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gnocchibabie · 6 months ago

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Desire and Blood (Chapter 2)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen/Strong OC (Jaenara Velaryon)

Tags: AU - canon divergence, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, Targcest (uncle/niece)

Wordcount: 5.2k

Summary:

Against all odds, the love between childhood friends prevails and the Dance of Dragons is avoided.

However, peace comes at a cost. With the unexpected proposal of marriage between Alicent Hightower's son and Rhaenyra Targaryen's only daughter, can love truly blossom between sworn enemies? Or will Jaenara Velaryon be reduced to a mere pawn?

Love may yet arise where enmity once thrived, but Aemond's relentless pursuit of power threatens to shatter everything they hold dear, including each other.

Notes: Part one is linked here!

If you are liking this series, please consider showing some love on my AO3 posting of this fic :) thank you x

The doors to the council room chamber finally shut, leaving only Alicent and her two sons by themselves. A tense air looms overhead, and Aemond Targaryen sits stiff in his chair, considering all that has just happened.

I am to marry Jaenara Velaryon.

A funny feeling settled at the bottom of Aemond’s heart. Truth be told, marrying his niece was far from the worst possible marriage partner he could imagine. Aemond would never speak it aloud, but he had always found Jaenara strikingly beautiful. While she did not bear the signature Targaryen white hair, she shared their bewitching lavender eyes. Hers had always been an interesting shade, he had thought. And Jaenara had a remarkably Valyrian face. Many people amongst the court — even his mother Alicent — had stated that Jaenara was a spitting image of Rhaenyra in her younger years.

Aemond also admired his niece’s curious personality, which was an understatement. One second, she could be as cold as the winters of the north. A moment later, she would exhibit a kindness and warmth only read about in stories. She was a welcome challenge, Aemond thought.

Jaenara, he remembered, is also a skilled dragonrider. She had a strong bond with her dragon, and had quickly honed many skills and tactics that many within their family — including her brothers, had struggled with.

Perhaps there was more to admire about this match than he initially believed.

Aemond finally raises his gaze to his mother and brother.

“I never thought you’d be one to play matchmaker, mother.” Aemond tells his mother, the slightest hint of amusement in his tone. Amusement to mask his uncertainty. Alicent looks at him incredulously, wondering how her son could joke amidst such circumstances.

“Oh you didn’t know?” Aegon scoffs, “Mother has already done this before. Can’t you see how happy Helaena and I are together? Surely you and your beloved bastard will also be a sight to behold.”

Aemond opens his mouth to retort his brother's jabs but his mother beats him to it.

“Enough!” Alicent slams an open palm onto the table. Aegon scoffs once more and rolls his eyes. Their mother’s eyes hold sorrow. Guilt. She has nothing to say in rebuttal. What could be said in face of the cold truth?

Aemond is about to leave when his mother finally speaks: “You will speak to Jaenara with more respect from now on if you are expected to sit at her mother’s council…” she trails off, as if unsure of her own words.

“I seem to remember you spoke of her the same way not too long ago - what was it you called her? Plain-featured?,” Aegon says, “Though your criticism of Rhaenyra and her litter of bastards has lessened over these last few months. Has the Queen snuffed out your senses too?”

“Aegon,” Alicent’s voice is heavy, “Aemond. Rhaenyra only has everyone’s best interest in mind. She is following her father’s dying wishes - your father’s dying wish. We were both with him in his last moments…” The woman before them clad in green closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I know what has happened in the past. But this is our opportunity to put it at rest…”

Put it at rest? Aemond feels disgust at his mother’s sympathies. They took my eye. They made my childhood the nightmare it was. They chipped away at me bit by bit.

“You say this about the same people who robbed me of an eye, mother,” Aemond responds coolly, “The same people who faced no consequences for this. I have seen how this has tormented you, even years later. As you have with me.”

The prince can see the conflict that bubbles below his mother’s surface. Alicent turns to her son and does something unexpected. She takes her hand in his.

Aemond’s eye softens for the smallest moment.

“My son. There is no mending what has been left in the past. But there is still time to mend the future. I only wish to see you happy.”

He shakes out of his mother’s grasp. “She will do no such thing.”

Aemond stands and makes a brisk exit for the door. Leaving his mother and brother behind, and himself to his thoughts.

Someone will pay the price. And I will make him pay for it in blood.

The prince does not find sleep so easily that night. He challenges himself to imagine the look that would grace his niece’s face when her mother would have to break the news of their arrangement to her. He wondered if her lavender eyes would narrow in disgust, her lip curling in a snarl, anger palpable. Or perhaps she had looked to her mother with quiet surrender, making no reaction and solemnly accepting his hand. He decided she had done the former. Jaenara had always been a rather animated young woman - and that was putting it lightly. Even in their youth she had been this way.

In the quiet of his chambers, Aemond finds his mind enraptured by the princess.

He is reminded of a time she had scolded him when she was a girl no older than six, and himself only seven, for pushing her twin to the ground and giving him a scraped elbow. The only person who managed to stop her tirade had been Rhaenyra. Aemond recalls the young mother scooping her twins into her arms, one flailing around still shouting at him whilst the other had tears streaming down his face. The prince smiles almost fondly from the memory, surprising himself.

The next memory that came to him happened a few years later. Aemond had more often found himself at the center of ridicule, frequently dealt by Jace and Luke. Oftentimes by Aegon too, though he chose to ignore that detail. The young prince had always felt distant to the rest of his family, as though he were different - lesser than the rest of them. And how could he not, as a dragon-less Targaryen. He was a dragon without wings. And his nephews had made sure he was aware of this. Aemond recalled how his blood boiled at the thought that bastards such as his nephews - such as Jaenara - had dragons. And yet, he did not. Was there something wrong with him? Had there been a reason his egg had not hatched alongside him in his cradle? Was he unworthy?

The taunting had reached a new level when Jaenara’s brothers had gifted Aemond a pig. Something he was much more worthy of rather than a dragon - they had said. He remembers when his nephews had revealed the creature to him in the training yard. Even Aegon laughed at him, so loudly it had caught the attention of Jaenara, who had been on the far end of the square speaking with Helaena. Aemond remembered how her gaze had turned to him - how he waited for her to join in on the teasing and laughing.

No such thing happened.

Jaenara bounded over to the group of boys, a quiet storm forming behind her lavender eyes. Helaena had opted to hang back from the debacle, watching the impending uproar with rapt attention.

“Think that’s funny, do you?” Jaenara had asked aloud when she finally reached their group.

Silence.

Jaenara continued, “I seem to remember that you yourself Jacaerys - you have made very little progress in even mounting Vermax.” The young boy averted his attention to the ground, suddenly very interested in a mound of dirt near his feet. The reprimanding had not stopped there.

“And you-” She turned to Lucerys, “You on the other hand may be able to mount your dragon, though you find yourself on the ground within seconds.” She looks between her brothers, and then to Aemond. Each holds their gaze with the other for a few moments.

“Neither of you have any room to be acting as though you are real dragon riders yourselves.” She seems to have finished, turning on her heels and running back to Helaena.

“AND TAKE THAT PIG BACK!” She yells over her shoulder. Aemond watched as his sister and niece strode away, arm in arm. He returns his attention to Jace and Luke, whose faces are the same shade as their house colors. Aegon’s laughter fills the yard again.

This incident had shown Aemond a different side of his niece. For an instant, he was filled with an immense regret for all the times he had ever been cold to her. The times he had called her a bastard. The times he had joined in on Aegon’s belittling of her and her family. She had taken all of that - for years on end - and still defended him. He couldn’t really understand why.

He can do little to prevent his least favorite memory from entering his mind. Aemond takes in a breath and closes his eyes. He remembers the night at Driftmark. The night he had claimed Vhagar. The night he lost his eye.

That time had been different. Jaenara had not been present when the fighting had broken out - not until Rhaena had frantically found her and told her of what was transpiring, unsure of what to do herself. When his niece entered the room, Aemond had been on top of her brother. The sight had sent the young girl into a frenzy and, without fully understanding the context of the situation, she had flung herself onto Aemond and wrenched the boy off of Lucerys.

“Get off of him!” She had screeched. With her arm wrapped around Aemond’s neck, Jaenara threw herself back and they soon found themselves on the cold floor. “What do you think you-” Her question remained unanswered at this moment - this singular distraction turning Aemond’s attention towards his niece. He remembered the bewildered look on her face, her black hair coming loose from her braid. Her white night dress and the light purple robe that clung to her. A bead of blood on her bottom lip. She had always had a bad habit of biting it, Aemond had noticed. Hard enough to draw blood. The blood began to trickle down her chin.

It was the last thing his good eye had ever seen before Luke split open Aemond’s face, from his cheek to his forehead. His own blood splattered onto Jaenara’s powder white gown, staining the cloth forever.

Darkness. A scream.

Aemond sat up in bed, blinking away the rest of the memory. He opened and closed a fist. Yes, he was sure of her response now. Jaenara was not happy about the prospect of this union, and had surely let her mother - and the entirety of Dragonstone - know this. Where she lacked Velaryon parentage, Jaenara’s Targaryen fierceness made up for this tenfold.

She will meet her match.

Aemond would swallow his pride - swallow his grudges against his niece, and become her husband. Though, he decided, she should not expect much from him. He held no love in his heart for her. Surely no romantic love. He would use her as he needed, to obtain what he wanted - power. That, and retribution for the slight that his family had suffered in having Rhaenyra as their Queen. Though some of the weaker members of his family would not see it his way.

He circles back to the dark thoughts that had crossed his mind earlier. He would be doing his soon-to-be wife a favor in getting rid of her twin. She would be made heir to the Seven Kingdoms. It was probably the closest act akin to love Aemond would find himself capable of accomplishing during their relationship. And he would help her to rule. He was nothing if not helpful.

He could make it look like an accident. He had previously considered poisoning Jacaerys. Aemond would not act until a comfortable time into his marriage, so as not to raise suspicion. Though he decided, suspicion would be raised regardless if the heir were to suddenly drop dead in the middle of dinner. He hardly thought that hands clenched around the throat, skin purple, and eyes bulging out of his head would seem inconspicuous.

Poison was out of the question.

Aemond Targaryen feels a sudden sense of dread in plotting his own nephew’s demise. The dread only grows when he truly pictures carrying the act out himself. If he were ever to be discovered, The Realm would christen him with the title of Kinslayer.

To be a Kinslayer is to be despised by The Gods. To be damned to the Seven Hells.

Aemond is unsure if he harbors enough hatred in him to carry out the act, though he certainly is no stranger to being on the receiving end of such hatred.

He considers if he possesses enough complacency to suffer the consequences, should they be dealt. He wonders if his heart is as hard as everyone else believes it to be.

And yet…

Unable to find sleep, Aemond climbs out of bed once more. He dresses and finishes the outfit off with his long black cloak, throwing the hood over his head.

The One Eyed Prince slips out of the Red Keep and ventures into the Streets of Silk, hoping to find some semblance of comfort.

— — —

Candlelight illuminates the face of the young princess as her eyes scan the pages of a rather large, rather dusty book. In the days before their inevitable departure, Dragonstone had become a whirlwind of busy servants and flustered royals. All of Jaenara’s possessions had been packed away and taken to King’s Landing ahead of time with the family’s servants, save for the text seated in her lap. In such a tumultuous time, the young woman found solace in its pages.

Jaenara had read the story of Rhaenys Targaryen, one of Aegon the Conqueror's sister-wives, so many times she felt she could recite the text backwards. Visenya had been a sister more remembered and revered by history for her valor and fierceness as a warrior; though Jaenara found herself drawn to the gentler sister. Rhaenys was more of a revered politician than a feared warrior. To Jaenara, she was just as formidable. She wanted to be like the Queen. Loved and feared.

A knock upon the door turns her attention away from her histories. Jacaerys enters her chambers and lingers at the door for a moment, before resigning himself to sit next to her on the plush bed.

“Jace,” Jaenara breathes, closing the text.

Jacaerys looks over the book.

“Again?” He attempts a small smile.

Jaenara gets up from her place on the bed to create some distance between her and her brother. She places the book on her writing desk, taking mental note not to leave the book behind when she leaves tomorrow. “I find comfort through her in times such as these.” she responds shortly.

Jace sighs, “You have been avoiding me.”

“You have made it easy.”

“Nara,” Jacaerys begins to sound annoyed, “You are not the only person who has had to…adapt to this change.”

Jaenara turns swiftly towards her brother, loose raven tresses swaying behind her wildly, “No, but I am the only person amongst us who had had their hand sold to a snake. You cannot understand my grief, Jace! You are betrothed to Baela - sweet Baela. You two actually like each other. But I am condemned to be the conciliatory sacrifice of this family.“

You are being unfair. Jaenara says to herself — she knows it to be true. You are being difficult. But she cannot help it. Her twin was afforded the luxury of being born a man. A man who did not have to face the same realities she currently found herself in.

Jace shifts on her bed, frame creaking under him. He seems to struggle finding his words, “I…you are right Jaenara,” He sighs, “I do not know what it is like. Just as you do not know what it is like to now be heir of the Seven Kingdoms.”

She glances at him and her twin continues.

“We both have the burdens of our parents to bear. We wear crowns too heavy for us.” Jace is solemn.

Jaenara bites her lip hard and lets out a shaky breath. A sickly sheen of guilt settled in her stomach. It was true that she had not considered what the rest of her family had been feeling of late. She seats herself beside Jacaerys and the bed groans under their weight once more.

“I am sorry Jace.” Is all she can muster up.

Jace places a reassuring hand over her own. “You may yet make some use out of your upcoming marriage.”

Confused, Jaenara looks to her brother.

“Aemond is a fierce fighter. He is well versed in the histories and philosophies. I hear he has become a knowledgeable strategist. He rides the largest and oldest dragon, who is no stranger to battle.” Copper eyes meet lilac eyes. “And with you as his wife, he will be in our pocket.”

“He would be a formidable ally to have. But Aegon holds a seat on mother’s council - not Aemond.” Jaenara asserts.

“I as heir and you as his wife could sway this decision.”

“Mother has not even been crowned and you are already scheming.” Jaenara’s words are not so chiding as they are playful.

“Not scheming. I only hold our best interests in mind.” Jace tells his sister.

She looks him over once more. When had they become so…grown-up?

“You tell me you are fearful of wearing the crown one day…I think you will come to wear it well.” Jaenara softly smiles as Jacaerys scoffs and rises to his feet.

“Just think it over, Nara,” He turns to the door, “You must rest. We rise early in the morning and depart for King’s Landing.”

Before he leaves, he throws a glance at his sister over his shoulder. “I won’t let any harm come to you…from him.”

Jaenara does not let on how much the words mean to her. She has always disguised her true feelings under a cover of dripping sarcasm. “You need not worry about me, brother. Perhaps you should protect him from me.”

Jacaerys laughs and leaves again.

As Jaenara climbs into bed, she considers her brother's words.

Where he may prove to fail as a husband, he could make up for as an advisor. A weapon.

The princess blows out the candle and dreams.

In her slumber, Jaenara is face to face with Aemond Targaryen. He stands opposite to her, in front of a throng of people. She looks down and sees herself clad in an ornate dress of scarlet, white, and gold. Her black hair is pinned up in several twisting braids. The One Eyed Prince looks to his beautiful bride, eye full of admiration. For a moment, she thinks he might love her.

She thinks she may like that.

Suddenly, gasps are heard around the crowd. The gasps morph into shouts, scattered all over the Great Hall. A sharp pain. Jaenara feels a sticky warmth envelop her cheek, and feels something dribble onto her wedding gown. She reaches a trembling hand up to her face, pulls it back, and watches blood soak her palm, dripping below her wrist and all the way down the length of her arm. The wails echoing throughout the hall only grow around her. It is maddening. A sickening pop makes her blood run cold and she watches as one of her eyes rolls onto the floor below.

Her husband’s mouth moves yet his voice comes out delayed, a haunting chorus.

An eye for an eye.

Jaenara wakes to another knock at her door.

“My lady, may I help you dress?”

The princess wills her breath steady and wipes the sweat from her brow.

“Come…come in!” She calls out to her handmaiden.

There was no time to dwell on the meaning of dreams.

— — —

Prince Aemond sits across from Helaena as her children busy themselves with their toys. A handmaiden hands Jahaerys a toy dragon, which the boy launches at his brother.

“I think I will be glad to see them today,” Helaena says suddenly, looking up from her embroidery, “In truth, I have missed Jaenara.”

Aemond continues to watch his niece and nephews play as he answers his sister, “You may be the only one amongst us who feels that way,” He mutters, “Though I do remember how close you and Jaenara were as children.”

Helaena had been an even lonelier child than she was now, as a lonely young woman. Always murmuring words that his family could not understand, and did little in trying to understand. Aemond had always felt sorry for her. But Jaenara did not seem to mind her aunt’s off putting nature. He recalls them as young girls, running throughout the castle gardens together, trying to catch butterflies. He remembers as they grew older, a few young ladies in court had taken to calling his sister, Helaena The Hysterical.

Before Aemond could put an end to the name calling, Jaenara had done it herself. The girls in court would not so much as look at either of them wrong.

And most of all, Jaenara listened to Helaena. Something nobody in his family seemed to do. Not even him, in truth.

“I would hope you two can become close as well,” She gives her brother a wistful look, “You are to be married.”

“I think us siblings are doomed to hold strained relationships - at best - with their marriage partners.” Aemond replies.

Helaena looks down at her sewing. Maelor and Jaehaerys fight over a wooden horse. Aemond’s sister remains in front of him, though she looks as though she is worlds away.

“Those child led astray finds solace in the embrace of the sea.” she whispers.

Aemond’s attention is redirected from children to mother. A silence passes over him and his sister’s handmaids.

More innocuous ramblings, he thinks.

A servant enters the door to inform the sibling’s of The-Queen-To-Be’s arrival.

“Come, sister,” Aemond begins, “Alicent will be waiting for us. She wishes to receive our family in the Great Hall.”

Helaena sets down her embroidery and looks up at her brother, “A dragon’s ambition foretells his own undoing.”

Aemond chooses not to hear her words.

— — —

Jaenara and her family’s reception in the Great Hall could not have felt more strained. Guarded expressions and tight lipped smiles adorned Alicent and her children - though Aemond and Aegon had not smiled at all. Helaena seemed blissfully unaware of the anxious energy surrounding her. Jaenara had sent a secret smile her way - a genuine one. And though she felt her uncle’s eyes boring into her, she refused to meet his gaze.

Rhaenyra had been displeased by the whole ordeal, hoping to ease tensions at dinner. Jaenara found herself remembering the last dinner she had shared with her entire family and thought it to be an impossible task.

Jaenara had spent the time before dinner settling into her new chambers, though all her belongings had already been settled into place before her arrival. The room felt more inviting than her chamber’s in Dragonstone, which were drab and dreary. Though, this was the only silver lining she could find about her circumstances thus far.

When the time had come to prepare for the evening, the princess disrobed from her riding leathers, the smell of dragon peeling off along with them. Her handmaidens help her to dress in a gown that Rhaenyra had picked out for her.

I do not even have the agency to dress myself now?

Jaenara stepped into a dress of crushed velvet, a dark teal in color. The neckline was embroidered with pearls, illuminating her collarbones. The sleeves of the gown hang loosely and open at her wrists, revealing a pale cream color which lines the teal. A belt of silver bangles mixed with pearls hangs around her waist, crested above the teal, cream, and aquamarine shades of fabric that pool to the floor. The attire bore the unmistakable air of Velaryon fashion. The wearer, not so much.

Portions of Jaenara’s dark silky hair were re-braided into a ring, as if it were a crown sitting atop her head, while the rest of her hair remained loose. Black waves ran down her back like a waterfall.

Her ladies had been told to do this, to help her into a fine gown. To adorn her ears and wrists with bangles. To fix her hair in a way that flattered her face.

To impress him.

She almost laughs out loud at the thought. Jaenara figured that Aemond would find her as charming as he had found that pig he’d been gifted all those years ago.

She decides to regard him similarly, despite her thoughts drifting to long platinum hair that she envied so much.

Her maids had finally finished with their work.

Jaenara is sitting around a great wooden table in the dining hall, with the entirety of her family. Servants have begun to deposit plates filled with meats and vegetables and pies and cakes all around. The clanking of plates and silverware fills an otherwise quiet room. Jaenara is begrudgingly sitting next to her uncle, and Jace and Luke shoot her looks of pity from across the table. She picks up her glass and takes a swig.

Suddenly, Rhaenyra Targaryen speaks, “I wish to clear the air,” She begins and everyone looks up from their plates. Alicent Hightower seems especially stiff.

“I do not wish for this to be a time of tension and formalities - though I do thank you,” She looks at Alicent directly, “for your welcoming reception earlier today. I want us to speak freely amongst each other. I want only what our father, Viserys, wanted.” She makes a gesture towards her siblings at the end of her sentence. Aegon clears his throat.

“There is much to discuss in the coming days, but I want this to be a night of camaraderie and celebration.” Her mother stands, drink in hand, “Let us raise our glasses-”

Jaenara feels herself melting into her chair.

“-To the union between my cherished daughter, Jaenara Velaryon, and the prince Aemond Targaryen. May their union bring strength and prosperity to our noble houses, and may it be blessed by the gods." Her voice held a hint of cautious optimism, echoing the hopes and dreams of a realm poised on the brink of new alliances.

Jaenara lifts her glass, as well as her attention to the man next to her. Aemond is already looking at his niece, a smirk on his face.

To everyone’s surprise, Alicent Hightower rises from her seat. She looks less burdened from the words of Rhaenyra.

“Thank you, Your Grace…for your unflinching understanding.” The two women share a look, “And to Jaenara and Aemond. A lovely match indeed.”

