going there."

"It's fine," Soobin reassured him. "It's just for one night."

Riki sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. But you owe me for this."

Eunwoo and Soobin exchanged relieved glances, knowing they were one step closer to their goal.

RIKI TRUDGED TOWARDS THE CONCERT VENUE, hands shoved deep into his pockets. His footsteps were slow, almost reluctant, as he approached the main area where a sea of girls buzzed with excitement. From a distance, he scanned the room, his eyes finally landing on you and your best friend, Shuhua, dancing with abandon. A feeling churned in his stomach as he watched you, and he couldn’t quite place what it was. Sighing, he made his way to the bar.

As Riki sipped his drink, trying to make sense of the evening, you approached the bar for some water. Your eyes narrowed when you noticed him standing there.

"If you plan on asking me out again, you might as well just get it over with," you said, a hint of exasperation in your voice.

"Do you mind? You're kind of ruining the mood here," Riki retorted, his tone defensive.

"You're not with your usual smoke," you observed, glancing around.

"I know, I quit. Apparently, they're bad for you," he replied with a shrug.

"You think?" you shot back, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, you know, the Raincoats aren't that bad," he said, changing the subject.

You looked at him, a bit surprised. "You know the Raincoats?"

"Why don't you?" he countered, standing up as if to leave. You followed him, curious.

"I've just never seen you so pretty under this light," he said loudly, just as the room suddenly fell quiet. Laughter erupted from those around you, and you glanced at him, a genuine smile breaking across your face for the first time that evening. He smiled back.

"Come to Bogey's party with me?" he asked.

You laughed, shaking your head. "You really aren't giving up, are you?"

"Is that a yes?" he pressed.

"No," you said firmly, still smiling.

"Well, was that a no?" he called after you as you walked away, laughter in your wake.

"No!" you shouted back over your shoulder.

"I'll come at 9:30 then!" he declared, grinning as he watched you disappear into the crowd.

IT'S THE DAY OF THE PARTY, and Karina walks down the stairs, dressed and ready to leave. "Where do you think you're going?" your dad asks, his voice firm.

"To a party," Karina replies nonchalantly.

He sighs deeply, a hint of frustration in his tone. "We talked about this, Karina."

"Well, it's a small party! Everyone in the school is going," she insists.

"YN is not going, then you're not going," your dad states firmly.

Karina's eyes widen in disbelief before she turns to glare at you. "God, why can't you be normal for once, YN?"

You roll your eyes, unfazed by her outburst. Karina then softens, her desperation clear. "Please, YN, go to the dance. Please, please," she begs.

You hesitate, weighing your options. Finally, you relent. "Fine, I'll make an appearance," you agree with a sigh before you change into a more formal outfit.

As you open the front door, you see Riki standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe. "What are you doing here?" you ask, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

"9:30, right?" he replies with a smirk.

"Whatever, I'm driving," you mutter, brushing past him as you head to the car. Riki follows you, a satisfied grin on his face as he trails behind.

AT THE PARTY, you stand off to the side, observing the chaotic scene unfold around you. People are kissing, drinking, and dancing. Your eyes narrow as you spot Daeho smirking and making his way toward Karina, who lights up as he approaches.

Daeho and Karina begin flirting openly, their conversation punctuated by giggles and playful touches. You feel a pang of annoyance as Karina eagerly pushes you aside to make room for Daeho. You roll your eyes in frustration and grab a random drink from the counter, chugging it down in one go, feeling the burn of the alcohol as it slides down your throat.

Riki approaches you, concern evident on his face. "I've been looking for you everywhere," he says, his voice barely audible over the music.

"I'm getting trashed at a party. Isn't that what you're supposed to do?" you snap, rolling your eyes again as you take another swig from your drink.

Meanwhile, across the room, Eunwoo walks over to Karina, who is still engrossed in her conversation with Daeho. "Oh, Eunwoo," she says, sounding surprised. Eunwoo glances at Daeho with a confused look and then back at Karina, clearly unsure of what to make of the situation.

"Come on, let's go," Daeho says, dragging Karina away. She gives Eunwoo a helpless little wave before turning her attention back to Daeho. Eunwoo pauses, watching her disappear into the crowd, a look of disappointment flashing across his face.

As Daeho and Karina walk around, he talks nonstop about himself, barely giving Karina a chance to speakFeeling annoyed, she turns around and leaves him, while Daeho quickly shifts his attention to flirting with other girls.

Later, Riki is still looking for you. When he finally finds you, you’re fully drunk, dancing on top of a table with the music blaring. Your movements are unsteady, and you accidentally hit your head on a light, nearly falling off the table. Riki catches you just in time, his grip firm yet gentle.

"Come on, you're gonna get a concussion," he says, helping you down from the table and guiding you to a clearer, quieter area away from the throngs of people.

Just then, Eunwoo pulls Riki aside, his frustration evident. "I might give up on her," Eunwoo admits, his voice heavy with resignation.

"No, you can't give up on her. It's either you go for her or go for her," Riki insists, his determination unwavering. He then returns to help you, leaving Eunwoo to ponder his words.

As Riki leads you to a more secluded spot, you try to catch your breath. "Why are you doing this?" you ask, your words slurring slightly.

"Because I told you that you might have a concussion," Riki replies, his tone patient.

"You don't care if I wake up," you retort, feeling a mix of anger and confusion.

"I do," he says, looking into your eyes with sincerity.

"Why?" you challenge him, your voice softer now.

"Because then I'd have to start taking out girls who actually like me," he responds with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

"Like you could find one," you say, a hint of teasing in your voice. "I just... need to sit down."

You sit down on a swing, trying to regain your balance. As you nearly fall off again, Riki catches you, his cologne mingling with the night air. The scent is comforting, and you lean into him slightly. Suddenly, a wave of dizziness hits you, and you feel overwhelmingly faint. Riki panics, his grip tightening on you, but before he can react further, you open your eyes and throw up.

"Great, just great," Riki mutters, his voice a mix of frustration and concern He helps you sit back on the swing, his hands firm on your shoulders.

As you try to clear your head, Riki sits down beside you, keeping a close eye on you. "You need to take it easy," he says softly, his tone more gentle now. "This isn't the way to handle things."

"I know," you mumble, your head still spinning. "I just... I just needed to forget for a while."

AS THE NIGHT WINDS DOWN , Riki drives you home, the hum of the engine mingling with the music blasting through the speakers. You're still half drunk, feeling the aftereffects of the party, but a strange sense of clarity begins to settle over you.

"I should do this," you say, gesturing toward the car's interior as you lean back in your seat.

"Start a band?" Riki asks, glancing at you with a teasing smile.

You laugh, shaking your head. "No, install car stereos. My father would LOVE for me to start a band," you add with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

Riki chuckles, pulling up in front of your house. "It must be ass having a dad like that," he comments, turning the engine off.

You shrug, the weight of your family's expectations pressing down on you. "I mean, it's not that bad. It's just..."

"Just what?" he prompts, his tone gentle, encouraging you to open up.

"He wants me to be like, you know, Karina," you admit, your voice tinged with frustration and a hint of sadness.

Riki pauses, considering his words carefully. "Well, no offense or anything... but I know everyone 'digs' your sister. But she's without."

"Without what?" you ask, genuinely curious.

"Without... substance, I guess. She's all surface," he explains, glancing at you with an earnest expression. "But you... you've got depth."

You look at him, surprised by his honesty. "You know, you're not as vile as I thought you were," you say softly, your eyes meeting his.

Riki's gaze lingers on your lips, and for a moment, the world seems to stand still. Feeling a rush of emotions, you lean in for a kiss, but at the last second, he turns away.

"Maybe next time," he says hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You raise your eyebrow, confused and a bit hurt, but you nod reluctantly. "Yeah, maybe next time," you murmur, opening the car door and stepping out.

RIKI MEETS UP WITH EUNWOO at their usual spot, a small café near the school. The sun is just beginning to rise, casting a soft glow over the sleepy town.

"So, are you giving up on her?" Riki asks, stirring his coffee absently.

"Nope," Eunwoo replies, a wide grin spreading across his face. "It wasn't until she kissed me last night."

Riki pauses, his own smile starting to grow. "Where?"

"In the car," Eunwoo says, still smiling. Riki's smile drops abruptly.

Eunwoo looks confused. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything. She would've been too drunk to remember," Riki says simply, his voice flat.

A FEW DAYS LATER, you’re walking with your best friend Shuhua, enjoying the crisp morning air as you head to school. The sun is shining, and the school grounds are buzzing with the usual pre-class chatter.

"Are you going to prom?" Shuhua asks, nudging you playfully.

You shrug, a nonchalant expression on your face. "Only if someone asks me out. Got no dresses anyway."

"Don’t you got a man?" Shuhua teases, winking at you.

You punch her arm lightly, rolling your eyes. "Oh, shush. I don't even remember anything from that day," you say, feeling a mix of frustration and curiosity about the night of the party.

As you both walk inside the classroom, you find your seats just as the bell rings. The teacher, Mrs. Kim, stands at the front of the room, waiting for everyone to settle down.

"Good morning, class," she begins, her voice calm and authoritative. "Today, we’re starting a new poetry project. Each of you will be tasked with creating a poems over the next two weeks. This project is an opportunity to express yourselves and explore your creativity. Perhaps some of you will even discover a hidden talent."

AS RIKI IS HEADING TO HIS LOCKER, Daeho approaches him with a confident stride. He pulls out a wad of cash and holds it out to Riki.

"Here," Daeho says, his tone matter-of-fact. "I want you to go all out and ask YN to prom." He counts out $200, handing it to Riki.

Riki sighs, shaking his head. "Do you know what? I'm sick of this game."

Daeho sighs in exasperation, pulling out another $100 bill. "Fine, $300?" He waves the bill enticingly in front of Riki.

Riki stares at the money, feeling a mix of frustration and temptation. Hesitantly, he takes the cash, the weight of the bills heavy in his hand. "Deal," he mutters.

YOU FIND YOURSELF AT THE LOCAL GUITAR SHOP, testing out a sleek new guitar. The shop is quiet, with only the faint hum of an amp and the occasional strum of strings breaking the silence. You lose yourself in the music, fingers dancing over the frets.

As you play, Riki walks in. His eyes immediately fixate on you, captivated by the way you effortlessly make the guitar sing. He stands in the doorway for a moment, watching you.

Before you can turn around and realize he’s there, Riki quietly slips out of the store, leaving as silently as he came. The bell above the door rings softly, but you’re too immersed in your music to notice.

DURING DETENTION, the classroom is filled with a tense silence, broken only by the scratch of pencils on paper and the occasional rustling of pages. Riki sits at his desk, focused on his work, when he notices you walk in, looking particularly determined.

You spot him and make brief eye contact. Then, in a moment of clear but silent communication, you mouth the words "out the window" to him. Riki's eyes widen slightly, and he nods.

Without wasting a moment, you walk over to the principal’s desk, where Mr. Thompson is absorbed in grading papers. You start chatting, your voice intentionally loud.

"Mr. Thompson, did you know that the cafeteria is planning to add more vegetarian options next week?" you say, trying to sound enthusiastic. "And I heard they're thinking about changing the school colors to something more vibrant. Isn't that exciting?"

Mr. Thompson looks up from his papers, his attention momentarily diverted. "Really? I hadn't heard about that. Interesting..."

As you continue your rambling, your eyes dart over to Riki. He glances toward the window, then makes his move. He quickly and quietly slips out of his seat and makes his way to the window, sliding it open with practiced ease.

You keep up your distraction, now discussing something completely irrelevant about the new vending machine snacks. "And, oh! The snacks! They might be switching to gluten-free options. I mean, who cares about gluten, right? But it’s a big deal!"

Riki is now halfway out the window, his movements smooth and swift. You watch as he manages to sneak out of the building, disappearing from view.

Seeing him safely out, you wrap up your conversation "Yeah! So, um, thanks for listening, Mr. Thompson. Uhm, bye."

YOU AND RIKI ARE ON A BOAT DATE.

"Can't thank you enough for sneaking me out of detention," Riki says, glancing at you with a smirk.

You laugh, the sound mingling with the quiet of the lake. "I mean, detention is a pain in the ass anyways." Riki's gaze lingers on you as you look back at him, your smile widening.

"So, what's your excuse?" Riki asks after a pause, his eyes still fixed on yours.

"For?" you prompt, genuinely curious.

"For acting the way we do?" he clarifies, raising an eyebrow.

You think for a moment, then reply, "I don’t like to do what people expect. Why should I live up to other people's expectations instead of my own?"

Riki nods, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Wise words, hmm?"

You roll your eyes playfully. Your gaze lingers on his for a moment before you turn your attention back to the conversation. "Well, I suppose we all need a little rebellion now and then."

"Speaking of which," riki add, trying to shift the conversation to something lighter, "up for some paintball games?"

you glance at riki, slightly puzzled. "Huh?"

THE PAINTBALL FIELD IS A WHIRLWIND OF CHAOS. Paint splatters everywhere, turning the once-green grass into a vibrant canvas of colors.

You and Riki are in the thick of it, your faces smeared with colorful splotches of paint. You're both laughing and ducking behind barriers, your competitive spirits shining through. After a particularly intense round, you both find yourselves crashing onto a large pile of hay bales, the soft, cushioned landing a welcome relief.

As you lie there, catching your breath, Riki’s gaze drifts from your eyes to your lips. You notice the way his eyes linger on you, and without thinking, you lean in and close the distance between you.

Your lips meet his in a soft kiss. Riki’s hand instinctively cups your cheek. You wrap your arms around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens.

After a few seconds that feel like an eternity, you pull back, breathless and smiling. Before Riki can fully recover from the kiss, you reach for a nearby paintball, holding it up playfully.

With a mischievous grin, you drop the paintball on him, splattering his shirt with a burst of color.

"You’re going to pay for that!" he shouts, his voice filled with laughter as he leaps up and starts chasing you.

────────────────────────────────

AS YOU SETTLE IN, you’re laughing and talking when Riki suddenly leans in and kisses your neck.

“Come to prom with me, hm?” Riki asks, his voice gentle but hopeful.

You glance at him, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. “Is that a request or a command?”

“Come on, go with me,” he replies, his tone earnest.

You shake your head, still smiling but firm. “No.”

Riki’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to,” you say, your voice steady. “Because it’s a stupid tradition.”

Riki’s expression shifts to one of confusion and frustration. “Come on, people won’t expect you to go.”

You narrow your eyes, feeling a sense of unease. “Why are you pushing this so much?”

Riki is momentarily caught off guard. “What?”

“What’s in it for you?” you demand, your tone sharper now. “Why do you want me to go so badly?”

Riki hesitates, clearly taken aback by your question. “So now I need a motive to be with you?” he responds, a hint of defensiveness in his voice.

“You tell me,” you press, your curiosity piqued.

Riki’s expression shifts again, but there’s something off in his demeanor. “You need therapy. Has anyone told you that?”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Answer me, Riki.”

He looks away, frustration evident in his posture. “Nothing. There’s nothing in it for me.”

Before you can respond, Riki pulls out a cigarette, lighting it with a practiced flick of his lighter. The sight catches you off guard.

Your eyes widen as you watch him take a drag.

“I—” you start, but your words trail off.

“I need some space,” you say, your voice trembling slightly as you turn and head inside the house.

────────────────────────────────

YOU STAND IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR, admiring your reflection. You're wearing a stunning, floor-length, royal blue gown with delicate silver embroidery along the bodice. The dress has a sweetheart neckline and a slight shimmer that catches the light with every movement. Your hair is styled in loose waves, and you're wearing simple yet elegant jewelry to complement your outfit.

"I'm going to prom, Dad," you call out, grabbing your clutch.

Your dad looks up from his newspaper, smiling warmly. "Oh, okay. Have fun, sweetie."

As you head towards the door, your younger sister Karina follows closely behind. Your dad stands up, puzzled. "Where are you going?"

"To prom?" Karina replies nonchalantly.

Just then, the doorbell rings. You open it to find Eunwoo standing there, looking dapper in his tuxedo. His jaw drops when he sees Karina.

Your dad, sensing something is up, looks between Karina and Eunwoo. "Turn and explain," he demands.

Karina sighs dramatically. "Fine. You know how you said I could date someone only if Y/N does? Well, turns out she found someone perfect for her. And Eunwoo asked me to prom, and I really want to go."

Your dad scrutinizes Eunwoo for a moment before nodding. "Fine, but be back before 9 PM."

Karina's eyes widen in surprise and delight. "Okay, okay! Bye!" She grabs Eunwoo's arm and drags him out of the house towards his car.

────────────────────────────────

YOU ARRIVE AT THE PROM VENUE, the decorations twinkling under the dim lights. The room is filled with laughter and music, but your eyes scan the crowd for someone specific. You spot Riki near the punch table, looking a bit nervous. Taking a deep breath, you walk over to him.

"Hey," you greet, and he turns around, his eyes widening in shock at how pretty you look.

"Hi," he responds, his voice almost a whisper.

"Look, I'm sorry about how I questioned your motives," you say, feeling a bit awkward but sincere.

Riki sighs, a smile forming on his lips. "You're forgiven."

You smile back, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "Ready for prom, then?"

He nods enthusiastically. "Ready for sure."

────────────────────────────────

ON THE DANCE FLOOR, you and Riki are having a blast, laughing and twirling around. The music pulses through the room. Your eyes occasionally dart to Eunwoo and Karina, who are dancing together.

Suddenly, your favorite song starts playing. Your face lights up with excitement. As the chorus hits, you feel a surge of happiness. Impulsively, you lean in and kiss Riki on the lips. He seems surprised at first, but then he smiles into the kiss. His hands on your waist. When you pull back, both of you are laughing, foreheads against each other. What was the worse that could happen?

────────────────────────────────

KARINA IS IN THE BATHROOM, carefully applying her lipstick in the mirror. She takes a step back, admiring her reflection when the door opens, and her best friend walks in.

"What are you doing in here?" her friend asks with a smirk.

Karina glances over, "Oh, Daeho picked me up," she replies, a smug look on her face.

Karina's eyes narrow. "Oh, well, you can have him all."

Her friend shrugs, her smirk widening. "Oh, well, he only liked you for one reason anyway. Plus, he had a little bet going on with his friends."

Karina's smile falters. "What do you mean?" she asks, a sinking feeling in her chest.

"He's gonna nail you tonight," her best friend adds nonchalantly.

Realization dawns on Karina, and a wave of panic washes over her. She doesn't waste another second. Grabbing her clutch, she rushes out of the bathroom, her heart pounding. She needs to find you immediately.

────────────────────────────────

AS YOU'RE DNACING WITH RIKI, he spins you around, making you laugh with joy. Suddenly, the atmosphere changes as Daeho shows up and shoves Riki aside with force.

"Why is Karina with that stupid asshole?" Daeho sneers, his eyes blazing with anger.

Riki blinks in confusion, trying to steady himself. "What are you talking about?"

"I didn’t pay you to take out Y/N for some punk to take out Karina," Daeho snaps, his voice dripping with contempt.

"Nothing in it for you, huh?" you mumble. Without another word, you push past him.

As you weave through the crowd, you spot Eunwoo frantically looking around, searching for Karina. He spots Daeho and approaches him, but before he can say anything, Daeho punches him, sending him to the ground.

Karina, who had been rushing to find you, arrives just in time to witness the assault. Her eyes widen in horror and rage as she sees Eunwoo on the floor.

She swings her fist and lands a punch squarely on Daeho's face. "That's what you get for making me date you, bitch!"

Daeho reels from the impact, but Karina doesn't stop. She punches him again, harder this time, her knuckles connecting with a sickening thud. "And that's what you get for doing that to my sister!"

Daeho stumbles back, his face contorted in pain and shock. The crowd watches in stunned silence as Karina turns away from him, breathing heavily. She rushes to Eunwoo's side and helps him to his feet, her expression softening with concern.

"Are you okay?" she asks, her voice trembling slightly.

Eunwoo nods, wincing as he touches his jaw. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks, Karina."

────────────────────────────────

YOU FIND YOURSELF OUTSIDE THE PROM VENUE, your heart heavy with a mix of anger and hurt. The cool night air does little to calm your racing thoughts. Just then, Riki finds you, his face etched with desperation.

"Let me explain!" he pleads, his voice strained.

"You were paid to take me out by the one person I truly hate? I knew this was a setup!" you snap, glaring at him as you turn to walk away.

Riki quickly grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. "Y/N! It wasn't like that," he insists, his grip firm but gentle.

You whip around, your eyes blazing. "Oh, what was it then? A down payment now and a bonus for sleeping with me?" you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm and pain.

Riki's face crumples, his eyes searching yours. "No, I didn't care about the money. I cared…" His voice falters as he looks into your eyes. He takes a deep breath, his expression softening. "I care about you."

You narrow your eyes, the hurt and betrayal swirling inside you. "You are so not what I thought you were," you say, your voice trembling with emotion.

He tries to reach for you again, desperation clear in his eyes. "Please, Y/N, just listen—"

But you push him away, tears stinging your eyes. "No, Riki. I can't," you say, your voice breaking. Without looking back, you rush away from him, your heart aching with every step.

────────────────────────────────

IT'S POETRY READING DAY IN CLASS, and Mrs. Kim stands at the front, looking over her students. "Who wants to start their poem first?" she asks.

Reluctantly, you raise your hand, feeling the weight of your emotions. Across the room, Riki watches you intently.

You stand up and begin, your voice steady but filled with emotion. "I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme."

You sigh, the words heavy on your heart. "I hate it… I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry." You glance up, tears welling in your eyes as you look directly at Riki. "I hate it when you're not around and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly, I hate the way I don't hate you, not even close. Not even a little, not even at all."

As you finish, you walk back to your seat, tears streaming down your face. The room is silent, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Riki's eyes are glued to you, his expression a mix of regret and realization. He thinks for a moment, knowing he has something in mind.

────────────────────────────────

AFTER SCHOOL, you're walking to your car, and then you see it: a guitar, but not just any guitar—your favorite dream guitar. You freeze, admiring it in shock. You open the front door and grab the guitar in awe, your fingers tracing the strings.

