#oh brother more oc x canon

[charlioak]

don't cry darlin

[gnocchibabie]

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.

[imasoftieforbarb]

PH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH!! Okay so we know that the brothers all like or tolerate rock of some sort canonically…. So what if Floyd got a goth wife/partner?! I feel like it could be really cute and this dynamic is def not based off of my trolls OC Dina…

BUT YEAH!! Floyd x goth wife/spouse (etc)

maybe his brothers met them n were like “wtf Floyd’s married or smthn??

IM A FREAK IM SORRY-

WE’RE BOTH FREAKS!

FLOYD WITH GOTH PARTNER:

I’m so obsessed with this

Ok

He’s so down bad it’s ridiculous

Absolutely loves your clothing style

Asks you if you can do traditional goth make up on him

He just wants an excuse to get close to you

If you make goth music?

He 👏 will 👏 be 👏 at 👏 every 👏 show 👏

If you don’t?

He’ll buy tickets to go see your favourite group together

I hc him to appreciate all musics- but pop will always have a special part in his heart

Metal covers of pop songs- he’s there for it

He’d be a bit nervous to introduce you to his brothers- he dreads the amount of teasing he might get

It goes down really well!

Jd was excited to hear your stories of adventures the two of you had been on

Bruce and you ended up exchanging recipes for various foods

Clay loved all your cool accessories and wanted to understand your culture more

Branch was just happy that his brother was with someone who made him happy and (surprisingly) gave you a hug!

They’re the first people Floyd tells when he starts planning to put a ring on it

Bruce let’s him rent out his restaurant

Jd helps him come up with a speech

Clay helps set the mood

And Branch reassures him

The proposal goes well (obviously)

They pull y’all into a group hug to welcome you to the family

Jd definitely starts crying

[averagewriter-inthedark]

A Dragon Does Now Bow Down 🐉 | HOTD Imagine P.1

GOT/HOTD masterlist | | Part 2

Characters & Pairings: Targaryen/Lannister!OC—Daerra Targaryen x the Greens (platonic) & the Blacks (platonic)

Content Warnings: follows episodes 1-7 of S.1, fluff (between oc and kids) angst, implied character death, blood, violence, dysfunctional family dynamics, eventual B&C, slight canon divergence | female!OC (she/her) | wc: 8k

Premise: The House of the Dragon is an impenetrable force when standing together. Bound by love, duty, and sacrifice. But when sides are drawn between kin, not even the glue that holds them together can withstand.

Note: this is a direct result of an AU idea I had where the children of the Greens had an actual motherly figure who cared for them and was also a neutral party between the Greens & Blacks. So yeah, I’m sorry this will be more angsty and dark in part 2.

-----------------

Hand turns loom; spool of green, spool of black; dragons of flesh weaving dragons of thread.

It was believed by the Wise King Jaehaerys I that the only thing that could tear down the house of the dragon was itself. Oh how right he was. 

The threat of war loomed over with each passing moon. Bringing unease to his youngest grandchild, Daerra.

Born to his daughter Gael in 95 AC when she was only ten and five. The only legitimate child to her marriage to a lord of House Lannister who shared Targaryen heritage. He died shortly after her birth resulting in Gael returning to the Red Keep where she raised the babe with her siblings and cousins. They took a liking to Daerra--especially the Good Queen Alysanne. Her older cousins; Rhaenys, Viserys, and Daemon were around at times. Mainly at family gatherings since they were all 15+ years older than Daerra. 

A Targaryen beauty with signature attributes to Lannisters, Daerra was a sight to behold. Silver hair she often kept short and curly, and piercing green eyes that resemble emeralds. While her father may have been a Lannister, she only ever referred to herself as a Targaryen. Only ever wearing the colors of red and black. 

Unfortunately Daerra would know loss again at the age of four, when her mother drowned herself in the Blackwater Bay following the stillbirth of her younger brother. From then on, Daerra was under the care of her cousins Aemma and Viserys, who had their young daughter, Rhaenyra, two years prior to Gael’s death. Raising them like sisters since the couple were not blessed with another child by the Gods. 

As children up until adolescence the two were like peas in a pod, though they had their differences. Both enjoyed riding their dragons, though never together. Rhaenyra with her golden queen Syrax, and Daerra with the ferocious Cannibal. Whose eyes were a stunning green as though they were filled with Wildfire. Matching Daerra so closely, it made people wonder if it were the reason the wild beast surrendered to her. Earning her the title, ‘Daerra the Daring,’ when she claimed the mighty dragon on the eve of her tenth nameday at Dragonstone, after stumbling upon his nest when she ventured too far from the castle. Removing red from her wardrobe to only wear black with green trimming in honor of him. 

The bond between dragon and rider was something Daerra was taught by her grandmother the Good Queen. A longing feeling she desired to connect with their ancient heritage. Cannibal was a magnificent creature. When not on Dragonstone, Cannibal was free to roam the outskirts of the city away from the Dragonpit. 