Helaena begins to clap, though no one else around the table shares her sentiments.

Aegon lets out an audible laugh at the toastings, “Apologies,” he adds quickly, “I am just so - overjoyed by this…marriage.” His voice drips with sarcasm.

Jaenara forces a smile, though her eyes shine with a different expression, “I am happy this match pleases you, uncle.”

However, Aemond does not let the jab pass unanswered. "I hope your joy does not swell too greatly, brother," he retorts, "for dragons have been known to breathe fire when overshadowed."

Jaenara sits up straighter when she sees Aegon roll his eyes and throw back his cup. She regards Aemond with a quizzical gaze. The princess regarded Aemond’s retort as nothing more than a brotherly spat. Before any more slights can be passed around, the servants finish bringing out the rest of the food. The family begins their dinner and small conversations break out amongst those resigned to sit next to each other.

The princess watches her brothers laugh with Baela and Rhaena. Sees her mother and step-father speak with one another. She pushes her food around her plate.

The sudden sound of Aemond’s voice makes her jump, “The cooking of the castle staff does not please you?” he asks, amused.

Jaenara stops playing with her food and her eyes cut away to her uncle.

“The first conversation you wish to have with me - in years - is whether or not I like our meal?” her voice drips with condescending skepticism, “As if the fate of the realm hinges on my opinion of pigeon pie?”

He tsks at her, “Always so difficult niece. I am only attempting to make conversation. An endeavor that seems beneath you - a pursuit you avoid at all costs if it is with me.”

“You are just…quite bad at it.” Jaenara remarks.

It is Aemond’s turn to take a sip of his drink to hide his annoyance.

“I do enjoy that…costume you’re wearing. But you are more a Targaryen than a Velaryon - don’t you agree?” Aemond says lowly.

Jaenara knows his remarks are meant to be demeaning, though she tries to take it in stride. She was a Targaryen after all. And she was pleased that she acted so much like one that people took notice, even if it was Aemond. But an insult was an insult all the same.

Exasperated, Jaenara turns to the prince fully, “Is this what I can expect when married to you? Insults thrown at me for all my days to come? You should know I can deal them out as well, twice as hard.”

Aemond chuckles, “You are too easy and quick to provoke, Jaenara. You are too tense.” She sees something flicker beneath his eye.

Aemond took pleasure in goading his niece, reveling in the predictability of her fiery responses. More silence passes between them. The prince watches Jaenara force a few bites of food into her mouth and continues to eavesdrop on conversations around her. Daemon whispers something to Rhaenyra, and her mother takes a glance at her daughter and half-brother. Jaenara winces.

“You asked what you can expect being my…wife,” Aemond’s surprisingly soft gaze is already fixed upon her, “You can expect a union that does not harbor any illusions of love. But one founded on mutual…respect. Understanding. We shall navigate this pact with the grace and duty befitting of our situation if you would only allow it.” His words somehow put her at ease.

Jaenara is perplexed. Maybe her mother had been right in saying that Aemond had changed. Though she was skeptical of his remarks. It was yet uncertain whether they could truly let go of all that had transpired in the past.

Although, the princess felt ever the faintest tinge of disappointment at his words.

“Well…” She begins, though her words do not come out as strong as she would like them to under her uncle’s intense stare, “I am…pleased to hear that. We do not have to feign ignorance then. I expected nothing more from us.”

To Jaenara’s dismay, Aemond seems amused. It is not so often she stumbles over her words. His gaze lingers over her. He takes notice of the pearl that sits prettily below her collarbones. He watches her eyes fall to her hands, which she wrings in her lap. Jaenara finds that she does not like how being at a loss for words makes her feel, and decides to throw back her drink, trying to find comfort in the bottom of the chalice.

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ilove-sexydilfsnmilfs · 5 months ago

Text

-Star Crossed- chapter 1

Pairing- Oc!reader(afab) x Logan Howlett

Words- 1.9k (not proofread plz excuse any errors)

Summary- it’s been nearly 2 years since Cora(reader) and Logan both lost eachother in their own universe, both broken, angry and hated amongst their people, They would do anything to see one another again, little did they know that day would come sooner than expected, and shatter their hearts into pieces and drive their long hidden desires to the surface ….will they be able to forgive themselves for their past and finally be together? Or will the universe just tear them apart once again?

Warnings- mentions of death, blood, 18+ (smut) in some later scenes/chapters… tension!!!! ./trauma/ no use of y/n I will be using a name but I won’t be describing any appearances! / Logan is aged down to be atleast in his early /mid 30s in this story / will add more warnings when needed.

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You’ve been rotting in your bed for months now, you can’t bring yourself to do much…not anymore.. you feel so lost, so hopeless..all because he’s gone, and you blame yourself for everything that had happened , you blame yourself for losing Logan.

You stare up at the white ceiling, Logans dog tags rest around your neck, his old grey zip up wrapped in your arms, his scent slowly fading with each day that passes. You feel nothing but sadness, you’ve cried so much you genuinely don’t think you can bare to cry anymore you just want out. Out of this fucking world, out of your misery. But what can you do? Just leave? No…what would leaving do? You’d still carry the pain you’ve felt since the day Logan Howlett died in your arms. Sometimes you swear you can still feel the warmth from his blood pooling under you, his heavy body laying stiff in your arms…the feeling of absolute dread when he stopped responding to your pleas to stay with you a little longer, when his hand fell from your face, body going limp…thinking about it makes you want to end your own life sometimes but you know that’s not what he would have wanted for you…he would want you to live on, but how could you live when the only man you’d ever loved was gone …forever?

You rolled over on your side, your face sinking into your pillow while you held his jacket close to your body, your other hand clenching his bloodstained necklace it’s all you had left of him since you left the x mansion, you couldn’t be there anymore, not with all the memories and not with knowing none of your friends were there anymore either.. they were all gone, dead… you were the last one left, and you couldn't bear to be reminded of all the happy memories...not when survivors guilt was riddled in your body. when everyone had died, you felt like you at least had a reason to live giving you still had logan by your side, but then he got sick, adamantium poisoning....you don't know how it happened, but the adamantium inside of him started to break down, entering his blood stream, it weakened him, slowed down his healing factor...you hated seeing him in pain, it wasn't like him to show it so much, it broke your heart almost every day and that's when you decided to find a way to help him before it got too bad...but little did you know... that would be the very cause of his death.

You blame yourself every single fucking day for his death, sometimes you wonder if you even deserve to wear those dog tags he ripped from his neck and placed in your blood-soaked hands...."I'm so sorry Logan..." you whisper into the jacket, muffled cries echoed through the quiet dark room, cries that soon turned into loud gut wrenching sobs.. you stayed like that for hours, crying yourself to sleep, the way you did almost every night.

you were jolted awake the next morning by the sound of hard loud knocks on your apartment door. You look around frantically, knowing who it was already...it was them.. humans. Humans who hated you more than anything, more than any other mutant...why? because they blame you for the deaths of the other x-men, and they most definitely blame you for the death of Wolverine. "fuck...that fast??" you mutter stuffing your things into a bookbag that lay on the floor next to your bed, they had defintely found you faster than last time....fuck.

you tried to sneak out the window in your bedroom when the door was kicked open by a few bigger men, they ran inside trashing the place, calling out your name in a way that made your skin crawl "COME OUT YOU BITCH" one yelled like a raging brute "come out come out wherever you are Cora, we just wanna make you feel the pain we felt when you killed the x-men" another cooed, his voice was one you'd hear when taunting someone, it was fucking creepy.

"Fuck me!" you spit in a whisper, they seemed even more upset than before...to this day you don't understand why the humans decided to turn against you, I guess they just needed someone to blame for the deaths...and you were right there and unscathed. As you were trying to make your way out the small window, the door to your bedroom flung open and 3 men entered, a mob of people behind them, they grabbed you almost immediately, grabbing your hands and putting them behind your back, and covering your eyes knowing full well of all your abilities. "We got you; you bitch, you're not going anywhere" . Now this whole ordeal would be a lot easier if you could just use your powers against them, but you took an oath when Logan died to never use your powers to harm a soul ever again...and yea these people were horrible trying to kill you but they genuinely think it's your fault your friends are dead...and you know you'd feel the same way if you were in their shoes, so yea...you took an oath to never use your powers to harm these people...but no one ever said anything about using your combat skills...like cmon you were a fucking x-men...these people are really stupid.

you kicked your leg up into the air, uppercutting one person causing them to fall onto the ground with a loud thump. you then brought your head back to headbutt the man holding your arms behind your back and when you felt they were free you ripped the blindfold off and quickly grabbed a lamp that sat on your bedside table, bashing it against another's head. A few people came charging at you at once, but you dodged them with minimal effort, grabbing their heads and bashing them together causing their bodies to go limp and fall to the ground. your right elbow landed directly into someone's stomach making them gasp for air then you brought your knee up to bash it clear into their face, as someone tried to climb onto your back you stumbled from the sudden attack and fell back into a wall causing them to bring a knife right down into your upper abdomen "GET OFF OF ME" you screamed in pain , pushing yourself back into the wall again and again but the person still had a grip on you, that's when another person tried coming at you full speed to tackle you to the ground...you were getting exhausted, you hadn't properly worked out in months and this sudden fight was one you weren't expecting... you were annoyed, trying to fight all these people, finally getting the person on your back off you head someone yell "YOU MURDERER, YOURE KILLING US BUT WHERE WERE YOU WHEN THEY NEEDED YOU"

"ITS ALL YOUR FAULT WOLVERINE IS DEAD" those words, those seven words snapped something inside of you...and well that oath you took...it meant nothing to you now. you brought your hands up into the air, your eyes glowing a bright white, the humans looked at you with nothhing but fear in their eyes. they all stumbled over eachother in the small apartment, but none of them were fast enough, you brought your hands down with a swift motion and everyone in the room flung back, some hit walls, some crashed into furniture and others flew out of windows, an instant death giving you were on the 7th floor. "I DID NOT KILL LOGAN" you screamed, people tried getting up but you didnt let that slide, "I TREID TO SAVE HIM, I LOVED HIM” you swished your hand to cause the ones trying to escape to fling back to the ground. You saw the man that uttered those words that made you snap almost instantly, you had heard them so many times before but for some reason today was the last straw, you tilted your head to the side walking towards him slowly as you brought your hand up you balled it into a fist and watched as he was lifted off the ground, grasping hopelessly at his neck, he couldn't breathe and you only squeezed your fist tighter and tighter as you watched his face turn blue, you glared at him, your eyes narrowing until

'POP'

His head was gone within an instant, blood painted your clothes and face. You were in uncontrollable rage, and couldn't stop, matter of fact you didn't want to stop. you wanted them to feel the pain they have been putting you through when you were already going through enough.

The others screamed, but you quickly shut them up, you twisted your head to the side, and without really thinking about it you opened a portal...it was another one of your abilities you rarely used, but as you were throwing people through it, the screaming stopped....they were all dead and you began to come down from your high while the portal was kept open...you fell to your knees and watched as the golden sparks from the portal started to dim....but before the portal closed completely you saw it...him...a face you hadn't seen in almost 2 years....Logan Howlett.

you felt your heart skip a beat when you both locked eyes, his expression showing just as much shock and heartache as yours, ignoring the bodies you absent mindlessly had thrown before him, in his hand held a bottle of whiskey but it soon hit the cold ground, shattering into pieces. you absent mindlessly grabbed the dog tags that hung around your neck, shooting up to your feet before calling out, "LO-" you were cut off mid-sentence as the portal closed as quickly as it was made and once again you were left alone in silence. You fell to your knees, shaking, your mind raced thinking if what you saw was just your imagination paying tricks on you...logan was dead...there was no way ....you saw him die , you saw-..."no....that's not possible" you mutter to yourself, you stared blankly at the blood riddled floor....that's when your mind began to drift to something Strange said long ago to you...how your ability was one of a kind, how with your own mind you could create portals to other worlds without a type of device...at the time you thought he was just wrong...every time you used your ability you only opened portals to other places in your world...not any others, only he had the ability to do that and even so it was with an object... or...at least you thought. "How...I don't even know wh- I don't even remember what i did .... how?" you were at a loss for words. Did you actually do it... did you open a poral to another earth, one where...Logan was still alive? you felt tears swell in the rim of your eyes, soon falling down your cheeks and onto the floor...you felt sick, crazed and as you looked around...horrible...if what you saw was real, then Logan, The man you've craved to see , the man you once loved and still do love, the man you tried saving and the man that died in your arms...is out there and just in your reach.

(I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS, THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL HAVE MORE INTERACTIONS BETWEEN BOTH CORA (THE READER) AND LOGAN. IT WILL ALSO BE FROM LOGANS POV FOR A LITTLE WHILE let me know if you guys liked it!! 🫶🏼)

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anjee0 · 2 months ago

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My brother's best friend

Chapter 3 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

B Rabbit x Female!reader. (Feel free to put an oc insert if you wish as well)

Description - In which Y/n starts to become friends and possibly more with her brother's best friend, BRabbit.

Warnings - Throughout the series there will be: Mild swearing, Smut, Mentions of drugs and alcohol. (More warning to come throughout the series)

@tiny-gay-satan tagging u cos u love this series xx

Y/n wiped down the counters at the diner as she sighed heavily. She was still mad at Jordan the other night. The memories of last night quickly flashed by in her brain, occupying it as she tried to focus. All she could think about was Rabbit and how she had a great time with him last night. She'd never had anything like that before with any other guy.

Suddenly, the bell above the door chimed as it opened. Y/n looked up to see Carly entering the diner with a warm smile on her face. She sat down at the barstool and looked at Y/n sympathetically.

“Hey girl. I heard about what happened last night.” Carly said.

“You did?” Y/n asked.

“Yeah, everyone knows about the little feud Jordan and your little lover boy got in.”

“Wait? Everyone knows about that?”

“Yup. I'm pretty sure Papa Doc's gang were talking about it too.”

“Tha Free World? I hate those guys…”

“I know right, they're all so arrogant and full of themselves.” Carly scrunched up her face in disgust.

“Also, Rabbit is not my ‘lover boy’.” Y/n started putting air quotes around the words ‘lover boy’. “We're just friends.”

“I know, I'm just teasing. Do you think Jordan and Rabbit will apologise?”

“I hope. I don't want them fighting over something stupid. I feel guilty.” Y/n frowned as she looked away from Carly.

“Hey, it’s not your fault. Their boys, they’re gonna be immature.” Carly reassured her.

Y/n chuckled softly. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just, they’re best friends. They’ve known each other since high school, I don’t wanna ruin anything between them.”

“Well, if it’s really bothering you, then why don’t you try helping them apologise?”

“How would I do that? I’d just make things worse.”

As Carly tried to think of something, the bell above the door chimed again as it opened. Y/n and Carly look to see Rabbit entering the diner. He immediately laid his eyes on Y/n and gave her a soft smile before approaching her. Carly quickly smirked at her friend before getting up to move elsewhere.

“I’ll give you and lover boy some time.” She teased with a playful wink before sitting down at a booth.

Before Y/n could say anything, Rabbit was already sitting at the bar stool. The first few seconds were just silence as they looked at each other with softened expressions.

“Hey.” Rabbit said, softly.

“Hey.”

“I think we should talk about last night.”

“Yeah…”

“Listen, I wanna apologise to your brother but he definitely doesn’t wanna talk to me right now.”

“I can help.”

“You can?”

“Yeah but before that, I just wanna say sorry-”

“Don’t apologise. It’s not your fault.”

“I know but-”

Rabbit placed his hand on top of Y/n’s as his gaze lessened. She could see a spark in his eyes as he gently smiled at her and moved his thumb against her hand gently and slowly. His hand felt baby-soft, completely in contrast to his rough exterior.

“It’s not your fault. Stop apologising.” He whispered.

“Okay,” Y/n whispered back softly. “I’ll stop.”

“Now, tell me. Do you have any ideas?”

The following 2 hours consisted of them talking out ideas to try and sneakily get Jordan and Rabbit to meet up without getting anything to go wrong. It was difficult when Y/n was constantly switching between cleaning tables, taking orders, serving food and then talking to Rabbit again. Carly would glance at them every moment or so with a knowing smirk as she sipped on her chocolate milkshake or took a bite from her burger or chips.

“Okay, well that works for me.” Rabbit said, concluding the conversation.

“Right then. I’ll see you later.” Y/n replied.

‘Yeah. See you.” With those final words, Rabbit left the diner.

Immediately, Carly got up from her booth and approached Y/n and smiled at her. “You two going on another date?” She teased.

“No. We have a plan on getting Jordan and Rabbit to apologise to each other.” Y/n replied with a stern look on her face that matched her tone perfectly.

“Okay, but are you gonna act like him reaching for your hand never happened?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about!” Carly exclaimed. “You’re saying you completely missed out the part when he put his hand on yours?!”

“Oh, that. Well-”

“Oh, it’s okay Y/n. It's not your fault. How about we go on another date and make out with each other?” Carly said in a high pitched voice, clearly mocking Rabbit.

“Lower your voice.” Y/n replied. “You’re acting like a child. He didn’t say any of that.”

“Then what did he say?”

“He just told me to stop apologising and that it wasn't my fault.”

“Yeah, same thing. Y/n, he's into you and so are you. Shoot your shot.”

“We're just friends Carly. And even if I did like him, I'd probably focus on getting him and Jordan to apologise before trying anything.”

Y/n got home after her exhausting shift and immediately threw herself onto the couch. Her back ached and her muscles felt utterly sore. Her ears were ringing and she had a killer headache too, not the best combination.

“You alright?” Jordan asked as he entered the room.

“No, not really. I'm so tired from work.” Y/n replied. “Shit, I left my purse at the diner.” She groaned in realisation. “Can we go get it?”

“You want me to drive you to the diner?” Jordan asked.

“Well it's bad enough you didn't want pick me up from my shift!” Y/n exclaimed. “Had to walk with aching legs back home now I can't even get a ride.” Y/n complained as she shuffled to get up.

“Okay, okay. I'll drop you off there.” Jordan insisted.

Y/n smirked to herself at how gullible Jordan was as she got in his car. She hadn't actually forgotten her purse. She was only lying to get Jordan to drive to the diner where Rabbit was waiting.

Jordan parked his car in front the diner and looked over at his sister. “Go in and get it.”

“Actually…” Y/n began.

“Jeez, what did you do now?”

“Nothing! You just need to get out of the car.”

Jordan groaned I'm frustration as he unbcukled his seatbelt and got out of the car aggressively. Y/n couldn't help but chuckle at her brother's antics as she got out of the car.

Instead of her gong inside to the diner, she went around the back to a dark alleyway. Jordan scrunched up his face in confusion as he watched his sister going completely off task.

“Hey! Where the hell are you going?” Jordan asked.

Y/n didn't respond as she simply just continued to walk down the alleyway. Jordan quickly ran after her in a panic.

“Y/n Y/l/n! Stop walking away from me!” He shouted after her, sounding just like a concerned mother.

When he entered the alleyway, all he could see was a dead end that chips of brick falling off and muddy graffiti. He soon became panicked when he realised his sister wasn't there.

“Y/n?” He called out.

“Jordan.” A voice said.

He turned around to see Y/n and Rabbit standing behind him. His sister had a stern expression and Rabbit looked nervous buy tried to cover it with a neutral expression.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Jordan asked, feeling a spike of anger.

“Jordan, calm down.” Y/n said.

“Don't tell me to calm down! You bought me out here for nothing?”

“Not for nothing.” Rabbit interrupted. “Listen, man. I'm sorry, okay? I know asking your sister to hang out with me before asking you was wrong. And I know I should've told you before hand. I just don't want this ruin our friendship, man.”

The air was thick with tension as Jordan only stared at Rabbit with an unreadable expression. “Man, I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have gotten mad.”

Rabbit smiled Jordan, feeling relieved at his response. “So we're good?”

“We're good.”

Jordan and Rabbit dapped each other up with their signature handshake before pulling each other into a hug. Y/n exhaled a sigh of relief she didn't realise she was holding. She was genuinely happy to see that her brother's friendship was mended.

“Hey, did you walk here? I didn't see your car at the car park.” Jordan asked.

“Nah man, I walked here.” Rabbit replied.

“Hey, I'll give you a ride home.”

“Nah man, it's fine.”

“Rabbit, no way you're walking home in this cold ass weather.”

“Alright, I'll come. Thanks man.”

During the car ride, Jordan and Rabbit were discussing the rap battle taking place next week on Friday. Y/n simply instead listened whilst looking out the window, watching as the houses and rundown buildings passed her eyes.

“You can drop me off here.” Rabbit said.

“Man, don't be stupid. I can drop you off at your home.” Jordan insisted.

“I know but-”

“Rabbit. I don't care about where you live. Y/n won't either. Don't be embarrassed.” He said as he continued driving.

Y/n looked over at Rabbit and gave him a soft smile, letting him know that what Jordan said was true and that he didn't have to worry. Rabbit smiled back, feeling reassured.

Jordan stopped in front of Rabbit's trailer and dapped him up before Rabbit got out of the car.

“Alright, I'll see you around man.” Jordan said as he rolled the window down.

“Yeah man, see you too.” Rabbit replied. “Oh, and Y/n. Lily asked if you could come over some time. She likes your company.”

Jordan turned to his sister and gave her a nod, letting her know she could go. Y/n smiled at her brother before looking back at Rabbit.

“Yeah, I can do that. How's tomorrow?” She asked.

“Tomorrow's good. 10 am?”

“Works for me.”

“Alright. I'll see you then. Goodnight you two.”

Jordan and Y/n bid Rabbit goodnight before they drove back home.