"Nice, huh?" a voice says from behind. You turn to see Riki, smiling.

"A Fender Strat?" you whisper, your eyes widening as you glance at him. "Is it for me?"

He grins. "Yeah, I thought you could use it, you know, when you start your band. Besides, I had extra cash, you know."

You raise an eyebrow, curious. "Extra cash?"

Riki takes a breath, looking a bit sheepish. "Some asshole paid me to take out this really pretty girl."

You stare at him, a small smile forming on your face. "Is that right?"

He shrugs, stepping closer. "Yeah, but I screwed up. I fell for her."

"Really?" you ask, your heart pounding.

"I think so," he murmurs, as he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. His lips meet yours gently at first, soft, as if testing the waters. His hand on your waist pulls you closer, the warmth of his touch spreading through you. The other hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

You pull away slightly, teasing, "You know you can't buy me a guitar every time you screw up, right?"

He chuckles. "Well, there's always drums, bass, and maybe even a tambourine," he says, leaning in for another kiss.

2K notes · View notes

goodeapple · 5 months ago

Text

words on the page (aemond t. sex pollen pwp o.s.)

pairing : Aemond x Ysilla (Rhaenyra'sDaughter!OC)

warnings : PWP, dubcon- this is sex pollen (obvi) they are technically not fully consenting. might be hatesex but it also might not, uncle/niece incest, a ridiculous amount of orgasms, squirting, restraint, spanking & slapping, and a slighttt breeding kink (srry i couldn't help myself)

word count : 10,000+

note : hope everyone enjoys. ty for all the love, always. likes, reblogs, comments, anything is gas in my tank xx

“This library is big enough for the both of us, Uncle. You stay on your side, and I, on mine.” Ysilla offers, already working on tuning out the One-Eyed Prince’s mutterings as she gets lost in the sprawling shelves.

“What if I want a book that’s on your side?” Aemond’s voice echoes up to the grand ceilings from where he must be several rows over, his annoyance clearer than the windows in the Sept.

Ysilla rolls her eyes so hard she fears they might stick. “Do you not understand the concept of my side and your side?”

“These are all my sides. I grew up in between these stacks- I’m sure the texts at Dragonstone are missing you terribly. Why don't you go back and see if I’m right.”

That retort stabs at her, the mourning for her home still living on in the thick ball of grief that resides heavily in her heart. It’s been a year since her mother took her rightful place on the Iron Throne, a year since the King had passed, and a year where all members of the Targaryen family had to learn how to live amongst one another once more. Nobody was enjoying it. And there were more days than not that the Princess fantasized of stealing borrowing a boat and sailing back to her beloved pile of rocks.

“Shouldn’t you be out, oh, I don’t know, swinging a sword or ducking under one? You know, what men do.” It’s childish but Ysilla doesn’t mind stooping lower than her years. Her brothers keep her young and nimble, each one bringing with him a fresh battle of wits and stubbornness.

He goes silent, blessedly, and she resumes her stroll, picking and plucking titles off the shelves that join the burgeoning pile cradled tight in her arms. Her mind wanders, the endless catalogues of writings whispering their words, lulling her further and further into the scriptural maze.

Ysilla spots a peculiar text on a shelf taller than her, the aphotic ruby binding and woven gold stitching calling her name. She reaches up, tiptoeing until her feet creak and attempts to hook her finger under the edge of the spine. The old book sticks in place, judging her with a faceless scowl. She grunts, wobbling slightly, pushing forward again and gives it a good strong tug. Too strong, as it flies freely through the air and Ysilla yelps, jumping to the side to dodge it. Everything goes topsy turvy, her balance lost to her and the rest of her assembled collection clatters to the ground.

She curses, deaf to the sound of approaching footsteps as she drops to her knees and starts to gather the fallen books. She’s considerate of the older ones, stacking them carefully off to the side of the walkway. The causer of the chaos had landed face down, the text split open as if the ground itself was interested in its contents. Ysilla grasps it gently and turns it over, causing a plume of dust to shift off the pages and billow directly into her face.

She coughs, sputtering for a breath that isn’t made up of ancient soot. She scrubs at her nose, sniffling and groaning in discomfort as her sinuses burn and her throat grows parched. Her eyelids wrench shut, tears already hot and clumping in her lashes.

A vice grip in the form of strong fingers finds her arm, and she latches onto them desperately. She’s pulled to her feet, and a downy cloth is pressed tightly into her hand. She pats her face with it, drying her tears and spittle, its perfume of oranges and smoke chasing away the moldered stink clinging to every sense she has.

“You alright?” Aemond asks cautiously, still holding her elbow steady. Ysilla blinks blearily at him, her nose red at the tip. She nods after a pause, coughing softly into his handkerchief.

“Couldn’t breathe there for a moment.” She croaks, chuckling weakly before she gently pulls her elbow away. Aemond drops his hold, clasping his arms behind him and taking a step backwards.

“The library is all yours- I’m going to go lie down.”

She offers his hanky back, feeling a bit dumb as she does and more than a little embarrassed. Her uncle waves her off, and she skirts around him, careful not to intrude into his space.

“Niece,” Ysilla turns. Concern is not a look she’s accustomed to seeing on his face, and certainly not when it’s directed at her, but the sight of it sends little tingles through her tummy. “Do you need me to escort you to your room?”

She smiles dimly, self-conscious in all the ways that turn her cheeks peachy.

“I think I can manage… thank you, Aemond.” Ysilla curtsies in a silly show of thanks, but he can tell her sentiment is genuine.

Aemond swallows thickly, bowing his head in acknowledgment, watching her keenly as she shuffles out the doors that lead to the rest of the castle. She never calls him by his name. Always Uncle, and even sometimes My Prince, but the mocking lilt of that one is not lost on him. Aemond though… it’s like he’s hearing a brand new word.

Shrugging off his worriment, he sighs, squatting down to collect the strewn about books. He inspects them as he does, less so judging and more so learning about his niece’s interests through her chosen reading materials. There’s a collection of songs- one for Drowned Men and one for Northmen that he’s read before. Another about the Lion King, Tommen II Lannister and his adventures in Volantis and, most provocatively, the remaining charred pages of Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: Their Unnatural History. Aemond holds onto it for longer than the others; she must’ve searched long and hard for it, he’s never even once stumbled across it in here. He tucks it carefully onto a shelf he’ll remember, and thinks of letting Ysilla know where she can find it later.

Lastly, he comes to the one that sent her into a coughing fit and he regards it carefully. It isn’t smart, but even so, Aemond draws his dagger and nudges at it, angling up the flap so that he can read the title: Potions of Old Valyria. He lifts it too high, trying to see better in the dreary light of dusk and loses his leverage, the cover falling closed and puffing out a small cloud of dust in his direction. He snaps backwards but he’s not fast enough, the grit already coating the slick press of his lips. Aemond spits, growling, scrubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand. He winces as his nose stings, the watering in his eye blurring his vision.

He shoots to his feet, gathering up the massive stack of books and tossing them onto an empty writing desk, kicking away the potion book in juvenile anger. He stalks out of the library, cursing blindly as he retreats to his room.

The Prince does not read the page of which the dust had danced off of. But if he had, mayhaps he would have rethought the course of his actions that night.

“Pollen of the flower Turnera diffusa- a specimen of which is contained in this very page- has a curious effect on the indulger. Found growing along the creeks of Honeyholt, symptoms noted are as follows: fever, delirium, lightheadedness, and most notably, a heightened state of arousal. The affected should take caution to whom they keep in their company while under the spell of this love plant.”

Aemond shucks off his jerkin, sending it flying across the room carelessly.

It's still there- the rabid itch under his collar. He stalks to his mirror, tearing up his shirt to check his skin, looking for a bite, a scratch, anything to explain the scorching sting engulfing him in full. Nothing, not even a blemish, mars his pale chest.

He curses, spinning on his heel and going for his table, seizing the wine pitcher so roughly the lit candles nearby shudder from his haste. He pours a full goblet, the deep burgundy trickle causing his mouth to flood with anticipation. He downs it in several gulps, gasping as he rips the cup away and lets it teeter on the table until it spins out, toppling over emptily. He might as well’ve drank from the Great Sand Sea, his tongue heavy in his mouth. He clutches at his stomach, a sharp shooting pain ripping up his insides. He groans, taking a knee as his legs wobble beneath his weight.

Fuck, he wonders if it was the book, the dust he breathed in. If Ysilla is as bad off as he is.

Ysilla. Worry spears through him, bringing with it a healthy dose of clarity. She breathed in more than he did, he’s sure of it. He needs to get her to a maester, lest she’s already staggered out of her own room in search of aid.

He stumbles to his wall, finding the familiar crease in the stone and pushing. The path into the tunnels is one he knows well and he’s lucky he does, his mind fogging over and his pulse thumping in his temples. He’s never entered her chamber this way of course, so he can’t be sure when he comes to an unknown stone archway that he’s where he needs to be.

He pushes until he feels the door give way, a slice of light pouring out through the crack. He edges it forward a little more, until he can see enough of the room to confirm it’s not a servant’s quarters.

“Niece?” Aemond coughs, his tone gruffer than what he’s used to. His throat is arid, greedy for a nectar to soothe it. No one answers, but as he strains his hearing, shuffling feet and rustling bottles comes forth, confirming that someone is inside.

“Ysilla?” He calls out. Another jolt of agony flares through him and he gasps, startling forward, catching himself on the door and accidentally making it swing open. Aemond stumbles through, colliding with an overstuffed armchair and making it screech terribly across the floor. His head shoots up, and he catches sight of his niece across the room.

Ysilla wouldn’tve noticed if Vhagar herself trampled through the door.

She’s… much more undone than she was before. Her curly raven locks, once pinned up and out of her face, spring madly from her head, cloaking her face in a dark flowing curtain. She scurries around the room, mouselike, pressing a wet rag to her throat and then to her forehead, and back again. Twenty or so books are open and strewn about on the long table, looking as if they were caught in a sweeping wind. Long gone are her slippers, and the sleeved pink gown she donned before is abandoned in a silky puddle by the door.

Her chemise, a pale yellow thing with capped sleeves, has gone transparent from the perspiration that has broken out all over her body. It clings to every dip, every curve, shadowing her in a gauzy golden haze. Her bronze nipples tent through the delicate fabric and the thatch of hair over her womanhood matches in color-

Aemond snaps his gaze away, cheeks flaming.

“Ysilla.” He nearly shouts, stare finding his boots and staying there.

The woman in question spins around, catching sight of her uncle in the corner of her room, the hidden door she had never had enough courage to use ajar behind him.

“Aemond… you need to leave.” Her words rumble out of her, like there’s a beast in her belly, roaring through her skin and rattling her bones. “Leave!”

He doesn’t move and Ysilla hurls the rag in his direction.

“Did you not hear me? I said go!”

Annoyance chips away at Aemond’s embarrassment. He’s trying to help her, insufferable brat. “You don’t command me, Niece.” He responds, still refusing to look at her.

She scoffs, happy to channel her discomfort into a much more satisfying emotion. “You sneak into my room, catch me in the middle of undress, and still, you act put out.” Ysilla spits, her temper raising with her temperature.

Gods, she’s miserable. The moment she stepped foot in her bedchamber, her dressings were off, and she drank down water until she felt the urge to spew. It’s as if she can’t catch her breath- she’s so dizzy and her uncle’s sudden company has somehow made it worse. Her belly cramps, and she crosses her legs tightly in search of relief. She cries out, the budding sultriness in her flower springing to life, and wetness coats her thighs in a rush. Gasping, she nearly trips as she collides with her bed’s edge.

“Ysilla, breathe.” Aemond commands harshly.

His voice is so nice. Has it always been that nice? That soothing? Her snatch gives a happy thrum, her clit fluttering at the memory of his strong grip upon her arm. How he had held her steady in her dizziness, how he had towered over her, so imposing, so encapsulating, making sure she was well. Ysilla gasps, stunned at her body’s wanton reaction.

“You don’t understand. Please, go.” He’s her uncle- her uncle that doesn’t even like her. This cannot- will not happen.

“I need to get you to a maester. If you’re feeling what I’m feeling, if you’re feeling it worse, fuck, Ysilla, I need to get you help.”

He needs to stop saying her name like that, in that breathy, strained tone of his. He sounds exerted. He sounds exhausted. He sounds like he’s on the cusp of falling apart. It stokes the fire in her blood.

“The things I want to do to you… the things I want you to do to me.” She whines quietly, terrified that he’ll hear her.

A subtle knock-knock at her chamber door quiets them both, and they hold their breath. Again, a knock-knock echoes through, and Ysilla curses the diligence of her ladies. Aemond goes for it, stalking across the room in his usual strutting gait.

Ysilla panics and rushes forward, latching onto his arm and pulling him to a stop.

“Aemond, Uncle, please, send them away. I don’t want them to see me like this.” She begs, pleading with him through a glistening gaze.

Aemond readies his denial, sharp and bitter on his tongue but he loses his voice as he looks at her. He keeps his eye on her face, hyper aware of the press of her nearly naked figure against his side. Her heart shaped face is drawn in a frantic frown, terror rich and vast in her eyes. She smells of the Essos oils in her hair and the coconut oil on her skin, and it all makes his head go a bit fuzzy.

She squeezes his arm, again, a final silent plea. He nods his assent. Ysilla dashes behind him, slipping deeper into the room, blowing out candles until the bedchamber dims into darkness. She voices a small, urging hum, and Aemond takes his cue and yanks the door open. The visitor, a girl no older than three-and-ten, blinks at him in surprise.

“My Prince,” she curtsies hurriedly and Aemond nods his acceptance, but his face must spell out his impatience because she speaks so fast, her words stumble over one another. “I thought I heard the Princess in distress. I was coming to check on her, to make sure she’s alright.”

Her eyes dart over his shoulder, her head bobbing to the side as if she were trying to peek in. Aemond moves with her, raising his arm so that it rests above him in the doorway, pulling the door nearly closed behind him. The maid swallows, dropping her eyes in apology.

“The Princess isn’t well- very sick. Keep the other maids away, guards too. She wishes for solitude.” He’s a pushover and he hates it. One look of Ysilla’s beseeching gaze and Aemond gave like a straw bridge.

“Should I send a maester?” The maid asks worriedly, making to exit down the hall and find help.

“No!” The young girl jolts to a stop, her eyes wide with alarm. Aemond curses himself, and he speaks softer through gritted teeth. “No, she just needs rest. I’ll see to her, since I’ve already been exposed. I’ll call upon you if I change my mind.”

The maid eyes him cautiously, but she finally relents, dropping into a curtsy before hurrying down the wall.

On the other side of the door, Ysilla feels as if she’s going fucking mental.

She’s balled up her bedsheet, and wedged it between her quivering thighs. The fabric pressed so intimately against her cunt is unforgiving, soaking up her syrupy slick and giving little in return. But the friction along her clit makes her gasp, and it urges on her rutting in dreams of a release so sweet, she could cry.

The low droll of Aemond’s voice slithers into her ears from across the room, her mind warping the words until he’s whispering to her. What a good girl she is, how desperate she is to find her pleasure, how angry he is that she’s fucking her bed and not him. Ysilla’s eyes shoot open as she hears the squeak of her door, her hopes crashing as she realizes he’s pulling it shut while he’s behind it, not in front of it.

She collapses forward onto all fours, fisting the furs blanketing her duvet, smothering a broken moan into the softness. Her eyes peel open, her glassy gaze landing on her bedside table. Aemond’s handkerchief is still there- right where she’d left it- the emerald hue of it glowing midnight green in the candlelight. Suddenly, it’s in her grasp, even though she cannot recall moving for it. She presses it to her nose and draws in a shaky breath.

Oh, oh, it smells of him. Citrus and smoke and she’s drooling for it, mouth watering so quickly she has to swallow it down so she doesn’t slobber. She swings her hips forward before rolling backwards, dredging the sodden sheet through her sex. It’s so wet now, the smoothness almost feels like skin. And that’s too much for Ysilla- she can hear him, smell him, but the thought of Aemond in between her legs?- it sends her plummeting off the cliff of desire, her core pulsing vibrantly, pleasure buzzing through her whole body.

A phantom hand finds the same spot where Aemond had handled her earlier, and rips her upwards. She’s pulled to her knees, still atop the bed, as someone presses up behind her. Ysilla peers over her shoulder, the handsome face of her uncle a welcome sight. He is an apparition appearing from her thoughts alone. He doesn’t even seem real.

Her thoughts are askew with an edge of delirium, her insides purring at his sudden return. Ghoul or not, she will not squander such a golden opportunity. She fists the front of his shirt and drags him in, their mouths joining together harshly. Aemond would be lying if he said he didn’t kiss her back at once. It gets intense. Fast.

Ysilla melts into his chest, whimpering into his mouth while his grip goes from her elbow to sliding around her, dragging her in closer by her waist. His tongue finds her teeth and she opens up slowly, letting him feel the threat of them, as he slithers in and their tongues touch-

Aemond tears himself away, stumbling backwards, heaving for air and looking at her with a wide eye. Ysilla whimpers, her fantasy failing her, and she slips off the side of the bed to settle on wobbly legs. Her palm goes to press at her abdomen, hoping that the pressure will relieve the burrowing ache.

They stare at one another, wild animals on alert, a standoff that neither Prince nor Princess can bear to lose.

Ysilla’s gaze falls to his lips, and Aemond’s to hers. She bites her lip, sucking the meat into her wet, warm mouth before releasing it with a lurid pop. Aemond groans, an audible surrender.

To Hell with it all.

They crash into each other like lightning, hands mapping anywhere they can reach. Her body blooms for him, like a flower under the summer sky. He steers them back towards her bed, Ysilla blindly clamoring atop to sit while he stands tall. His touch on her skin has her thighs spreading, opening up and offering herself for his taking.

“I can’t stop, I can't stop.” He presses kiss after kiss to her mouth, her closeness doing nothing to extinguish the burning in his blood. If anything, she makes it worse, the inferno raging deeper and into his very soul.

“I don’t want you to stop.” She whines, snaking their legs together and threading her fingers through that beautiful hair of his.

She’ll enjoy this- him. Every inch of Aemond belongs to her tonight. She thinks of drawing the blade from his hip, and carving her name into his chest. Mark him up nice and neat, streak his pale powdery skin red with her desire. Whatever is happening to her- to them- summons something animalistic, something primitive out of the dark parts of their hearts. All tender fantasies of her future husband treating her with such a tame touch are cleaved in half and fed to the hounds. In their place, filthy, feral desires fester and warp her mind until one lone ambition remains: him inside of her, for the rest of their days.

“We don’t even like each other.” Aemond growls between their parting lips. Ysilla slides her way into his mouth, flirting with the sharpness of his teeth, suckling the sweetness out of his tongue.

“We can’t stand each other.” She affirms, breaking their lips apart, her hands already under his tunic, letting her palms drink in the ridges and rises of his impressive physique. She kisses along the strong edge of his jaw, curling her fingers into clenched claws and rips her way down his chest. Not a blade, but he bloodys all the same. Aemond snarls, catching her by the throat so brutally her teeth clack. His eye pierces through her like a blade, and Ysilla relishes in the pain, his touch upon her skin soothing away her ache.

“Bitch.” He hisses, what little familial respect they harbor for each other crushed under lust and loathing.

“Prick.” She bites back, grazing at his lip to send her point home. Gods, he’s so close but not close enough.

Ysilla pulls his hand between her legs- the one not choking her out- and Aemond cups her sex readily. Her heat damn near blisters him, and he grinds his palm into her slick folds, coating his hand in her arousal.

“Yessss…” She hisses in sated victory, her blood pumping thick as her body finally gets a taste of what it's been craving. Even one finger of his is nearly too much as he slips it in, the stretch a tepid burn that only gives way as her body adjusts.

“You need to be able to take more than that if you want to take my cock, Princess.” He whispers at her lips, already imagining how tight she’ll be around him. He won’t insult her by asking- he knows he’ll be her first. And the thought of that… of taking her maidenhead for his own, being the first man to be inside of her, searing himself into her memory that even time won’t take away… Aemond has to fucking focus.

“I can take it.” She assures him, head nodding wildly, her thighs splitting open even further. His grip has loosened around her throat, and he strokes where it’s sure to bruise, trying to not grow hot at the vision of his mark marring her body. He hums his approval, letting his middle finger glide forward, her essence enough to ease the way into her hole.

He scissors them, back and forth, working her pure channel open gently, basking in the silky tensing of her walls. The pained scrunch in her brow has disappeared, giving way to the pleasured furrow of her forehead, her hips beginning to roll up and meet his digits. She grabs ahold of his wrist, stopping his motions, and she pins him in place with a lavender leer.

“Take off your clothes.” It’s a command, no matter if it is spoken in her soft honeyed voice.

Aemond loses his shirt and unlatches his belt, tossing it and his sword onto the bench at the foot of her bed. His breeches slide off with Ysilla’s help, her eager fingers untying his laces. He kicks off his boots, not realizing how confined he felt with so many layers hindering him until his skin is bared. She moves backwards, further up her bed and he crawls after her, prowling like a wildcat, covetous sight trained on her.

The little minx yanks on his elbow, and he crashes into the mattress and suddenly, he’s the one on his back. Aemond lets Ysilla pin his wrists on either side of him, her victorious smile just as comely as the rest of her. Her breasts pillow against his chest, and dammit, she needs to hover above him so he can catch one in his mouth. But she denies him that treat, squeezing his wrists to focus his attention.

“Don’t move. That’s an order.” His cock twitches from where it’s pressed to her thigh and her lips twitch at his reaction. She kisses his throat, right at the base where his collar bones meet, and her whisper vibrates through to his heart. “Good boy.”

Ysilla takes her time, voyaging down his body, a traveler on a sought after journey. Her tongue flicks out over each of his nipples, teasing the perked flesh with little swipes of her slick pink muscle. She traces her nose over the jutting contour of his rib cage, counts his muscled abdominals until there’s numbers on both hands, and kisses the scar on his hip, long healed from a tumble off of Vhagar’s saddle when he was just a boy. The fine silver hair trailing down his groin is wispy and it tickles her chin.