So as to not cause an issue with his….particular taste for food. 

While Rhaenyra had to maintain the statue of a Princess, Daerra had much more freedom during childhood. Which in turn resulted in slight envy from the young heir. Daerra got to go to Dragonstone whenever she pleased so long as the King approved. She got to train under the Rogue Prince himself, Daemon--which fueled Rhaenyra’s jealousy, and learn to fight like a warrior. While Rhaenyra always had a book or quill in her hand, Daerra had a sword or her trusty leather whip. She was his protege. On her fifteenth name day, Lady Daerra was gifted a Valryian steel blade she named Destiny.

Daemon taught her strategy and ways to disarm a man. Not to mention he warned her of snakes in his brother's council.  

Speaking of the council, there were mixed reactions when it came to Daerra and the privileges her cousin gave her. Viserys didn’t rush to marry her off when she came of age, much to the displeasure of his Hand, Otto Hightower. The cunning man desperately wanted to rid the Red Keep of her when she grew to be a mini version of his political headache. Even tempted to offer his own son's hand, until whispers spread of young Lords attempting to court the Lady going missing. Fruitless accusations that were enough to ward off prospects. 

“Is it true,” Rhaenyra raced after Daerra, dressed in her riding gear as she brushed through the mane of her horse before departing to see her dragon. 

“What do you speak of, cousin?” 

Rhaenyra gave a pointed look, glancing over her shoulder before leaning closer to whisper, “People are saying you fed those men who tried to win your hand to Cannibal.” The princess received a snicker.

“So that is the rumor I’ve been hearing amongst the court,” her laugh was dry, turning slightly to face her cousin. “Don’t be foolish, Rhaenyra, he only eats his own,” Daerra denied, but her eyes told a different story. One the princess wasn’t sure she wanted to know. 

Whatever the truth was, it had the outcome Daerra wanted. And that was to avoid marriage for as long as possible. The main reason being when Viserys named his daughter the heir to the Iron Throne. Daerra was ten and seven, beaming with pride while masking the bubble of anxiety in her chest. Greedy Lords would race to win her hand, and offer up their daughters/sisters to the King now that his wife, Queen Aemma, was with the Gods. 

Daerra scoured the court intently. Observing everyone who crossed paths with the King. Particularly Otto Hightower and Corlys Velaryon, who both had young daughters and were ambitious for power. 

“Any ladies the object of your attention, dear cousin?” Daerra clasped her hands behind her back, matching Viserys pace along the gardens. He’d appeared solemn, stress making his features age. 

“Don’t tell me you dragged me out here to hear of my quarrels with marriage prospects. I thought you better than that, Daerra.” His tone was fond, almost fatherly like. Considering he practically raised her since she was four. The two were semi-close with each other.

The young woman snorted, “Oh, you know I prefer the training yard or the skies. But I worry for you.” She stops, making him do the same. The sun beating down brought heat to their skin as their thick clothing absorbed the rays. Illuminating their emerald and lilac eyes that would have any artist wanting to paint a portrait. “Daemon is off in the stepstones doing Gods knows what. Your council keeps bothering you about a wife--and for Rhaenyra to take a husband. Not to mention they still question your decision to name her your heir. Must be exhausting.”

“It is,” the King agrees with a sigh, looking down at his boots. Wishing nothing more than to return to his model of Old Valyria. “With everything happening, I find myself missing Aemma more than ever.” Daerra’s heart tightened, mirroring his saddened expression. Aemma was like a mother to her, raising her as a surrogate daughter following multiple failed pregnancies. 

“I as well. Queen Aemma was the heart of this family,” Daerra glanced up to the heavens, feeling a light breeze drift over them. “Her loss is felt within the Keep. And you should not rush to pledge yourself to another until you feel the time is right. Otherwise you are dooming the both of you.” 

Though she did not have experience with love, Daerra witnessed it throughout her life. The love her grandparents had with each other. The way Corlys and Rhaenys were. The devotion Viserys had to Aemma, and the stories of his parents, Baelon and Alyssa. Love matches were rare, but they existed. And if blessed, one may experience more than one in their lifetime. 

She had hoped that for Viserys. Unfortunately, her advice was met on deaf ears when he announced not long after his intent to marry Alicent Hightower. The daughter of his Hand, and dear friend to his own daughter. 

Daerra was enraged. Disgusted even. How could her cousin marry a girl the same age as Rhaenyra. Younger than her by three name days. Never did she see the two together during the day, and it took some convincing for the King’s guard to tell her the two had secret meetings during the night. 

‘Of course,’ she thought, clutching her fists as the need to break something became too much to bear. If there was one thing Daerra was also known for in the Seven Kingdoms….it was her temper. Rivaling that of Daemon when she finally burst after penting up frustration for days. Earning her another nickname of the Dragon with a Lion’s roar. However, she had to remain composed. This was the King, not just her cousin. And while he allowed her freedom and often glanced the other way when she gave cheek to Lords and Ladies of the Court, the same would not be directed at him. 