Y/n knocked on Rabbit's door and waited in anticipation. For some reason, she could feel a buzz of nervousness in her stomach making it's way around to the rest of her body. She didn't understand why she felt this way, she wasn't scared for all she knew.

The door opened to reveal Lily looking up at Y/n with glee through her adorable blonde bangs.

“Y/n!” She exclaimed before hugging her.

“Hey Lily.” Y/n replied with a wide smile on her face.

“Come in!”

Lily stepped aside for Y/n to enter. The place was pretty cramped but it had a cosy feel to it. Y/n spotted Rabbit making pancakes in the kitchen and she was a bit surprised to say the least.

He wasn't wearing one of those baggy hoodies she had only ever seen him in. Instead, he was wearing a white tank top that suited him perfectly. His arms were toned with muscles that looked incredibly hot. He wasn't wearing his beanie either, revealing his brown buzz cut. Rabbit put the last pancake on the plate then turned to smile at Y/n.

“Hey.” He said.

“Hey.” Y/n replied

“Did you have breakfast? I'm making pancakes.”

“I already ate at home.”

Rabbit nodded and kissed his teeth. “Uh, I should probably change this.” He said, looking down at his tank.

“Is it not hot?” Y/n blurted out. She could feel her cheeks burning up as the words left her mouth.

“It's November, Y/n.” Rabbit chuckled. “And of course you find it hot. You're wearing layers.” And by layers, he was referencing the shirt and baggy cardigan she was wearing.

Lily dragged Y/n over to the sofa and made her sit down. Lily took her little legs to the kitchen and took her plate of pancakes. She retreated to the sofa and placed the pancakes on her lap.

“When mum's not home, Jimmy let's me eat on the sofa and watch TV.” Lily giggled.

“He's a fun brother, huh?” Y/n asked.

“Yeah, I would've watched TV but I wanna talk to you.”

Y/n felt a cocoon of butterflies erupting in her heart as Lily said that. She smiled softly at her nodded. “I would love that.”

“Yay!” Lily cheered with a mouthful of pancakes. “So can we be friends?”

“Yeah, we can be friends.”

Lily giggled and continued talking to Y/n gleefully. Her brown eyes lighted up with excitement every time Y/n would answer some of her questions. She would continue to eat her pancakes as she listened carefully.

Rabbit came out of his room and leaned against the doorpost as he watched Y/n and Lily talking. Something about the way Y/n was soft and gentle with her tone when it came to talking to his sister made him feel something that he couldn't quite explain. He took his pancakes and sat with the girls on the couch.

“Jimmy's working on a new track and I think it's dope!” Lily said.

Rabbit chuckled and Lily's interesting word choice and ruffled her hair. “Thanks baby.”

“You should listen to it after we finish breakfast.” Lily said to Y/n.

“If it's okay with your brother.” Y/n said as she looked over at him with gentle smile.

“Yeah, why not?” He replied.

After breakfast, Rabbit bought Y/n into his and Lily's shared room. The girls sat on the bed whilst Rabbit sat on his chair and played the track.

If first started off with a few notes of the piano before it quickly changed to another beat, followed by Rabbit's voiced.

Yo, his palms are sweaty,

Knees weak,

Arms are heavy.

The lyrics played. Some parts of the song were left blank with no lyrics with only the beat playing.

“I left the parts I don't have lyrics for blank for now.” Rabbit explained.

“What do you think?” Lily asked.

“I like it. The beat’s nice. And your voice goes perfectly with it.” Y/n replied.

Rabbit smiled as he felt the tips of his ears heating up as they went pink. “Yeah, thanks.”

Time passed quickly as seconds struck like swift bolts of lightning. Rain pattered against the windows, making a calming rhythm of nature. The three of them were sitting around the table eating food Rabbit had prepared.

The warm food felt perfect against Y/n's tongue as her taste buds took in all the flavour, making a satisfying sensation for her. The scent of the food meandered through her nostrils, making her want to take more.

“You're a great cook, Rabbit.” Y/n complimented him.

“Thanks. But pancakes and lasagna are the only things I can make.” Rabbit replied.

“You can make sandwiches too!” Lily said, with little bits of sauce and cheese on the corners of the mouth.

“Anyone can make sandwiches.” Rabbit said as he took a napkin and cleaned the remnants of food off Lily's face.

“Can I?” Lily asked, her voice piqued with curiosity.

“Yeah, it's easy. 2 pieces of bread with some type of filling.”

The rest of the dinner was carried out by a comfortable silence and the sounds of cutlery clinking as they hit the plate. The silence was quickly disrupted when Rabbit's mum arrived home.

“Hey sweeties.” Stephanie said, greeting her children. She then saw Y/n sitting at the table, with a smile on her face. “Oh, Rabbit, you didn't tell me you had a girlfriend.”

Embarrassment radiated off Y/n's face as her heat rose to her cheeks and to her ears, making her flustered.

“Ma, she's not my girlfriend. She's just a friend.” Rabbit groaned.

“Oh, sorry.” She apologised. “I'm Stephanie by the way.”

“I'm Y/n, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too. Say, you look quite familiar…”

“She's Jordan's sister.” Rabbit said.

“Oh, no wonder! You two look so alike!”

The four of them chatted with each other, catching up on highlights for the day before Stephanie decided to retreat to her room. They also eventually finished their dinner and Y/n insisted she could help with the washing up.

Rabbit helped tuck Lily into bed whilst Y/n watched from the doorstop, a soft look in her eyes. He sang a quiet and gentle song to his sister to help her sleep. His voice sounded like an angel, beautiful and pure. When Lily eventually drifted to sleep, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead before turning the lights off and leaving the room.

“You're a good brother, you know.” Y/n said as they both sat on the couch.

“Thanks. But sometimes it just feels like I'm not.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I just have this voice in my head that's telling me that she's growing up in a shitty trailer park because of me. That we're broke because of me. And I know it's my deadbeat dad to blame for, but I can't help that it's my fault. I want to give her the best. I can't do that.”

Y/n held Rabbit's hand, her fingertips grazing his silken hand as she traced every detail on it. She could feel her stomach twisting in nervousness as she did.

“Rabbit, you're a great brother. Lily looks so happy. Everytime I looked at her, she would always be smiling at you. She loves you Rabbit and she would definitely say that you're a great brother. And nothing is your fault, okay?”

Rabbit smiled softly as his grip on Y/n's hand tightened slightly. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

Y/n looked at the clock on the wall. She read as she realised that it was getting late. She immediately got up and dusted herself off. Some parts of her wanted to keep holding his hand.

“I need to go. It's getting late.” She said.

“I'll drop you off.” Rabbit offered.

“No, it's fine. I can walk.”

“No way. It's not safe for girls to walk here during this time of night.”

Y/n sighed “Fine.”

He grabbed his beanie and put it over his, then adjusted it slightly. He got his car keys as Y/n followed him out. They got in the car, feeling a wave or warmth hit their face, a complete contrast to the icy air outside.

The car ride had no exchange of words as quiet jazz music played from the radio. When they reached Y/n's house she took one last look at Rabbit and smiled.

“Thank you. I had a lot of fun.” She said, softly.

“Me too.”

Without any warning, she reached in for an embracing hug. A caring warmth radiated their bodies and they put their arms around each other.

“I'll see you.” Y/n said after she pulled away.

“Yeah, see you.”

She got out of the car and went inside as she heard Rabbit's car driving away. Jordan was still at work. After getting into bed, she softly smiled to herself as she rewound the core memories of today. She felt a bud of happiness blooming in her heart.

A/N: thinking about making this a mini series with 6-7 chapters. Chapters may be a little longer though.

#eminem #eminem x reader #slim shady #slim shady x reader #marshall mathers #marshall mathers x reader #8 mile #b rabbit #b rabbit x reader #jimmy smith jr #jimmy smith jr x reader

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h0neybane · 5 months ago

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someone's probably already done one of these by this point but uh.

GHIBLI-MOVIE-BASED TWST FAN SCHOOL!!

i actually tried designing a ghibli inspired fanschool when i first got into twst (four years ago... yeesh) but it never took off and i cant find any of that anymore so... I'M TRYING AGAIN!! i literally dont even have a school name yet but i'll add tidbits explaining my choices for the uniform under the cut! i'll tag this with the school name when i come up with it later edit 8/4: school name has been added in tags! edit 8/4 (again): school logo and first dorm have been added! edit 8/6: second dorm added!

im 1st going to explain my reasoning for the uniform design and then dive into my ideas for the school itself (dorms, atmosphere, location, etc) one of the biggest things i assosciate ghibli with is their nature + sky shots; such as these ones

so i wanted to include flora inside the design, hence the boa, laurel, and the little vine wrapping around the fem uniforms sock! adding onto that, i made the uniform a light blue striped with white to reference the skies. i also assosciate ghibli movies with peace, so the light blue adds onto that. the band on the arm is the same as nrc's; serves to show what dorm the student is in. the mage stone is located at the broach on the collar's bowtie. the gold around the gem is meant to look like a little flower!

moving onto the ideas i have abt the school...

going back the floral aspects of the uniform design, i think it'd be really cute and magical if they when they recieved the greenery (i'll refer to both the boa and laurel as 'greenery' collectively for simplicity sake) during their freshman year, there were no flowers yet. i think over time, as each student grows as a mage over their years at the school, flowers and plants bloom on the greenery to show their progress. maybe the flowers are specific to each student? i cant decided whether its instinct or they choose what flowers they want themselves

i feel like itd be fitting for the school to be located in a very secluded area. when i picture it in my head, the main building is smack dab in the middle of a flower-filled hillside that's right next to a forest... i'd like for it to be next to water too, but i'm not sure if the ocean would make sense geographically????? maybe it's just a big lake or waterfall inside the forest

i think the correct aesthetic for the school is 'romantic academia?' that's what pinterest is telling me anyway LOL. i think maybe the building is just shaped like a castle similar to nrc and rsa.. but then again i really like the idea of it being similar to Little Witch Academia's luna nova academy. we'll see

like nrc, i have seven dorms planned and theyre twisted from the most iconic ghibli films (according to google). in no particular order: howl's moving castle, princess mononoke, spirited away, ponyo, my neighbor totoro, kiki's delivery service, and castle in the sky. i might add or remove some of these! but theyre what i have for now. thats all i have for now, but feel free to give me any input/ideas (whether in the replies or my asks)! also if anybody wants to draw their oc in the uniform or anything i'd love to see it pls @ me...!!!!

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst fanart #twst fanschool #twisted wonderland fanschool #・❥・my art #art #zephyr valley academy #studio ghibli #ghibli films

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zetsubobu · 3 months ago

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Tag game!

I made a twst oc alphabet for fun that you can do with your ocs and tag others in!

Feel free to either answer all of these at once or let your followers ask you a letter!

A- alchemy: how skilled are they in alchemy lessons? Does crewel like them?

B- bonds: who do they get along with the best? Is there someone they can't stand? What are their relationship with their family?

C- clubs: what clubs are they in? Did they perhaps form their own club?

D- dream: what does their happy dream from book 7 look like? Do they need help in order to wake up or realise that something is off by themselves?

E- end of school: what are their plans after graduation? Do they want to get a job or continue their education?

F- flying lessons: how well can they fly with a broom? Do they play in a spelldrive team?

G- glory: what is their biggest achievement? If they don't really have one, is there something they praise themselves for?

H- history of magic: how well do they know history? Do they pay attention in trein's class or fall asleep?

I- idolising: who of the seven (or other canonical disney character) do they look up to and respect the most?

J- jealousy: is there someone they envy? Why do they envy them?

K- kindness: how do they treat the others around them? Do others like them or perhaps have a negative perception of them?

L- love: is there someone they have their eye on? Is it a full blown crush or simply someone they occasionally eye? Does their love interest reciprocate their feelings?

M- mental stability: how well are they doing mentally and emotionally? Do they have any mental illnesses or other troubles that bother them?

N- night owl: do they go to bed early or stay up late? If so why do they stay up late (work or insomnia)?

O- overblot: would or have they ever overblotted? What resulted in that and how did they handle it afterwards? Did someone they are close to overblot?

P- pacifist: do they handle their problems with brute force or do they try to handle things by talking? Do they make up their mind quickly or consider other people's opinions in how to approach something?

Q- questions: what is something the others around them often wonder about regarding your oc? Are they mysterious to others?

R- right: what is something they absolutely believe in? Can that belief be shaken or disproved?

S- species: are they human or are they another species like fae, merman or beastman?

T- tutoring: do they tutor someone or do they need tutoring? What subjects do they tutor/need tutoring in?

U- unique magic: what is their unique magic? Do they have discovered it already or not like ace?

V- venture into darkness: are they couragous? Do they flight or fight when faced with danger?

W- wildcard: a random fun fact about your oc!

X- xenium: what would they gift strangers or friends?

Y- youth: what did their childhood look like? Were they happy growing up? Are they still in contact with people from their childhood?

Z- zest: what excites them? Do they easily get excited or does it happen once in a blue moon?

I will do it later with marvolo!

For this tag game I tag: @oyatochie @oya-oya-okay @sleepy-meep @esmerulia-chantelle @cheerleaderman @deerla-charming and anyone that wants to do it!!

#ceces talk #tag game #twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #twst oc alphabet

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magicshopaholic · 1 month ago

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Interlude: Hyung Line

The one where the three oldest members of the group find themselves in deep shit

Summary: Namjoon returns to see everyone in a crisis. Seokjin has a conversation with his girlfriend, while Hoseok wonders if he's going to lose his best friend. Meanwhile, Yoongi ruminates on an impulsive decision.

Pairing: OT3 x OC (different OCs)

Genre: Humour, fluff, angst

Word count: 11.2 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language

A/N: It's been forever since I posted and I bring you... *an aftermath fic*!! Takes place the morning after A Stormy Night.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @dreaming-with-happiness @faearchives @margopinkerton @purpleseoul7 @confessionsofamarshlily @jiminjhang @xjoonchildx @tarahardcore @infinitehobi @handfullofcandids @whoisbts @jihopesjoint @kflixnet (drop a message if you want to be added)

Listen to: "dope lovers" by dpr ian

seokjin masterlist | yoongi masterlist | hoseok masterlist | main masterlist

When Hoseok wakes up the next morning, it’s to slivers of sunlight through a soft mesh sort of thing on his face. He blinks and shifts slightly; it’s Chaeyoung’s hair, where his face was buried, and he squints towards the window where an apologetic looking sun has reared its head in the sky after a night of torrential rain.

He relaxes slightly; next to him, Chaeyoung hasn’t moved, her shoulders rising and falling peacefully with every breath she takes. His phone buzzes and he turns to reach for it.

Taehyung [08:45] Anyone need a ride to HQ? I’m leaving in a bit Although no one apart from Jungkookie seems to be in the dorm right now

Namjoon [08:48] I’ll reach on my own. I just got off a flight so I came to my apartment to take a shower.

Seokjin [09:00] I’ll reach on my own too.

Taehyung [09:01] Okay. Where were you last night?

Seokjin [09:01] Never you mind. I have my car.

Yoongi [09:02] Me too.

Hoseok stares at the screen, slowly licking his lips.

Hoseok [09:03] Me too.

Taehyung [09:04] This is not suspicious at all.

Jimin [09:04] I’m at my place with Sooah :D:D:D I’ll be there soon - but everybody don’t forget to be at the restaurant for her birthday lunch! No latecomers!

Taehyung [09:05] I take it your night turned out well after all?

Jimin [09:05] Yessss it did, god bless. I have the best girlfriend in the world - but I’ll tell you about it later. I mean it though - don’t be late for the lunch. Hobi hyung - you can bring Chaeyoung.

Hoseok stomach jolts.

Hoseok [09:06] That’s super random. She’s totally capable of coming on her own, you know? She’s not a kid anymore and I’m not responsible for her anyway.

Jimin [09:08] Errrr I meant because the roads are still a bit flooded so she may not want to walk to the bus stop. But I guess she can come on her own too.

Jungkook [09:09] I can pick her up on my way to the restaurant if you want, hyung.

Taehyung [09:09] You’re alive??? I knocked on your door at least twice last night but I heard nothing. I thought you died in there or something.

Jungkook [09:10] Oh yeah. I was really tired.

Taehyung [09:10] Lol, I’m sure.

Jungkook [09:10] @Namjoon How was your trip hyung?

Namjoon [09:11] Amazing Didn’t want to come back tbh

Jimin [09:11] That feels great to hear But I have a girlfriend now so I get it

Jungkook [09:12] Gross

Jimin [09:12] Don’t be bitter just because you’re single

Yoongi [09:13] Yeah go get laid instead

Taehyung [09:13] I still don’t know where half of you are though. How was everyone out last night despite that horrendous storm?

Namjoon [09:14] Yoongi hyung corrupting the children since 2013

Yoongi [09:14] Me? I think Hobi is doing enough of that for all of us

Hoseok [19:15] What! Of course not. Why even would you say that? What are you talking about

Yoongi [09:16] Sorry, I meant Seokjin

Seokjin [09:16] Errrrrrrr

Taehyung [09:16] I mean, is it me? Am I the lame one for having stayed home last night?

Yoongi [09:17] You were on your way to HQ last night, weren’t you?

Taehyung [09:17] No?

Yoongi [09:17] Not you

Namjoon [09:18] Did I leave my charger at the dorm?

Taehyung [09:18] No idea Speaking of which, you owe me a lock for my door

Namjoon [09:19] Excuse me?

Jungkook [09:19] Taehyung

Yoongi [09:20] Yeah and you need to return my aux cable. It’s still in your car. I couldn’t charge my phone last night and had to fight Miso to borrow hers

Hoseok [09:20] Wait you were with Miso last night?

Seokjin [09:21] @Namjoon I called you to check about the company HQ sleeping quarters too but you didn’t answer

Jimin [09:21] Oh yeah, Namjoon hyung - you weren’t here to give me a pep talk when my night for Sooah was going up in flames either. I had to call Taehyungie and Jungkook instead and they were no help at all!

Jungkook [09:22] Hey!

Taehyung [09:22] Hey!

Namjoon [09:22] One ridiculous problem at a time, please!

Hoseok frowns, already losing interest. He navigates away from the chat and scrolls through his messages, answering some and ignoring others, his eyes now somewhat getting used to the light of the screen. Just as he’s about to close the app, another message pops up.

Chanyeol [09:15] Up?

Hoseok [09:15] Just about

Chanyeol [09:16] Kk. Listen, are you going home anytime soon?

Hoseok [09:17] To Gwangju? Not part of the plan right now, no. Maybe Christmas? Why?

Chanyeol [09:17] We were planning when to go next. Hayoung’s parents are probably travelling end of the year so we’re trying to plan a trip when everyone we want to meet will be there at the same time.

Hoseok [09:18] And I’m part of that list? Chan, you honour me

Chanyeol [09:18] You’d think you wouldn’t be after 20 years of being friends but hey

Hoseok [09:18] You know Seoul is like a train ride away right? Why do you want to wait to hang out in Gwangju?

Chanyeol [09:19] Home and stuff

Hoseok [09:19] Hella senti, I have to say

Chanyeol [09:19] There’s the added bonus of Hayoung and I having to stay with our respective parents when we go home though

Hoseok [09:20] That’s what I’m saying! Come to Seoul

Chanyeol [09:21] I will… I just have to do a Gwangju trip soon. Hopefully when you’re there too

Hoseok [09:21] Why?

Chanyeol [09:22] Okay don’t say a word to ANYONE But I kinda want to ask Hayoung to move in

Chanyeol [09:23] Hoseok?

Chanyeol [09:24] Dude you’re freaking me out. Is that a terrible idea?

Hoseok [09:25] Nope Just recovering from MY MIND BEING BLOWN My boy’s growing up!!!

Chanyeol [09:25] Jesus You scared the shit out of me for a couple minutes there

Hoseok [09:26] I’m gonna dance my ass off at your wedding

Chanyeol [09:26] Whoaaa. Slow down there pop star

Chanyeol [09:27] Anyway, that’s why I want to go back. I want to do this thing where she’s at her parents’ house and I’m at mine and then I bring up all these rules that we used to have at home when we were kids and then just casually wonder what it would be like if we could make our own rules - in our own home.

Hoseok [09:28] Adorable Just adorable Still waiting for how my Gwangju plans fit into this though

Chanyeol [09:29] Are you kidding? I need you there for moral support!

Hoseok [09:29] So, like… hiding outside in the bushes while you’re talking to Hayoung?

Chanyeol [09:30] No, that would be creepy. But this might be the second most important question I ever ask in my life so I need you there. In town. In the vicinity. So I can plan and maybe make some kind of a grand gesture? Unless it’s stupid

Hoseok [09:30] No! Of course I’ll be there. Just let me know when

Chanyeol [09:31] I will. In any case, it doesn’t look like we’ll be able to go back until at least January so that gives me some time to prep.

Chanyeol [09:32] Thanks though. You’re a good friend. The best actually.

Hoseok stares at the screen, the smile on his face fading. The faint flowery perfume and the scent of skin on skin suddenly seems stronger. Something shifts next to him and he turns on his back with dread, faced with the sleeping form of his best friend’s half-naked younger sister.

—

“Everything okay?”

Seokjin looks up, instinctively locking his phone as Nari walks into the living room, stopping just shy of the edge of the carpet.

“Yeah. Just… the usual.” He shrugs, placing his phone next to him. He bites his lip, suddenly at a loss for words. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Mhm.” She nods, running her fingers through the top of her hair and letting it fall down one shoulder. “You? Was the sofa comfortable?”

“Oh. Yeah, totally.” He tries to suppress the urge to stretch his back. “How about you? Oh -“ He clears his throat when she frowns slightly. “Right. We just did you.”