Aemond’s cock is intimidating, even more so as she takes a lick from root to tip. The journey is longer than first guessed, and she thinks he grows even bigger after the swipe of her tongue, the jut of him swaying in the air as more blood thickens him out. The fact that all of that will be stuffed inside of her makes Ysilla shiver, her cunt yearning for the press of his long fingers.

Fervently, she swallows him down until he greets the back of her throat. The salt of him is jarring but not unwelcome- nothing can be unwelcome about this as Aemond sucks in a ragged breath and fists the sheets. The muscles in his arms strain and bulge, a sight that only incentivises her to keep sucking.

He’s a thick, velvety weight on her tongue, her mouth full even with inches still to spare. Her drool dribbles down his staff, and her hand wraps around what she cannot swallow. She glides her lips over his length rhythmically, jacking her fist over the rest of him, retreating with a pop to spit on his tip for more lubrication.

Ysilla has always been one for sweets but this? This is a taste she can find herself hankering for. She suckles on the head, dipping her tongue into his slit, shivering at the sharp burst of his spunk on her taste buds. She dives forward again, gagging around him, the intrusion into her throat a strange feeling she forces herself to adjust to.

Aemond keeps her hair pushed behind her ears, his thumbs stroking her temples as he fights to not thrust down her throat until she chokes. A familiar tightening in his sack has him voicing the exact opposite of what he wants her to do.

“Silla, pull off.” She’s on her fucking knees for him, he doesn’t need to defile her like this. Doesn’t need to treat her like a common whore and make her stomach his load.

She ignores him and he says her name again, more firmly, but she’s such a rebel, swallowing around him once more, letting him feel the constricting vice of her throat. He can’t take it- he gives her what she wishes.

“Silla, qrugh.” Cursing, he keeps her head still as he empties his balls and fills her belly. He hooks his thumb into her mouth, breathless, breaking the suction and pulls out of her throat. Ysilla coughs, gulping down air and saliva before she gifts him a shiny smile. Aemond scoffs. Unbelievable.

“You’re a nasty little thing.” He pants out, a compliment he means wholeheartedly.

She chuckles hoarsely, and her lips are still gooey with his seed.

“You love it.”

The urge to fuck her returns tenfold and he sits up, hand at the back of her neck to wrench her up to his mouth. She whimpers, swapping his cum between their tongues. It’s sticky and vulgar and overwhelmingly erotic.

Ysilla stumbles to her feet, pulling Aemond with her, leading him to the lounge area in front of her hearth. Their mouths remain intertwined, unwilling to part even for a moment. She pushes him into an armchair, the old velvet soft beneath him before following him down, and settling swiftly in his lap.

“Off.” He demands but he can’t help but be an active partner in his niece’s undressing. Her hands dash to the hem of her shift, gathering up the skirt hurriedly. His hands glide up her body, caressing the naked skin that is revealed to him as she pulls it up and over her head. She’s so sleek with sweat she looks polished- an apple ready to eat, something to be devoured.

“What do you want me to do?” Aemond asks, not for lack of knowledge but to see how far she wishes to take this.

Ysilla grins, ducking down and drawing him into an eager kiss. “Whatever you want to do. Just make me feel good.”

Loyal as a hound, Aemond’s mouth goes to her breast, her posture perfectly presenting her chest to him. He takes in as much as he can, greedily sucking and licking until her tender flesh blushes a bright sticky red. He rolls her pert nipple between his teeth, tugging just enough to make Ysilla gasp. She makes pretty sounds- he can’t wait to hear what she’ll sound like as he fucks her stupid. He switches to her other breast, feasting on her supple bosom like he’ll never eat again. His cock bobs upright, his body needing no time to rest, ready and racing to experience the delicacy of her cunt.

The Princess whines, combing through his tousled hair, tugging on it like she would horse reins. Such a commanding queen she’ll be.

“Need it, need you.” She whines, swinging her hips lower, searching for the weeping start of his prick.

“Easy, Ysilla.” He warns, even as his thoughts scream to grip her hips and teach her how to ride him, but she’s such a stubborn little dragon and her thoughts may be just as commanding as his. She leans back, reaching between her thighs until she brushes at the head of his cock and steadies him. Lining herself up, she sinks torturously slow, downdowndown every inch until she sits upon his thighs.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Oh… my.”

They both breathe out, blinking away black stars that dance in their vision, the pollen tapping every nerve ending in each of them until they sputter and fizz uncontrollably.

The discomfort fades for her faster than she’d thought, transforming into a pleasant fullness that she can feel heavily behind her stomach. Ysilla searches for what feels the best, moving faster and faster on Aemond’s lap as each new shift in position guides her further towards the liquid heat in her loins. She settles on swiveling up before dropping back down onto him, riding him like she’s saddled. Hot streaks of exhilaration engulf her insides, every pass of his cock adding to the ecstasy swirling inside of her. The stretch of him, not just from length but from width as well, itches the scratch left behind after the library disaster. Even as she tried to bring herself to pleasure earlier, there was something missing from her peak. Something that’s building, stacking, soaring fast in her belly. That final crest of a wave, ready to crash and drown anything that’s not pure, hot ecstasy-

Before it collapses back into a tidepool. The pitted feeling of falling through the air as you miss a step in the dark settles over her lust, and she jerks. Ysilla’s eyes snap open, her pupils blown so wide Aemond can barely see a ring of amethyst around them. She whines, bouncing on his cock faster, chasing a release she’s not sure she can find.

“Qybor, kostilus. I can’t cum like this.” Almost to make her point, she circles her hips up, leaving only the head of him kissed by her tight hole before dropping down and taking every inch of him at once. Aemond holds strong to his stamina, refusing to empty inside of his niece so quickly.

A shame though, he was so enjoying the view. He winds his arms around her hips, keeping her nice and close as he slips them off of the chair and onto the floor. Several furs keep them cushioned from the chilly stones below and he drags a pillow off the loveseat to ease her up on.

“Turn for me, sweetling.” He maneuvers her onto her belly, his grip finding her hips and shepherding her into position onto her hands and knees.

Aemond stands corrected- this view is nice. The burnished copper of Ysilla’s coloring clashes deliciously with his own pale complexion. Her backside is plush and hefty, budding from her shape in a way that invites his attention.

Whatever you want to do. Aemond slaps her right cheek, reveling in her sharp gasp, and the way a perfect red welt appears on the smooth skin. He lands another, on the opposite globe, hypnotized by the jiggle of the flesh. He strikes her again because he can, not ignorant to the way his rough treatment has her absolutely dripping down her thighs. Another for good measure, satisfied in the brilliant bruising he’s left behind.

Just make me feel good. He strokes his cock, still slick from her spit and her honey, and lines his head up at her opening. She arches up, dipping down onto her arms, raising her bottom to prop against him. The angle is too good not to take advantage of. Aemond spits, his foamy white saliva dripping viscously into her tight hole and he pushes it inside of her as he strokes forward.

Ysilla voices her approval of the new position, wiggling back against him as he goes as deep as she’ll take him. He builds a tempo, in out in out, finding a pace that makes her clench impossibly tighter. His sack slaps intensely at her clit, drawing punchy little gasps out of her that he wants to devour. He digs his fingertips into her hips, thumbs fanning out to stroke the luscious bounce of her bottom. He goes to pause, planning on switching his angle so that some strain can be relieved from her spine.

“No! Aemond, stay there, right there, yessss.” Ysilla flails her hand behind her blindly, not stopping her begging until she smacks into his naked torso. Aemond stares down at his niece in confusion, catching sight of her profile, her eyes trained intently on something that is certainly not him.

He looks up, and catches his reflection staring back at him from across the room. The giant wardrobe mirror is tucked into the corner, and the Gods are good because they're directly in its path, their coupling on display for their viewing pleasure.

Aemond drops down, blanketing Ysilla with his body, watching his Other do the same. “Oh, I see.” He chuckles, driving into her slowly.

It’s almost as if they’re watching someone else- surely the couple in the reflection cannot be them. No poise, no manners, not even an ounce of trepidation to be seen. In place, disheveled, howling, rutting animals grind against each other, naked and insouciant in search of their gratification. Aemond enjoys the portrait they make, admiring it so much that he stalls in his thrusting and stills completely inside of Ysilla.

“Aemond, come on.” She whines, moving impatiently against him. “Nākostōbā taoba, making me do all the work.” She mewls, riding down and humping his cock.

Aemond’s trance snaps, and he secures a fistful of her hair, forcing his niece into a backbend. He ignores her yelp, smacking her thigh to halt her gyrations. His lips go to her ear, and this close to her throat, he can hear the lifeblood rushing through her arteries.

“What was that?”

“I just thought, unhhh… just thought you would be a bit more… involved in this.” She giggles, fucking laughs even as her bones creak for mercy. It’s harder to breathe this way, and the lightheadedness spurs on her mouth. “Thought you wanted this as badly as I did.”

Little fucking brat. He laughs too, because it’s funny. Funny because of how right she is- he should be more involved in this, a bit more committed. Ysilla stills at the sound, the audible swallow of her gulping nervously has his cock jumping in interest. Her fear is just as tasty as her willingness.

He crosses both arms over her chest, his forearms thick bars over her throat and he forces her up, so he can fuck his cock into her belly and watch her tits bounce as he does so. Ysilla’s face contorts into a euphoric mask, her eyes rolling back into her head and her pouty mouth hanging open in slack-jawed pleasure as he pounds her ruthlessly.

“Something on your mind, Princess?” She doesn’t respond, her brain being fucked straight out of her head.

Aemond slaps her face, the sharp crack bringing her back to the present, and back to Aemond fucking her like he owns her. She moans again, her pussy spouting a wash of arousal around his bullying cock. He catches her by the jaw, digging his thumb into the bone and rubbing at the struck flesh of her cheek. His lips are wet at her ear, and she watches him through glossy eyes as he smirks, and bites down on her ear lobe.

“Answer me, Ysilla.” His niece shouts but Aemond has no sympathy for her. If she can dish it out, she can take it. “You did want this? Or you do want this?”

He’s searching for the willpower to pull out of her, and put her over his knee to send home his message when she babbles out her acquiescence.

“I want this! Bisa, bisa, bisa, fuck, gaoman gaoman. I want you, Gods, nyke jaelagon ao!” Valyrian braids through her words without forethought, her focus aimed on Aemond’s cockhead tapping at her womb.

“Sȳz riña.” She preens at the endearment, throwing her hips back against him frantically. A beautiful toothy smile has broken brightly over her face, Aemond catching sight of it in the mirror before he shatters the grin, nailing a spongy spot inside of her that makes her eyes cross.

“Sooo good, so fucking big, feel you right here.” She tries to gesture to her throat but she ends up digging her nails into the arms caging her in, hanging off of him desperately. Her poor battered cunny is still somehow famished for more, the squelch of his cock moving in and out of her a licentious lyric that lulls both lover’s into a trance. Aemond pulls her even tighter to his front, however possible that may be, and plunges repeatedly into her snug cunt, beating the walls of her swollen so she won’t be able to walk without thinking of him first.

As if they miss each other, Aemond’s and Ysilla’s eyes meet in the mirror, violent violet and silver steel clashing and melding into one harmonious color.

Their stares fall lower, where they meet over and over and over again so brutally. Her thighs glisten in the candlelight, her flesh rippling with every thwack of Aemond’s hips. It’s so dirty, so primal, so right. He’s going so deep, he could put a babe in her belly. Just a whisper of that fantasy, of her giving him a child, letting him have such a claim on her breaks her apart.

She screams, Aemond’s palm smacking over her mouth as her thighs give out, and she sags to the floor. He follows her down, draping himself over her back, still fucking her in earnest, chasing his own blissful breaking point. He finds it, after three more punishing thrusts. But even as his balls release and he feels Ysilla grow slicker as his seed coats her insides until it leaks a white ring from where they’re joined, his cock is still hard and heaving from his body.

He pulls out and Ysilla sobs at the loss, scrambling on the furs, but her cries disintegrate as she’s flipped onto her back. Aemond slings both of her legs into the crooks of his elbows, yanking her forward so he’s flush to her thighs, her pussy a pretty little jewel winking up at him. His seed oozes a pearl stream from her fluttering hole and he swipes it up with his cock, and it’s as slippery as oil as he bottoms out inside of her.

Fucking Seven, she’s unreal. “Taking every inch of me… like you were made for this, ñuha pretty līve.”

“Made for you, I think.” Ysilla gasps, ripping at the furs, trying to anchor herself down so she doesn’t burst apart.

Aemond nips at her chin, doing nothing to quell the smug smile on his niece’s lips. “Careful.”

Careful for what? She wants to question so badly. Careful on what she voices aloud, even as they speak it in both of their minds? Careful on implying that her cunt will not weep for him anytime he passes by her? Careful to claim that the only place he should be after tonight is right where he is now?

But it is not the time for words of the heart, so she digs her nails into Aemond’s broad shoulders in a gnaw and throws her head back.

“I’m right there. Yes, Aemond, yes!”

Oh, is she now? Aemond grins, slowing his thrusts to purposefully watch her eyes shoot open incredulously.

“Don’t stop! Fuck, why are you stopping?” Ysilla growls, circling her hips up against him, doing her best to fuck him herself. So desperate, so full of unadulterated desire, she cannot find it within herself to be appalled at her own salaciousness.

“I thought you couldn’t cum like this?” Aemond mocks and oh, it’s fun to play with her.

Her decorum deserting her, Ysilla lets anger lead her movements and her hand flies at his face to strike him. He catches her easily, still smiling that infuriatingly sexy smirk, and drops a modest kiss on the heel of her palm. She melts, her love bitten lips pouting dramatically.

“Aemond, ñuha zaldrīzes, please.” He likes when she begs- she can see it in the way his jaw ticks, how his skin flushes, as if his body alights in her prayers to him. Aemond won’t acknowledge it, but somewhere deep in his chest, she’s already wormed her way in. He splits her in half, leaning over her until he can rest his palms by her shoulders, her legs still draped over each of his arms.

He drags himself out, inch after inch, agonizingly slow before he lurches forward, making her pussy swallow his entire cock. He groans, finding himself burrowed in the valley of her breasts, letting his hips pummel her in an amorous hammering.

“Scream for me, love.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice- her lungs finding the air to blurt out,

“Aemond, fucking hell!”

Ysilla goes limp, her thighs butterflying open, giving him full reign to dictate her pleasure. She squirts, a wet spray soaking his abdomen that puddles beneath them. Her whole body heaves, appearing almost pained in euphoria. She’s a holy vision.

Fuck, he’s losing his mind. “Do that again.” He demands.

He cups the back of her neck, propping her up until they’re eye to eye. Ysilla’s are lidded, exhaustion heavy weights upon them, but she manages a tiny nod and curves herself upwards for his continued onslaught.

Completely at his mercy, his to control, Aemond takes full advantage. Dragging her down by the back of her neck, he plunges himself brutally inside of her cunt over and over, again and again. She lies there and takes it like a good girl, witnessing her uncle destroy her in the name of desire until he grants her mercy, and he strokes her pearl with the sharp edge of his thumbnail and she blacks out.

He chokes, sparks shimmering in and out of his vision as she convulses around his cock. He pulls out of her, spurting striping streaks of white onto her belly. He cums so hard, it splashes over her tits and even pools in the hollow of her throat.

Ysilla moans, coming to, rubbing her fingers over the soiled skin of her stomach, blending their releases together in a filthy film that coats her fingers. She pops one in her mouth, and relishes in the blossoming light brightening once more in Aemond’s lone eye.

And just as quickly as their relief had come, the satisfaction fizzles out and ravenous blood boiling need takes root once more.

They groan, barely taking time to catch their breath before they’re on each other again. Their mouths are sloppy, leaving trails of saliva down to their chins and along their throats. Ysilla finds a spot she likes over his pulse point and suckles, her left leg wound tight over his hip, rubbing herself off along the unyielding ridge of the bone. Aemond kneads her arse, an apology for his abuse, rolling the voluptuous flesh in his calloused grip all the while dipping his fingertips in and out of her weeping slit.

They tangle in each other’s webs, so caught up in salt and sin that they don’t realize they’re off the rugs and across the floor until the frigid chill rushes through them.

It’s uncomfortable- their knees will be bruised by the morrow, scrapes along their backs will sting while in the bath, and a crick won’t leave Ysilla’s neck for half a moon. But the stone cools their overheated skin and together is where they still want to be, so all else falls to the wayside.

Their mouths have drawn back to each other, Ysilla’s tongue dancing over his back teeth and the roof of his mouth, mapping a place she can only dream of revisiting after tonight. Aemond pulls away and Ysilla’s teeth in his bottom lip scold him for his interruption. He smirks, giving her a departing peck to soothe her sour mood.

“I need to meet her properly, Princess.” He says with an uncharacteristic amount of mirth, leaning her back as he dips down to her lower body.

Ysilla is bone-weary and dehydrated, but even she knows that doesn’t make any sense. She cocks her head in confusion, watching him as he settles on his front, his face so close to her center, the hot damp of his breath makes her quiver.

“Who is her- oh! Oh, Seven Hells, Aemond, fucking please-”

Aemond eats her with a fervor she’s never known, a man starved before being offered the bounty between her legs. Shrill gasps and pitched moans are sounds she thought herself incapable of making, but they sing aloud, her walls stowing them in their stones.

Her thighs are tight around his head, but the cushioned flesh does nothing to block out her calls of ecstasy. Music to his fucking ears, he slurps, undignified and ravenous, the parched dryness in his throat at last quenched as he swallows down Ysilla’s honey. No wine, no water could ever satisfy him like she does.

She thrashes about on the unforgiving stone, her nails clawing at the ground so harshly that they chip. He’s sending her into madness, unrelenting in his licking even as she kicks at his sides. She’s too sensitive, it’s too much.

And then, the realization that he is not only lapping up her arousal but his as well, zings up her spine and has her gushing all over his tongue.

She can’t control herself anymore. Her worries have faded into nothingness as the night has gone on, as she had bounced on Aemond’s cock and came into his mouth and he into hers, and they’ve drank down one another’s spit and sweat and sex. She’s whimpering and whining, squeaky sounds with no words, only what her voice is capable of making. The pathetic, needy gasps draw Aemond’s attention immediately. He rises, hovering over her, pulling up her knees to frame his hips. He slides himself home, not being able to breathe until he bottoms out, fully planted inside of her.

She whimpers louder as he faces her, the effects of the potion hitting their last peak.

“Let me see you. Let me see you.” Ysilla begs, distraught that there’s still something keeping them apart. They should be bare- exposed and raw and free. They’ve already come this far- it’s all or nothing.

Even with her few words, Aemond understands her completely. He doesn’t give himself time to think, time to let self-consciousness tear and twist him up as he rips off his eyepatch.

Ysilla sees him- truly sees him- his scar, the jagged split of his brow, the brilliant blue sapphire twinkling a wink at her as it glitters in the low light.

“You’re so handsome.” And then she cries- big, fat, bulbous tears that spill from the corner of her eyes and streak over her cheeks.

Aemond wants to comfort her, shush her and stroke her hair. Do all the things he should do with a lover that’s not only a lover, but his kin as well. A sweet girl he remembers always drawing for him on his nameday, sketching pictures of fearsome dragons. And as the years dragged on, they continued to evolve, growing fiercer and more detailed and she would always say the same thing when she gifted it to him: “this year, Uncle, this year you’ll find your match, I know it.” And here he is now, the Queen of the Skies his dragon, as if Ysilla herself had manifested it to life.

But that was so long ago now that it seems a different lifetime, and Aemond realizes he doesn’t really know his niece. He doesn’t know what she likes and what she doesn’t, and that worries him more than he’s comfortable with.

“Can’t... take… much… more.” She gulps down a breath after each word. Aemond’s thrusts push so deeply into her guts, that there now seems to be no room for her lungs. He hums, the vibration tickling where they’re pressed chest-to-chest.

“Yes you can, jorrāelagon. You’ve done so well, taken everything I’ve given you. You’ve made me so proud, sweet girl.” He may not know how to soothe her, but Aemond has a knack for telling someone just what they need to hear. Only with Ysilla, he speaks no falsehoods. He whispers his admiration in her ear, keeping her close by a hand cupping her jaw, forcing her to listen to all of his praises, all the while snaking his hand down between them to pinch at her pearl.

Small hiccuping gasps couple with her agonized moans; the pride, the pleasure, the pain, all of it an elixir he drinks down his throat as she connects their lips once more, a soft tremble in hers that he soothes with his tongue. They cum together, less intense than their lasts, but still just as satisfying. Aemond spills inside of her, her silken walls milking him for every drop in his fucked out cock. He moans, long and loud into her neck and she peppers his cheek with kisses, her breathing heavy. He collapses, further down on her body so he doesn’t constrict her chest.

The evening tempo of her breathing beneath his cheek has Aemond focusing on his own, and the two spent lovers take a much needed break to collect themselves.

Tremors still shake her thighs, the creamy fawn flesh jumping from overstimulation. Aemond presses a kiss to the inside of her knee, a sweet assurance of relief hopefully not far behind their releases. She pets his hair, no energy left to even raise her head. He rises back up to look upon her face, wiping away a stray tear from her lash. She nuzzles into his hand and it all finally feels like enough.

Until it isn’t. Until the lust fills them up once more, water in a pail, and it overflows and sloshes thickly in their bellies until they’re sick with it.

Ysilla sobs brokenly, exhausted and at her wits end. Aemond shudders for breath, the pain in his stones throbbing incessantly for relief. They’ll lose their minds if they keep going- chasing an endgame that is unattainable.

Aemond digs deep, attempting to collect himself and become the man Ysilla needs him to be. He tucks her legs around his hips, crossing her ankles behind him, and rises up to his feet with her draped around him.

He carries them both on shaky legs, drifting along the wall for support until he rounds the corner to her privy. The golden casted tub is filled halfway with what was once steaming, boiled water but has now grown cool. He swings a leg over the edge, trying not to collapse, Ysilla still wrapped around him like a second skin and settles them both into the pool.