Nari nods again, this time slower. “Listen, Seokjin, about last night -“

“Nari, about what happened -“

They pause at the same time and Seokjin feels his ears turn red, the same time as she chuckles awkwardly and looks away.

“You go,” offers Seokjin, regretting it almost immediately.

“No, no, please, you can go first.”

“No, I insist -“

Nari stares for a few seconds, looking hesitant. “I just wanted to say… don’t worry about it. We can just forget it.”

Seokjin processes this, his pulse slightly uneven. “Okay,” he says lightly. “Thanks for, uh… letting me sleep over.”

“I think I kind of forced you,” she reminds him. “I couldn’t quite have your hypothermia on my hands. They’d take away my medical license if I let you go back out in that rain. Oh, and take your time returning the clothes,” she adds suddenly. “Although I think that sweatshirt is yours, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Um -“ He looks down at the faded blue sweatshirt and grey joggers she’d lent him last night. “Oh, yeah. I stopped looking for this, like, three years ago. I thought I left it in some hotel in America.”

“Well, it would’ve been on eBay selling for a million dollars if that were the case,” she says teasingly.

Seokjin cracks a smile. Unlike last night when, for a glorious portion of an hour, things had felt almost normal, he feels more uncomfortable than ever. Part of him feels like screaming into a pillow, for it’s occurring to him now what a terrible position he’s put himself and Nari in, not to mention Seulgi, stranded in Big Hit.

“Oh.” The word escapes his lips before he realises. He scrambles off the sofa, running a hand through his messy hair. “I have to go… I need to pick up -“ He looks up at Nari.

“Yeah, no. That’s fine.” She nods. “I hope you don’t feel weird about last night, though.”

“I don’t.” He pauses. “I don’t feel weird about it,” he says clearly, but this isn’t the time to have this discussion. Not while his girlfriend is elsewhere, not until he’s done the right thing by her.

Nari looks like she’s about to say something but shakes her head at the last moment. “That’s good. I guess I’ll see you around?”

Seokjin observes her, bare face and slightly puffy eyes. She's biting her lip - he’d kissed those lips last night, he remembers and waits for his face to get hot again.

But it doesn’t. He nods. “Yeah. See you around, Nari.” He trudges out, squinting slightly at the sun and needing a coffee so, so badly.

“Seokjin.” She’s standing at the door when he turns and her eyes twinkle slightly in a way that makes his stomach leap hopefully. “Thanks for coming last night, though.”

It takes him a moment. “Of course. Happy half-birthday, Nari.”

The roads are unforgiving. Despite a lot of the water having been drained, the streets are still flowing with ankle deep water, leaves and debris strewn around everywhere, and entire roads blocked for repairs.

Seokjin reaches Big Hit almost thirty minutes later than he’d intended. Just as he’s about to drive into the basement parking, he spots Seulgi walking out of the front doors, one hand on the strap of her bag and the other holding her phone.

He immediately pulls into the front of the building and skids to a stop, accidentally splashing water from a puddle on her ankles.

“What the -“

“Sorry!” he exclaims apologetically, turning off the car and stepping out.

“Seokjin?” Her shoulders relax when she notices him - but she doesn’t smile. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, the roads are crap. Figured you might need a ride home?” he ventures.

“Oh.” She seems hesitant. Even after spending a whole night at the company sleeping quarters, she looks like she’s stepped out a shower and spent thirty minutes getting ready; there isn’t a hair out of place or a single crease in her clothing. Dressed in an ancient sweatshirt - and what he suddenly remembers with a shock are Nari’s joggers - he feels like a complete slob.

“Unless… you don’t want one.”

Seulgi stares at him. For a second, he thinks she might throw her phone at his face. But a moment later she shrugs.

“That would be nice. Thank you.”

It’s formal and slightly awkward, but Seokjin takes it as a good sign when she opens the passenger door and gets in. He drives mostly in silence; he isn’t sure what to say to her and figures he at least owes her a ride to her doorstep before they have this discussion.

This route is shorter, fortunately, and fifteen minutes later when he pulls up in front of her building, he takes a deep breath. Before he can get a word out, though, she speaks.

“We’re done, Seokjin.”

His heart jolts harder than he expected it would. “What?”

She continues looking out of the windshield, but her voice is calm yet steely. “I spent more time yesterday worrying about our relationship than on my presentation. And that’s not me. Neither is getting in the middle of a situation as messy as yours and Nari’s, but -“ She scoffs without humour.

Seokjin isn’t sure what hurts more: the fact that he wasn’t expecting this right now, or the fact that he can’t help but agree with her.

“Seulgi… I know I haven’t been a good partner lately. I know that and you deserve -“

“Don’t tell me what I deserve. Please,” she says, still calm, but this time he thinks he can hear her voice tremble slightly. “I think you tried. Trying to call me the last few weeks, checking up on me last night, picking me up right now… you’ve been raised to be a decent guy.” She shakes her head and looks out her window. “But it really loses its charm when there’s another woman in the picture.”

Shame trickles down Seokjin’s spine but he forces himself to listen to her and absorb every single word. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I felt for Nari - and I still don’t, but I never meant to -“

“Really? Is that why you’re wearing a pair of pants with her name printed on them?”

His heart stops.

“What?”

Seulgi scoffs again, but it’s followed by the smallest of sniffs. “God, I was such an idiot.”

Seokjin looks down at the joggers, frowning deeply and scanning his leg to see what Seulgi might have until he spots it: right by the edge of the pocket, in faded Hangul… Choi Nari.

“No. No, no, this - no. No.” Seokjin shakes his head vigorously, for she's got it all wrong. But for some reason, his mouth seems incapable of saying anything other than no, no, no.

“Spare me. You're literally in her pants,” she says icily. “God - I'm that girl. The one who started dating a guy with a girl best friend that stopped being just a friend somewhere along the way. Talk about a B-grade k-drama.” She begins gathering her bag and unstrapping her seatbelt.

“Seulgi,” he says hurriedly, “I did not - I swear to you, it's nothing like you're imagining.”

She turns to him and tilts her head, but her eyes are shuttered - apart from being wet. “Really? You weren't with her last night?”

“No! I mean, I was at her house but I wasn't with -”

“Goodbye, Seokjin,” she interrupts him, opening the car door and climbing out. “Thanks for the ride,” she mutters, just before slamming the door shut and walking away.

Seokjin watches her leave in shock. His heart is beating uncomfortably and he feels sick in his stomach, for as much of a right Seulgi had to do this and as much as he even expected her to, hurting her this way was not something he had ever intended.

He isn’t sure how long he sits out there; it isn’t until his phone rings that he’s jerked out of his trance.

“Hello?” He clears his throat and presses his fingers into his eyes, feeling them get wet as he lowers them.

“Seokjin hyung?” There’s a minor commotion in the back. “The meeting has been pushed back by half an hour.”

It’s Jungkook. Seokjin nods, the meeting seeming like a distant problem right now. “Okay.”

“Yeah, meaning we can probably grab breakfast before it. Do you want the staff to order something for you?”

As if on cue, his stomach churns at the thought of food. “Uh, no.”

“No?”

“Yeah. I’m not hungry.” Before Jungkook can argue further, Seokjin continues. “I have to go. I’ll be there soon.”

Hanging up, he finally pulls out from in front of Seulgi’s building, beginning his drive back home.

—

Sooah’s birthday lunch has been organised in a fancy, chic restaurant in central Seoul, on the top floor with added security and an exclusive invitation list. The sun is mild and there’s a gentle breeze in the air, making the balcony area a popular spot for many of the guests to enjoy the newly improved weather with cocktails and appetizers being served by well-dressed waiters.

Hoseok provides his name at the entrance and enters the party, hoping furtively that the group of girls just outside the building haven't spotted his face. He looks around; evidently, the birthday girl hasn't arrived yet. He declines a passing waiter's offer of a prawn tempura and makes a beeline for the first member he sees.

“Hey, hyung,” he says, slightly breathless as he reaches Yoongi. The older member had ended up bringing Jungkook, Namjoon and Taehyung from the company HQ, especially after the latter two had decided they wanted to drink freely at the party and not drive after that, leaving their cars still parked in the company basement.

Now, Yoongi, who’s been quiet all morning and is holding a glass of what looks like gin, nods in acknowledgement even though his gaze is fixed somewhere on the ground.

However, Hoseok can't begin to wonder what his problem is right now. “Okay, look,” he begins, looking around to make sure there's no one around. “I did something horrible. Well, no, not horrible,” he amends quickly. “It wasn't at all - okay, here's what it is, alright?” He swallows and takes a deep breath. “I hooked up with Chaeyoung,” he confesses in a single breath.

Yoongi, who'd been listening with his gaze still burning into the ground, finally looks at him. “Wow,” he says, raising his eyebrows. “Really? Isn't she, like, fifteen or something?”

“What? No!” Hoseok cries. “She's twenty-three! She's an adult - she’s as old as Jungkook! Well, slightly younger,” he admits.

“How much younger?”

“… eighteen months.”

Yoongi nods, then frowns. “Okay, well… it’s not that bad then. She’s old enough.”

“Yeah, but she’s -“ My childhood neighbour, a family friend, and Chanyeol’s baby sister. “… Chaeyoung,” he finishes uneasily. “Her brother is going to kill me,” he groans, dropping his face into his hands.

“Really? Why?” Yoongi shrugs. “It’s her life, right?”

“I mean, sure. But Chan is really protective of her, especially after their mother passed.” Hoseok doesn’t know how exactly to word it to someone who hasn't been there through it all, watching Chanyeol constantly keep an eye on the most important person in his life. Until she moved to Seoul and he asked me to take over.

“So?” Yoongi shrugs, then takes a sip of his drink. “It's her life,” she repeats. “He can't look out for her forever.”

Hoseok exhales, sensing that Yoongi isn't quite getting the point. “Okay, just imagine that I hooked up with your younger sister.”

Yoongi grimaces slightly. “Okay?”

“And imagine that I was your best friend, that we grew up together and I saw her grow up and I was… kind of a douche to her back then,” he mutters. “But then everyone grows up and suddenly I’m in the same city as her, you trusted me to look out for her - and instead I ended up in bed with her,” he finishes with a flourish. “What would you do?”

Yoongi squints, clearly trying to process this. “I… I don’t know, that’s a lot to keep track of. And you know what, I don’t have sisters so I really - I mean, I’m not the best person to ask. But you know who is?” he adds quickly, gesturing with his chin at something behind Hoseok.

Hoseok turns to see Namjoon finishing up a conversation with someone, clinking his glass with theirs cheerfully before they part ways.

“He’s your best friend, you kind of grew up together and he has a younger sister.” Yoongi counts them off one by one. “One he’s fairly protective of.”

“Is he?” Hoseok frowns. “Protective of his sister? Like he is with Kaya?”

“Well, it’s not the same situation but he’s protective by nature. And you’re just getting an opinion, not recreating it to the T,” Yoongi reminds him, nudging his shoulder. “He’s your guy.”

Hoseok considers this and nods, making his way over to Namjoon. Namjoon notices him approaching and smiles, which Hoseok returns with a slightly confused one of his own.

“Hoba!” Namjoon exclaims, clapping him on the back and almost knocking the wind out of him. “How’ve you been? Can I get you a drink?”

“Oh, uh… no, thanks.” Hoseok shakes his head but agrees to a wonton on the spread in front of them. Chewing, he observes Namjoon, who looks far happier than he can remember seeing him in recent times. It’s not unexpected, given how long he and Kaya spent apart.

Suddenly deciding he doesn’t want to think about why Namjoon looks so happy, he hurries to speak.

“So, uh… say I hooked up with your sister,” he begins quickly, only for Namjoon’s smile to disappear in an instant.

“You… what?” he exclaims, and his height suddenly seems looming.

Hoseok frowns before rolling his eyes. “Say,” he repeats, “that I hooked up with your sister.”

“Oh. Why?” When Hoseok doesn’t answer immediately, Namjoon raises his eyebrows. “Dude, did you sleep with someone’s sister?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Hoseok takes a step back and raises his hands. “I did not sleep with her. We didn’t have sex - like, it was so not like that. Because sex is… we didn’t… I mean, no sex was had,” he finishes, his throat feeling dry.

“So I take it you didn’t have sex?”

“No, we didn’t.” But I may as well have, he thinks, flashes of last night surfacing in his mind. Her hair, her skin, her voice like he’d never heard it before… Hoseok sighs. “I went over to Chaeyoung’s last night and we… fooled around,” he confesses, hoping he won’t be asked to elaborate.

Namjoon is far too sensible to do that, fortunately. “Right. And… that’s a bad thing,” he states, as though waiting for Hoseok to confirm it.

He opens his mouth, knowing what he should say. “No,” he admits after a moment. “That’s the worst part, that nothing about it was bad at all.” He shakes his head even as his chest feels lighter for the first time all day. “It was incredible. And not just the - the hooking up, but being with her, laughing and talking… God, we talked all night,” he remembers, his eyes dropping to the floor.

Namjoon raises his eyebrows again, this time looking somewhat impressed. “Sounds like the dream,” he remarks deliberately.

“Yeah?”

“Totally. And clearly you know that because you’re getting that same little smile the thought of it,” he points out. “The one you guys used to tease me about?”

Hoseok immediately straightens his face, not even realising he’d been smiling. “Shut up.”

Namjoon shrugs serenely, finishing his drink and helping himself to a second. “You’re worried about her brother, though,” he guesses.

“More than worried.” He shakes his head and drops his face into his hands. “He’s going to think I totally betrayed him.”

“Did you, though?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you,” he says urgently. “If I hooked up with your sister - your younger sister - while I’m your friend… what would you do?”

Namjoon frowns uncertainly, apparently thinking about it, then exhales. “I wouldn’t be thrilled,” he admits. “It would feel a little like you were going behind my back? Especially since… well, it’s my sister.” He winces, apparently realising he’s not doing a very good job at explaining this. “No guy ever wants to think about his little sister doing that, least of all with one of his friends.”

“That’s perfect,” mutters Hoseok.

“No, but you know - it’s a little different in Chanyeol’s case,” muses Namjoon, now leaning backwards against the table and pointing at the air, as though it’s an interesting problem he’s solving on an invisible whiteboard. “You actually grew up with him.”

“Isn’t that worse? Because not only did I grow up with him, I grew up with her. And Chan is…” He exhales tiredly. “She won’t believe me, but he’s always been extremely protective of her. Especially since their mom died. Emotionally, physically… I know him - there’s nothing in this world he would prioritise over his sister.”

Namjoon is quiet for a moment. “Is it because their mom died?”

“I don’t know. Probably,” he admits. “He was kind of like the golden child when they were young and she was always a little left out and overlooked… he never admitted it but I know he felt guilty about it. He always tried to make up for it and look after her more - even now, when she moved to Seoul.”

“Well, I can see that,” says Namjoon reasonably. “It’s difficult to see your younger sibling as anything other than a kid, especially when they’re that much younger. You thought of her as a kid, too, if I remember correctly,” he reminds him, irritatingly logical.

“But she’s not a kid anymore,” argues Hoseok. “I did think that at first but… she’s really not. She’s smart and insightful and - and she’s focused on her career. And she’s pragmatic - you know last night during the storm, she had hot water and instant ramen stocked up in case the power went out?” His eyes widen and he shrugs hugely. “Six of us in the dorm and not one of us thought to stock up on food. If I’m not wrong, Jungkook ate a bowl of cold kimchi for dinner while Taehyung ate half a block of cheese. And that was with the power on!”

Namjoon grimaces. “What was happening while I was gone?”

“And she made brownies!” Hoseok exclaims, ignoring his friend. “And they were good. And she was crocheting - she…” He takes a deep breath. “She gave me a crocheted bear,” he tells Namjoon in a low voice. “And I don’t know if she put some kind of spell on it, but for some reason, it won’t leave my pocket.”

Namjoon raises his eyebrows but Hoseok can’t seem to stop talking - not now that he’s finally saying out loud things that have been swimming in his brain for months.

“She’s cute and she’s funny - and she’s got this killer confidence. Where did that even come from?” he demands. “She used to be all shy and awkward before but now she’s… oh, and she’s started giving advice now? Good advice, incidentally, and I just want to… I just want to talk to her all the time because sometimes it really feels like she can solve every single one of my problems. And honestly, after last night…” Hoseok runs a hand through his hair, glancing at Namjoon’s expression and hating it, “Namjoon, believe me… she’s a grown woman.”

There’s a few seconds of silence where Hoseok fights the urge to yell incomprehensibly into the abyss.

“So… I know you guys don’t really like it when I do this,” begins Namjoon slowly, “but if I understand it correctly, your problem isn’t so much that you slept with Chaeyoung -“

“I didn’t sleep with -“

“- it’s that you’re falling in love with Chaeyoung,” he finishes, nodding as though explaining a rather simple maths problem without wanting to hurt his feelings.

“I’m - I’m not,” murmurs Hoseok, even as his heart sinks for more often than not, Namjoon is right.

“But that changes things,” says Namjoon. “If you actually had feelings for my sister - real feelings, and I was convinced that you weren’t just messing around with her… I would actually be kind of okay with it. It would be weird,” he admits, shuddering a little, “but it wouldn’t be the worst thing. I’m sure it would be the same with Chanyeol. No?”

Hoseok shakes his head. It isn’t as if the thought hasn’t occurred to him, but if there’s one person who knows Chanyeol, it’s him.

“You know, it might? Except, when we were growing up, I was a dick to Chaeyoung,” he admits in a low voice, the shame and guilt bubbling deep in his stomach. “He was protecting her from his parents and his step-mom and other kids… but he was also protecting her from me.”

He doesn’t say it out loud - he can’t, because it’s too shameful, that the one and only time that Chanyeol ever snapped at him, the only time Hoseok ever felt that he could lose his best friend was when he’d warned him to stop making fun of his little sister.

It had been when they were in high school. Hoseok had taken it way down after that, choosing only to tease her in a more playful way or ignore her altogether, usually when Chanyeol wasn’t around. But it was undeniable that even though they’d moved past it, Hoseok had crossed a line.

Until now.

“I’m the last person Chanyeol will be okay with, being with his sister,” he states, knowing it’s true.

Namjoon doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. “Look, Hobi… that was years ago. You were a kid.” He seems to spot something behind Hoseok’s shoulder. “What’s more important is how she feels about your past.”

Hoseok is about to open his mouth when his phone pings at the same time as Namjoon’s. Similar pings are heard throughout the room and when he checks his phone, it’s to see a message on a group chat.

Jimin [13:04] We’re on our way up. Everyone get ready!

As promised, less than a minute later, they hear the lift open and Jimin’s voice sing-song as he speaks. A moment later, he appears at the doorway with Sooah, his face breaking into a cherubic smile as he gestures to the room with a flourish.

“Surprise!”

All the guests chorus together and Sooah, after gasping and seemingly suffering a mild heart attack, begins greeting people who come forward to hug her. Hoseok and Namjoon hang back, allowing her school friends to greet her first, including Taehyung, while Jimin stands beside her proudly, evidently satisfied with her reaction. It’s then that Hoseok sees her.

“Oh, my God, she’s here,” he breathes, instantly turning away but unable to do so for long. He chances a glance at her as he half-hides behind Namjoon’s broad frame; in an oversized striped pink sweater, a short denim skirt, sheer pink stockings and black combat boots, she looks like an ice cream - a cute, pink, irresistible ice cream with slightly flushed cheeks and long wavy hair. Bubblegum punk, he’d said to her once and here she is, clearly embracing it.

“Okay, the worst thing you can do is be dramatic about this,” warns Namjoon. “Just go and talk to her like everything’s - wait,” he says suddenly. “What did you say to her this morning?”

“Oh. Well, I didn’t want to wake her up, so -”

Namjoon turns around with his eyebrows high on his forehead. “You snuck out?” he whispers loudly.

“No! I mean, technically - but I needed to leave for that meeting and my phone was dead so I couldn’t text her. And I didn’t want to wake her up,” he adds defensively, anticipating the question. “Don’t worry, I left her a note.”

“A note?”

“Yeah, and it was a nice note,” he says shortly. “Whatever I do, I’m not going to screw her over like that.”

They go over to greet the birthday girl after that, once the crowd thins out. Hoseok catches Chaeyoung’s eye for the briefest of moments, feeling his heart skip an enormous beat. But she moves away and he follows her slender figure going to place her present on the gift table.

“... thought it was going to be just a small lunch, you and me. You didn’t have to go through all this…”

“I wanted to give you a surprise… don’t you like it?”

“Oh, of course I do, Chim…”

Sooah leans up to press a kiss to Jimin’s cheek, who looks mollified when he spots them, followed by Sooah. “Hey, guys,” she says, leaning up to hug them in turn as they chorus their own happy birthdays to her. “Thank you for coming, I know how busy you all are.”

“Where’s Seokjin hyung?” Jimin asks, scanning the room.

“He said he wasn’t feeling up to it. He says sorry,” adds Hoseok apologetically, while Sooah waves a hand. “He did look quite off even during the meeting this morning.”

Jimin murmurs something noncommittal but shrugs, evidently deciding to let it go when Taehyung and Jungkook join them as well, deep in discussion that abruptly stops when they come into earshot.

“Namjoon oppa, Jimin told me you just got back from New Zealand,” says Sooah. “How was it?”

“Oh, yeah, you never told us,” adds Jungkook. “Did you do the ziplining thing this time?” he asks excitedly

Namjoon takes a sip of his drink and shakes his head. “No, no, we didn’t,” he answers, chuckling.

“Oh. Well, you must have gone to Milford Sound - he was obsessed with that place the last time we were there,” remembers Hoseok. “Remember? You wanted to stay there longer but the staff made us leave. That’s the kind of place Kaya would like, too.”

“Oh, yeah. It was really nice - but I don’t know, we never really got around to doing that,” he admits.

“Okay.” Jungkook frowns. “What about that Lord of the Rings hike? That’s right up your alley.”

“Er… no. Didn’t end up doing that either.”

Hoseok frowns. “So what did you do for three weeks?”

There’s a few moments where no one speaks and Namjoon doesn’t answer, opting instead to take a long, slow sip of wine and ending it with a soft smack of his lips, all the while when Hoseok finds himself slowly regretting his question.

“Oh. Oh, God.” He swallows before groaning. Jungkook’s ears go red while Sooah and Jimin snort, and Taehyung claps him on the shoulder as they all disperse, clicking his tongue and winking at him.

“Don’t prolong it,” murmurs Namjoon to Hoseok before he leaves, his eyes clearly on Chaeyoung. “Just be normal with her.”

“Right. Normal.” It’s easier said than done, for Hoseok discovers that he’s barely able to look at Chaeyoung without thinking about last night. His feelings for her were tending towards a problematic region long before this, but something had changed irreversibly last night. There was no scope for denial anymore, he realises, not about his attraction to her or deeper emotions that make his stomach flip.

Worst of all, it’s the looming thought of Chanyeol following him every time she enters his mind. He would lose Chanyeol over this, he knows it. Hoseok didn’t think losing Chanyeol would ever even be worthy of consideration in his mind - until Chaeyoung, looking like a cute, pretty, sensitive ice cream.

He drifts towards the table of hors d'oeuvres, trying to force an appetite. Nothing looks appealing, though, not now, but he scans it anyway hopefully. Someone else arrives at the table, and he smells her before he sees her.

“Hi,” says Chaeyoung, giving him a small smile and picking up a small chocolate at the edge of the table.

It’s too much: her summery perfume, her shiny hair, the memory of her naked rib cage underneath his palms while she sighed his name in a way that would make Chanyeol punch him in the face if he knew. He exhales shakily as she takes a step closer to him; even though they aren’t even slightly touching, the proximity makes his heart race and to his horror, he can feel his jeans tighten.

“What are you doing?” he asks in a low voice, dropping all pretense and turning to her.

She raises her eyebrows. “I’m saying hi,” she answers, not sounding even a fraction as frazzled as he feels. She does look… happy to see him, though. The thought makes his heart leap and hurt at the same time.

“Listen, Chae,” he begins, because he just can’t do this. She nods, looking casual and breezy, her cheeks with a hint of pink still on them.

“Yeah?”

“Look, last night was… amazing,” he admits, noting how, despite the casual demeanour she’s displaying, a smile begins creeping up on her face as well. Her lips are pink, too, and glossy… “It was amazing and - and you’re amazing.” Her smile widens slightly and her cheeks flush a little brighter and Hoseok feels his strength start to leave him bit by bit. “But it can’t happen again. No matter how I feel… Chanyeol is still my best friend and you’re still his sister and… you are so off limits.”

Chaeyoung doesn’t seem fazed. Her smile fades slightly but not completely and she licks her lips, as though able to see right through him. “It’s a little late for that, I think,” she says lightly, brushing a lock of hair off her neck.

Be still, my heart. “No, it’s not. I mean, it… yeah. Maybe.” He looks at the floor and exhales deliberately, trying to gather his thoughts. “But it can’t go further. I - I really hope you understand, Chae,” he implores, meeting her eyes, wide and doe-like. “You’re amazing,” he repeats, meaning it, “but…”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, then nods. “Okay.” Giving him that same small, nonchalant smile, she pops the piece of chocolate in her mouth and walks away.

—

Seokjin wakes up from the worst sleep he’s encountered in a while - and that includes the tour they’ve just wrapped up.

It had taken him a long time to fall asleep. Once he’d finally managed to somewhat numb himself to the fact that he’d just been dumped because his girlfriend thought he’d cheated on her, he’d tried to close his eyes and get just a little while of nothingness. But he felt wrung out; he was emotionally so exhausted that it was hard to even sleep, especially because he knew, he knew, that while his break-up with Seulgi was affecting him, it was the fact that he didn't even know how Nari fit into all this.

Well, he knew. He had an idea and he was aware of the general area in which Nari was involved, but all his strength was going into not thinking about that right now because it was a Pandora’s box he didn't want to rifle through at the moment.

Then, of course, the moment he’d tried to catch a few winks, his phone had started buzzing with updates from Sooah's birthday lunch. Jimin hadn't taken it too well when Seokjin had told him after the meeting that he wouldn't be able to make it and while he hadn't been able to bring himself to explain why, something in his expression must have done it for him, for Jimin had abruptly stopped pestering him and told him to stop by if he felt better.

He checks his phone now, realising he's slept through lunch. The late afternoon sun is already dimming, as though warning the city of an early sunset. He sits up on the couch, his back hurting and head pounding and heart racing from the vague dream he'd had of Seulgi imprisoning him in an underground jail while Namjoon appeared as a hologram and read a list of his crimes.

You're a decent guy, but it loses its charm when there's another woman in the picture.

It was like a sick twist of fate, the momentary relief that Seulgi was breaking up with him until it turned to dread when he realised why she was breaking up with him. And the other woman in the picture… Seokjin runs a hand across his face, knowing that it wouldn't have made anything better if he'd try to explain why he was wearing Nari's joggers in the first place.

No, I wasn't sleeping with her - not at all. I went to her place in the storm to wish her a happy half-birthday in line with a decades-old tradition, we splashed around in the rain for a while where an accidental kiss took place, and then she offered me dry clothes and her couch for the night because she's a doctor and she was worried about hypothermia.

It sounds ridiculous - not to mention like a rather trite story. He'd taken off the joggers the moment he'd entered the dorm, throwing on the first pair of trousers he'd found in his room before driving away for his meeting. He'd chucked it in the washing machine after getting back and then the dryer, and in the absence of anything else to do except overthink his ended relationship, Seokjin stalks over to the dryer and retrieves the washed joggers. Without sitting back down, he collects his keys and prepares to drive over to Nari's.

It will be therapeutic, he supposes, to get rid of the immediate cause of his break-up. Plus, he would get the opportunity to apologise to Nari again - for staying over last night, for accidentally kissing her, maybe for showing up at all.

As he nears her building, he slows down. The street is still empty, although the water guns are no longer where they were last night. It’s almost as though the evidence of what transpired has been wiped away clean; Seokjin can’t decide whether that’s supposed to be a good thing.

There’s a good chance she won’t be home right now, he realises. But he still parks the car where he had last night and steps out, folded joggers in hand, looking up at the corridor window that had blown away her notes last night. It’s open and gives him a direct view of her front door.

Just then, as if on cue, the door opens. Seokjin’s stomach leaps without warning - for she’s home - and despite the bad day he’s had so far, a ghost of a smile graces his face.

Nari appears at the door, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Seokjin takes a step forward but halts immediately in his tracks when she breaks into a relieved sort of smile and she opens the door wider - and someone else appears into view.

It’s a man. It’s him - Jason or whoever - who she’d brought to dinner at his place. She’d maintained that they were simply colleagues but either she’d been lying or the situation had changed since then, but Seokjin is motionless as he watches Jason kiss her casually on the cheek as she moves aside to let him in.

Maybe it’s the culmination of an already dismal day or it’s the unexpected nature of this discovery, but nothing that’s happened so far has crushed his chest quite so viscerally. Seokjin almost hopes he’s mistaking someone else for Nari or it’s a friendly, platonic, even brotherly situation - he’s grasping at straws mentally, even as Jason steps inside and the door closes behind him.

—

Near the late afternoon, when the sunlight starts to become sparse, the party starts to wrap up. Guests begin saying goodbye, passing by the table piled high with gifts on their way to the lift, many people happily day drunk and stumbling out.

“Did you know Sooah had this many friends?” Yoongi mutters, sidling up to Hoseok. He looks longingly at the drinks table next to them, now with far more empty bottles than when they'd first arrived.

“I didn't know someone could have this many friends,” he admits, somewhat admiringly. Across the hall, she looks appropriately engaged, swaying to the Justin Bieber track playing on the speaker and talking to two people as she sipped on a cocktail with a straw. A little way away, Jimin, Taehyung and two other guys he'd never seen before were aggressively popping to the song while simultaneously filming each other and guffawing.

“Sounds like a lot of work.” Yoongi sighs and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “When do you want to head out? Because I could use a drink.”

“Oh, is that why you've been sober all day?” Hoseok chuckles. “That’s adorable, hyung. You're like the mother hen trying to get her chickens to walk in a straight line before doing anything else.”

“That's me. Do you see the other chickens around? Namjoon and Jungkook are sharing a cigarette on the balcony,” he notes.

“Jimin and Taehyung are over there, although I’m guessing Jimin will be with Sooah. I don't think they're all Sooah's friends,” he says after a moment. “They aren't close friends at least. I think they're mostly old classmates and stuff that she's kind of in touch with. Jimin just goes all out.”

“He told you that?”

“Not exactly,” he mutters, his gaze moving to the one figure he's been glancing at continuously. Chaeyoung is by the appetiser station again, a clear drink in her hand as she fingers the edge of one of the food cards. Her bottom lip is between her teeth and she's frowning.

As he watches, a friend of Sooah's joins her and says something, to which she nods and laughs politely. He responds and she shrugs, a bit uncertainly, before picking up a single French fry and popping it in her mouth.

“Did you talk to her?”

Hoseok doesn't bother beating around the bush and inquiring who Yoongi is referring to. “Kind of. Went better than I anticipated, actually.”

“Really?” Yoongi raises his eyebrows. “What did you say to her?”

“Told her last night was fun and all but it can't happen again.” Hoseok turns away from her. “She seemed fine with it.”

“You don't sound fine with it.”

“What do you mean? I'm the one who suggested it.”

“You don't sound fine with the fact that she was fine with it.”

Hoseok glares at Yoongi but doesn’t argue. He turns to Chaeyoung again, this time a bit more alert when he notices her grabbing her sling bag, clearly ready to leave. He follows her pink, wavy-haired figure as she floats over to Sooah and presumably wishes her again before giving her a hug.

He frowns as their interaction continues: Chaeyoung asks her something and Sooah responds easily, tilting her head and giggling as she points to Jimin. Chaeyoung’s face falls for a fraction of a second before it’s replaced with a smile and a nod. They hug again and this time, Chaeyoung starts to leave.

As she does, she meets Hoseok’s eyes. His heart stops briefly but she simply gives him a casual wave and a small smile, before stepping into the lift and waiting for the doors to close.

Hoseok swallows, his mind going a mile a minute for the next few seconds. “Hyung,” he says, “you’re taking the rest of the chickens back to HQ?”

“You know it.” Yoongi follows Hoseok’s gaze. “You have your car?”

Hoseok nods before clapping him on the back and dashing off in the same direction as Chaeyoung. He takes the stairs two at a time and spills out into the lobby of the building, head darting around and spotting a telltale pair of pink stockinged legs disappearing around the corner outside the glass doors.

He follows her, jogging a bit until he’s within earshot. He calls her name and she turns, looking surprised but not altogether disappointed at his presence.

“Hey,” she says, as though they’ve coincidentally run into each other on a normal day. Behind her, the sun is far away at the horizon, a bright spot peeking through the clouds as it prepares to set. Right now, though, it’s difficult to pay attention to it.

“Leaving already?” he asks, a little uselessly, but it’s just occurred to him that he has no idea why he followed her out.

“Yeah, I guess. Most people are gone,” she says. “Plus… I don’t really know anybody there apart from Sooah herself. And you,” she adds with a smile when he raises his eyebrows. She doesn’t say anything else but Hoseok suddenly feels guilty, for three hours at a party not knowing anyone can’t be easy.

“You know the other guys, though,” he says after a moment. “Jimin and, uh…”

“Yeah, I was hanging out with Jungkook for a while.” She nods, fingering the strap of her bag. “It’s getting late, though.”

The decent thing to do would be to offer her a ride. He’s on the verge of doing it; now that he’s here in front of her, everything he’d told her earlier today seems vague and blurry and, frankly, unimportant.

“I’m sorry, Chae.”

She frowns. “Oh, don’t be. It wasn’t that bad - like, the food was good and I got a few nice pictures -“

“No, not about that.”

“Oh.” She licks her lips and nods once. “About that… don’t be sorry about that either. I get it - it’s weird. We’re practically family and you and my brother especially are -“

“Nope. Not that either.”

She stares at him blankly. “I’m out of guesses.”

“I'm sorry for…” What’s more important is how she feels about your past. Namjoon, ever the wise one, had touched upon the only element in this mess that could bring Hoseok out of his pit of guilt about Chanyeol: Chaeyoung.

“Yeah?”

He takes a deep breath. “I'm sorry for everything. Everything I did when we were kids, everything I said…” He bites his lip as she processes this, her eyes flickering slightly before they fall to the ground. “I was a huge jerk to you. And I know I was a kid, too, and so were you… but that doesn't mean that it all just disappears when we grow up. I know over the last year we've… gotten closer -”

Her lips twitch and his cheeks grow warm. He hurries his next words.

“- but I still want to say, explicitly, that I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, Chae.”

Something massive seems to have been lifted off his chest but a dull pressure still lingers, pulsating in rhythm with his heart beat. Chaeyoung nods again, slowly, and meets his eyes.]]

“Apology accepted,” she says softly.

The pressure recedes; she feels more within reach than ever. It seems unbelievable that not twenty-four hours ago, she'd been on his lap in a state of undress, kissing him while it poured outside, making every other thought in his mind disappear.

“And I'm sorry, too,” she says after a moment, jerking him out of his dangerous train of thought. “I wasn't mean but I was… pretty clingy. Kids get teased mercilessly at that age over a haircut so I'm sure a kid who acted like… well, like me wouldn't have been easy,” she admits, two pink spots appearing on her pale cheeks.

Hoseok wants to kiss her, so desperately. It takes everything in him to stay rooted to the spot, even though there isn't a single part of him that wants to stay away from her. He should, but for the life of him, he can't quite remember why right now.

Chaeyoung exhales, looking slightly awkward but somewhat relieved - or maybe Hoseok is and he's projecting. Either way, she rocks backwards on the heels of her shoes and shrugs. “Well, I'm going to head,” she says abruptly, the pink tinge on her cheeks still visible. “And… thanks.”

“You're walking?”

“Yeah. After the rain last night it's actually kind of nice. And not totally dark yet,” she adds, looking up at the sky.

He should offer her a ride.

“Can I walk you home?” he blurts, pausing internally as he thinks about his car in the parking lot.

She looks surprised, too. “Um, are you sure? Don't you have to get back to the party?”

“Oh, no, the party is almost dead, anyway,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “Even Sooah and Jimin seem to be almost done. I'm sure they'll leave in a bit.”

“And to no one's surprise, she's going back to his place.” Chaeyoung shakes her head. “Wow, I've clearly had one too many mojitos.”

Hoseok snickers. “Don't worry about it. With what I think their plans are tonight, you don't want them in the room next to you.”

She wrinkles her nose and then laughs. “True. But you don't have to walk me home. I'm fine.”

“I don't mind. Really.”

“It's, like, a thirty minute walk.”

“Fortunately, I’m kind of good when it comes to stamina.”

Chaeyoung narrows her eyes and folds her arms across her chest. Ice cream, he thinks instantly, and begins to smile without meaning to.

“Why did you apologise?”

“What do you mean?” He shrugs. “It's the right thing to do.”

“Sure, but why today?”

His heart starts to race - or skip, and he simply shrugs. “Seemed like as good a day as any.”

Chaeyoung doesn’t change her stance. “Are you sure?”

The way she asks it, she seems to have caught onto something. It’s too knowing and Hoseok feels his smile getting wider.

“You’re a pain in my ass, caterpillar.”

That makes her laugh - an open, confident laugh and Hoseok’s heart soars.

“Have been, since two thousand four,” she agrees. “Except, obviously, you apologised for all that.”

“You’re going to be a handful.” The words are out of his mouth before he can control them but he finds he doesn’t mind. Chaeyoung’s smile fades slightly and she bites her lip, the sun starting to set behind her.

“You can walk me home,” she says after a moment, turning around but not moving. Hoseok hesitates for the briefest of moments but joins her as she starts walking, their fingers only inches apart.

—

Yoongi drives in silence, while Namjoon, Jungkook and Taehyung sing along to an old song from a TV show. For members of a world famous band, they all sound terrible - but he supposes that is a talent in itself. In the shotgun seat, Jungkook bounces to the song in the passenger seat while Taehyung adds his own ad-libs throughout, but Yoongi has no energy to tell them to stop.

They near the building and he drives into the basement parking, somewhat dreading going up to his studio. He parks and everybody climbs out; Jungkook mumbles something about the gym while Taehyung makes a phone call and they drift away. Namjoon hangs back, waiting for the younger members to leave their earshot before turning to Yoongi.

“Are you alright, hyung?”

“Bitchin’.” He catches Namjoon’s eye and sighs. “Yeah, I’m fine. Had a rough night, that’s all.”

“Because of the rain?”

That, too. “Yeah. The good news is, I get to go edit debut tracks for a rookie group for the next eight hours.” He clicks his tongue.

Namjoon nods. “You want some company?”

“Maybe later. Once you sober up,” he adds, cracking a smile. Namjoon chuckles good-naturedly before clearing his throat.

“I, uh, didn’t want to say anything in front of the others, but… I found this in the back seat.” He fishes something out of his pocket and hands it to Yoongi. Yoongi opens his hand automatically, his stomach turning weakly when a small, bright green earring falls into his palm.

The hook of the earring digs into his palm when he enters the top floor of the building. Yoongi takes a seat at an empty table in the open floor pantry and pulls out his phone, scrolling through his emails. The floor is busier than usual; some team seems to be celebrating a colleague’s birthday at another table, a cake with white icing and a couple of slices messily cut out sitting in the centre of the circle; one producer sits alone at a table with noise cancelling headphones on and typing aggressively on his laptop.

Yoongi looks around absently when his eyes land on the coffee station where - something pounds into his chest - he locks eyes with Miso. She holds his gaze for a couple of seconds before turning her back on him and dealing with her coffee.

The earring feels heavy in his hand and all of a sudden, he feels the urge to hurl it out of the window. There is next to no way it’s making it back to its owner in any case. After Miso had icily got into her car outside the motel this morning and Seungwan had driven her away, Yoongi had walked out of the room and watched her leave, proceeding to smoke two full cigarettes in the chilly morning.

The receptionist from last night had also appeared and he’d offered her a cigarette voluntarily, for she looked rather drained as well. Something about how quiet and isolated the place was, not a sound anywhere or even a breath except for the person next to him, made Yoongi feel so disconnected from everything that he felt numb. It was too early, too cold and too unfair. Next to him, the receptionist had chucked her half-smoked cigarette on the ground.

“You didn’t finish that,” stated Yoongi, not really caring.

She’d glanced at him before turning to look ahead, and Yoongi noticed for the first time the carnage from the storm in front of the motel: tree trucks, piles of scattered branches and leaves, water accumulated and overflowing from a ridge in the ground.

“Fuck it,” she’d said.

Maybe it was the aftermath of a terrible night or some sort of shared dissatisfaction with the world but fifteen minutes later, they were in the backseat of Yoongi’s car. It was quick, casual and ended almost as abruptly as it began, with both of them adjusting their clothes and going their separate ways with a brief, formal goodbye.

It seems like ages ago now, with Miso across the room from him, getting coffee outside her studio. Yoongi lowers his head and stares at his phone screen, not reading anything. From the corner of his eye, he sees her turn around and walk in his direction; she would have to pass him to return to her studio.

He can’t think about their argument last night any longer. It’s been rattling around in his mind all day: the rage, the guilt, the desperate desire to sit her down in front of him and read her damn mind. Most of all, there’s an inkling of shame somewhere, deep down, in knowing that his reaction last night had been exactly what she’d expected.

That’s what it had looked like, at least; her eyes had shuttered over at some point and she’d reverted to the old Miso, the one who seemed to live to annoy him and gave nothing, no indication of who she was or what she was thinking. Her walls that he’d worked so hard to make a crack in had gone up instantly, except this time there was a disappointment there he’d never encountered before.

A flash in front of him jerks him away from the table: a hand appears momentarily, placing a cup of iced coffee in front of him with a small thud, before disappearing. Heart racing in mild shock, he turns to see Miso walking away without a second glance, her fingers wrapped around another cup as she turns the corner of the corridor.

He stares at the cup. Sip it first, he’d say ordinarily, straight-faced with only a hint of irony. You’re just going to have to trust me, Min Suga, she’d say, shrugging and settling into her chair, giving him a challenging raise of the eyebrows.

Yoongi takes a sip of the cold liquid, feeling it coat his throat and savouring the hit of caffeine. After a moment, he gets up and heads down the corridor, stopping at Donghyuk’s studio and pausing before he knocks.

“Come in,” comes Miso’s voice, dry and uninterested.

Yoongi pushes open the door slowly to see her alone at the console, a laptop open in front of her and a singular lamp at the other end of the room being the only source of light. She looks at him very briefly before going back to her work. It almost seems as though she expected him to follow her; he can’t tell if she’s happy about it, though.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he says.

She simply nods in response, scrolling through something on the laptop.

“Listen,” he says again, placing the coffee on a table next to him and running a hand tiredly through his hair. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okay.”

“Last night…” He trails off for a moment, wishing he’d rehearsed this a bit before coming in here. “Well, firstly, I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have… anyway. Sorry.”

Miso finally turns to him, looks him up and down, and then turns back around. “‘Kay. Is that it?”