The Princess crumbles, falling to pieces as they’re engulfed by the water. Her heartbeat still thrums from between her legs, her nipples scraping at Aemond’s chest for attention, as if he had not lauded them with his tongue until they were bruised and sore. The undying urge to mate is at her throat, its teeth gnashing at her veins and claws piercing her hips, ushering her to fucklicksuckfuck again and again and again until her brain would be lost to the lust.

But her body is done- every muscle expended, every limb weighted, every bone crushed to nothing but dust. All she can manage to do is whimper softly from where she’s pressed into her lover’s chest.

Aemond cups her face, raising her up so that he can look upon her. She’s a sculpture of desire: lips puffy and rubbed red, cheeks flushed, eyes teared and heavy. He did this to her.

“One more, love. One more and then we’ll stop.” He promises, the need too heavy in his cock, thickening his member until it lies straight up against her stomach.

She nods stiffly, spreading her thighs until they mirror his hips. He taps the head of himself at her entrance, a gentleman waiting for the lady to make the first move. He doesn’t have to wait long, Ysilla pushing forward and taking his cock in full until their bellies rest flat against each other. She’s as tight as the first time, and the stretch is not lost on her either, her groan equal parts pained and pleased.

Aemond’s hands are worshiping as he trails down the elegant column of her neck, the slope of her shoulder, the bloom of her breast, until he finds the small of her back and hugs her tight. They just dance, slow and steady, rolling their hips together, the water shifting with their union. They rest their foreheads against one another, eyes closed and noses brushing.

Aemond isn’t sure who leans in first- he thinks it may have been him but Ysilla will say the opposite. Their mouths slot together, innocent and vestal and it’s so much less eager than the times before, but it makes it all the more intimate. He moans weakly and she coos, her hands coming to cradle his face, the breaths they share one in the same. Somehow, it’s as if this exposes them more to each other than being joined so sensuously. A simple press of their lips, doing more for them than a thousand slippery tongues or nimble fingers.

A gentle wash of pleasure, one that raises goosebumps along their arms and makes their breaths hitch is all that they get and then suddenly, finally, the call for gratification quiets and all prince and princess are left with is the drip of water off the edge of the tub. Ysilla sighs heavily, sounding every bit thankful and spent. Aemond takes a breath that feels like his first, and he sags against the resistance at his back.

Everything is still, weariness seeping into them like ink to parchment. Aemond thinks he could doze off right here, Ysilla a comforting weight atop of him, his manhood still nestled in her center.

Her palm is gentle on his cheek, her thumb rubbing back and forth in a tender sweep that stirs his eyelid to open. She’s beautiful, even in her enervation and he lets himself savor this moment. The world has paused for them, and it will not go on unless they will it to.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” She whispers, afraid to shatter the silence. A final brush of her thumb over his bottom lip, softer than a feather, is her parting gift. She unseats herself from him, and even if she’s the one who wants to leave, her cunt does not agree. Her walls grasp at every ridge and vein of his prick, a caress goodbye until at last they part. Ysilla floats backwards, away from him, and the fact that he has an urge to catch her wrist and pull her back until she’s closer than skin terrifies him.

She curls into a ball at the other side of the tub, an ocean away, and brings her knees to tuck under her chin. She stares at him unflinchingly and he stares back, tiredness glazing over them both.

Aemond sighs deeply. One of them has to be the first to depart and since his quarters are on the other side of the castle, he begrudges that it is him who will have to make an exit.

“I should go.”

Ysilla’s face is serene, every drop of willpower left in her battling the urge to slip beneath the water and fade away. She nods, a wooden lift and fall of her head.

“I think that’s best… I’m sure the whole castle knows what we’ve been up to.”

Why her response stings, he won’t let himself dwell over. Nothing’s changed (everything has changed), they will soon return to their routines and carry on with their lives (neither one of them will be able to think of anything else but each other for the better part of a year). He rises from the water, stepping out and over the tub, reaching for a linen to at least try and make himself decent.

It is she who catches his wrist in reality, her thin fingers looping over the bones until she surrounds him like shackles.

“But… maybe…” Her eyes traverse their way down his body, revisiting the spots she had tasted, had bitten, had sucked. Her tongue snakes out, wetting her swollen flesh and he has to think of the night he lost his eye, the stench of manure, anything to keep the blood from rushing to his spent cock.

“Gods, Aemond, what’s one more bad decision tonight?” She’s not looking for an answer, not out loud, looking deep into his eye instead. Searching for an understanding she’s not sure is there.

“Stay? With me?” Even after all the carnal ways they’ve explored each other, it’s those three pleading words that send Ysilla’s heart galloping in her chest as she voices them.

He stares at her, unanswering and still, and dread creeps up her neck in a cold chill.

“Your chamber is a mess. We both need to eat and drink something other than wine. Not to mention sleep.” Aemond states stonily. Ysilla swallows passed the knot in her throat, sinking deeper into the water. Her fingers release him and she drifts away, in both body and mind.

Aemond catches her fingers, and he threads his through hers like they’re meant to be there. He rubs small, soothing circles about her knuckles, and he brings them to his mouth on pure instinct, and presses a chaste kiss to the bones.

“So I best bring you to my room then, to make sure all of that happens, no?”

Aemond smiles first before Ysilla returns it widely. Hers is the sun appearing from behind a cloud, warmth bathing him, and welcoming him home.

qrugh . shit

Qybor, kostilus . Uncle, please

Nākostōbā taoba . Weak boy

(I want this!) Bisa, bisa, bisa, fuck, gaoman gaoman. I want you, Gods, nyke jaelagon ao! . This, this, this, fuck, I do I do. I want you, Gods, I want you!

Sȳz riña . Good girl

ñuha pretty līve . my pretty whore

ñuha zaldrīzes . my dragon

Jorrāelagon . love

#hotd #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen smut #aemond one eye #ysilla targaryen #hotd sex pollen #hotd kink #hotd pwp

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platinumshawnn · 5 months ago

Text

Bound by Blood and Fire -- benjicot blackwood x tully!oc (pt i)

A/N: Hi, if it's terrible and has some stupid stuff in it that doesn't make sense i beg of you to pity and be gentle with me as it was written over the course of a spontaneous overnight shift that turned into a sixteen hour work day <33 Also, character was given a name because I don’t like writing “y/n”

Masterlist

backward | forward

Synopsis: Lady Tully and Kermit travel to Raventree to reunite with a long-time family acquaintance amidst finalizing the details of the pending nuptials with Lord Blackwood.

"To my dear Lady Serra," he announced loudly enough for all to hear, "who, I am told, has a tongue as sharp as her needlework. Pray, let's hope she proves as skilled with her wifely duties as she is with her embroidery."

warning(s): Mentions of blood, era related content/sexism/violence, adult language (i.e., innuendos), mentions of arranged marriage, mentions of family physical violence (father-son, shoving).

word count: 6.6k

Lady Tully was not the type who particularly enjoyed wandering beyond the walls of Riverrun. She only ever left the safe confines of its boundaries under circumstances in which she had little to no other choice -- if only by force of her father’s hands by whatever command; often it was an event of necessity in which her father insisted her presence was vital, “To put on a strong, united front -- that the House of Tully and its members remain united as ever.”

It was always a conversation that required a lot of begging on her father’s side, pleading with his daughter to see reason, and often ended in a bribe that would prompt her to reluctantly agree. She wasn’t one for negotiating and often did not want more than to be left alone with her books, to stay back at home in the comfort of her library, but she was stubborn and would only cave out of guilt and obligation for her dear father. She truly did love the man -- as did her love her; his little dove.

She hadn’t been nearly as close to him as a child, but following her mother’s passing, she and her father had worked to build something of a relationship. Before that moment, she had always been closer to her mother -- a kind, soft-spoken woman who embodied what it was to be a proper household lady; one who upheld duty and honor. She was loving and gentle with her children, and if her daughter had been anything like her, she would have been the perfect woman to model her likeness after. Instead, she had been considered odd -- a little “out of sorts” according to other children of House Tully, who had relentlessly teased her as a child. She could recall the years of sneers and jabs, tugging on her dress and pushing her into mud puddles, leaving her sobbing in the fields behind her home. And despite her mother wishing she had just enjoyed playing “lady of the house” and making pretend with the other girls, or wishing that she enjoyed dresses and fantasizing about the day she was married to a doting husband like the other girls her age, the sight of her daughter running inside with tear streamed cheeks; covered in dirt and desperately reaching for her mother with her chubby hands as a young child, her mother’s facade would drop; all those selfish wishes out the window as she consoled the girl who clung to her skirt. If there was anything she remembered about her mother, it was how fiercely she loved her children and how willing she was to set fire to the realm to protect them despite her gentle nature.

And often on days like this, she yearned to have just one more moment like that with her mother.

The ride to Raventree Hall was long and silent as the two siblings sat across from each other, having not said a word to one another since their journey had begun two days prior. Kermit had tried to spark conversation by making small talk, making the odd comment about the weather, or the journey -- he had even tried to scold her on the first day, face pinched into a scowl of annoyance when his hours of rambling and several attempts at even joking with her were left unanswered.

“You can’t ignore me forever -- please, you have to see reason, sister. I did not have any other choice.” He pleaded, reaching across to attempt to take her hand, her gaze only briefly turning to look at him, eyes scanning his face as she had noted the way his shoulders dropped; slumping forward and looking defeated as though he had just lost some bet. “If I had had any other choice, I assure you I would have taken it.”

Since then, she hadn’t even bothered to look at him. More often than not, she felt his gaze on her, watching her carefully as though he was waiting for her to change her mind and say something. More often than not, he would be met with silence and not even as much as a look in return, only to then realize she was stubbornly still behind decision to ignore him and huffing in frustration before looking out the other window of the carriage that rocked and swayed over the bumpy trail. She knew they were nearing Raventree and despite that she was not happy with the circumstances of her presence there, she would be grateful to get out of the small space she’d shared with her brother for too long -- although the memory was vague and distant, shrouded in fog, she could recall this journey from a time in her childhood; clinging to her mother’s hand while Kermit and Oscar excitedly babbled to their father about their time spent there, spewing stories of their training and the mischief they had gotten into with the Heir himself. She just needed space from him.

“I do not understand….” Kermit suddenly said, her gaze still fixed out the window to look over the vast pastures that seemed to stretch on forever. The only thing that implied otherwise was that if she squinted close enough, really focused, she could make out the shape of the Brackens estate, Stone Hedge, fully aware that somewhere between here and there there was some invisible line that separated the two houses. “I do not understand why it is such a big deal to you. Of all the lords and their heirs…” he spat, that same temper she had become all too familiar with boiling over the edge once more, ”I combed through the realm as best I could, as painstaking as it was to ensure you were promised the best match, I did it. I searched high and low for someone with honor and loyalty, a husband who I could guarantee would treat you well. Of everything I have done for you…and you can’t even be grateful for all the effort I have made?” He rambled, scoffing.

Her gaze darted up towards the sky as she wrung her hands, the orange hues of sunset blending into something beautiful as she processed his words; her chest rose with a sudden sharp inhale as her chest seemed to fill with emotion she couldn’t quite put her finger on -- frustration? Anger? Grief?

“You know Benjicot-- we have known him since we were children. He is a dear friend of mine and I would trust him with my life, sister.” Kermit added, his gaze burning into the side of her face.

Her left hand rose, fingers coming to her lips and absentmindedly rubbing across them as she fought the urge to anxiously chew at the skin there; to gnaw until they were bloody. She suddenly dropped the hand back into her lap, “But I did not choose him, Kermit.” She suddenly replied, her hands clenched into fists so hard her nails dug into her palms as her gaze finally turned to him. It was then, for the first time in two days, that his features softened as though he was relieved to just get as much of a word in response -- that finally he was not just speaking into the air, met with silence; even if she did not agree with him, he appeared grateful and even guilt-struck as she stared at him. “You could not have even given me that decency at least.”

Kermit nodded, a meek gesture as his gaze dropped briefly to look down and away from her. He was silent for a moment, her attention being fixated back out the window to take in the last of their journey and the sights that came with it as a silence fell over them once more that she broke again after a pause. “He tore that blue dress I used to love…do you remember that?” She suddenly spoke.

Kermit frowned, his head tilting to the side as he looked at her with his mouth opening, searching through any memories he had of them as children alongside a young Ben. She looked at him again, scanning his face as though she was hoping for a sign of recognition to her prompt. “With the red stitching, I wore it all the time when I was ten and two. Mother had gotten it for me on my name day just before she died.” She explained, her voice softening slightly as she recalled the memory — and suddenly, there, she saw the recognition cross her brother’s features as his eyes went wide and eyebrows rose with his mouth open in the shape of an ‘o’.

“You wouldn’t leave your chamber without it— you caused quite the stir anytime anyone suggested you wear another one.” He suddenly said, sitting up straighter with a small smile on his face.

“You don’t remember what he did, do you?” She asked again. She could see the confusion sink in, struggling to grasp the memory. “He tore it right down the back of the skirt— stomped his heel right into it and shoved me into a puddle twice the size of me. He said it looked stupid— that the sigil was crooked. He ripped it and Father forced me to burn it, saying it smelled so bad it was lingering all through the house. It was the last gift I had from her.” She quietly explained, her hands suddenly clasping to one another and wringing themselves as she looked down at them.

Suddenly it dawned on him. Kermit had only caught bits of it and had not been present when it happened, but he remembered that day — behind Raventree just six moons since their mothers passing; Benjicot had just received his new dagger as a gift from his uncle as a gift on his name day and had been quite proud of it. Kermit had been so preoccupied with their sparring game he had hardly noticed. Even when he did, he did not think that things would escalate so quickly. He’d heard the sudden yelling after Ben had tripped over her, not seeing where she was crouched, distracted by a caterpillar that was crawling along her hands that she hadn’t noticed him when she stood up suddenly from the tall grass. Ben had been rushing backward and tumbled over her, sending the pair into the mud — and while Ben didn’t mind mud, he didn’t appreciate the gash in his arm from his dagger just nicking his bicep when he fell.

Shame filled him as he recalled looking away and not intervening as Benjicot had gotten into her face, hurling insults at the poor girl who was more distracted by trying to find her bug companion to even issue an apology; wide-eyed and teary-eyed as she looked up at him in absolute terror. Even as children, Benjicot had had a temper, crushing the bug in her hand and shoving her — only then did Kermit rush to her aid and intervene. He knew Benjicot had felt bad for the whole situation, guilt and shame on his face as soon as he had done it — Kermit had seen the tears in his eyes even; only to then be hurried back to the house to be tended to for his wound. But he realized there had never been any apology afterward and in the years following, there hadn’t been many opportunities to speak about it or mend things as they hardly found themselves in each other’s company.

“How can you promise that he will be good to me?” She asked, interrupting her brother’s thoughts.

He suddenly looked at her again, his voice wavering in confidence, “He’s grown, sister. He is not the same boy he once was.” Kermit tried to reason, knowing the truth behind it — Benjicot had grown and matured since they had last seen each other; learned to cool his temper where necessary. But that didn’t seem to be enough for his sister, a grim look on her face as her mouth pressed into a fine line, eyes narrowing slightly, her skepticism written clearly on her face.

“He will make a loyal and dutiful husband, I promise you. Is that not what matters?” He asked, pleading with her.

“I did not choose him, Kermit.” She said once more. “I did not want this.”

—

They had fallen into silence once more following their conversation and she had returned to not looking at him for the rest of their ride. Thank the Gods, it was only an hour more, but Kermit wasn’t sure if he felt more relieved or discomforted by the conversation; eyes on her and chewing his nails as the guilt he had suppressed these past two days returned, rearing its ugly head in his face. Maybe he had rushed her too soon and been rash in his decision — maybe he should have fought harder to postpone any betrothals or for anyone else. But it seemed to be a cause too far gone to be possible to turn back on now as they pulled into the gates of Raventree.

Kermit had gotten out first, offering his hand to his sister who was slow to follow in stepping out of the carriage to where Lord Samwell and his counsel stood ready to greet them. He’d been relieved that she had accepted it, though her apprehension was visible as she eyed it before taking it and stepping down the stairs, hanging close to his side as they approached the house. Lord Samwell immediately stepped forward, excited at their arrival but containing it as he smiled at the pair, "Kermit, it is an honor to host you at Raventree Hall as usual. I’m glad to see you made it safely.” He said, his attention turning to his sister just as she offered a polite smile and a curtsy to the Lord, “Lady Tully, it is a pleasure to see you again, too. It has been many moons since we have last seen one another— though, I presume we will be seeing more of each other soon.”

"Thank you, Lord Samwell. I bring warm regards from my father as well as his regrets as he could not join us tonight, he will be arriving later tomorrow instead -- he had some business to attend to.” Kermit replied, a hand reaching out to his sister and encouraging her hand to his elbow as he looked between the two, “He sees great promise in this match and believes it will bring strength and unity to the Riverlands. My sister, Lady Serra, is eager to meet Benjicot -- seems she hasn’t seen much of him since she was all but… ten?”

Samwell chuckled, “Come now, Kermit, there is no need for such formalities so soon. You’ve only just arrived.” He said, encouraging the younger man to approach and come inside, “I imagine your sister and Benjicot will have much to catch up on, but first I imagine she would like to get settled. Melinda, see to it that Lady Tully’s belongings are brought to her chambers immediately.”

Kermit’s face flushed in embarrassment, a subtle pink that spread up his neck and into his cheeks as the older Lord led them inside; the Tully’s sharing a glance as they timidly followed indoors, just as a slew of servants hurried to gather their belongings from the carriage, brushing past them. “I do apologize for my son’s absence— seems he decided now was conveniently the best time to go on a hunt with his cousins. Though I do imagine you are as best familiar with his antics as anyone.” Samwell rambled, glancing back to Kermit with a knowing look — even through the humor in his tone, she could sense his annoyance.

As they entered the hall, her gaze wandered to scan their surroundings, reminded once again of the few visits she had taken there in her childhood. “You have a beautiful home, Lord Blackwood. I forgot…how beautiful it is out this way.” She softly said, just as the trio stopped near the door of the stairs, Samwell’s face pulling into a smile.

“Soon enough this will be your home, too. I want you to feel as at home as you do in Riverrun— if there is anything we might be able to do to make your stay more comfortable, please,” he said, stepping forward to take her free hand in his. “Do not hesitate to ask. I will see to it myself that all your needs are met.” Lord Samwell stated, his tone laced with sincerity.

She stared at his hand over hers for a moment, freezing at the gesture and sucking in a deep breath as her gaze was forced up to his face. A polite smile once again graced her features, “Thank you.”

“I’ll have Alistair show you to your room— I imagine you would like to rest. Are you hungry at all, my lady?” He inquired, a look of concern etched into his features as he waited for her reply, releasing her hand as she then took the chance to pull away from her brother with a quick look in his direction.

Maybe it was the uneasiness at the realization she was now in his territory, but the thought of food churned her stomach, “No, no. I am fine, thank you, Lord Blackwood. As you said, I thought I might get settled and rest ahead of tomorrow’s feast. It has been a long journey.” She explained, her voice sweet as she spoke, the same polite small never leaving her face — however, she was eager just to get away from the stifling reality of just what was in store for her over the next couple of weeks. She watched as the Lord nodded, waving over a guard who hung close to his right, stepping forward with the gesture.

“Alistair, see to it that Lady Tully finds her room okay.” Samwell instructed, his attention turning to her brother. “The young Lord Tully and I have matters to discuss then.”

Kermit’s gaze once again bored into her as she began to follow the guard, her head turning to look over her shoulder at him; though they were silent, she gave him a look that assured she was okay — a small nod that was subtle, but enough assurance for her brother to nod back and follow Lord Samwell as he began to stride in the opposite direction towards a gathering room.

—

She didn’t know how long had passed. It could have been minutes, hours, days even — she wasn’t even aware at this point. She had been too lost in the sight of the flames that licked at the singed walls of the fireplace to even pay much attention; having curled up with her knees to her chest as she sat on the floor in front of it, playing with the ends of her hair that had been braided and laid over her shoulder. Some young servant girls had been sent to help in unpacking and getting settled in, but just as quickly as they had arrived, they were gone and since then, she had taken to her spot on the floor and had yet to move. The castle was silent at this point, though, aside from the distant shouts of guards who were still hankering down for the night, sinking into the routine of night shift.

It was only when her stomach grumbled that she thought to move, her joints aching with the movement as she pushed herself to her feet and brushed off her skirts, debating on dragging herself from her room to venture down the hallways in hope she could find something to eat. Though she doubted she would have any luck, she had timidly opened her door, coming face to face with the guard who had lead her to her room hours prior posted outside — his expression hinted confusion and curiosity as she emerged from her room, stepping into the hallway, “My lady?”

“I was wondering if it was possible to get something to eat— I understand it’s late, I just…” she quietly said, her hands smoothing over the fabric of her gown.

He seemed to consider her request, nodding after a short pause and turning, “Follow me, my lady.”

She was quiet as she followed the guard — an older man, probably near that of her father’s age and without hair, stoic and still-faced. With her hands clasped in front of her as he lead her through the hallways, she was lead down the stairs back towards where they had entered earlier, her eyes taking this opportunity to better scan the contents of the walls — the artwork that displayed paintings of the Blackwood’s sigil and their history. In better lighting, she could presume it would be breathtaking, but in the dark there was almost eerie shadow cast upon them, making each line look more harsh than the next; like the paintings were staring down at her, watching her every move.

Her gaze was torn away at the sound of voices carrying from the meeting room her brother had descended to when they had parted ways, laughter heard through the doors as she gathered her skirts in her hands, lifting them out of her way as she walked down the stairs; ensuring she did not trip over them, her eyes fixed on the large, ceiling tall doors. She had wondered what the source to her brother’s laughter was— surely, forcing her hand to a man she hardly knew was not a laughing matter? Her eyebrows furrowed as she stopped at the base of the stairs, her head turned to face the doors, despite Alistair calling her name in an effort to regain her focus on the task at hand, but his calls fell on deaf ears. She slowly approached the doors, the two guards standing outside them sharing a look before looking down at the woman, who reached out; fingers brushing the wood of the doors, curious...