“No.” He exhales. “I hooked up with someone this morning. After you left, the receptionist and I… we had sex.” He cringes inwardly at his own words but he can’t fathom how else to say it without mincing words. She’s still looking at her laptop; he isn’t sure if he’s imagining it, but her shoulders stiffen slightly. “Anyway. I just wanted to let you know.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then -

“So?”

“Why are you telling me?” she asks, shrugging and turning around briefly. “I’m not your girlfriend.”

“I know you’re not. But…” He frowns, trying to suppress the annoyance in his stomach that’s already threatening to bubble up. “I’m just letting you know. Transparency and all that.”

“But it’s none of my business.”

Yoongi closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, counts to three and slowly exhales. “Right. Well. It’s just something normal people do, I guess. Talk to each other and communicate when they’re…”

She turns around properly this time, her legs folded and her elbows resting on her thighs. “When they’re…” She raises her eyebrows. “When they’re hooking up? We made out a few times… are you telling me because of that?”

He doesn’t respond; he can barely look at her right now, anger and embarrassment creeping into his chest now.

“This is exactly what I was afraid of, Yoongi,” she says knowingly, as though she’s pointing out an unsatisfactory edit to a track. “I told you to stay away. But you didn’t listen. You stayed, you got attached, and you’re telling me about a one-night stand you had. And now you have some kind of… expectation of me when what you really should have done was stay away right from the start.”

“You know what? I’m starting to think the same thing,” he snaps, shaking his head and going to grab his coffee. “I guess forming an attachment with an ice queen is my lesson.”

“You got me attached, too.” It’s the only thing that makes him stop in his tracks. “And that’s the problem with getting attached - you start to care. And then when you find out something that you can’t help, something that’s out of your control and doesn’t fit the image of me you have in your mind - the damsel that needs saving because, admit it, that’s what I am to you right now - it shatters everything.”

Yoongi grits his teeth, but somewhere his throat starts to hurt. He grips the cup and turns around slowly to see her still sitting in the same position, face and voice unnaturally calm.

He needs to choose his words carefully, he knows, but she makes it impossible to think. “I do care,” he begins slowly in a low voice, staring at the floor. “You can make it out to be whatever saviour complex you want but I do care and I do want to help you and be there for you. What is wrong with you that you won’t let me?” he demands tightly, clenching his fist at his side.

“Because it won’t work,” she continues in that same state of forced calm. “This - this challenge? You can spend weeks and months and do all-nighters and collaborate with whoever you want but it’s not going to work. It’s beyond you now. And once you realise that, it’s just going to be an abandoned project. A file somewhere in your computer you just couldn’t crack. I don’t need to be saved,” she says after a moment. “So it’s better for you that you stop trying. And maybe you won’t be so disappointed anymore.”

Yoongi stares at her, her impassive eyes and slouched figure. It’s exhausting; he’s tired and drained and helpless and she simply moves farther and farther away each time.

“You got it, Kang Chanel,” he mutters. “I’ll stay away.” Not wanting to spend a second longer in here, he turns around and walks out of the studio.

Miso watches him leave, using every bit of strength in her to keep her mind blank, to push every single thought and emotion out and, for just a few hours, focus on something that isn’t her clusterfuck of a life. She spends the next few hours alone in the studio, eating take-out from a box and going on a Zoom meeting with Donghyuk.

When it’s nearly midnight, hours longer than she’d thought she’d stay (but wishing she could for longer), she begins to wrap up, saving and closing demo files and packing up her notebook, when her inbox pings.

“Damn it, Donghyuk,” she sighs, bending over to squint at the screen in the dark. Her heart skips a beat when she sees an instant message from Min, Yoongi. Index finger hovering over the mouse, she takes a deep breath and opens it. It’s a screenshot of what looks like a folder on a Mac laptop, but empty. She frowns when her laptop pings again.

[Prod Suga] [00:02] [screenshot] This is all the abandoned projects I’ve had in ten years. Happy to stay away, but don’t you dare call yourself a project ever again.

—

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#seokjin x oc #seokjin fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x oc #hoseok x oc #hoseok fanfic #thebtswritersclub #bangtanwhq #k-vanity #houseofddaeng #wkcnet #bts jin fanfic #bts suga fanfic #bts suga angst #bts jin angst #bts jhope fanfic

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year ago

Text

Push the Sky Away - Part One

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x original female character (Lorra Stark) Chapter warnings: Angst. Canon typical violence. Mention of loss of virginity. Smut. Word count: ~6.5k

Summary: We are getting to know Aemond in this chapter. Some scene setting and world building, not much to be found of our OC until she is introduced towards the end. Laying the groundwork for what's to come later.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Fire and Blood, the infamous words of House Targaryen. It is a phrase that both haunts and eludes Aemond Targaryen from an early age, with its promise of greatness and constant reminder of all he will never be.

The Targaryen name is the only thing of any value that Viserys has ever bestowed upon his sons. Aemond ponders whether his father’s disinterest in him is a result of the illness that weakens his body by the day, or if he simply has no room in his heart for the children borne of his second marriage. When he watches him interact with Rhaenyra, how he lights up in her presence in a way that he does not for him or his other siblings, he knows it is the latter.

The fireplace warms his skin, uncomfortably so, and despite the septa’s caution that he not sit so close, he refuses to budge. Sweat prickles the back of his neck, dampening and curling the ends of the hair that sticks to it. His discomfort is of little importance to him, he needs to remain within this proximity to the hearth in order to keep his egg warm, to ensure it hatches. It is a vigil he has kept for as long as he can remember, not moving until he is forced to bed with aching joints and soot covered hands. Unable to understand why it had never hatched in his cradle, he is certain that if he does his due diligence then soon he will have a dragon of his own.

His mother is alerted of his disobedience, and Alicent regards him with sadness in her large brown eyes, as she reaches for him.

“Come away, my dearest love, you will have a dragon of your own one day.”

He simply shakes his head. She could not understand. He does not want just any dragon, he wants his. There must be a reason why this particular egg was imparted upon him, otherwise it is all for nothing.

Despite this, day after day the hardened scales remain cool to the touch, little more than a rock between his tiny fingers. Perhaps placing it within the flames themselves will yield the result he hopes for?

He leans forward into the fireplace, heat blazing against his pale cheeks, and an acrid stench fills his nostrils. It is not until he is pulled forcefully back by the firm grasp of the septa that he realises the ends of his long, fair hair have singed, charred and blackened by the heat of the fire.

The egg is taken away after that, and Aemond weeps bitterly at the unfairness of it. It is his birthright, his only birthright, and now his sole purpose for being has been snatched from him; it seems there is little point to his existence now. He never sees the egg again, but he often wonders what would have happened if he had been left uninterrupted to place it upon the flames.

When Aemond is a little older, he begins to frequent the Dragonpit, for what is a Targaryen without their dragon? If he no longer has his own egg then he will find another, or perhaps claim a riderless mount of his own.

The warmth beneath the Grand Sept is different from that of the fireplace. It is dank and humid within the pit, the odour of droppings hangs heavy in the air, mixed with sulphur and ash. The smell sticks to his clothes when he returns to the Keep each evening, and momentarily he feels his chest swell with pride as his mother winkles her nose in disgust at the scent. It is the same look of distaste that she bestows upon both Helaena and Aegon when they return from flying, and for the briefest of moments he can pretend that he has too.

Yet still he goes to bed each evening dragonless, and begins each day anew with the bitter taste of jealousy in his mouth as he watches his nephews, Jacaerys and Lucerys, interact with their dragons, Vermax and Arrax. Targaryens are considered to be closer to gods than men, so it feels like a cruel twist of fate that his half sister’s bastard offspring should be blessed with eggs that hatched in their cradles when his did not. Rhaenyra’s children have the favour of the Seven, whereas they seem to have turned a blind eye to him.

Aemond’s heart soars with hope when the dragonkeepers reveal to his sister that Dreamfyre is gravid. If she produces a healthy clutch of eggs then he can claim one, one that will actually hatch. In spite of the warnings that the she-dragon be left in peace during this sensitive time, and Helaena’s frustrated and repeated requests to stop disturbing her, he cannot resist the pull towards where she roosts within her darkened cave. If she is to lay an egg, then he wants to be the first to see it, to ensure he can take one for himself.

The blistering heat of the flames that Dreamfyre expels with her mighty roar of anger as he approaches yet again causes him to stagger backwards, wide eyed and slack jawed. But Aemond feels no fear as gazes into her fiery maw, his only thoughts are that one day soon a beast of his own will do much the same.

When Aegon claps a heavy hand upon his shoulder, steering him forward, and claiming a dragon has been found for him, he does his best to remain calm. He is used to his brother and nephews’ cruel japes at his expense. But as he stands at the top of the slope to the Dragonpit, he cannot help the way his heart races with excitement at the possibility that it might be true.

His hopes are dashed when a pig is led out to him, trussed up in wings, having been jokingly named “the pink dread”. He bows his head at the raucous laughter of Aegon, Jace and Luke around him, humiliation flushing his cheeks for having dared to believe it could be true.

The echoes of Aegon’s mocking pig grunts ring in his ears all the way home, and he stands dejectedly as Alicent delivers yet another scolding for him having dared to disturb Dreamfyre. He is usually silently accepting of her scorn, confident he knows better, and prepared to defy her all over again the next day. However, this time he can no longer bear the injustice of it all.

“They gave me a pig!” He cries, feeling the prickle of tears in his eyes. “They laughed, they all laughed.”

The warmth of his mother’s embrace does little to comfort the inferno that blazes inside of him. Today is proof of the fact that his own brother does not view him as equal - how could he? Aemond is a second born son and has no dragon. He is worth nothing.

If he is not destined to be a dragonrider, then Aemond decides he will give his all to becoming a fearsome warrior instead. He excels in the training yard with each daily practice, every strike of his wooden sword against the straw stuffed target more ferocious than the last. The proud glint in the eye of Ser Criston Cole as he watches diligently, offering guidance on both stance and technique, serves to spur him on. He will be the best at this, he has to be.

Much to his displeasure, the allotted time for sparring is shared with his nephews. Though they learn under the watchful eye of Ser Harwin Strong, there is still a competitive element, and an underlying sense of animosity between Criston and Harwin that he does not quite understand.

Aegon later tells him it is because Ser Harwin is the true father of Rhaenyra’s children. He feels a smug sense of satisfaction at being privy to this information, and it brings him and his older brother closer together. The two of them share rare moments of comradery each time they don their armour and pick up their practice blades. It’s the only time that Aemond ever genuinely laughs or smiles.

There is an obvious divide from that point onwards, Targaryens uniting against Strongs, and as the tension grows between the boys, it does between their mentors too, until one day it reaches a boiling point.

At first Aemond titters along with his brother as they watch Criston scuffle with Harwin, but his smile quickly fades upon seeing how valiantly their father fights for them, knowing his own would never do the same for him. As he looks up into the solemn features of Aegon, he knows the sentiment is shared. It is yet another privilege that Rhaenyra’s children possess that he does not have; the love of their father.

They journey to Driftmark when they receive the news that Laena Velaryon has passed away in childbirth. The icy, coastal winds that whip Aemond’s hair around his face as the stone coffin is committed to the sea are as bleak as the mood that envelopes them all. He seeks warmth near the brazier, attempting to catch the eye of Jace, who stands on the opposite side. Despite the tension between them, he hopes to offer condolences, knowing the loss of both Ser Harwin and his aunt play heavily upon his nephew’s mind.

He realises it is a futile gesture the moment that Jace turns away in disgust, and once more Aemond is reminded of how alone he truly is, that he has nothing. Luke will inherit Driftmark, and their mother has betrothed Helaena to Aegon. Luke snivels at what he is offered, claiming that when Driftmark passes to him it means everyone will have died. Aegon scoffs at the notion of being married to Helaena, claiming they have nothing in common.

It angers Aemond, to be overlooked in favour of those who are so ungrateful for all they have. If he were set to inherit anything, he would do everything in his power to prove he is worthy of it and bear the title with honour. If his mother had betrothed his sister to him, he would do his duty and ensure the match produces heirs that would make House Targaryen proud.

His attention is drawn to the clifftop when he sees the spread of enormous wings and hears the mighty rumble of the creature atop it. Vhagar. Laena Velaryon’s dragon is now riderless, and the pull he feels towards her is one he simply cannot ignore. At last, he has found his purpose and his desire to claim a dragon is reinvigorated with new strength.

Aemond waits until nightfall. Sea spray has made the rocks slippery beneath his feet, and he ascends carefully, though determined, towards the top of the cliff where Vhagar roosts. Windswept and breathless by the time he reaches the top, he stands awestruck at the sleeping dragon. Even partially submerged in sand, she is a magnificent sight to behold. She had appeared massive when looking at her from above, but it does nothing to prepare him for the sheer scale of her up close. She is gargantuan.

For a moment, icy fingers of fear grip Aemond’s heart, and he considers simply turning back, he has made a dangerous mistake. He shakes the thought from his mind the moment it presents itself.

I am no craven.

His approach is tentative, palms outstretched to communicate that he does not present a threat, as the elderly beast grumbles and shakes sand from her back. He stares transfixed as she opens her jaws, the white hot inferno that swirls within their depths makes that of Dreamfyre’s seem like a mere campfire. He feels as though he is looking into the very mouth of the Seven Hells themselves, but instead of fear Aemond feels kinship. Vhagar is without purpose, as is he, until now.

“Lykirī,” he calls out, the wind carrying half the sound away with it. Yet she hears, and she stills, eyeing the child before her with keen curiosity. Be calm.

Emboldened by her calmness at his command, Aemond steps closer, fingertips ghosting against the heat that radiates from her scales.

“Dohaerās, Vhagar,” he tells her, voice trembling. This is the same dragon ridden by the great warrior, Visenya, the conqueror’s wife. She is battle hardened, and with the smallest of movements could snuff out his short life. Serve.

The faintest sound of displeasure reverberates through Vhagar’s body, yet she remains still. Aemond’s heart beats wildly in his chest as he grips the ropes attached to her saddle and begins to pull himself up. If he had thought the climb to the top of the cliff difficult, it proves nothing compared to this. His arms ache with exertion, the expanse of the great beast he is attempting to summit is vaster than anything he has ever climbed before.

By the time he pulls himself into the saddle, Aemond’s palms are red raw with rope burn and his skin is damp with perspiration. There is barely time for him to catch his breath though, as the moment Vhagar feels him settle on her back, she rises to her feet, vast quantities of sand slipping from her back and wings in drifts.

The movement startles Aemond, and he fears he will fall. His sore hands cling tightly to her reins as he shouts his final command to her.

“Sōvēs.” Fly.

As she rises into the air with an effortless flap of her wings, he feels as though he has left his stomach on the ground below. The rush upwards is dizzying, frightening and exhilarating all at once. Aemond begins to laugh as he grows used to the weightless sensation of every ebb and flow through the air as it whistles past his ears, and chills his skin to the bone. He is finally complete, he has his dragon, and for the first time in his life he is genuinely happy.

That happiness is short-lived.

The moment he reaches solid ground, his cousins, Baela and Rhaena, are waiting for him, alongside Jace and Luke. He had anticipated this, and is well prepared.

“It’s him!” Rhaena shouts as soon as she sees him.

“It’s me,” he responds calmly, confident there is nothing to be done now that Vhagar is his.

“Vhagar is my mother’s dragon!”

“Your mother is dead, and Vhagar has a new rider now.”

“She was mine to claim!”

“Then you should have claimed her. Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride? It would suit you.”

He is startled when Rhaena angrily charges towards him, though he is bigger than her and pushes her to the ground with ease. A punch from her sister, Baela, catches him off guard, the pain in his face enraging him and causing him to hit back so hard she falls over.

“Come at me again and I’ll feed you to my dragon!” He snarls angrily.

Jace and Luke rush at him, and in a moment of confidence Aemond thinks he has bested the both of them, until all four children knock him down and begin to rain their fists down upon him.

He is the rider of the world’s largest dragon, and his new found confidence coupled with the surge of adrenaline allows him to fight them all back. He grasps a rock, holding it above Luke’s head as he grasps him tightly by the collar.

“You will die screaming in flames, just as your father did. Bastards!” He hisses.

“My father is still alive!” Luke wails.

Aemond smirks, rock still held above his sobbing nephew, and he glances to Jace. “He does not know, does he, Lord Strong?”

Jace unsheathes a dagger, to the protestations of both Rhaena and Baela, and the distraction is enough for Aemond to knock it from his hand. His dedication in the training yard has paid off and he quickly gets the better of Jace, snatching up the rock once more, prepared to bring it down upon his skull should he try to attack him again.

In Aemond’s mind, the matter is settled, they should accept what has happened and retire to bed.

Unfortunately, his nephews do not share the sentiment. He winces, staggering backwards as Jace throws sand in his face, and before he has had time to fully recover, Luke is racing towards him, Jace’s dagger in hand.

The pain is excruciating as his nephew slashes upwards, and suddenly his vision shows blackness on one side, instead of his surroundings. He falls to his knees, a shriek of agony leaving him as blood seeps through the fingers of the hand he clasps to one side of his face.

His only focus is the searing, torturous pain he feels, waves of nausea rippling through his prone body, until a clamour of armour alerts him to the presence of the Kingsguard. As a knight kneels beside him, coaxing his hand away, his pale, horrified expression and exclamation of “Gods be good” are all Aemond needs to know that his face is ruined forever.

The fire in the hall of Driftmark is warm against his skin, and he does his best to focus on that sensation instead of that of the Maester extracting his eye from his skull. Though he has been dosed with milk of the poppy, he still feels every cut, every tug, and the pierce of the needle as it’s pulled through his skin repeatedly to stitch up the wound.

Aemond is unsure if it is the milk of the poppy that dulls his senses, or the satisfaction he feels at having claimed the world’s largest dragon, but he does not feel anger or sadness as he expects he would have when he is told his eye is lost forever.

When his mother snatches a knife and charges towards Rhaenyra, he is certain she has more blood of the dragon coursing through her veins than his coward of a father does. She is willing to risk everything to avenge his disfigurement, while Viserys makes excuses and appears more affronted at his eldest daughter’s children being called bastards. The loss of Aemond’s eye seems of little importance to him.

It is in that moment that Aemond feels the tiny semblance of respect he had for his father wither and die. As he takes in the harrowed expressions of Alicent, Aegon and Helaena, he knows they are all he has left.

“Do not mourn me, mother,” he says softly, rising to comfort her, though unsteady on his feet as he adjusts to his partial sightedness. “I may have lost an eye, but I have gained a dragon.”

A scar mars the flesh of Aemond’s face, but also ravages its way through the Targaryen family. Rhaenyra and her children leave King’s Landing, settling upon Dragonstone with Daemon and his daughters. Meanwhile, the health of Viserys continues to decline and the instances he is not bedridden grow fewer. Aemond does not miss his presence.

Worry hangs over his mother, a permanent shroud of anxiety, while Aegon becomes more debaucherous, sinking further into his cups with each passing day. Helaena retreats deeper into herself, rarely speaking unless spoken to, and bristles at any initiation of physical touch.

Slowly, Aemond heals, though it is not without struggle. He must learn to do everything anew. His favourite books become a chore to read, no longer able to pore over their pages for as long without suffering a terrible ache in his head.

Criston has to begin his training with the sword all over again. There is a newfound blind spot to account for when he fights. Not only does he have to learn how to balance, pivot and wield his weapon with accuracy, he also has to develop hyper vigilance and an acute awareness of where his opponent is at all times, to prevent them from drifting to the side from which he cannot see, and besting him.

Even flying on dragonback is difficult, though he only has one flight to compare it to. He learns fast, and is grateful that Vhagar’s advanced age makes her placid and more forgiving than a younger mount might be. When Aemond is airborne he can almost forget his disfigurement entirely, until he returns to the ground and the world is half blackness once more.

It is enough to make Aemond want to scream in frustration and give up at times. However, he is accustomed to a life of feeling out of place, of having to work harder than everyone else to prove his worth. There is nothing to be gained from a defeatist attitude, so he hardens himself to the challenges he faces, determined to be better with one eye than he was with two.

If his vision of the world is now limited, then he will simply expand his mind beyond that. He loses himself in tomes of history and philosophy, ignoring the dull pain that plagues his skull as he reads into the small hours.

In the training yard, he is quick to learn to keep Criston within his line of sight at all times, and wields his sword viciously, relentlessly, always striving to be faster, stronger, more precise. The proud look upon the Knight’s face means little to him now. The only person he means to prove anything to is himself.

He reasons that a warrior must appear as fearsome as they fight, and takes to wearing a sapphire in the empty socket of his eye, when it is not covered by a patch.

The single matter that Aemond is never able to quite grasp is that of the fairer sex. Aegon has always seemed to have an overly indulgent interest in women, moreso what lies between their legs, but he has never understood his brother’s obsession with fornication. He has read about the mechanics of it in books, and the idea makes his lip curl in disgust. However, he reasons that Aegon is older, and perhaps his own appetite will develop in much the same way as he ages.

Aegon reasons that women’s skin is soft, they smell nice, and when you find one that has the perfect pair of tits and legs then there is little else that matters. While it is agreeable to Aemond that women are indeed more pleasant to look upon than men, he questions why he should not take an interest in their education or how they like to pass the time. His brother argues that once you are sheathed inside a woman, it is not what is in their mind that matters in the slightest.

Upon Aemond’s thirteenth name day, Aegon slaps him on the back and informs him that it is “time to get it wet”. The very idea makes his guts churn with unease, yet he dons the clothes of common folk just the same, pulling a hood over his head, and allows his brother to guide him to the Street of Silk.

The walk through Flea Bottom reeks of urine, with men staggering half drunk through the narrow cobbled streets, while women in varying states of undress beckon them forward into darkened hovels. Aemond keeps his head bowed, dreading what is to come, and is thankful when the establishment that his older brother guides him to looks slightly more respectable than the half a dozen they have passed by already.