The two guards moved, pushing the doors open for her, prompting them to swing open at the nod of Alistair, who had long given up on stopping her. The doors opened to reveal her brother and Lord Samwell sat at the table, caught mid-laughter as she entered; hands filled with goblets of what she could only assume was wine. Their laughs died down as their attention was suddenly turned to take in her startled appearance, her hand still raised to reach out in front of her as she looked between them. Lord Samwell cleared his throat, her brother and him both standing at her arrival, “My lady, what a surprise.” He greeted, his head bowing to her, a smile on his face. “Benjicot, here, was just telling us about his hunt.” He announced, his eyes landing on his son to his right, sitting directly across from her brother.

Her gaze followed his, landing on the man who resembled nothing of the boy she had once known -- a handsome man grown, tall and lean in build, with broad shoulders adorned by a blood stained tunic and cloak. His hands were still stained with dried blood as he lifted his own cup to his mouth, taking a large gulp of its contents as he let out a muffled chuckle with full cheeks. The sight of blood on such a handsome face, however could have made her sick to her stomach.

“I thought you were asleep.” Kermit suddenly said, noticing her gaze frozen on the young man opposite of him, attempting to redirect the conversation as he stumbled over his chair in an effort to approach her. Her eyes only darted to him briefly as she watched him stagger towards her, obviously noticing his disheveled appearance and evident drunkenness. Benjicot’s gaze, too, followed his friend as he made his way across the room towards his younger sister, whose face screwed up in a look of disgust at her brother’s current state; the younger Blackwood Lord’s lips parted as the trace of a grin danced on the corners of his mouth, teeth bared as his tongue pressed against to the corner of his mouth. “We were just celebrating your marriage, here— sister, come toast with us.” Kermit slurred, stumbling into his sister, who reached out to catch him just as her brother slung an arm around her shoulders.

Her gaze lingered on her brother who giggled stupidly, her eyes downcast as her cheeks heated from the embarrassment of his behavior -- if only their father had been there to witness it.

Suddenly, Benjicot’s gruff voice spoke up, drawing attention from the three members of his audience as he stifled a laugh, “I have a toast. For my betrothed..” He announced, glancing around at the three as his eyes then stopped on her, catching her gaze and causing her cheeks to further burn. His words had even caused Samwell to stand at attention, eagerly awaiting his son’s next words as the young boy lord had to suppress a laugh, that same grin on his face as he then tilted his head.

Kermit let out a drunken snort from beside her clearly not understanding the suggestion in his state, her body tensing and becoming rigid as she stared back at him, her eyes widening in horror at his words. Even his father, who she could make out in the corner of her eye, looked horrified, his cup faltering as it had risen to the toast; only to be slammed down onto the table as she stood frozen in shock that the words had even just come from his mouth, his mouth now preoccupied with gulping down the remainder of his drink before dropping the cup to his plate with a loud clatter that caused her to jump timidly.

“Benjicot!”

“Oh, father, please…” Benjicot began to say, amusement laced in his words as he began to walk away from his seat and in her direction, “I only jest. Surely, Lady Tully knows that.” He said, dismissing his father as he looked at the woman who began to grab her brother by his waist, teeth clenched and avoiding his gaze suddenly and beginning to back away in the direction of the door she had just come through.

“Come, brother, I think it is time for bed.” She muttered, earning a laugh from Benjicot when Kermit stumbled over his own two feet in the attempt to turn around. Samwell quickly circled the table away from his seat, striding towards the pair with an outstretched hand.

“Here, let me help you.” He stated, concern laced in his warm voice.

“It is okay, we just…need to go to bed, right, Kermit?”

“Don’t be foolish, here.” Lord Samwell insisted, grabbing her brother’s opposite arm and hauling half his weight off her shoulders as he supported him in his walk towards the door and to the stairs to their rooms. “Alistair can help you both to your rooms-- I think we have all had enough for tonight.” Samwell stated, his head turning to look pointedly at his son.

Benjicot watched on as his father then exited the room, along with their sibling guests, pacing back towards the table where he leaned into it with his palms; preening to see watch as the doors were closed much to his disappointment -- though, he had caught a glimpse of Kermit standing up and waving off his sister as he clutched onto the staircase railing with a grumble. He let out a hum.

He knew that the servants would have a hay day with the dining room when they arrived to tidy it, dried bloody hand prints smeared across the furniture and dishes, the floors soaked by the rain he’d dragged in with him as he seemed to leave a trail of water behind him. He hovered over the table that was nestled right perfectly in the center of the room, the torchlight above still faintly glowing but slowly dying out as he plucked through the contents of what was leftover from dinner, his gaze cast down on the table as his father hurried back into the dining room where they had been gathered; hearing his footsteps approach as the doors were closed behind him.

“Could you not have had the decency to be kinder to her?” Samwell asked, his voice low as he stood opposite the table to where his son stood. “You’re already covered in blood, the poor girl is probably already scared enough as is-- you are going to scare this one off and we cannot afford…”

“She was your choice, father, yours. Not mine.” Benjicot replied with a sigh, as he glanced into a jug he had found amidst the scraps to confirm that there was indeed wine left at least, his mouth turning upside down and eyebrows raising briefly with a subtle shrug — not much left but it would suffice for the heir, taking an empty goblet that clanked against dishes as he plucked it with his free hand. Benjicot turned the goblet upside down, dumping out any remaining traces of drink that had been leftover, “She’s…a half-witted moron. I do not see why I must be the one to marry her. Why not you?” He said, sighing as he reached for another couple of grapes from the table, tossing them into his mouth and washing them down with a gulp of wine.

Samwell watched on as his son moved to sit, mouth partially agape in utter horror at his words. There was no doubt that Benjicot had not been keen to the idea of marriage these past couple of years -- not since his mother had passed, but there was no denying the shame his words brought their house. Samwell tensed, seething as he sucked in a sharp inhale as his gaze went to the doors that may have been the only source to conceal his insult from the prying ears of Kermit Tully and his sister; abruptly lunging forward and across the room towards his son, who had been mid-sit, however jumping straight back up on his feet just as his father reached him. The two men were suddenly face to face, Lord Samwell’s face screwed up in a scowl of disgust whilst grabbing the collar of his son’s cloak in a stumbled wrestle of Benjicot’s free hand coming up as if to shield himself with the still half full goblet in his other hand.

“You— petulant, spoiled child.” Samwell hissed, shoving his son backwards on his feet, knocking him into the side of the chair he had once gone to sit in; an arm flying out to grasp for something to catch himself and instead losing the goblet that had been in his hand in a clatter of dishes and food being flung from the table to the floor. Benjicot’s eyes were wide as he stumbled back over the mess, his wine spilled somewhere between the table and floor, his sleeve stained and sticky against his wrist from the fall as he landed on his backside; left staring up at his father, who had let him go and caught himself against the table.

His eyes wide, mouth open like a fish out of water, stuttering, “Wh- wha — ” he had begun to say, hurrying to stand back up on his feet, scuttling back a few steps as his father fought the urge to lunge for him again, Benjicot’s gaze going down to his legs; watching, waiting — like his training, awaiting his opponent's next move but yet cowering like a scared child as they stared back at one another, both breathing heavily in the aftermath. The servant girl who had entered to help with cleaning up had even been startled by the outburst and gone cowering out of the dining hall; seeking shelter in the kitchen with her cloth in her hands. Benjicot glanced towards the table and door quickly, his left hand wiping off the slick of wine on his tunic, squaring his shoulders as he attempted to stand upright, straight as a board and regain his usual composure that eluded some false facade that his father had not bested him and that he was brave even in the face of his rage. He swallowed, his mouth closing as he looked back at his father, who was still evidently stewing in his fury, his fist clenching finally as he let out a frustrated sigh that bounced off the walls.

“Do you not understand how much I have done for you? To secure your future? As my heir?” Samwell growled, approaching his son again who took a quick two-step backward, nearly bumping into another chair, his feet banging into silverware that had fallen to the floor. Samwell Blackwood was typically a cool, level-headed man — never one to put a hand on his son, even when he acted up and defied his orders in his youth — but now, amidst the war looming near, something about his words had caused something inside him to snap. His shoulders slumped, relaxing, as his fist unclenched with another sigh as he took another couple of steps towards him, his hand reaching up to grab Benjicot’s face, “This war is bigger than just you and I, bigger than some childish feud over stones and boundary lines with the Brackens, Benjicot. The Brackens have declared for Aegon—”

Benjicot’s wide eyes stared at his father, swallowing thickly as he spoke, processing his words. Of course, the Brackens would declare for Aegon—

“This will be a war of dragons. This war will bring all of the realm to its knees.” Samwell said, voice low enough that just the two of them could hear. His hand released his face, going to the back of his neck, “We must be prepared and find strength in our allies. Our house must live on. You must secure the longevity and future of this house— it is your birthright, Benjicot. Just as it was mine before, and my father’s before. If I die, this house is yours. Do you understand?” He muttered, his tone now pleading as he searched his son’s face, eyes wild and desperate as they awaited some response from him that suggested he understood.

Benjicot felt as his father’s grip tightened around the nape of his neck, squeezing and giving him an abrupt shake that was more of a jerk, his eyes still wide in shock at his father’s outburst. His father’s eyebrows rose as he gave a weak, timid nod in reply, hesitant as he grits his teeth and clenched his jaw, “Yes?”

Benjicot nodded again, more confidently this time, “I understand.” He said.

Samwell hesitated, blinking a couple of times before he nodded too, releasing his son and frowning as he glanced down, mumbling something incoherent that resembled ‘good’ before he glanced at the mess he had made. Benjicot remained tense and frozen in place even after his hold was gone, hands falling to his sides as his father slowly receded towards the door that led back to where the Tullys were left, at the landing of the stairs. “Ser Eryn, see to it that this is…tidied up, fetch the servant girl. We are expecting guests tomorrow…for the heir’s betrothal feast.” He quietly said, approaching the guard who stood by the door, leaving his son in his spot as he withdrew to his chambers for the night. The guard nodded in response to his father’s order, not even glancing at Ben as he walked past the kitchen to fetch the girl as instructed.

Ben waited for a few moments before he timidly followed his father’s path towards the door figuring he was best to get some rest ahead of the day’s festivities. He paused at the doors before opening them to smooth out his bloodied tunic, straightening his cloak and once again, squaring his shoulders as he stood upright and attempted to regain some sort of composure; knowing that Kermit and his Lady sister were presumably just behind those doors, waiting. He sucked in a deep breath with one last glance to the floor, his mouth pressed into a tight line; his bottom lip quivering for a moment as he stifled a cry, sniffling to himself once, twice… he lifted his head, using his sleeve to wipe his nose and blinking back any sign of weakness in the form of a tear before he shoved the door open and emerged from the dining room. There, as expected, Kermit and Serra stood, their eyes on him and failing to suppress their pitiful looks as Benjicot found his usual stoic gaze, and expression blank as he nodded his head in the direction of the siblings.

Kermit’s expression hardened, nodding back in return, in part because he understood — a silent understanding between the two young men. Benjicot’s gaze then shifted to the girl who stood on the second to last stair, clutching onto the railing as the dying orange glow from the torches of the hall lit up her expression; her gaze softening as she looked on at him, her expression something of sadness, “Benjicot…” she quietly said, his name a breathy sound on her lips.

“I apologize for my appearance, my lady. I did not anticipate you to already be here upon my return.” He gruffly said, voice quiet. “I would have cleaned up had I known.”

He held her eye, watching as the wheels turned in her brain, confused by his sudden change and reaction as she glanced around before blinking rapidly and nodding, “It’s alright, I…understand you were away on a hunt.” She mumbled, voice soft.

“I assure you I will be cleaned up and much more presentable ahead of tomorrow’s celebrations.” He said, hesitating as he swallowed before taking the few steps to close the distance between them, his eyes darting briefly to Kermit who watched on; his eyes looking up at her from the end of the bottom step, their height difference only then balanced out by her leverage on the stairs as they were suddenly eye to eye for the first time. His right hand reached out for her left, inquiring as if to confirm it was okay before taking her hand in his, “You should get some rest. I will see you in the morrow.” He said, his gaze on hers as his head ducked, lifting her hand to his lips to press a gentle kiss to her knuckles before allowing her hand to drop from his. He watched as she gave him another timid nod just as he released her hand and began to walk up the stairs, brushing past her to withdraw to his bedchambers for the night, leaving the pair at the base of the stairs.

Benjicot appreciated the awaiting bath drawn for him when he returned to his rooms more than he ever had and wanted nothing more than to wash the events of the day off of him as he undid the pin to his cloak; sliding the fabric from his shoulders and throwing it over a chair as he walked further into the room. His expression was blank as he stared into the flames of the fire that had been started to keep his room warm enough to his liking as he stripped down. Once he was fully naked, he approached the tub and stepped in, slowly sinking himself into the warmth of the water that came up to his chest once he was sat flush in the tub, his hands still gripping the ledges. Quickly, he could already see the blood that had stained itself into every little crevice of his skin wash off and rather, mingle into the water in diluted swirls as the dirt, grime and blood dyed the water. He sucked in a deep breath before sliding forward, submerging his head under the water.

TAGLIST: @deltamoon666 @drwho-ess @callsigncrushx @clarityisnofun @jhepolie @juhdoche , @username199945

#benjicot blackwood #benjicot blackwood x reader #benjicot x reader #davos blackwood fic #davos blackwood #davos x reader #davos blackwood x reader #bloody ben #hotd #hotd 2 #house of the dragon

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awrkive · 2 months ago

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drabble where tlp jk first met miss oc pls 🥹 thinking about him having an instant crush cos shes so pretty while studying med in the law lib 😞

summary: in which jk meets oc for the first time w/c: 1.5k

note: the timeline is second week of first year med school. first time jk sees oc and immediately harbors an instant crush 🤧🫠 also if u see an error pls ignore im sleepy bye enj lmao

[11:20am] jjaman: here at the law lib 2nd floor

That’s the last text Jungkook sees on his phone from his friend, Jimin – a third year law student in the same grad school he’s enrolled in. Jimin and him have been close friends since birth, their families having been acquainted years before they were born.

Anyway, it’s only been two weeks since the term started – some of his professors have not even shown their faces yet, so he has all the leisure time to grab some lunch with his bestfriend because admittedly, he doesn’t know anybody yet in his own building. Jungkook met some familiar people from undergrad, but ultimately, med school is fresh and as cliche as it sounds – seems like a whole new world.

When he enters the law library, nothing of significance really catches his attention. He’s already visited the med library which is located at the left wing and the two are not really that different except that there are a bunch of casebooks everywhere he lands his eyes on.

As soon as he arrives at the second floor, he roams his eyes around to hopefully catch a sight of Jimin immediately (as Jungkook’s stomach has been craving for some big lunch, and he wants to eat expeditiously), but it is to his slight disappointment that he does not see a blond short guy around the area.

Nonetheless, Jungkook continues to wander around, spotting the wayfinder that says “Individual Study Area”. The cubicles are lined up against the glass wall, and across it are couches that he brings himself forward to to sit on.

When he settles himself on the leather, he goes for his phone, about to turn it on to text Jimin he’s already here. But then a sudden slight noise catches his attention; a pen falling from one of the cubicles.

Jungkook looks up from his device, looking at the source of the soft clattering sound. He catches the sight of a woman in a brown cashmere sweater with her hair pulled up, clipped in a maroon claw.

When you put your pen back to your table, Jungkook nearly stumbles over his seat when he sees your face.

He never believed in love at first sight. Thinks it’s way too… superficial. A romanticized myth to sell books and movies or whatever. He doesn’t subscribe to the notion of falling in love with a mere face – because frankly, that’s just not realistic.

But he begins to doubt that as he strays his eyes away from you when he catches himself staring longer than necessary.

Look, he’s seen pretty faces before. Had countless encounters with them. He’s used to the beauty of women and he’s young and hormonal enough to acknowledge when someone is gorgeous.

And you are definitely gorgeous. The kind of beauty that takes away someone’s breath because it’s so serene that it almost feels like you don’t belong in the same world because of the peacefulness and angelic grace that your face have – and that’s just merely your face.

Jungkook wonders what you sound like.

He shamelessly thinks this as he lets his gaze fall back to the random book on the table sitting across the couch, his heart lapsing a mile per second, totally not normal – and he tries to scold himself for it. It’s not your first time seeing a pretty woman. Jesus, get it together.

But it’s definitely the first time he’s seen you.

When another few seconds passed, Jungkook can’t help but look at your direction again. He catches you in the middle of you putting your elbow on the desk, leaning to the side of the cubicle, your body angled towards his direction. Your movements are lax as you flip through the pages of your book – something that looks familiar to him. When he gets a better look of the material, it is to his surprise, Netter’s ever famous Atlas of Human Anatomy.

That’s definitely the same book that his Anatomy professor assigned his class to buy through email.

With that information, Jungkook looks at you curiously, now wondering if you’re a med student or in law. It doesn’t make sense. Why would you be at the law library when you have your own medical sciences library around the university? Or… do law students learn about Anatomy, too, for… he doesn’t know – shit and giggles, probably?

Too deep in his thoughts, Jungkook doesn’t notice his staring that when you cock your head to the side, he feels his heart drop when your eyes meet his.

He quickly looks away, busying himself with his phone, cursing on the inside.

Shit. You must’ve thought he’s some creepy guy. Surely, he must’ve made you uncomfortable.

Panicking, he turns on his phone only to see two text messages from Jimin that were sent a few minutes ago.

[11:25am] jjaman: conference room 209 btw, near the resting zone

[11:30am] jjaman: where are you?

When Jungkook checks the time, it’s 11:35am.

“Shit,” he hisses under his breath, typing out a quick reply to Jimin.

[11:36am] Jungkook: individual study area. couch. but im standing up. wru?

[11:37am] jjaman: thought u got lost lol going there atm

Jungkook quickly stands up from the couch, slinging his backpack over one shoulder and pointedly avoids looking in your direction lest you’re looking at him currently for being weird just now.

He wouldn’t say he’s bad with women. They usually – thankfully – like the way he looks enough, and he’s not so bad at talking to them either.

But right now, he remembers the awkward Jungkook of high school and first few years of undergrad. The guy who’s way too in his head who got anxious at the prospect of talking to a woman. Especially to the pretty ones.

“There you are.”

He feels a light slap to his shoulder, and when he looks behind, it’s Jimin. With his blond hair and his bright smile.

“H-hey,” Jungkook clears his throat subtly. “You have any ideas for lunch?”

Jimin, obviously, oblivious to the dilemma that his best friend is having inside his head at the moment, chuckles at his words.

“Sure. Let’s go, I’ll drive us both to a nice bistro.”

They’re a few steps in ahead when Jungkook suddenly feels a slight feather-light touch to his shoulder.

When he turns around, he almost clutches his heart at the sight of you again.

“You left this at the couch earlier,” you say, lifting the hand that carries his brown leather wallet. And Jungkook knows he should be concerned about that – but hell, the way he was just thinking about what you probably sound like… it’s so much better to hear it himself, and so close like this.

“O-oh.” Jungkook doesn’t think he stammered or anything, just quickly takes his wallet from you and shyly turns his body towards Jimin so he avoids your eyes.

“It’s yours, right?” You smile.

And Jungkook thinks it’s over before he nods.

He knows he has an instant crush.

“Damn. Hey, be careful with your stuff next time,” Jimin butts in, nudging Jungkook a little. Then he looks at you with a soft expression, “Thanks, miss.”

You shake your head and with a small smile that feels too dashing for Jungkook’s own good, you say, “No worries. I’ll get back there.”

When Jimin nudges Jungkook again, he realizes he hasn’t thanked you at all.

With a surely flushed look, he turns to you and awkwardly say, “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Then you turn on your heels and walk away.

Jungkook casts one last glance at the cubicles, seeing you already having your back on him and getting back to studying.

As Jungkook and Jimin walk out of the building, Jimin points out, “What the hell are you so red for?”

Jungkook feels extremely called out when Jimin says that.

“It’s hot.”

“The law lib is famous for its extreme AC. Don’t lie.” Jimin rolls his eyes.

Scoffing, it’s now Jungkook’s turn to nudge Jimin.

“I’m telling you the truth.”

Jimin arches a brow at him, stares at him for a brief longer. When seconds passes, he finally stops interrogating Jungkook with his looks.

“Alright, fine.”

“Psh.”

Jungkook’s heart is still pounding, though.

The encounter was so fleeting, so random. But as Jungkook completely departs from the library, he can’t help but think about the girl he’s just seen. He felt something he hadn’t in a long time, maybe ever— an instant, overwhelming crush. His mind is flooded with your image, the serenity of your presence, the way you looked at him for just that split second and the way you noticed his wallet and gave it back to him.

And though he knows he's too shy to ever approach you again, the memory of you lingers, leaving him wondering what might have been.

#😩😩#jk with a huge huge crush 😭😭😭#fic: tlp #tlp drabbles

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assassin-artist · 6 months ago

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My X-Men OC, "Solar Flare". Infodump and random info below the cut

so first things first, she was originally a Destiny 2 OC. In d2 she was an immortal warrior with fire powers and complete amnesia about her past... When I first decided to revamp her into an X-Men OC I thought I should change that bc, umm, immortal with amnesia, that sounds like a familiar xmen character lol... but then I decided fuck it, she's my OC I get to make her however I want.

So, as an xmen OC, she is a mutant with a very strong healing factor, and the power to control/manipulate solar radiation, which mainly comes off in the form of fire. Her body naturally runs at a higher temp than normal, and though people assume this means she's resistant to heat, that's not true at all. Her body might be able to handle more heat than a normal human could, but she's still at risk of burning herself with her own powers if she's not careful - which, when it comes to herself, she's usually not. She's doesn't worry about it because of her healing factor, willing to burn herself if needed, but she is very worried about burning others or doing too much damage to the area around her. She absolutely hates the summer because of this, and loves the cold. Will have the AC blasting in her bedroom at all times lol

She still has complete amnesia regarding her past. Her first memory is of waking up in a decimated library on the outskirts of a ruined village in France. She sought information about her past for years, but kept "getting distracted" with wanting to help the people she came across in her travels. During this period of wandering, she went by a lot of different names - none of them chosen by her, though, as she enjoyed letting other people pick a new name for her to go by. She would eventually wind up making her way into America, where she ran into the early X-Men for the first time. After explaining her situation and powers, she's invited to join them in Xavier's school, but she's too hesitant to commit to a group that she doesn't fully trust, so she turns them down. Thus, she went back to searching for her memories.

Though she was afraid to commit to being a full time member of their group, she was still willing to help them in combat if she was nearby, and she still formed bonds with some of the members. In general she was easy to get along with, as others found her to be very patient and easygoing, she didn't like to argue over things. She became very fast friends with Wolverine due to their similar amnesiac circumstances, and he liked to call her Red-Hot as a nickname. She also got along well with Hank McCoy and liked having philosophical and religious conversations with Kurt Wagner.

Her personality is very... calm. She likes to just 'go with the flow' of things in life, so she rarely gets angry or loses her temper. Insult her and she'll probably just laugh it off, or ask why you're in such a bad mood. She loves kids and animals, and she tries to always be patient with others, especially those who are difficult to get along with. She's of the belief that the people who are hardest to love are those who might need it the most, and she's always willing to extend a helping hand to others with little in return. Patience is her strongest virtue.

Her biggest flaw is her fear of commitment. She's afraid of joining the X-Men as a full time member because she's worried she won't want to stay, she didn't want to be in any relationships despite being in love with someone because she was afraid she'd get flighty and want to leave it, and she won't even pick a proper name for herself because she's worried it wouldn't be right for her.

Eventually, with a lot of time and soul searching (much of which was done in deep, hours long conversations she would have with Nightcrawler from time to time), she decided to leave the past behind and instead enjoy the present and look forward to the future. She made peace with not knowing who she used to be, and finally decided to settle on the name of "Claire", instead of hopping from name to name.

She also has a god-awful sense of humor. Very punny. Nobody ever laughs at her jokes. RIP Claire's pride

Cringe is dead, we love selfshipping and oc/canon on my art blog, so I like to ship her with Wolverine :3c (of course I give Wolverine a redhead girlfriend). Look I even filled out this silly ship chart for them lol (I put Logan down as "?bisexual?" bc apparently there are multiple comics where he's with men? I haven't read them but we love a bisexual short king).

Logan the canonical truck freak fr... She liked him from the moment they met, but as they got to know each other, her feelings grew deeper. At the time she realized these feelings, she was still deeply afraid of commitment, and so she kept it to herself and tried to just be a good friend. Eventually, when she got over her fears and was a valued member of the X-Men for good, she finally asked him out on a date (right after a very tough mission, and she was still giddy with adrenaline and feeling bold lol). They've been together ever since 👍 Claire tries to be a calming influence on Wolverine, but honestly, sometimes she agrees with him when he loses his temper at awful people. She sees him as someone who's willing to do whatever it takes to get a job done, and he sees her as someone too kindhearted to be getting her hands dirty with the work he does. She only wishes he were kinder to himself, and chides him when he gets self-deprecating.

Now for a few random facts about her, hrm... Her favorite food is watermelon. She has a sweet tooth and likes to bake, she often drops by random classes at Xavier's with home-made goodies for the kids. She loves the idea of having children but is worried she won't be a good mother. The kids at Xavier's know that if they want something and Logan says no, they could probably go to Claire and beg her for it. She's a softie towards kids and can't say no when they get their puppy dog eyes out...

It's become a running joke to celebrate her birthday on a random day since they don't know when her real one is. They pick a new date every year. She's got a decent singing voice and is trying to learn the guitar from Hank McCoy. She jokes about Northstar having a messy love life, and calls Dr. Nemesis a crotchety old man even though she might be older than him.

Mmm... that's all off the top of my head. I'm the kind of person who likes to make a new OC every time I have a cool idea, so I have a ton of them... maybe I'll make posts about other ones as well some day.

#my oc #allie rambling time #maybe ill make that the tag for when i infodump and stuff lol #xmen #xmen oc #x men #x men oc #x-men #x-men oc #Solar Flare OC

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rosemoncherie · 9 months ago

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business affairs: t.wolff - series [OLD VERSION]

Chapter One: The Night Everything Began.

pairing: Toto Wolff x OC!Natalia Danon.

warnings: 18+, nsfw, age gap (Natalia is 32), talks of divorce, allusions to sexism, fast paced, explicit sexual scene, cunnilingus, slight dirty talk.

w.c: 4.04K

tags: @queenshikongo3 @bluesole16 @christinabae @aisharmi @hoziersfairy @queenzee27 @omgsuperstarg @lewisroscoelove @itsyagirlmeee @joviallljas @serpenttines-library @hrlzy @sugardontbesweet @tallrock35 @tian-monique @f1-hoff @peyiswriting @thewolffswife @mochiminimoni @bekindbecoolbeyou

KUALA LUMPUR, MALAYSIA. 2022.

Natalia was exhausted but ultimately, she was hungry.

Very hungry.

She had rationalised that since she was already downstairs, going into the in-house restaurant was better than tracking all the way up her suite and ordering room service when she could hear the loud growling of her stomach.

Quickly, Natalia was seated and ordered some focaccia with an olive oil dip and a glass of Corton Charlemagne white wine. After a long day of meetings and conferences, a good glass of wine was desperately needed.

It had only been a couple of years since Natalia had been assigned to the position of Chief Financial Officer of Mercedes Benz. The youngest woman to ever be appointed to the role and unfortunately, the first black woman to ever hold that title for a top five company within the vehicle industry.

Natalia had been a finance protege. A master of her craft as some people would describe her and when her parents picked up on her affinity for numbers, they did everything possible to advance her career. And all the better for it as it led her to where was today.

She loved her job and despite all of the hardships and pushback that she had faced, no one and nothing was going to take that away from her.

That however, did not change the fact there were some days where the job had been strenuous on her mind and body. Hours on end speaking to people in seminars, overseeing a few upcoming projects and a lot of walking. The walking was the worst of it all as Natalia had chosen a beautiful pair of high heels typically made for a sitting situation. She had failed to anticipate just how much walking she would have had to partake in today.

Natalia hummed softly as she chewed on the dip soaked bread. After four hours, this was the first piece of nourishment she had after hours of sipping on only water. Her eyes wandered around her surroundings until they landed on a man.

Toto Wolff.

The CEO and team principal of the Mercedes-AMG PETRONAS Formula One team. A man who she held a lot of great respect for and he made it known whenever the both of them were in the same vicinity that the feeling was mutual. Toto staying in the same hotel as herself was not uncommon. Mercedes Benz and the Ritz-Carlton were in a long term partnership, hence they were able to stay in the luxurious hotel free of charge anywhere in the world.

A perk of the job.

Their eyes met and his face radiated a genuine smile. Quite the rare sight of the man. Natalia waved for him to come over and soon enough, Toto was being led towards her table. As soon as she stood up to greet him, the sleeves of her jersey slid back down her arms.

“Good to see you again.” Toto greeted her after a quick hug.

Natalia giggled as she sat back down with him pulling a chair close beside her. “We’ve seen each other a lot today.”

“That’s what happens when you work together.”

"Technically I am your boss, you work for me.

Natalia shot back which caused Toto to chuckle.

”You love pointing that out don’t you.” His right eyebrow lifted as he took in her facial features.

“Yes I want to make sure that you never forget it.”

“And I won’t.” His eyes trailed down to her glossed lips and settled there for a moment.

Toto licked his.

The action was subtle but Natalia caught it all. She took a deep breath as she reached for the menus.

”Are you ordering anything to eat or are you just here to keep me company?”

The question caused him to smirk. “Well. I had only come in, to a place an order to be delivered to my suite but now that I’m here I don’t see why I can’t do both. A late dinner in the company of a beautiful woman? You’d be a fool to decline that.”

His words and tone were laced with flirtation and Natalia hated herself for just how much it swayed her. You’d be an idiot to deny how attractive the man was. A tall giant at 6 feet 5 inches, slender yet muscular in all the places that counted. For a mature man like him, Toto kept himself physically agile and well groomed. Almost always clean shaved but his hair always ended up ruffled from the constant wear of headphones and how frequently he ran his fingers through the dark locks.

Outside of appearance, his charisma was extremely charming as intended. Toto knew how to talk to people and he knew how to make people feel comfortable around them. The addition of his accent to his voice, Natalia knew that trying to fight her attraction towards the recently divorced man was futile.

The pair ended up ordering the chef’s special along with the bottle of Corton Charlemagne. As they enjoyed their meal, the conversation was easy going. Natalia spoke for most of the time whilst Toto listened. He was interested in knowing about her life - only interjecting when he felt that his opinion was needed.

When the bottle of wine was finished, Natalia switched to drinking water. Her flight out of Malaysia was scheduled for tomorrow afternoon and she would rather still have control of her senses.

“I can’t believe you’re single though.” The words easily slipped out of her mouth before she could have stopped her harbouring thought. The topic of conversation had been on his previous marriage as it had been a diversion of attention from the status of Natalia’s love life. One could argue why her question was inappropriate to ask but curiosity had gripped her. When the divorce was announced at the tail end of 2021, people had been curious to know the reason. Nobody had thought that the power couple of motorsports would ever part ways.

Toto sighed. “As much as we tried to not let our marriage get in the way of her career, the stigma that she would always just be my wife and that everything she would accomplish would be attributed to our matrimony ultimately became too much to bear. Of course there were other issues that contributed to the divorce but that was a big one. At the end of the day it was the best decision for the both of us. She needed to grow and being with me was a hindrance to that. No matter how much I loved her, her growth as a leader and as a person was far more important to me.”

“Wow.” Nat whispered as she let his words sink in. He spoke with great candour and genuine care. She could still feel the love that Toto had for Susie but there was romantic fondness in his words. Just respect and adoration for his ex-wife.

Toto nervously chuckled as he scratched the top of his left eyebrow. “Yeah, I didn’t think I’d be talking about my ex with you.”

“No, no. That was deeply profound. It’s a shame things came to such an ending but I think the choice that the both of you came to was a good one. If that is any type of comfort.”

“It is.” Toto softly smiled as he played with the stem of his wine glass. “It’s taken some time to get used to that but I’m getting there.”

”That’s good.”

That particular conversation ended there. Things were getting too deep and personal for either of their liking.

“No more talk about past relationships.” Toto said as he reached for the wine selection menu. However, Nat reached forward and placed her hand on his wrist to stop him.

“No more drinking for me. I need to head up to bed. My flight is tomorrow.”

“You’re leaving so soon?”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “I need to get to London by Friday. INEOS moved their meeting up to then instead of the agreed Wednesday the following week.”

“That could be because Jim is coming to London around that time.”

“I don’t care. It doesn’t change the fact that multiple people, me included, are now having to re-arrange our schedules because Radcliffe is an impatient old man.” Natalia complained as she rolled her eyes. A move that made Toto laugh as he placed the menu down.

“How about I walk you up to your room then?” He volunteered.

Her back straightened up and she lightly cleared her throat. “Yes. Please.”

Ever the gentleman, Toto put the bill of the meal on his room tab instead of Natalia having to share the cost. All the way to her suite, Toto had kept her smiling and giggling and it made her sick just how down her guard was. She couldn’t even blame it on alcohol.

All night, the crush she had for the man beside her had been festering and now it was at a fever’s pitch. Being in his presence for such a long time, alone, had her mind thinking of things that she shouldn’t.

They stood outside of her suite’s door, key card in hand with her back to the frame. At her full height, her forehead was still barely touching his chin. Toto was looking down at her with a soft glimmer of something in his eyes that she couldn’t deny.

”Would you like to come in? I have a full bar if you want to continue drinking. If not, I have something else in mind to offer.” Nat chewed on her bottom lip as she left the suggestion lingering in between them.

”If I didn’t know any better, I would say that you were trying to seduce me with that offer.” Toto expected her to claim that she was just joking and to walk away from the suggestion. Proclaim that she had just been joking and that the rising sexual tension in between them up to this point had been a figment of his imagination.

Instead, Natalia stood on her tip toes and tipped her head upwards until her lips were close to his. Just a breath’s reach.

She held his gaze. “What if I am?”

The energy had immediately shifted. Toto did not give her a verbal agreement as the door closed behind the both of them. He turned her around so that her back was touching his chest. Natalia’s moan vibrated in her throat as he moved her hair out of the way of her right shoulder. A sigh left her as his mouth touched her skin. His hands pulled her tucked in jersey out of her skirt until he was able to lay his hands onto her bare skin beneath the knitted fabric.

His hand clutching onto her top, he instructed Natalia to strip out of her skirt. And in quick succession, her clothes were on the floor.

“Fuck.” Toto said as he swallowed his thirst. If it wasn’t for the fact that her panties had been already soaked, the way his eyes roved hungrily over her body would have had her gushing more than she already was.

Natalia enjoyed his reaction to her. His lust was palpable as she unhooked her bra from her chest and let it join her clothes on the floor. She then hooked her thumbs into the sides of her thongs but before Nat could do anything else, Toto grabbed a hold of her wrists.

“No. Get on the bed.”

As her knees touched the duvet, Toto stood behind her as he dragged his fingers down the length of her spine before both of his hands dug into her ass cheeks, parting them softly. The cool air touched her nether lips which caused her to lightly gasp.

“Oh!” Natalia whimpered as he roughly handled her body. She was now on her back with a shirtless Toto hovering above her. He kissed her with all his might, with all of his pent up desire translating into the way that his lips modded over her. She opened her mouth to the intrusion of his sweet tongue laced with the wine of dinner into her mouth. Natalia dug her nails into his back as the kiss deepened. She wrapped her leg around his waist as she tried to anchor herself as his hardening erection pressed against her lower stomach.

Toto’s hands moved away from her hips until he was cupping the back of her neck, pulling her close until her teeth were sinking into his bottom lip and she was pulling it into her mouth. Natalia gasped into Toto’s mouth as he pressed his lips harder into hers before sucking on her tongue.

She couldn’t stay still as he continued to kiss her like this. Her hips rotated forward, trying to to create some type of friction to ease the ache residing deep in the pit of her stomach.

“Let me taste you.” Toto mumbled against her lips. His voice was as heavy with arousal as his cock that was pressing into her. Not waiting for her answer, she struggled to catch her breath as he pulled her panties down the length of her shapely legs. When the fabric was over his shoulder, her legs instinctively parted and Toto was rewarded by the sight of her drenched cunt.

“I knew you’d be soaked. You kept squirming in your seat at dinner.” His words shocked her a little but she wasn’t rattled at his observation. Toto ran his finger along her slit and without breaking their intenseful gaze, he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked his finger clean

”So sweet. Just as I thought you would be.” With her left knee hooked into his arm, he buried his face in between her thighs as he gave her lazy strokes of his tongue against her clit. Natalia gasped as her back arched off the bed as he continued giving her languid strokes of his tongue, which was moving up and down the length of her slit. Toto was eating her pussy with so much intention, it sent shocks of pleasure up her spine.

His movements were meticulously calculated, every time that he did something that garnered a reaction out of her, Toto played on that until Natalia was gasping for air. He licked, pulled and sucked on her pussy until she was clawing at the sheets beneath her trembling body.

”Oh shit!” She gasped as he covered her now sensitive nub with his tongue and softly pushed to fingers inside of her, sliding them in and out of her, increasing the speed and pressure of his movements until he felt Nat’s thighs begin to quake on each side of his head.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” Natalia cursed as she felt a familiar pressure mount in her lower abdomen. She tried to jerk away from him but Toto kneaded his free hand into her thigh, trapping her in place as he became more insistent to drink from her. He flicked his fingers against her spot, his tongue danced on her clit.

Then she exploded into his mouth.

Her legs trapped his body in between her thighs as her body twitched with each wave passing through her. Natalia’s head was still in the clouds as she finally relaxed to set him free. His hands trailed back up the length of her body and kneaded her breasts as his kisses followed up until his lips were against hers once more.

His lust clouded his eyes, Drinking from her, bringing her to climax, made him more ravenous. He wanted to devour her. The intention to do so very much made clear as he haphazardly threw his trousers and boxer briefs off. He held her hips as she tried to calm himself enough to let her reach for the strip of condoms that were on the bedside table.

He couldn’t put it on quickly enough as Natalia placed kisses on his chin and her hands on his back.

Toto sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as he raised Nat’s leg to his shoulder before he finally made his move and sank into her pussy. Just as the tip breached her entrance, they both lost their breath due to the feeling of being connected.

“Baby.” She exhales as he completes the stroke by thrusting all the way forward and holding himself there.

“I know schatz. I know.” He groaned into her ear.

After fantasising about this very moment, for months on end, Toto concluded that nothing was better than the real thing. Yet somehow his mind couldn't comprehend what was happening. All that he could think about was how soft she was.

She was so soft. So sweet. So warm. So tight, warm and deliciously wet.

She fit him like a glove and he could feel as much as he could through the protective sleeve. Toto moved slightly which caused Nat to let out a cry.

“Please move. Please.” She whimpered into his ear.

He soon found a rhythm of slow , methodic strokes as he folded her body into itself. Her silk press began to revert back to its natural curls, the longer he worked her body into a sweat. Natalia’s lips parted with a sigh as he placed her other leg onto his shoulder and hooked his arms beneath hers and held onto her shoulders.

”Oh my god!” Natalia struggled for breath as his body slammed against the back of her thighs. The sexy sounds of their pleasure reverberated through the room.

”That’s it isn’t it schatz? That’s the spot.” He taunted her as he hammered his tip against your walls. He grinned as he saw the internal struggle to conjure up a response. He didn’t tease her too much though.

Toto himself was failing to contain his restraint from just how tightly Natalia was clutching onto him with each stroke. It was making him lightheaded as she threatened to drown him with just how soaked she was. He felt himself slipping into mindless pleasure as his thrusts became harder and more frantic.

It was only when he felt Nat’s leg beginning to tremble against his shoulders and his stomach began to tighten did Toto slow down. Natalia whined as she shifted her hips up to tempt him.

However, he didn’t fall for it.

Instead, he let her legs fall away from his shoulders but he still made sure that they were wrapped around his waist. His forearms dropped on either side of her head as his chest pressed into hers. Natalia’s hardened nipples tickled his skin as he rolled his hips as deep as she possibly could take him. He coupled his slow, deep thrusts with a circular motion, making sure that he touched every part of her that he could.

He hummed softly as he drew little cries from Natalia. He swallowed her moans and every sound that he could. They were only his - just for the night. For however long she would allow.

Natalia could feel resolve disappear from his frantic kisses and touches. The slapping of his thighs against her skin echoed in the room. The contact pinched at their skin in a bittersweet manner, the harsher the pounding became. But Nat took it all in stride.

His hand around her neck was the last straw.

She exploded around him without warning.

“That’s it baby.” He kissed the underside of her ear.

“Cum all over this dick.”Her teeth sunk into the skin of his shoulder as she let the orgasm ride her body. The repeated contraction of her walls pulled Toto down even further.

“Fuck!” He hissed in Nat’s ear as her cunt tightly squeezed his dick until he filled the condom with his seed.

They stayed in the same position for a moment before he pulled out of her. Nat sighed as she watched him dispose of the condom and pull his underwear back up his legs. His eyes followed him as he entered the bathroom and then came out with a wet cloth.

After grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge, he came back to the bed and cleaned her up in silence. Natalia sighed with a smile on her face, loving the way his hands were handling her so delicately as if he wasn’t roughly gripping her flesh as he fucked into her minutes ago.

”Drink your water.” He mumbled before placing a kiss onto her thigh. Natalia giggled as she reached for the water bottle.

“Yes sir.” She teased as she took a gulp of the refreshing liquid.

“What time is your flight tomorrow?” He asked as he began to place kisses on her torso before stopping to take a nipple into his mouth. Natalia gasped as her eyes flattered close to enjoy the feel of his warm mouth sucking on her nipple like she had been sucking on her clit earlier on in the night.

“3pm why?�� Nat said, only able to answer when he moved his attention to her other nipple.

”I want to take you again … and again …” He spoke as he began to tower over her body. “And again. Until you’re so spent that I’m all you think about for days to come.”

His lips touched hers again as his body pushed her back into the disheveled sheets …

PRESENT DAY

”I want to take you again … and again … and again. Until you’re so spent that I’m all you think about for days to come.”

Those words were now haunting her as she sat at her desk. Of all the things Toto Wolff had ever said and done to her, these particular words haunted her the most.

Because of just how devastatingly true they were. No man after that had come close to how he had made her feel that night. A couple had come close but it was never the same.

It could never be the same.

When she left Malaysia the following afternoon, it had not occurred to her that it would be the last time that she would see Toto. Both of their respective careers kept them busy. The previous season of Formula One had overwhelmed him. The last year had not been kind to the team. The sport had not been kind to the team and it was beginning to show in the numbers.

All of that had led to this moment. Natalia was in her office with the reports of the team’s previous financial year and the CEO asking her for an incredible favour.

“It’ll only be for a couple of months.” He said.

“Six months is hardly a couple, Chris.” Chris Stevenson chuckled at the statement.

“You’re right but I need someone I can trust to go over there and oversee things.”

“And why couldn’t Tomlinson do it?” Oliver Tomlinson was the current Chief Operating Officer of the company and from the last she heard, Oliver and Toto were friends.

“You’re better with numbers. Two, you did Physics so I’m sure you understand the technical jargon better.”

Natalia frowned at the reasonsing. “I did Physics when I was like eighteen.”

“Doesn’t matter. Plus Wolff only agreed to do this if it was you.”

”Why?”

“I don’t know. A deep respect for you I guess.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“You guess?!” She sassed back and placed her hands on her waist.

”You know what I mean! Look, why are you opposing this? Do I need to know something?”

”No!” Natalia knew that she had said that a little too quickly for her liking. “I’m not opposing it for what you think. You’re basically asking me to audit the team just because they had a couple of bad years.”