The pleasure house is dimly lit and the heady scent of cheap perfume burns his nostrils, though it barely covers the smell of another undesirable stench that he assumes is the byproduct of what goes on here. He half wonders if it will stick to his clothing, much like the smell of sulphur and ash does when he returns from dragonback. He sincerely hopes not.

His throat runs dry when Aegon staggers away with a busty woman, full of giggles, leaving him alone. The brothel’s madame has a kind smile, though it does not meet her eyes, and when she places her hand upon his shoulder it makes him shudder. He feels her touch there like a brand long after she has taken it away.

“Choose any of my girls that you like,” she tells him.

Timidly he eyes all of them. He wants none of them, but how can he say that?

When he hesitates, she chooses for him, pushing him towards a room with a girl that cannot be much older than he is. Her hair is the colour of straw, her skin reeks of the same perfume that lingers thick within the air, and there is wine upon her breath.

The fireplace burns low in the room as he lays upon the bed, and he keeps his eye fixed upon it until it is over. He has enjoyed none of it, the finish feeling little more to him than the satisfaction he experiences when scratching an itch. He cannot understand why Aegon makes such a fuss about it, if that is all there is to it then he never wants to partake in such an act of vulgarity ever again.

He leaves without saying a word, and walks as quickly as his legs will carry him back to the Red Keep. In the bathtub that evening, he scrubs until his skin is red raw, wanting nothing more than to erase every trace of what he has endured that day.

When he is served his favourite meal for his name day feast, roasted haunch of venison, he finds he has no appetite. Sickly perfume fills his nose and turns his stomach, and he leaves his plate untouched.

From that day forth, Aemond decides that he has no taste for depravity, and dedicates his time to reading, training with the sword and taking flight on Vhagar. Despite the nagging ache at the back of his mind that Aegon is set to succeed their father when he passes away, despite neither wanting nor deserving it, he feels a sense of fulfillment in knowing that he is making both their mother and House Targaryen proud.

There are few books in the Keep’s library he has not read at least twice, and he trains daily in the yard with Criston, now at a point where he is the victor in almost every sparring match.

The years pass, and Aemond is content with solitude, assuming that is his lot in life. Fire and blood course hotly in his veins, and in spite of his disfigurement he feels every inch a true Targaryen.

Viserys deteriorates to the point that Aemond’s grandsire and Hand of the King, Otto, now oversees most of the royal duties, and he has begun in earnest to plan with Alicent for Aegon’s eventual coronation. It comes as no shock to Aemond the day that he is beckoned to the Small Council Chamber, though he is surprised to find it is just his grandsire that sits at the table, there is not even a cup bearer present.

“I trust you are aware of the plans to crown Aegon once your father passes?” Otto asks, once Aemond is seated in the chair nearest to him.

Aemond sits up straight against the backrest, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, as he regards Otto impassively. “I am.”

“Good,” Otto nods, clasping his hands in front of him on the table. “Then I am sure you must know of your own duty to the realm.”

Aemond purses his lips, eyeing the older man carefully. “I will do what I must to ensure Aegon’s claim to the throne goes unchallenged.”

Otto sighs, leaning back and regarding Aemond with a twinkle of amusement in his eye. “Rhaenyra is sure to challenge your brother’s birthright, as your father foolishly named her heir, but there are means to remedy that.”

Aemond says nothing, waiting for Otto to say what he means. He watches as he fills both their wine cups, before setting the jug down. He takes a deep drink from his own, but Aemond leaves his untouched, wishing his grandsire would just get to the point.

Otto clicks his tongue before continuing. “To strengthen Aegon’s claim, we must curry favour with the other Great Houses of the realm.”

Aemond lowers his gaze, fingers drumming absentmindedly on the armrests of his chair. “You wish for me to marry.”

“Yes, Aemond, you are to be betrothed.”

The tone of voice in which Otto says this has such finality, it sounds as though a match has already been decided. His eye flickers upwards to meet the unyielding gaze of his grandsire.

“To who?”

“Your mother and I thought it best not to present you with suitors, we know you would not enjoy such a spectacle.”

You know all of them would take one look at me and be horrified by the very notion of being married to me.

Otto continues, “So we have chosen for you. The daughter of Lord Rickon Stark, Lorra. She is a pretty girl, and having the allegiance of a Great House of the North will weaken Rhaenyra’s claim.”

Aemond stays silent as his mind races.

House Stark. Their sigil is a dire wolf, their words are Winter is Coming.

Beyond that, he knows nothing of Northerners, what could he possibly learn about his betrothed from a book anyway?

He wets his lips, resigned to his fate. “When?”

“She will arrive in King’s Landing in two weeks, so that you can begin your courtship of her.”

“I will do my duty.”

“I trust that you will.”

Aemond retires to his chambers for the remainder of the day. He had anticipated that he would have to marry to form a political alliance at some point, however, the thought rattles him all the same.

He is a solitary creature by nature, what on earth will he do with a wife? He supposes life will stay much the same, if his mother and father and Aegon and Helaena are to be used as examples - both couples married, yet living entirely separate lives. It is a mere formality. He will not be expected to spend time with her.

They will be expected to produce heirs, however. Nervousness swirls in his gut at the thought. He does not want to endure what happened to him at the brothel each time he couples with his wife, yet he cannot leave her childless either.

Lorra is a highborn lady, however, not a common whore, so perhaps he will be able to find pleasure in the act. Doubt niggles in his mind as he ponders his inexperience. A Prince must know what he is doing if he is to produce children, and Aemond possesses neither experience nor interest in the act of procreation. He will need to prepare if he is to perform his marital duties as anticipated without embarrassing himself or his wife.

The thought of returning to Flea Bottom makes him shiver in revulsion. He has no desire to part with coin for an act that sickens him. He will need to find an alternative.

There are plenty of maidservants around the Keep who are pretty enough, and of a similar age to him. He does not wish to be like his brother, however, and will not take what is not freely given. He has observed the way that Aegon expresses interest in the women that attend to them during mealtimes and decides to deploy some of the same tactics, though in a much more subtle manner.

At supper the following evening, he spots a young woman who is pleasing to him. She has a slender neck and pretty face, her large eyes framed by thick lashes. He watches her carefully as she rounds the table, filling each cup with wine, and when finally she approaches him, he deliberately reaches forward, his fingers brushing the soft skin of her wrist as she pours from the jug she holds. She glances down at him and he looks up, holding her gaze, the faintest of smirks on his face. A slight blush creeps up her neck, dusting its way across her cheekbones and he knows she is interested.

He spends the rest of the meal catching her eye whenever he can, and when the evening draws to a close, he lingers in the doorway, beckoning her with the slightest tip of his head when she looks at him, before walking back to his bedchamber. Aemond does not have to wait long for the knock at his door.

“Your grace, will you be needing anything else this evening?” She asks with a polite smile.

He closes the door behind them, steeling himself before turning to face her. “You understand why you are here?”

She nods, reaching up to cup his face as she leans in. He turns away, pulling back slightly.

“I have no need for you to kiss me.”

She nods in understanding and moves towards the bed, slipping out of her clothes. Aemond stands in silence as he watches her disrobe. She is attractive to look at, much more desirable than the girl he had coupled with in Flea Bottom. Smooth skinned, with subtle curves and firm breasts. He wonders how many others have looked upon her in the same manner that he has.

“Lay down,” he instructs her, once she is fully bare before him.

She moves to position herself face down, but Aemond steps forward, halting her actions.

“Let me look at you.”

“As you wish, your grace,” she whispers, blushing again, and repositions onto her back.

Aemond stands over her, his eye raking over her form as he takes in the way her chest rises and falls with every breath, the way the narrowness of her waist expands outwards towards her hips.

Tentatively, he reaches forward, fingers trailing lightly over the plush flesh of her inner thigh, tugging gently.

Obediently, she spreads her legs and he sucks in a breath at what glistens between them, curiosity guiding his actions as he spreads his fingers through the slick folds. She sighs in pleasure, and he looks back up at her face. Her lips are parted, eyes hooded with desire. Admittedly, though this is a much better experience than what he’d endured when he was thirteen, he still feels little in the way of excitement. Aemond appreciates that she lays there quietly, however, allowing him to take things at his own pace, and he feels his body respond to her regardless of his lack of emotion.

When his cock strains almost painfully against the lacings of his breeches, he unfastens them, crawling over the maidservant to cage her body in with his. She feels better against him than the whore had, her skin is more supple and her scent not quite so overpowering. He grunts as he pushes himself inside of her, her tight, wet heat gripping every inch of him as he slides forward.

The inside of her is different from the grasp of his own hand. Aemond is no stranger to the act of self pleasure, using it as a means to clear his mind or lull himself to sleep on nights when rest evades him. It is not a carnal act for him though, he simply focuses on the sensation, guiding himself to release. Despite the pleasant warmth of her body, he does not feel driven to desperate passion as he had anticipated, as he has so often heard Aegon describe.

As he rocks his hips into hers, back and forth, the growing ache he experiences is nice enough, but it does not light a fire within him. He is simply rutting against another person. The dulcet sounds that fall from her lips as he pistons into her sound too performative, and he feels resentment as he looks upon her face, just wanting to put an end to it.

He speeds up, and her sounds grow louder. Annoyance prickles at his skin.

“Shut the fuck up,” he hisses.

She falls silent and the room fills with the sound of the slap of his skin against hers, until finally he spills inside of her with a quiet gasp. He is quick to withdraw from her, standing and tucking himself away.

“You can go now,” he tells her, turning away.

He doesn’t watch as she dresses and quietly leaves his chamber. Aemond feels disappointment that he is unable to derive pleasure from such a carnal act. He has read that it is supposed to evoke excitement within a person, and from the way Aegon behaves he knows it is certainly true. So why does such a feeling evade him?

It matters not, he supposes. He will treat his wife in the same way he has the maidservant this evening. He will not take her by force, and he will be gentle with her. The act will be for the sole purpose of producing heirs, besides that they will live their lives as they please. He did not choose her, and she did not choose him, so he is confident that this will be an arrangement she finds satisfactory.

The next two weeks pass by without incident. Aemond reads, he trains and he flies, and thoughts of his betrothal scarcely enter his mind.

Upon the day of Lorra’s arrival to the Red Keep, he gathers in the Great Hall, with Alicent, Otto, Aegon and Helaena to greet her upon her arrival. He stands straight, hands clasped firmly behind his back, eye scanning the room impatiently. He hates the formality of it all, and wonders what could possibly be taking such a long time.

He will, of course, be dutiful and stand here for as long as necessary, but irritability simmers within him as he exhales heavily through his nose, wishing to be anywhere else right now, the library, the training yard, on dragonback. Such a display seems wholly unnecessary for an arrangement that is a mere formality.

When finally the doors open to the steps that ascend into the Hall, he faces forward, eye fixed upon the Kingsguard that file in. Until he sees her.

Draped in a cerulean cloak, trimmed with grey fur, she seems as though she is floating, rather than walking as she approaches. Her ivory skin is tinged with the faintest of pink against her cheeks and the curls of her ebony hair are braided down her back.

Aemond’s throat runs dry, his heart pounding quickly against his ribcage, and he realises he is holding his breath. The last time he felt such a powerful combination of fear, awe and longing had been the night he had first laid eyes upon Vhagar. It unsettles him, and he is grateful that his hands remain behind his back, otherwise he is certain that she would be able to see how they tremble.

“Lady Lorra of House Stark,” comes the announcement to the Hall, but it sounds distant and far away to Aemond as he stands, transfixed by her.

His blood pumps like liquid fire through his veins. Her eyes, so blue they could almost be sapphires, meet his and he feels a shiver run through him. After a lifetime of resonating in the warmth of flames, he is chilled by the ice that is reflected back at him.

Chapter two || Series masterlist

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mmogurl · 3 months ago

Text

In The Shadow of Dragons Chapter 7: Forbidden Tryst

18+ | 6.9k | Daemon Targaryen X Female OC | possessive, protective, objectifying, simping, raunchy Daemon | Uncle / niece incest, Targcest, Courtship, Mega smut, Don't read the rest of these tags if you don't want spoilers: Dubious consent, sleep groping, first time blow job, rough oral sex, forceful, dirty talk, deep throat. Probably missed some tags, but you get the idea, it's some filth.

Daemon comes up with a sneaky solution to bypass their constant supervision. The Rogue Prince goes a bit feral in this chapter as a small warning to those who have become used to him being more mellow in this fic. He is still Daemon after all and he is so pent up! Starts from Ryna's POV and shifts to Daemon's POV.

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5 | CH 6 | CH 7 | CH 8 | CH 9 Also on AO3

By all accounts, Ryna’s outing with Daemon by the Blackwater Bay went very well. They had not been alone long enough for Ser Erryk, and by extension the king, to suspect any indecent behavior between them and the time spent was enjoyable. And while she understood the necessity to provide such supervision, she couldn’t help feeling that the level of attention provided by both her newly assigned guard and the staff attending the modest luncheon had been somewhat excessive.

The entire purpose of going on such an excursion was to distance themselves from the constant flurry of activity at the Red Keep for a time, to get away from handmaids and servants darting about in ceaseless motion. Ryna hadn’t anticipated being accompanied by a full security detail while venturing out into the wilderness beside the Kingswood, but so it had happened nevertheless.

She had tried her best to ignore their presence and to be content with the company of her uncle, but it was quite a difficult task given she could not stop regarding his lips. Could not stop remembering every feel of his hand against her skin and the sultry, low tone his voice took when he became amorously seductive. When in the presence of Daemon, Ryna felt no better than a stray feline in heat, taken aback by how intensely carnal she had become just from experiencing a mere sampling of his talents.

The princess would have to endure it though, just as she always had as the lesser daughter of House Targaryen, neglected and ignored by her kin. At least now her objective was in sight, even if her childish longing had evolved into a full blown appetite that was difficult to contain.

Worst of all had been finding a way to cope with the aching deprivation of Daemon’s physical absence. Although Ryna had encountered him on numerous occasions since their trip, there had always been a chaperone present to monitor their interactions. That meant that the closest she could get to her uncle was to link arms with him as they walked, the brush of his clothing and the warmth of his body. It was maddening.

Since she was denied to opportunity to touch him, she resorted to pleasuring herself nightly and whenever she could find solitude, taking care not to get caught in the act. Her body was in a constant state of turmoil, her hormones raging and body preparing to fulfill its duty without any means to initiate.

Even during the late hour of ghosts, she found herself lying awake when most were fast asleep, but on this night in particular, she had a good reason to remain alert. Earlier that day, Daemon had dared to whisper in her ear as they strolled through the castle corridors, now a sennight since their ride on dragonback. He said only, ‘I will come for you tonight.’

Why had he kept her waiting for so long when he had the means of to alleviate her suffering sooner? The last time they had kissed by the salt crisp air of the ocean, the prince had revealed a way they might visit with each other in seclusion. He’d cautioned they should postpone such a meeting to a later time when there was less scrutiny about the integrity of their courtship. We must allow for them to drop their guard he’d said with a clever tone of strategy. So they pay less attention to what we might do in the shadows.

But, Ryna was fretful with impatience, utterly sick of waiting. She yearned for her father to abandon the pretense of arranging a traditional courtship and simply permit her to wed him once and for all. After all, it was her responsibility to provide her husband with an heir and she was very much eager to be a dedicated wife to Daemon.

Finally, Daemon had put an end to her torment and all she had to do was bide her time for just a few more moments. Ryna knew not what her uncle had planned for this secret rendezvous, but she knew she would be most willing to engage any requests he made of her. At the very least, she would finally be free to once again press her lips against his and feel the heat of his body as he held her close. She was not opposed to yielding to his every desire and found herself almost hoping he would turn out to be the licentious character she’d heard so many tales about, even if it meant surrendering her maidenhead before they exchanged vows in the Sept.

She breathed a sigh of resignation, climbing out of her large canopy bed and retrieving a candle from her bedside table. Ryna walked over to the intricate panel carved into the far wall, adorned with a faded painting of a dragon, lit partially by a roaring brazier in the corner. Holding the candle up to the relief, she double-checked that the hidden door was still ajar, and indeed it was.

There’s a secret panel in your chambers Daemon’s words echoed in her memory. Just as he had said, the passageway was indeed located precisely where he had indicated, but could only be opened from her side. This meant that she would need to unfasten the latch in order to grant him access when he arrived.

Oh, but when will he arrive?

Ryna felt a chill as she stood there in the silence of the night. Her breasts prickled in the cool air and looking down, she suddenly became very aware of the revealing quality of her shift. She hadn’t ever considered how skimpy the nightgown was given that she was dressed in one just like it every single night by her handmaid. Typically, she didn’t even sleep in her smallclothes, unless it was exceptionally wintry weather or when her blood came and she needed a means to secure absorbent padding.

Running a hand down her stomach and pulling the fabric taut until it was practically see-through, she frowned at how little the shift left to the imagination. Even in the dim candlelight, Daemon would see everything. It was a strange sentiment to be so wanton while also being incredibly shy from a lack of experience.

With a weary exhale, she flung herself onto her bed and rolled onto her back. Her eyelids felt heavy, her body exhausted from the culmination of nights spent with little sleep and wracked with anxiety and anticipation. As she lay there, her gaze fixated on the shifting shadows cast upon the ceiling and before she even realized it she found herself inexplicably falling into a deep slumber.

——

The panel to Ryna’s chambers was cracked open already as he’d instructed her and as he pushed it further open, it gave way with only a soft creek of complaint. Daemon stepped out from the darkness of the passage and into the moderate light of the princess’ bedroom. His heart was hammering in his chest, blood roaring with excitement after a long and painful week of being in such close proximity to his niece, yet being unable to touch her the way he desired.

Daemon was in a dangerous mood, and the sight that greeted him as he advanced deeper into the room only served to fan the flames of lust and need, which were already burning white-hot in his gut.

There she lay, a platinum-haired goddess sound asleep in her bed. Her delicate features reminiscent of a pretty, little doll in every way, a picture of tender innocence and vulnerability.

A lamb to the slaughter. He grinned wickedly as he began to unlace his black leather jerkin.

The prince was acutely aware of the tension coiled tightly within his body as he removed his boots and breeches, one by one. His cock swelled excruciatingly against the fabric of his braies* while his eyes raked over every curve of her body. Legs pale and smooth like ivory were accentuated by the off-white hue of her shift, ascending into the shadowed darkness that concealed her waiting cunny.

Like a hungry wolf preparing to savor the taste of fresh meat, he couldn’t help but moisten his lips with his tongue, his anticipation mounting with each passing moment. With a swift tug, Daemon unfastened the ties of his smallclothes and stepped out of them, knowing that there was no point in keeping himself covered given the activities he had in mind. While he was fully aware that he should not lay claim to her virtue yet, he reasoned that there were still many other pleasurable acts they could engage in.

Daemon’s length sprang free from confinement, a thick, pulsing shaft that stood proud and rigid. He approached the bed, his shadow towering over her as his violet eyes, almost black in the gloaming, drank in the sight of her.

With a steady movement, he eased himself onto the bed, taking great care not to jostle her awake as he lay down next to her, immediately relishing the sensation of her warm flesh against his own. Ryna was asleep, her lips parted slightly and her head turned towards him. His eyes traced a path down her neck, following the contour of her body until he reached the hem of her shift. Long had he yearned to see his sweet little niece like this, practically unclothed and unabashed, no longer limited to imagining her in his mind, but actually beholding her naked form.

His fingers tugged at the edge of the flimsy fabric, slipping his hand underneath and slowly hiking up her nightgown. The material bulked around his wrist as he glided his palm up her thigh, until finally he revealed her mound.

My sweet, precious little girl.

The words purred in his mind as he grazed upwards, running over the indent of her pelvis and up her stomach, pulling the loose nightgown along as he went. Ryna’s skin was so soft and warm, so pliable to his touch. It was taking everything he had to keep his mouth off of her body, to stay gentle and not wake her, but first he wanted to see her laid bare before him.

Daemon sat up, smoothly positioning his arm beneath her upper back to support her as he lifted her up just enough to slide the gown off entirely. He swallowed hard at the sight of her exposed bosom, her pale nipples now hardening with the cool air. He could no longer resist the all-consuming hunger that had taken hold of him, his need for her overwhelming as he beheld her in this state of undress.

His fingers slid gently over her collarbone, dropping down until his hand clasped her right breast. He squeezed it gently, feeling the swell of her flesh give beneath his palm. His thumb brushed over her taut nipple, rubbing in circles around the areola, before tweaking lightly.

A growl rose in his chest as he got to his hands and knees and crawled over her. Grasping her breast once more he lowered his head, taking the swollen peak into his mouth. Daemon sucked at it greedily, flicking his tongue over the nub while his hand continued to knead her other tit. He didn’t care if he woke her by now, his cock was starving for her, his tip already leaking against her thigh with need.

Daemon became intensely aware of the reaction his efforts were having on Ryna’s body. Her pulse had quickened and her breaths were heavier now and she was already beginning to stir from his attentions.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear, whispering, "Sleep, sweetling. Let your uncle take care of you."

The princess’ eyelids fluttered, but she did not open them, instead turning her head to the other side and adjusting her arms.

His mouth descended onto her neck, teeth grazing her tender skin as his hand dipped down between her legs, his fingers tracing over her slit. Daemon couldn’t believe how wet she was, her dampness coating his fingers with ample lubrication to tease her pearl. He circled her bud, his eyes darting back to her face as a soft moan escaped her lips and she rustled again.

Her eyes moved restlessly beneath her closed lids, as if she were engrossed in a dream, oblivious to the prince’s presence and the touch of his hands on her sensitive apex.