“Two bad years with no titles, two bad cars, a shift in leadership and a few lost sponsors. All of that translates to a bad investment. And a bad investment means no money and no money means-.’

”Okay! I got the message.” She exclaimed, throwing her hands up in surrender.

“Wolff is not happy about this and quite frankly I don’t care. We need to get to the bottom of this before the season begins.”

Natalia was going to be Toto’s boss for six months. She could barely think of him without remembering the way he had ravished her that night. Now she had to work with him everyday for the next half year.

Fuck me. She thought to herself

#rosemoncherie #business affairs series #toto wolff #toto wolff x natalia danon #toto wolff x black oc #toto wolff fanfiction #tot wolff fanfic #toto wolff x black reader #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff x you #formula one fanfiction #f1 fanfic #black oc #black reader

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banesberry-anomoly · 2 months ago

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Captain Elvira

Aka Plague Pirate

Essentially the wine aunt of the family

When shes in Alagadda, her feathers are all red (the brown clothing is a very dark shade of red)

The feathers around her waist are part of her body. They form a full 'skirt' but she prunes them into different styles

Has a ship named 'The Grande Migration'

Part of the Serpents Hand

#banesberry art #altoclef.exe #New addition to the plague doctor extended family just dropped #scp #scp oc #alagadda #alagadda oc #plague doctor oc #<technically yeag #scp art #scp oc art #Serpents hand oc #serpents hand #wanderers library oc #Captian Elvira #Plague Pirate

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angstywaifu · 3 months ago

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Black Dahlia - 10. Keeping Tabs

A little study time (well, an attempt at it) with Bodhi one night in the quadrant in the lead up to Presentation Day.

Set Pre Fourth Wing/Books

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist

As per usual the library is quiet as hell. The only noise is the crackling of the fire next to me. It wasn’t quite cold enough for a fire, but the temperature had definitely dropped in the last few weeks as we’d entered September and I welcomed any chance to sit by a fire. It was one of the few things that had brought me comfort back in my room.

Most winter nights I would sit in the chair by the fire in my room reading. Something I had missed due to leaving all my books behind when I’d come here. And sadly the small library in the riders quadrant and the scribes only had historical texts. Something I really needed to change as soon as possible if I could. I’d even debated sneaking back to my room to grab some of them, but knowing my father my stuff was long gone.

The door to the library bangs open, followed my some muffled curses as I am pulled from my thoughts. As I scan the bookshelves behind me, I note the footsteps getting closer and closer to where I sit in front of the fire. A few moments later the familiar curly black hair of Bodhi peeks around the edge of one of the bookshelves, a grin forming on his face as his eyes meet mine.

”Knew I would find you here.” He says excitedly as he steps around the bookshelf heading over to me.

”Don’t you usually go to the gym with your two shadows on Wednesday nights?” I ask as I return to my book as Bodhi starts pulling out his from his pack as he sits next to me. ”Watch out Dahlia, someone might think you actually care.” He teases before I throw my pot of ink at him, which he catches easily. Lucky for him it was closed. ”I don’t care.” I say with a smirk as I look up at him.

Over the last few weeks Bodhi had wormed his way through my walls, and I actually did consider him a friend along with Austin and Liz. Between having all our classes together and training together a few days a week after classes, we’d easily fallen into our own little friendship group. Something I had told myself I wouldn’t do and wouldn’t need to get through the quadrant. Something I hadn’t had since that day my mother had died. But here I was two months later, and I couldn’t deny I enjoyed having friends again after all these years. ”You sure? Seems like you’re keeping tabs on me. Or maybe you’re keeping tabs on someone else?” He mocks as he wiggles his eyebrows at me, handing the pot of ink out to me. ”I promise you, I am not keeping tabs on anyone. You three aren’t exactly hard to spot wandering around the Quadrant. Especially with that giant lumbering oaf walking around with you.” I throw back as I take the pot of ink from him. Bodhi just sighs and shakes his head at me. It wasn’t the first time I’d made a stab at Garrick. He’d barely said more than a few words to me since that first round of challenges where I had very much proven him wrong. Something I knew infuriated him. Here and there he’d made jabs at me before I walked onto the mat, or when I’d come to grab Bodhi for training. All of which I had ignored. If he wanted to hate me for my name, then so be it. I wasn’t going to bend over backwards to prove him wrong. I knew my name came with a reputation, as did his. But clearly he didn’t want to overlook it. Bodhi had tried to convince me a few times to give him a chance.

”He’s really not that bad Dahlia.” Trying yet again to convince me to give Garrick a chance. ”Well he has done little to prove otherwise. So unless he wants to pull his head out of his ass, then I will continue to call him whatever comes to mind.” I tell him sternly before turning back to my book.

”You did well on the Gauntlet today.” He says, changing the subject with ease, clearly getting the hint I did not want to talk about Garrick. ”Barely. I fumbled on those damn balls again.” I say as I recall the moment my heart had dropped when I’d nearly lost my grip on one of the balls today. ”And yet you still had the fastest time today. You need to stop being so hard on yourself.”

Easier said than done. Despite Bodhi getting through the walls I’d built up over the years, I hadn’t told him what had happened all those years ago. Why I was the way I was. And why failure was not an option for me. Any slip up was a failure in my fathers eyes, and I prayed no word got back to him today of my slip up. As much as his opinion didn’t matter to me, I wanted to prove him wrong. ”You know I can’t do that.” I say back in what I hope passes as a joking tone. I breathe a sigh of relief when Bodhi shakes his head and laughs at me. “Oh trust me I know. One day you wont though. I’ll make sure of it.”

I can’t help but feel emotional at Bodhi’s words. Just like Garrick he should hate me. Despise me for my father and what he had done. But he didn’t. Since he’d stood next to me in the Rotunda, he had looked right through that. Been able to accept me as someone besides the weight of my last time. Hell even Xaden had somehow. Though it still felt like he was a little cautious of me at times, but I put that mostly down to Garrick who was always by his side. ”Let’s get through Presentation Day and hopefully Threshing first, then you can work on that.”

Presentation day was only two days away. Meaning we were four away from Threshing. Just four more days and I would hopefully bond a dragon. Bond a dragon and become a rider like I always wanted. The last time I had been close to a dragon was that day. Father now allowing me anywhere near one since then. Would I panic and run like I should have done immediately that day? Or even worse, would I meet the fate that was nearly my own that day? No. I would bond a dragon. I would do it.

”I feel like getting you to be not so hard on yourself is going to be easier than that.” He says with a sigh before leaning back in his chair and staring at the roof. “You scared?”

I close my book, finally giving up on studying now Bodhi was here. Which was a regular occurrence if he found me. “You’re probably expecting me to say no, but honestly I’m scared shitless.”

Which I was. Mixed with not knowing how I would react, I was also terrified I would come face to face with a dragon and panic. Become frozen to the ground with fear and become a pile of ash on the floor just like….

”You’re right.” Bodhi says cutting my thoughts off. “Nothing seems to phase you. But I’d probably think you weren’t human if you weren’t scared of facing off with a dragon.”

If only you knew Bodhi.

”What colour do you think you’ll bond?” I ask as I try steer the conversation away from facing a dragon.

”I don’t know. Never really thought about it I guess. I seem to be drawn to Green Dragons whenever Kaori talks about them. What about you?”

”Blue.” I say without missing a beat causing Bodhi to glance over at me. “I’ve always been drawn to Blue Dragons. But they’re incredibly rare to bond with.”

”Xaden said he was the first one in a few years to bond a Blue and the only one in his year as well.”

I nod in agreement. They were very hard to bond with. Blue Dragons had the highest fatality rate for cadets during Threshing. Even Kaori had advised us to run instead of try bonding a blue. Meaning if I wanted to bond a Blue, I needed to be certain of the one I approached.

”Well here’s hoping we bond the colours we want and come out victorious in a few days time.” I say as I look over at Bodhi who is already smiling at me.

”Don’t worry, we will Dahlia.”

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94

#fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing #garrick tavis #garrick tavis x reader #garrick tavis imagine #the fourth wing #the empyrean #garrick tavis x oc #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing imagine #bodhi durran #xaden riorson #dain aetos #bodhi fourth wing #fourth wing x oc

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 6 months ago

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Things Learned and Unlearned Ch. 3

Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Pairings/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N, Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester, Lucy Winchester (OC)

Warnings: Each chapter will have it's own warnings, but there will be smut, seduction, virgin!reader, playboy!dean, Edwardian era BS attitudes surrounding sex and women. (Technically it's set in 1900 and the Edwardian era started in 1901, but you get it.) Angst, Fluff, all the good stuff that regularly pops up in my series. 😁

Chapter Warnings: Nothing major. Dirty thoughts, bit of dirty talk. More lusting. 😁

Word Count: 2,064

A/N: Here's Ch. 3. This one's a bit shorter, but I hope you enjoy it just the same! ❤️

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

"Miss Y/N!" The frustrated voice of little Lucy Winchester called Y/N back to the present.

"I'm sorry, Lucy, my mind was off on a wander. What do you need?"

"I said my laces are untied." Lucy said, lifting her little foot and plunking it into Y/N's lap. "Where was your mind wandering?"

Y/N's face went red and she knew she could never truthfully tell this darling, innocent little girl that her thoughts had been completely occupied with a pair of burning green eyes and a wicked mouth.

"I was hoping that you might go gather as many daisies as you possibly could for me. There's a big patch of them just at the bottom of the hill, see?"

Lucy nodded and ran off, her chubby little legs churning. Y/N worried for a minute that she'd end up going head over heels down the little hill. But she managed to stay upright and settle herself in the patch of daisies to start collecting.

Y/N had to shake her head. She had been reliving the previous night over and over again. Every touch, every press of Dean's lips against hers had been streaming through her mind without ceasing. Her dreams had been filled with his strong, nimble fingers running themselves over her body and his mouth, warm and wet, following the trail. She had woken with a gasp, her body sweaty and shaking. She didn't even try to go back to sleep. She was too jittery and tense, like there was an itch she couldn't scratch.

She'd been restless all day and she'd finally suggested to Lucy that they come outside and get some fresh air. It wasn't helping her very much.

She bowed out of supper that night. There was no way she would be able to sit across the table from Dean and still manage to eat anything. Sophie was kind enough to bring a tray to her bedroom, but Y/N simply didn't have the appetite.

She had come to a decision and she was desperate for midnight to come.

At the last chime of the grandfather clock in the hall, Y/N checked on Lucy before slipping out of the nursery and heading down the stairs to reach the guest bedroom where Dean was staying.

She was grateful that Jessica and Sam slept in a suite on the opposite side of the house upstairs. They were unlikely to hear her. She'd already decided that if they happened to catch her, she would tell them she couldn't sleep and had gone to the library for a book.

But she met no one as she approached Dean's door. She looked around furtively in the dark, making sure no one was watching. She stood for a moment more, considering turning around and running right back to her room. But instead she knocked almost silently on the door.

It opened and she dashed inside without even looking at Dean. She got to the middle of the spacious room and stopped. She heard the door click behind her and turned around to see Dean leaning against it. He turned the key in the lock and she swallowed hard.

He wore black pants with the suspenders hanging at his hips and a white short sleeved undershirt that hugged tight to his broad shoulders, and showed Y/N the thick, ropey muscles in his arms. His hair was tousled and a little damp as though he'd just washed it. He wore his crooked smile and his eyes bore into her from across the room. They were so dark a green they looked like jade. He had his arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the door and Y/N knew that she would picture him like this, always.

"I didn't think you'd come." He said, his voice a low, quiet rumble. He pushed away from the door and came to where she stood, frozen in place.

He studied her for a minute, his head cocked slightly to the side before stepping away abruptly. "You need alcohol."

He crossed over to his dresser; on top, a few decanters of different colored liquids sparkled in the candlelight.

Y/N shook her head. "I don't drink."

He poured something golden into a glass and brought it to her. "Well, it's a night for firsts." He said, smiling slowly as he handed her the glass.

Y/N swallowed hard before taking a sip of the drink. She promptly broke into a fit of coughing. The alcohol felt like swallowing fire. After the coughing ceased however, Y/N could feel a steadying kind of warmth spreading through her stomach and she took another sip, gasping as it burned its way down her throat.

She gave the remainder back to Dean and turned away from him, moving to sit on the window seat that faced his bed as well as the door beyond it. She tried to ignore the bed and focus on the door.

Dean set the glass back down and walked toward her again. She held up a hand and he stopped about two feet away from her. She took a deep breath.

"I've come here because I have a favor to ask."

He crossed his arms again and stared down at her. "I thought you were here because I won the bet."

"That's right." Y/N said, her breath hitched in her throat. "I lost and you requested that I come here tonight at midnight. So, I am here, and my debt is paid."

She chanced a look at him. He stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then suddenly, he chuckled. "You're right. I'll have to make sure my next request is very…detailed."

His expression made her shiver and her body screamed at her to ask him for his next request. So she spoke quickly before her wantonness could win over her better nature.

"So, my favor is this, if I tell you that you've won, will you stop trying to seduce me?"

Dean looked surprised and took a moment before answering her with a question. "What do you mean, 'if you tell me I've won'?"

Y/N looked down at her twisted hands in her lap. "I mean that you're doing this as a game, yes? Doing it to see if you can win over the proper little spinster, if you can convince me to abandon my morals and give into hedonism with you? Isn't that what you want?"

In spite of her stomach twisting itself into knots she held Dean's penetrating gaze. She watched surprise and then anger creep into his expression.

"No, not really." He said, his voice low and somewhat intimidating.

Y/N gave him a disbelieving look, her voice scornful. "Oh, really? Then what exactly do you want."

He strode up to her and tipped up her chin with his forefinger. He spoke slowly, but without hesitation. "Actually, what I want, is to pull off these clothes that hide you from me, toss you onto my bed and touch, kiss and lick every inch of your soft, yielding flesh until I have you calling out my name and begging for a release only I can give you."

Y/N's breath came quick and fast, and she couldn't slow it down; her heart beat so fast she could hear her blood rushing in her ears. Her skin was flushed and covered in gooseflesh, and her stomach tightened in a way that made her long to acquiesce to every word he just said.

His eyes were now a deep forest green and they bore into hers for a moment more before he shrugged and moved back to lean against one of his bedposts. "You wanted details."

Y/N shook her head and brought her hands, which were like ice, to her cheeks to cool the fiery blush that she now wore.

"Please." She said, aware that she sounded as if she was begging, and maybe she was. "I have nothing."

She raised her eyes back to his, hoping to make him understand.

"I am nearly twenty six years old. I am very firmly on the shelf, I know, well past marriageable age. But there is this ridiculous part of me that can't stop hoping."

She sighed and looked back down at her lap. "I want a home of my own, children that are mine to raise, and a husband who is kind and compatible. But in addition to my spinsterhood, I would come into any marriage with absolutely nothing to offer. I have no status, no money, no dowry of any kind, no good name, no position in society. I have nothing to offer a future husband except…" She paused and blushed harder. "…my…virtue. All I have to give him is my chastity. It's all I have left."

She looked back into his eyes, wanting him to understand the truth in her words. "But you want me to throw that away on someone who will be gone in less than a week. You will forget me in a day, and I will live with the consequences of this one night for the rest of mine. So…"

She paused again and took a deep breath. "So, I came here tonight to tell you that you have won. You have made me dream about you, fantasize about you. You've made me long to kiss you, you've made me understand just what a kiss should be. My skin is always on fire and longing to feel your touch."

Y/N looked into Dean's clear, warm gaze and admitted, "I want you, Dean. I want you to do all the things you just mentioned, and a million more things that are only half-formed in my mind. So you win. And now I'm asking you to please respect my wishes and stop. Pass these last few days with your family and allow me to go about my life."

Dean was silent for a long time, head cocked and staring into her. Y/N held his gaze as long as she could before the intensity was too much and she turned her head away.

Dean came and sat beside her on the window seat and she jumped up and bolted away from him, out of instinct, out of self-preservation.

Dean looked hurt. "Do you really think I'm going to attack you, or molest you in some way?"

She shook her head fiercely. "No! Not in the slightest. If that was the kind of man you were, you've had plenty of opportunities before tonight." She shook her head again, "No, Dean. I am afraid of myself when you're so close. I'm afraid I'll attack you."

Dean gave a small smile. "You can't possibly believe what you're saying. You can't possibly think that your virginity is all you have to offer some unknown future husband."

Y/N merely shrugged.

Dean stood up and moved a step toward her. Y/N took two steps backwards towards the door.

He sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Fine, Y/N. If you don't want to be pursued, I won't pursue you. I'll leave you alone, you have my word. But I want you to remember something long after I'm gone from here."

He walked forward a few more steps and Y/N backed herself up against the door. He reached her and caught her chin in his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at him. The perfect planes and angles of his face were set into an expression of intensity.

"You have so much more to offer. You are extraordinarily beautiful. You are witty and warm. You have a kind and compassionate heart. You deserve something more than a compatible husband and a cottage somewhere. You deserve more than mere contentment."

He paused and brushed his thumb lightly across her bottom lip. "You deserve passion and romance. You deserve joy and excitement, adventure and enrichment. You should live in luxury, and have a life that fulfills you. I wish all of those things for you and more."

He leaned down and pressed an all too brief kiss to Y/N's lips, before reaching around her to turn the key and open the door for her.

She ran out and up the stairs before she could wrap her arms around his neck and beg him to grant all of those wishes for her.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @alwaystiredandconfused @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma @luvr4miya @arcannaa @viviwatchestv @winharry

Dean Fics Only:

@roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world @aylacavebear

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

@k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96 @stoneyggirl2

#dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester au #dean winchester au fan fic #dean winchester au fan fic series #dean winchester x reader

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liveyun · 9 days ago

Text

tomorrow | p.jm

title. tomorrow

pairing. park jimin x fem oc (named y/n)

rating. T

genre. supernatural themes, mystery, horror, angst (?)

warnings. coarse language, reader discretion highly recommended. contains death but no gore, mild horror, english is Not my first language ™

word count. 2.6k +

The library wasn’t Jimin’s usual haunt.

In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d willingly stepped inside one. He never liked the library ; it was so downright boring. He knew there were better things to enjoy in his campus which were much better than this — but with the cold wind biting at his neck and the campus quad too noisy for his liking, he had wandered in.

It was more like a distraction than a destination.

The heavy silence pressed against his ears as he slumped into a seat by the window, his chin resting on his palm. His table was empty — no books, no notes, nothing that might suggest he had any serious intentions of studying or anything closer to that.

He tapped his pen against the wooden surface in a lazy rhythm, watching the snowfall outside.

And that’s when his eyes landed on you.

You were seated at a table in the corner, your posture straight but not stiff, your eyes scanning the pages of a worn paperback intensely. A stray lock of hair fell across your cheek, but you didn’t brush it away. Instead, you stayed perfectly still, immersed in whatever story was hidden between the pages.

Unlike most of the students who filtered in and out of the library, you didn’t seem rushed or distracted. There were no frantic flips of the page or exasperated sighs of someone cramming for an exam. Your movements were deliberate, calm — too calm, even.

Jimin frowned, leaning back in his chair. You were familiar, though he couldn’t quite place why. Maybe it was because of your bag carelessly slung over the back of your chair. A model student, maybe? Or just someone who liked their own company?

He tilted his head, studying you like a puzzle he couldn’t quite piece together. He knew your name — although he feigned ignorance for the most part. There was a quietness about you that felt out of place — not just in the library, but in life itself.

Like you were a shadow passing through the world rather than living in it.

It bothered him, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the way you didn’t fidget, didn’t glance at the clock or check your phone like everyone else did. Bothered him in such a way which had him narrowing his eyes at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Or maybe it was the faint crease in your brow, the kind that made him wonder if the story you were reading was actually that interesting.

Boredom forgotten, Jimin leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. He licked his lips, his teeth gently nibbling on the plump flesh. You fasicnated him enough to not feel himself being bored to death, so, he decided that he should try and do something which would entertain him further.

So he decides to sit just beside you.

“Aren’t you just always reading?” he grins, his voice just loud enough to carry across the quiet space.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his for the briefest moment, and something about the way they held his gaze made his breath catch. Then, without a word, you returned to your book, as if he hadn’t spoken at all.

Now that was something Jimin couldn’t ignore.

“Not even going to say hi?” he asked, leaning closer.

“Hi,” you said softly, not looking up this time.

To say Jimin was offended was an understatement. How can someone ignore Park Jimin?

That was it. He reached over and plucked the book from your hands, your lack of resistance or reaction slightly surprising him again. “What’s so special about this old thing?” The cover of the book is faded, the texture a bit rough with its corners frayed, but he doesn’t care about that.

What he cares about is riling you up.

But you just sit there, watching him with an expression so blank it’s almost mocking. “You can keep it if you want,” you say softly. “Tear it, throw it, do whatever. I don’t care.”

His eye twitched at the nonchalance of your tone. Were you doing this on purpose to piss him off?

“And why is that?”

“It’s not mine.”

Jimin blinks.

What?

“I saw you pull it out of your bag.”

Your gaze drops to your clasped hands. For a moment, you seem almost… thoughtful, as if the gears in your head are working overtime to formulate the reply.

“I took it from an accident site,” you reply.

What? except that it wasn’t just inside his head. If anyone would see him, his thoughts were visible on his face, just like how subtitles are, on the bottom of the screen.

“What?” His voice pitched and he felt his brows knit together.

You leaned back, tilting your head as if recounting a casual memory. “The person was already dead. Hit-and-run, I think. They were grasping it, so I took it.”

You say it in such a manner almost as if you are talking about the evening’s weather.

“What?” His grip tightened on the book. “You just. . . took it? Did you call anyone? Cops? Medics?”

“There were people already there,” you said with a shrug. “What was I supposed to do?”

What were you supposed to do!? Jimin stared at you, his pulse racing. “You could’ve. . . I don’t know!” Damn it. He definitely should’ve just attended the class which he felt like was important all of a sudden. There was a reason why he doesn’t ever visit libraries . “Done something instead of stealing a book from a dead person!”

You stood, brushing invisible dust off your coat. “I was planning to return it to their grave after I finished reading,” you said, your voice calm as ever. “But now it’s yours. So I guess that’s your responsibility.”

He gaped at you, his brown pupils shaking slightly. “No. No fucking way.” He held the book out as if it was some radioactive substance. Call him a lunatic, but he was already feeling it burn his hand. (Was he exaggerating? Maybe. But was he ready to accept the book for real? Fuck no.)

“I’m not keeping this!”

You smiled faintly, stepping away. “It’s already yours, Jimin.”

And then you leave, your footsteps barely audible.

Jimin found himself back in the library.

Not because he was bored. Not because he wanted to study — but because everything else was driving him nuts.

The book, Wuthering Heights, sat on Jimin’s desk back in his home like an accusation. He couldn’t bring himself to open it, no matter how hard he’d tried last night. Each time he felt his fingers itch to finally touch the book, his brain immediately imagined the lifeless hand that had clutched it last.

By nightfall, he couldn’t take it anymore. He drove to the cemetery, the book tucked under his arm, the cold slapping his skin like a belt.

Rows of graves had stretched before him, their names lost to time and shadow. He wandered between them, each step making him more impatient as he carried on. He felt like a halfwit. Who the fuck visits a cemetery to return a book? And why was he doing this?

He wasn’t scared of cemeteries by any means, but surely you don’t have balls of steel to be standing like a dumbfuck in the middle of a graveyeard at midnight without feeling anything. He didn’t even know what he was looking for — how could he?

He didn’t even know if the accident victim was buried here.

Fuck, he didn’t even know who was the victim in the first place.

He doesn’t exactly feel the most cheerful at the thought of so many lives being reduced to stones and dates.

Frustrated and uneasy, he’d left the cemetery, just wishing he’d never visited the library.

So the next day, he finds himself back in the library. He doesn’t know why — he could have just simply abandoned the book. Or just kept it under fate’s custody, because he surely 1) wasn’t a book nerd, 2) after knowing the source of the book, he definitely wasn’t interested in that book anymore.

Maybe he hopes to see you again, to demand some kind of explanation or even simply just return you the book. Only because he’s a decent human being and felt bad for leaving the book alone.

But you’re nowhere to be found.

“Shit,” Jimin muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. He slammed the book down on the nearest table, earning a sharp glare from the librarian. He waved her off with a sheepish smile but didn’t bother lowering his voice. That damn thing on the table felt like it was judging him with each step he took.

“What the hell am I even doing here?” he grumbled, flopping into a chair, truly exhausted.

”Jimin?”

He turned, or well, craned his neck up to see Namjoon standing a few feet away, an eyebrow raised in that familiar mix of confusion and mild disappointment, but he doesn’t look surprised.

Namjoon was exactly the type of a guy you would very much expect to see in a library. If he wasn’t wrong, he was a literature student with an endless supply of opinions, known for yapping on about bullshit Jimin really doesn’t care about, he was the last guy Jimin would want to run into.

Atleast, not now.

Namjoon adjusted his glasses as he glanced at Jimin.

“Did the sun rise from the west today?”

“What?”

“What is Park Jimin doing in a library?”

“Ha-ha, how funny.” Jimin shot back, rolling his eyes. “I was just, well, . . . . never mind.”

Namjoon pulled out a chair and sat across from him, his gaze flicking to the book on the table. “No seriously, what’s going on? You look, uh, kinda constipated.”

Jimin let out a frustrated sigh, leaning back in his chair. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

Jimin exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he launched into the story. “Okay, so yesterday, I was in here, right? There was this girl. Very concentrated. She was just sitting there, reading this book.” He motioned to the paperback sitting between them on the table.

“And I thought, you know what, a conversation won’t harm anyone. But she seemed to not give a single fuck about me!” Okay, Jimin feels his cheeks slightly heating at the way he just said it.

Anyway..

“She didn’t even flinch. Just looked at me all calm and said I could keep it, tear it up, do whatever the fuck I want to.”

“Mhm,” Namjoon leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed.

“And then,” Jimin said, leaning forward as his voice dropped, making sure no one could hear them. “she tells me it’s not even hers. She said she found it, at a fucking accident scene. Like, a hit-and-run. She just took it. . . out of the dead person’s hands!”

Namjoon’s face paled, but Jimin didn’t notice. He was too busy rambling.

“And you just. . . took it?”

“I didn’t even want the damn thing!” Jimin snapped, jabbing a finger toward the table. “I don’t want my own course books. How the hell would I want a book which looks like something which was probably printed like what, centuries ago?”

“But she just dropped it on me. I thought, fine, I’ll go to the cemetery — because, apparently, that’s the only thing I could think of. But guess what? I don’t even know who it belongs to.” Jimin grits his teeth, taking in a cool breath. He cannot be losing his shit over a book.

“What was I supposed to do? Wander around like an idiot, asking no one in general if someone is missing a book?”

Uhh...

… . .

Okay.. was that too much?

Namjoon hasn’t replied. For someone who has a say in everything and anything, it feels strangely quiet to see the taller guy being absolutely quiet, and even a bit. . . pale.

“Joon?” Jimin frowned. “You look like you just got your balls kicked.”

Namjoon’s hand trembled as he reached for the book, but he didn’t pick it up. His voice was barely above a whisper, his pupils shaking woldly.

“Jimin... This book. Are you sure she gave it to you?”

Jimin throws a nasty glare his way, frustrated. “I’m fucking sure. She was right there.” He pointed to the seat by the window, almost as if pointing that way would have you sitting there once again. “Oversized sweater, baggy jeans, muddy boots. What the fuck do you mean?”

Namjoon swallowed hard, his eyes darting between Jimin and the book. Finally, he stood up, grabbing Jimin by the shoulders. His voice dropped low, steady but trembling at the edges.

“Jimin, listen to me. Do you remember when our lectures got canceled last month?”

“What?” Jimin blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in topic. “I don’t even remember what I had for dinner last night. How the fuck wouldd I remember about lectures?” Jimin scowled. “What does that even have to do with the current topic?”

“They were canceled because of her,” Namjoon said, his grip tightening.

“Y/N. She died in a hit-and-run.”

“What?”

“A car hit her right outside campus and left her to die.”

Jimin shook his head, stepping back, an unamused laugh escaping his throat. “That’s not, ha, hah — she was here yesterday, Namjoon. And I talked to her.”

Namjoon’s voice cracked, but he pushed forward, firmly gripping Jimin’s shoulders. “I saw her, Jimin. I was there. She was lying in the street, and — and she was holding that exact book.”

“I remember it because we checked it out from the library together. But when the paramedics came, the book was gone.”

Jimin froze, his gaze blurring. No fucking way in hell. His heart pounded as his mind scrambled to process what Namjoon was saying.

“No.” His voice was barely a whisper. “That just doesn’t make sense. Stop fucking with me.”

Namjoon’s expression was grim, his voice low and firm. “You didn’t talk to her, Jimin. She’s gone. She’s been gone.”

“Okay, what the actual fuck are you saying?” Jimin snapped, his heart racing now. “She was literally sitting here yesterday. Like, I swear on everything, she was here. I talked to her.”

Namjoon’s face morphs into a look of pure defeat, his grip loosening on his shoulders.

“And I saw her die.”

Jimin felt the bile rise up to his stomach. “Bro,” he whispered, his voice shaky. The room felt like it was spinning, and he was being forced down to stand with his wobbly limbs.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Just open it. It’s just a book.

The lamp’s light flickered as Jimin sat at his desk, hyper aware of everything around him — even the faint ticking of his table clock. He flexed his fingers, trying to shake off the nerves, but his palms were clammy, and the tremor in his hands wouldn’t stop.

He exhaled sharply, trying to steady himself. “It’s just a book,” he muttered, but it was something he himself couldn’t believe.

The room felt unnaturally quiet as his fingers brushed the cover.

The rough texture sent a chill skittering up his spine. Never ever even in his wildest dreams had he even thought that opening a book would make him shit his pants, but here he was. Slowly, he peeled it open, the spine creaking softly in the stillness.

The words were there, faint but deliberate, etched on the first page in a beautiful cursive drawl.

Return it to me.

He blinked, his mind scrambling for logic, for reason, but then his gaze dropped lower. There, written in neat, bold letters, was a date.

It wasn’t yesterday’s. It wasn’t today’s either.

It was tomorrow.

a/n : poor mimi 😔 if you enjoyed reading this, let me know what you think 💬 here’s the anon feedback box for you :-)

mlist | taglist

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cher-rei · 2 months ago

Text

love song ♬— chapter 3 [ J.M ]

pairing: jamal musiala x fem!oc

summary [please read]

genre(s): strangers to lovers, fluff, angst and football romance [love song playlist]

[w.c: 2.8k] masterlist

notes: heyyyyy, I managed to finish the chapter today!! surprise!! I hope you guys are enjoying it xxx

previous chapter | next chapter

the following day, as promised, the group of friends were headed on a little outing to congratulate the boys on their win. they burst into the bustling mall, laughter and chatter filling the air.

it started off well, conversation flowing easily between them just like it used to.

“spain is playing in berlin tonight,” noelle said in recollection and fixed the position of the the bag strap on her shoulder.

florian turned to look at her with his eyes widened, then hitting kai on the arm. “that lamine yamal kid? an absolute class player. we need to go and watch them play.”

from beside him aaliyah let out a scoff. “we actually have an england match to watch,” she let out a dazed sigh, “I need a picture with jude.”

florian’s smile immediately dropped, causing jamal to stifle a laugh from beside noelle. “we'll end up going anyway, let's just pray that they play each other at some stage to kill two birds with one stone.”

jamal looked to aaliyah with a quirked eyebrow. “you could've just asked me, I have connections with mr superstar.”

“no way,” noelle said in surprise. “I have connections with mr superstar's best friend.”

“you know trent?” he asked again, but she shook her head with a smile.

“close, I know his girlfriend. we went to high-school together.”

sophia perked up at your mention, knowing exactly who you were talking about. “I keep on forgetting that you went to high-school with jamie. what a small world we live in.”

“you know jamie?” jamal spat, disbelief spread all over his face and it made noelle furrow her brows, not sure what was so shocking. who didn't know her? “jamie carter? that jamie?”

when noelle nodded he couldn't help but chuckle in shock— the girl he had a thing for was friends with his childhood friend. “small world might be an understatement. we were in the chelsea academy together. major older sister energy, I'm still traumatised.”

the shared connection led to a comfortable conversation between the two strangers, their footsteps trailing behind the two couples ahead who were lost in their own world. noelle shared fond memories of the older girl to jamal, about how she took noelle under her wing for what ever reason.

it was one of those silly situations where the protectiveness of someone would ultimately end in a friendship between someone in year 11 and 9. so for those two years that jamie had left, she made sure to care for noelle as if she were her own.

“oh, she's so small!” jamie cooed at the newcomer, noelle immediately stopping in her tracks to see that she was the only year 9 who signed up for school newspaper.

“what's your name, angel?” jamie questioned and ushered her into the room, everyone lounging around the meeting table with her at the head.

noelle hesitated for a moment, her eyes scanning the faces of her seniors— jamie’s boisterous personality standing out. “noelle braun.”

“no way! kelly, remember when I said that I wanted to name my baby girl noelle?? i have it in my notes app.”

from that day onward, noelle couldn't recall a day where she wasn't sat with jamie at school studying in the library, asking for advice or watching the older girl join in on the football matches that took place at recess.

jamal listened intently as she spoke fondly of her, a warm hearted laugh leaving his lips. “yeah, that sounds exactly like her. toned down a bit, I reckon since she's older now.”

from ahead of them sophia couldn't help but look over her shoulder every so often to see the two wandering slowly, conversation being made despite noelle's timid personality. and that was the shocking part. she didn't like sharing too much about herself unless she was comfortable with someone.

her answers were always kept short and brief, a tight lipped smile following after to mimick her stiff behaviour. jamal was similar, but he knew how to carry a conversation with a bashful smile— which was exactly what he was doing now, his clammed hands stuffed into the pocket of his jeans.

this might be a lot easier than she thought.

as they stopped at a clothing store, sophia and kai drifted off somewhere, with aaliyah and florian heading in the opposite direction. the girls held on to thein boyfriend's for dear life, exchanging smitten looks and kisses every so often.

noelle and jamal exchanged a knowing glance.

“I think we're cramping their love fest,” he whispered and she nodded, her nose scrunching at the sight of kai tickling sophia.

she looked up to jamal. “coffee break?”

jamal couldn't stop the smile that drew to his lips, his heart fluttering for some reason as he stepped to the side and gestured for noelle to walk ahead. “it's like you're a genuis.”

without drawing attention, they slipped away from the group, leaving the affectionate couples to their shopping spree. eventually they settled into a cozy café, jamal taking the liberty to order their drinks as promised.

when their order got called up, he handed the latte to noelle with a playful smile. “my sincerest apologies once again, you'll be able to taste it in the coffee, I swear.”

a giggle left her lips as she took her seat at the back of the café, further away from everyone and he took a seat in front of her. “oh, really? what was the coffee made with exactly?” she asked jokingly, a playful smile on her lips.

“immense guilt and embarrassment,” he desdpanned, causing noelle to force down the laugh itching at her throat before they fell back into a peaceful atmosphere.

the conversation drifted from topic to topic, shared laughter floating in the air. “so what do you think they're going to do next?” jamal asked grinning, hinting at their friends that they left behind.

noelle pretended to think for a moment. “probably plan a joint wedding.”

his eyes widened in mock horror, the footballers reaction being her to laughter once more. “don't even joke about that.”

everything was going great to his surprise, and in no time his sweaty palms were the last thing on his mind. he was curious. curious about how noelle was, what she enjoyed and why she drank 4 mugs of coffee a day? he'd barely scraped the surface.

it came up naturally, his job and her life at university. and the fact that she was a psychology major made so much sense to him. “you fit the stereotype perfectly.”

noelle smiled, “and what’s that?”

the footballer leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as he scanned noelle’s features and stature. not to be weird but he'd been observing her for quite some time, seeing as he didn't have the courage to actually talk to her. all those days in the coffee shop, ordering coffee only to give it to one of his teammates because he wasn't a huge indulger due to his diet.

“you like to keep to yourself, a natural observer.” noelle gasped, ready to plead her case but he cut her off. “yeah, don't act like I don't see the way that you look at people, you're psychoanalysing everyone you creep.”

“creep is a bit much,” she interjected, her hand covering her mouth in shock. accusations— correct accusations. nevertheless she gestured for him to carry on.

he hummed in thought. “your colour palette is very neutral, very cosy. autumn is definitely your favourite season,” he said that was so much certainty and noelle nodded along, a hum of confirmation leaving her lips.

“and you're an older sibling.” her lips parted slightly, shock evident. “I know that from experience, definitely a younger sister— teenager.”

noelle threw her head back with a groan, the mention of her younger sister giving her a splitting headache. “I hate 15 year olds. she's like a demon, sucking the life out of me.”

she didn't have the best relationship with her sister carmen. blame it on puberty, and the fact that carmen hated everything and everyone, meaning that noelle was privileged with the ‘evil older sister’ title for trying to help her— or doing anything really.

“ugh, can you just leave me alone?” carmen would yell, marching out of the living room with her blood boiling. “do you have nothing better to do than make my life difficult?”

the door slammed. all this just because noelle offered to help her with an assignment since she was struggling.

“so, what's your assignment about?” jamal asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. “sophia said you weren't too happy about it.”

with a bitter smile noelle took another sip of her latte, the warm liquid spreading through her chest. “I'm exploring the phenomenology of romantic love— how people experience and understand love.”

the genuine glint shimmered in jamal's eyes, his interest piquing although he could see that she was anything but pleased or excited about it. “that sounds interesting, and fun. how's it going so far?”

“well,” she sighed, her eyes drifting out the café window for a moment. “it's not going at all. I didn't start yet, but I'm getting there.” she smiled. “I hope…”

she went on to tell him about using sophia, kai, aaliyah and florian as he guinea pigs to which he was very pleased about. he let out an amused hum, nodding fondly at the idea. “you're about to get a phd with that thesis, they're your one way ticket to success.”

as they delved deeper into conversation, jamal discovered noelle's infectious laugh, her eagerness and passion for understanding human emotions, and her very subtle sense of humour. in turn, noelle, found jamal's kind heart, his genuine interest in her thoughts and his captivating smile.

the café’s background hum faded into the distance as they lost themselves until they finished their drinks, jamal's phone buzzed in his pocket, a stifled laugh leaving his lips at the message. “looks like the lovebirds are done shopping.”

noelle smiled, stretching her arms with a content sigh. “time to rejoin the flock. thanks for the coffee break by the way, I felt like I was having withdrawal symptoms.”

with a chuckle he held the door open for the smaller girl. “you seriously need to watch your caffeine intake.”

as the evening drew to close, the girls decided to head back to noelle’s apartment since it's where they'd be staying during their time in munich. watching her friends separate from their boyfriend's was a sight for sore eyes, her face displaying her distaste while simply giving jamala a polite wave.

the trio settled into noelle's cozy living room, surrounded by plush cushions and soft lighting. sophia poured wine into their glasses with a satisfied smile before plopping down next to her friends on the couch.

they went over the events of the day and how nice it was to be out with their partners again before they'd be pressed with the task of immense stress to soothe due to the tournament. with that, noelle naturally faded into the background as a listener, trying her best to understand their situations.

it was a task and a half to be there for their partners emotionally during times like this, and it was tough to imagine. but once again, it took a toll on each partner emotionally and mentally. [add to thesis outline]

“where did you sneak off to by the way?” aaliyah's voice snapped her out of her daze, a distant hum leaving her lips as she recollected her thoughts.

sophia and aaliyah eyed noelle with knowing looks. “you left us hanging, to hang out with jamal.”

noelle couldn't help the scoff that she let out, the accusation rather amusing. “first of all, you left me hanging.” she pointed to herself with a pointed expression, then shrugged. “and jamal owed me anyway. I got apology coffee.”

a gasp left sophia's lips and she straightened her posture. “your favourite.”

aaliyah shook her head and set her glass down on the coffee table then snuggled futher into the couch. “sorry that we left you like that. we know you aren't much of a talker, it was probably really awkward.”

“it actually wasn't,” noelle said softly, not thinking much of her answer yet the unfamiliar feeling in her stomach said otherwise.

with confused looks, her friends looked at her with intrigue and mild confusion because they knew that if noelle was put in a situation where she had to be with someone she didn't know, silence was her go to. they'd seen it first hand at parties and gatherings, she would literally sit or stand silently, her mind drifting elsewhere instead of engaging in small talk.

“yeah, it wasn't awkward. he’s actually really easy to talk to.”

sophia nodded slowly, a sly grin settling on her lips. “oh, really?” she turned to aaliyah who was more confused, not quite catching onto her friend's initial thought. “you know, he's not much of a talker either.”

it was aaliyah's turn to chime in. “he's got that whole charming thing down though. I seriously don't underatand how he doesn't have a girlfriend yet.” her tone was laced with something that only sophia caught onto, her smile deepening while noelle simply took in the information.

she shot her friends a quizzical look, surprised by the newfound information. initially she thought that he'd be tied down with someone, you know footballers and their antics. all that stereotypical stuff.

noelle''s expression read “noted”, earning proud glances from the two girls in front, silently scheming. it wasn't the first time that they'd be playing matchmaker with her. they tried whenever they encounter someone who seemed the slightest bit fit for their best friend. even if it were just for the experience.

but when sophia was sitting at home back in london a while ago, jamal had come back to visit for a few days with florian for kai. the two footballers were in her living room one day, waiting for kai to come back from pracrice when she overheard a conversation.

she didn't get the details but all she knew is that jamal had his eyes set on someone that he's never spoken to. it sounded funny at first until the person started sounding oddly familiar, but she pushed it to the side until later that evening again. once again they were on the topic of relationships, and kai was telling jamal to let loose a little.

he was reluctant of course. “you guys got lucky, okay. I can't do that, girlfriend’s don't sure show up out of nowhere.”

“unless…” florian trailed off, hinting at an idea that jamal immediately cut off. “you're too picky.”

sophia hit him on the arm for that comment, feeling sorry for the younger boy. “don't listen to him, he's stupid.” she took a seat on the armrest of the couch beside kai. “start off simple. what do you look for in a partner? maybe I know someone.” that was supposed to be a joke.

he was put on the spot, not having much of a criteria because he wasn't picky. “I don't know,” he sighed. “I just need someone to talk to I guess, someone gentle— I've had my fair share of brutal women in my life. this is going to sound weird but someone warm–”

“dude what does that even mean? you're asking for a pillow,” kai said with a judgemental look thay florian mimicked. of course that earned him another slap on the shoulder.

jamal rolled his eyes. “your girlfriends hate you in secret just so by the way.”

“as if,” florian scoffed and sunk deeper into the couch cushion while kai turned to look up at sophia with pleading eyes although she avoided his gaze, an awkward laugh leaving her lips.

“someone smarter than me,” jamal spoke up and sophia stopped for a moment. “that would be fun. ugh, I don't know,” he groaned in frustration and ran his palms over his face, flushed in embarrassment. “I just need somebody to love without worrying about them trying to steal my money!”

florian choked on his laughter. “okay, justin bieber calm down now.”

sophia on the other hand was on the verge of leaping up and smacking herself for being so damn blind. because she did in fact, know someone.

the only issue was that she was dealing with two very stubborn individuals, one of which hated the idea of romantic relationships as a whole. but there was a plan, there always had to be a plan, and it started with planting the idea into noelle's mind, a single seed of possibility that would eventually plague her mind if it was watered enough.

jamal was easy, he liked her but sophia wasn't sure how much that silent infatuation and intrigue would get her. of course it all needed to happen naturally, but she was more than happy to be the catalyst.

“he has a really cute smile by the way, not to be weird or anything,” noelle stated out of the blue, her friends nodding in agreement at the sudden proclamation, their silent exchange of high fives beneath the blanket giving them hope.

and the seed was planted.

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