Good, d ōna riña. Dream of me. -Sweet girl

Daemon’s cock was throbbing, aching for release as he felt the pulse of her desire against his fingertips. He wanted to fuck her so badly, but he would force himself to wait, compel himself to be satisfied with this for now.

His lips continued to explore her neck, kissing softly at her jaw and licking around the edge of her earlobe. Seeking entrance to her core, his fingers dipped lower, dancing in the creamy fluids that had soaked her folds. He slipped his finger through, testing the petals of her flower for entry. Somehow, his little niece was still in tact after years of riding her dragon, her hymen stretching slightly, but resisting ingress.

The feel of it was enough to make him groan, knowing that she was completely his to take. That nobody else had even known the intimacy of her heat nor ever would, save for him. His fingers continued to tease her, plunging in and out of her wetness while thumbing her tender bud. Daemon pulled his hand away, his digits coated with her essence and bringing them to his mouth he tasted her, savoring the sweet and slightly tangy flavor.

Soon, sweetling. Soon I will have you.

He was torturing himself, but it was an exquisite torture. The taste of her on his lips, the feel of her body beneath him and the soft moans and sighs Ryna made even while sleeping. Daemon knew he couldn’t take it much longer, he had to relieve himself of this agony and he wanted her awake for it.

Daemon rose up slightly, dragging his rigid length along her thigh until it seated nicely between her legs. Gods, it was maddening to be so close and not be able to take her. He bent down again, pressing his lips against hers as though starving. Daemon’s kiss was demanding, insistent, pushing his tongue into her mouth, a claim as much as a demand.

His hips rocked forward instinctively, rubbing the head of his cock against her swollen folds. The satiny wet heat was driving him mad, and the need to bury himself inside her mounted. The prince’s hands both ascended to cup her face, whispering in between kisses as he rolled against her.

“Wake up, sweetling,” he murmured softly, his voice was low as he continued to caress her jaw. He wasn’t sure if Ser Erryk was stationed outside of her room at this hour, but Daemon didn’t want to take a chance getting caught.

He leaned in close again, nose tracing the line from her cheek down to her neck, lips coasting gently over her skin. “Wake up for me.” His hips continued to grind against her with desperate urgency, his member never daring entry, but sliding through the slickness of her heat.

Ryna’s lids flitted, eyes rolling beneath before finally blinking open. She looked at him blankly for a moment, an expression of confusion crossing her face before recognition finally set in. Her eyes slid shut again for a moment, but just as Daemon rocked against her once more, they shot back open with alarm.

He had to cover her mouth to make sure she didn’t cry out, quietly shushing her so she didn’t alert anyone to his presence.

“Hush, sweet girl. I would hate to be forced to gag you,” his voice was still soft and tender, yet there was an undercurrent of ferocity beneath the surface. Indeed, it was not far from the truth because he had every intention of placing something in her mouth.

She looked at him with wide eyes, shaking her head as her features relaxed. Daemon risked uncovering her mouth with a hint of regret, lamenting how good she had looked silenced by his control.

“I thought I was dreaming…” she spoke very softly and slowly she scanned downward, blushing brightly once she realized they were both nude, becoming markedly aware of his hardness squelching through her folds. “What are you doing, Uncle?”

“I trust you know what a man’s prick is, dear niece…” Daemon said with a playful jape, rearing up slightly so he could get a better look at her. “What it’s used for.”

“Yes, but…” she trailed off demurely. He’d seen that look in her eyes several times now. It was the look of arousal and embarrassment that always led to her meek submission. “We’re not supposed to… Not yet.”

The sweet thing. Trying so hard to stand up to the Rogue Prince.

“No, we won’t do that just yet, sweetling,” he reassured her with a sly smirk, his voice low and sultry. “But there are other ways you can satisfy me. Would you like that, little girl? To please your uncle?”

The princess slowly nodded her head, dragging her teeth against her lower lip with anticipation. “How?” she asked, clearly unsure of what he desired from her.

Gods, she was so innocent. So eager, yet so unsure. He could make her do anything he wanted with the slightest bit of coaxing. He grinned, feeling wicked for what he was about to do, but the truth of it was that he’d have to teach her sooner or later. It would also be a sinfully delightful way to satisfy his lust for her, while prolonging the craving to bed her.

Daemon’s fingers slid tenderly along the line of her jaw, then tilted her head back just enough for him to look into her eyes. “I want you to take me into your mouth.” He waited, giving her a moment to process his request, to mill over the implications of what would be happening. “Do you think you can do that, sweet girl?”

Ryna looked anxious at his request, but did not appear repulsed as he’d worried she might. “I-I can try,” she replied in a shaky whisper, her voice a mere rustling in the quiet of the keep.

He could not control the leer of satisfaction that took over his countenance, his smile toothy like a predator closing in on its kill. “That’s my good girl,” he purred with smooth rapture. Pushing off of her, he crawled up the bed to the headboard, settling comfortably against the pillows with his long legs sprawled on either side of him. “Come a little closer, sweetling.”

With an impish grin that would not relent, Daemon watched her turn to her side and tentatively get to her knees. He could sense Ryna’s discomfort, how naked and vulnerable she must feel, but the princess was handling his late night visit quite well despite the rude awakening. Her eyes appeared dark and round like the deepest well in the flicker of the flames, focused intently on his engorged cock, throbbing and dripping for relief.

“Have you seen one before?” he asked, trying to engage her more lest she back down in fright. Her brow raised slightly as his length twitched then bobbed, the head glistening with clear seed.

The princess scooted closer, gulping as she observed his manhood with mild concern. Daemon knew for a fact that he was much larger in size than most men. He’d spent enough time in the brothels, seen enough cocks waggling about in search of cunts to fill, and had enough whores beg him for more without even asking for coin in return.

“In a scroll once. The septa showed it to me as part of my marital education. It did not look anything like that, Uncle,” her tone was almost inquisitive, a mix of intimidation and curiosity.

“Ah, yes. I remember those scrolls,” he chuckled under his breath. The image of his sweet little niece sitting among the dusky tomes in the library, looking at crude drawings of naked men made him smirk with barely repressed pride. “It’s nothing to be frightened of,” he assured her, reaching out to gently stroke the side of her face. “Go ahead and touch it.”

Ryna’s hand rested on his thigh for a moment as if steeling herself to complete the task. Then a look of determination crossed her countenance and she went for it, featherlight fingers grasping his shaft with careful precision as if she might hurt him to squeeze more firmly.

Daemon’s eyes slipped shut in response, the sensation of her touch like a caress of gentle fire. He could not help but to bite down on his lower lip, trying to keep his moan at bay.

“How does it feel?” he cooed, his words like syrup as his touch glided along her shoulder.

“So very soft,” the princess said with an enamored awe that he did not expect. “Like a newborn babe’s skin or perhaps the most lavish of silk. But still hard at the same time. It’s quite puzzling.”

He laughed quietly, his eyes opening up to look at her with lusty amusement. It was not entirely surprising to him that she was so fascinated by his member. Her innocence, coupled with curiosity and a desire to explore, made her naturally intrigued by this new aspect of intimacy. And he’d be a fool to deny himself the chance to nurture that.

“Is it?” Daemon purred seductively. “And what about the head? What do you think of that?” He gently urged her to continue, watching her with hungry eyes as she began to move her hand up to the tip of his shaft.

“It looks angry,” she commented, simple and direct. “The… top is so red. It’s almost purple.”

Her earnest reaction was quite endearing, and it was clear she had some mixed feelings about the appearance of his cock. A wolfish smile played over his lips as her eyes remained transfixed to his jutting member.

“I assure you it’s not angry with you, sweet girl,” Daemon chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “It’s like that because I want you. Badly. That’s how it shows.” His eyes roamed over her face, taking in the sight of her studying his manhood, touching him as though he were a rare treasure.

“Does it hurt?” her eyes flicked up to him as she inched a little closer, her knees spreading out to the side more as she sunk down.

“Your touch feels very good, Niece,” he whispered softly. “But, it can cause discomfort if release is prolonged.” Daemon smiled covetously, needing to feel those pretty lips around his cock. “You can help prevent that by providing relief.”

“How?” she asked curtly. Ryna’s lips were parted, breathless and waiting, begging to be used. He could see the excitement in her eyes, the lust taking over despite her lack of experience.

“Take me into your mouth, sweetling.” he urged her. “Show me how eager you are to learn. To please your uncle.” His voice was firm, but not demanding. He wanted her to satisfy him, but also wanted her to feel that she was within some measure of control.

“I do not know what to do,” she peered up at him with worried eyes, scared of judgment and reproach.

Daemon’s features softened at seeing that apprehension, as though he would reject her for not performing well. “I will not be disappointed in you for not knowing how to do something you have never done before.” His thumb gently caressed the underside of her chin as his eyes searched her face for that fiery spirit he knew she possessed.

“I will guide you. I will instruct you. Just follow my lead,” he cajoled her, his voice soft and gentle to soothe her. “Start by tasting it. Feeling it with your lips. Your tongue.”

Ryna nodded deferentially, appearing uncertain of herself, but willing to attempt this feat of immorality for him. It was no surprise that she approached his cock with shy pursed lips as though she were a baby bird, her pink tongue flirting with the velvet flesh of his head.

Her light, tentative touch had the prince letting out a sharp intake of air, reaching out with one hand to thread his fingers through her soft platinum curls.

“Good girl,” he managed to croon out, his voice now guttural with desire. “Just like that.”

Daemon’s tight jawed response instilled some boldness in the girl. She opened her lips wider, running the flat of her tongue up the length of his cock before lavishing it with wet, open mouthed kisses.

Gods, she was a fast learner, picking up on his queues with ease. “Yes, just like that,” he encouraged her, trying to keep his voice quiet. His fingers dug a little harder into her scalp, wanting so badly to take control and bury himself to the hilt, to feel her throat snug against his cock. But, he had to hold back, had to let her get her bearings.

“I knew you would learn quickly,” he groaned with satisfaction as she ventured to take the tip into her mouth. “You’re being such a good girl for me. So good.”

The way her lips wrapped around him, the feel of her tongue teasing the underside of his length, was driving him mad. His head lolled against the headboard, eyes rolling back as she slid further down his cock.

Fucking hells. She feels good.

He couldn’t tell if she was a natural at giving head or if he had just desired her for too long, worked himself up so much that It resulted in the best fucking blow job he’d ever had. She’d barely gotten a third of it in her mouth by now too, which meant it could only get better.

“You’re doing so well, sweet girl,” he praised her, his voice a ragged whisper. “Keep going. Take me deeper.” His hips began to buck up, urging her to take more of him. “Show me how much you want your uncle’s seed.”

There was a slight twinge of uncertainty in Ryna’s expression as she heard that, but he wouldn’t let her get discouraged by the thought of a little spend. Daemon gripped her hair once more, reminding her of his control over her as he guided her down his cock.

“Now try a little more,” he whispered, his voice becoming menacing as the beast inside took over. He could not stop from rocking his hips into her welcoming mouth, the head of his cock bumping the back of her throat and making her gag.

“Fuck,” he wanted to shout, but must keep it down lest they be discovered. “You’re taking it all so well. So very eager to please your uncle, aren’t you?”

She peered up at him with bleary tears forming from the strain. His eyes locked onto hers, begging her to take more, to continue to service him like this. Ryna was overwhelmed, he could tell, but Daemon needed her to finish him off. He needed to spoil her mouth with his seed and see the look on her face after he’d finished fucking that beautiful little face of hers. Some aspects of love making could not be taught in a gentle way. They must simply be experienced.

“Just a little more, sweetling,” he growled, feeling feral with a pent up lust that had lasted years. “You can do it. You can take my fucking cock all the way in that tight little throat of yours. Show me how much you want it, little girl.”

Ryna’s head bobbed with the prodding of his hand still wrapped in her silvery tresses. Her sweet eyes watered as she tried to take him deeper, wanting so badly to please her uncle. Her throat seized on the head of his cock and he groaned as she choked and flew off his member gasping for air and rasping.

“Try again, Princess,” he smirked deviously. He’d been patient enough with her, been as gentle as he could be, but now he was going to take what he wanted. Perhaps it would even be good for the princess to see this side of him. “I promise to give you a reward if you can milk my cock like a good little slut.”

Ryna’s face flushed scarlet at his words, humiliation and arousal warring inside of her. She hesitated, but he could see the desire to satisfy him still burning in her eyes.

“I will try for you, Uncle,” she whispered, letting him guide her swollen lips back onto his throbbing length.

Daemon could feel the snug fit of her throat molding around him as she pushed past her gag reflex, relaxing to accept the girth of his cock. She began to struggle once more, but he held her down knowing full well she was capable of holding her breath for longer.

“Fuck, yes,” he hissed, his hips slamming into her face, as he fully seated himself in her throat. “Keep going. I want you to keep taking it.” He could feel the heat building up in his balls, the impending release looming. He wanted to fuck her mouth until he came, to drown her in his seed.

His hands fisted in her hair, shoving her head on his cock, his hips rocking up and down, claiming her mouth insistently as he chased his end. He could feel the pressure building up, the familiar tingle at the base of his spine.

“You’re going to be such a good whore,” he panted as he neared the edge of oblivion. “Such a good whore for your uncle. Nuha sȳz riñītsos… Ahh, fuck!” - My good little girl.

His cock pulsed, spurting hot spend into her mouth, the first gush making her choke and sputter, but Daemon’s hold on her golden locks didn’t wane. The princess gagged on his cock, her eyes watering with big tears streaming down her cheeks, until finally he’d emptied it all into her, rewarding her with the relief of extricating his manhood from her mouth.

“Swallow it all,” he growled, his voice hoarse from the intense pleasure. “Show your uncle what an obedient little wife you’ll be.”

Ryna grimaced slightly and then consumed his release, her cheeks flushing deeply as she complied. She coughed a little, her eyes shining with tears that she quickly wiped away. His niece was utterly spent, having taken the brunt of his depravity like a proper tart. Daemon’s chest heaved, his breaths coming in ragged pants as he released her hair, letting it cascade over her shoulders.

The prince knew it had not been easy for her, but he owed her a glimpse at who he truly was, of the depravity that consumed him. If Ryna were to wed him, she would have to accept not a man, but a ferocious dragon to warm her bed.

Still, now that his desires had been temporarily sated, he could not help but feel a pang of remorse. He reached out then, his hand coming to rest tenderly on her back, urging her closer.

“Come here, riñītsos,” he commanded gently, his strong arms pulling Ryna up and tugging her into his lap. “Come sit with me.” She went along obligingly enough, throwing herself desperately into his embrace as she shed new tears against his shoulder. Daemon held her firmly against his chest, trying to soothe her. “Hush, sweetling,” he whispered softly, his lips pressing against the crown of her head as his warm hands cradled her shaking frame. “It’s alright.” He’d not meant to lose control, but under the weight of his intense desire and pleasure, he’d not been able to maintain his composure any longer.

“Why did you say those things?” her voice cracked with emotion as she rubbed the wetness away from her eyes with her hand.

“Because I could not help myself,” he admitted honestly, holding her a bit closer.

He grasped her shoulders, pushing her back a little so he could cup her face between his hands and force her to look at him. “And you should know who you’re dealing with before you become my wife. I am not a gentle man. My appetites can be craven and when I am lost in that darkness, I cannot hold back. I give myself over to the urges, the lust, the beast that rages inside of me.”

Daemon paused for a moment, letting his grip on her go slack to brush an errant tear from beneath her eye. “Are you frightened of me now, riñitsos?”

“N-no,” she began to stutter, her lip trembling as he stroked her flushed cheeks. “I’ve just… You’ve never talked to me like that before.”

“I warned you… Did I not?” he reminded her thinking back to the talk they had in the garden. He’d offered to ease her into the depths of his wickedness, but had not been able to quench his thirst once faced with the sight of her body and the heat of her mouth. “I am a vulgar and corrupt man.”

Ryna did not answer immediately, a trepidation in her eyes as she gazed at him, still sodden with the remnants of tears. He skimmed softly along her jaw before dropping down the column of her neck and letting his hand rest upon the point where it met her collarbone.

Daemon watched her closely. She was still in the process of coming to terms with what had just happened, how he’d spoken to her. He did not blame her for being uneasy, especially given it was her first time performing such an act, but he was not sure he could let her pull away from him now. It was true that he wanted her to choose to be with him, to reciprocate his feelings and perhaps even a level of his passions.

But, deep down, the Rogue Prince knew that he would take her to wife regardless of her preference on the matter.

The issue of his feelings regarding his niece was a complicated matter. He cared for her without measure, wishing to protect her from all harm, yet none would keep her safe from his own machinations. He coveted her with an urgency that delved heavily into obsession and celebrated her purity, all while lusting over how he might taint it.

It matters not. She is mine now. No other will have her.

“You have seen me now, sweetling,” he finally uttered in a deep, sultry tone, devoid of shame nor guilt. “Was there no pleasure in it for you? Did any part of you enjoy it?”

Ryna startled him with the hasty shift of her demeanor, going from anxiety to explanation as she shifted closer to him, letting her knees sink down as her thighs cradled his hips.

“It’s not that I did not enjoy it,” she tried to clarify her reaction. “It’s true it was difficult to breathe at times, but I did indulge in being able to bring you such… Well…” she paused again trying to find the right word. “Such gratification, but…” She looked down for a moment, seeming unsure of how to proceed.

Daemon listened to her keenly, his expression growing more intrigued as his lips curled into a sly smirk. The thought of her relishing in pleasing him in such a debauched way setting off something primal within him, but the threat of her distaste still lingered.

“But…?” he asked, encouraging her to continue as his smile faded. His hands had traveled down her torso, grazing against the side of her breasts, her hips, before coming to rest on each of her thighs.

Her cheeks flushed slightly as she looked back at him, “But, what bothered me most was…” She made a twisted sound of distress, combining a sigh with a scoff. The poor girl was clearly not used to expressing such thoughts. “I couldn’t stand to hear you berate me. Saying such things as though I meant nothing to you.. As though you did not care.”

So, she does not mind the act, only how I spoke to her?

“What makes you think I did not care?” he asked her with disbelief, raising an eyebrow. She seemed surprised by the question. “You think I meant what I said?” Daemon added, running his hands up to her hips and gripping the flesh firmly. “Is that how you think I genuinely regard you?” He pulled her towards him, pressing her bare stomach against his.

Ryna flustered slightly, her inexperience with such situations showing prominently once more. “Do you still care for me, Uncle?” she asked with a timid whisper.

Daemon was overwhelmed with the desire to laugh, a great guffaw of dramatic irony, but he caged it inside for the sake of his dear niece.

“You silly girl,” he quipped, shaking his head as his fingers flexed on her waist. “Of course I care for you.” He spoke with a hint of incredulity, still unable to believe her biggest fear had been the thought of him viewing her poorly. He adored her. Had been watching her for years like a hawk, desiring her.

His thumb brushed along her hip bone as he thought of how best to explain his compulsions towards filthy language to her. “You see… I speak that way because it spurs me on. It feeds my hunger. Makes it better.”

The princess nodded along with his words, seeming somewhat understanding of his reasoning, even if she was not quite at ease with it yet.

“But that does not mean that I hold you with contempt,” he continued with a softer tone, expressing his genuine affection. “I care more than you may realize, my sweet riñitsos.” One hand slid up her side, climbing until he could cup her jaw, then slowly he ran his fingers up into her hair.

“I did not mean to lose control with you, but I do feel it best that you witnessed this side of me. It will not change, sweetling. It is who I am. You will come to accept it.”

She gazed at him with a newfound warmth in her eyes, leaning into his touch. “If it is simply for your pleasure… If you don’t mean it… Then I shall adjust.”

Daemon chuckled at her earnestness, his eyes lingering on her mouth as he brought his thumb down her cheek to skim against her bottom lip. She offered him much in her willingness, to accept his vulgarity as he claimed her.

“You are a true Valyrian, sweetling,” he whispered as he leaned forward, his breath hot against her skin. “So hungry for passion that you’ll forgive your lecherous uncle’s desire to pillage your innocence.” He pressed a wet kiss against her neck, feeling the need ache in his gut once more.

“I’m only hungry for you, Uncle…” she admitted with a soft moan as he continued to worship her with his lips.

She is more than I deserve. It almost feels like theft.

He growled against her neck, his teeth scraping her flesh before sucking at the sensitive place beneath her ear. Daemon would take her again and again, a wanton beast unable to live a moment longer without indulging in the carnal delights of his favorite temptation.

“You’ve no idea how ravenous I am for you,” he voiced raggedly, hands now wrapping around her back as he lowered Ryna down to the bed. “My little girl, your body is a voluptuous banquet all for me.”

As Daemon positioned himself over her, his lips found the pale curve of her breast, kissing and nipping at her hardened nipple. His knee forced her legs apart and he slid his hand down to her core as he settled between her thighs.

“Now, I believe I still owe you a reward, sweetling, for completing such an arduous task,” he grinned against the swell of her bosom before lifting up to look her directly in the eyes.

“And what sort of reward will I be given, Uncle?” Ryna asked, her mouth curving into a coy smile.

He did so love her enthusiasm, how much of a little tease she could be for one so innocent. “Since you were so good for me…” he trailed off, trailing kisses down her abdomen and sliding down the bed until he was right at her tight little cunt. “I will take my fill of you again, sweet girl.” He spread her legs wide, wrapping his arms under her thighs and firmly around her hips.

“And this time, I intend to savor my meal fully without the worry of interruption.” Daemon smirked deviously at her before dropping his face towards her wet heat, his tongue extending to taunt her swollen bud as he returned the favor.

Read Chapter 8

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