In the end, Daerra told Viserys, “I hope you know what you’re doing, cousin.” And when he questioned her statement, her reply was simply, “You lack to see the weight this union has put on our House. And I hope you are ready for the pressure that will come the moment you sire more heirs. For yours and Rhaenyra--and even Alicent’s sake,” she paused, narrowing her brows at the man who raised her. “I hope the Gods bless you with only daughters.” 

Of course, Viserys believed her to over exaggerate. Even when he caught her stiff expression at his wedding. Standing beside his daughter with her hands clasped behind her back, dressed in black with gold accents. The way she assessed him was almost like a warning. But again, Viserys took it like a grain of salt. In his eyes, Rhaenyra was his heir and the Lords of Westeros pledged to her before him and the Gods. Swearing fealty, which was more valuable than any gold in the country. 

He failed to realize they would not be forthcoming once he had a son. When that day came, Daerra felt the shift. As she glanced down at the babe in her arms, having taken him while Alicent rested before Viserys was to present him to the court, Daerra’s usual rough exterior crumbled. 

There was such an innocence to babes. Unaware of the harsh realities the world possessed. Small little things who only desired love and attention. “Hello, little one,” she whispered to Aegon. His bright lilac eyes staring up at her in wonder. Silver strands of hair on his head, skin soft and smooth as her finger stroked his cheek. “I’m your cousin, Daerra. Oh how the realm has awaited your arrival,” her gaze softens, a tinge of sadness in her tone. “But I’m sorry for what your life is set to be like. You’re the first born son--named after the Conqueror himself.” 

Of course little Aegon had no clue what she was saying. To him the only concern was when he would eat, sleep, and have his nappy changed. Still, he gazed up at her as though he was taking in every word. 

Helaena came a year later, with Aemond not long after. As she did with Aegon’s birth, Daerra was present in the Queen’s chamber. Offering support and watching the babes while she rested following the endless hours of labors. Though her and Alicent’s relationship was rather hot and cold, there was a mutual respect. Especially when it came to the children which the Queen greatly appreciated. There were times where Daerra was the only person who could calm them when they fussed. 

“You’d be a great mother, Daerra,” Alicent exhaled, waiting for the sleep to take her while watching Aemond in the woman’s arms. “You’re a natural with him. With all of them.” Still in her youth, the young Queen wondered why Daerra never seeked to marry or have children. After Daemon left for the StepStones a lot had changed for Daerra. 

Though she still had her reputation. 

Daerra only smiled, not taking her eyes on the baby boy, “Everyone’s destiny is different, my Queen. I don’t think mine was to birth the next generation of Targaryen’s. But I do think I was meant to help raise them.” 

Lastly a few years later, came the arrival of the last child of the King and Queen. A boy named Daeron. Who the King, with the surprise approval of his wife, named in honor of his cousin. 

“Gentle, Aemond,” Daerra brushed away a hair from his face and tucked behind his ear. Kneeling down on the ground so she was eye level with the toddlers, Daerra held a sleeping Daeron in her arms. Six-year-old Aegon had a toy dragon in his hand, while five-year-old Helaena sucked on her thumb. Aemond, the curious three-year-old, kept leaning over her arm to get a look at his baby brother. 

“Tiny,” his finger came down on the babe’s head, lilac eyes peering up at the woman in awe. Daerra beamed, a bright smile on her lips. 

“Yes, my darling, he’s a tiny thing. Like you were many moons ago,” a giggle left the boy’s mouth upon her poke to his stomach. Helaena leaned onto her shoulder, lightly tracing the leather and texture of Daerra’s outfit. Aegon himself found entertainment twirling the chains attached to her cloak.

“How come all our eyes are purple and yours are green, aunt?” 

Daerra felt warmth at the title, like it always did when the children referred to her as such. That they viewed her more as an aunt than a distant cousin. 

“Well, my father was a Lannister and said to have bright green eyes,” she explained to the boy.

“Like Cannibal!” Aemond exclaimed, causing Daerra to gently hush him and carefully adjust Daeron who made a sound at the movement. Daerra cooed at him before looking back at Aemond. He’d always been so fascinated by the Dragons in his young age. Especially Cannibal after learning of his reputation. Begging Daerra to one day take him with her flying. She also had a tradition of taking the royal babes to the Dragon, much to the horror of Alicent and Otto, presenting the beast with the new generation of their house. 

Daerra chuckled, petting the top of Aemond’s head, “Inside voice, little dragon.” He mumbled an apology. Daerra bopped his nose, “but yes, Cannibal and I have matching eyes. That’s why some say he chose me as his rider.” She turned back to Aegon, “Sometimes certain traits are stronger than others. My father’s mother was a Targaryen, but he inherited his father’s green eyes. You all took on after your father, his grace the King. The spitting image of the blood of Old Valyria.”

“But what about Jace?” 

Daerra felt her heart stop, eyes widening a bit at the sudden question by her surrogate nephew. As the years passed with many unions blooming and children born to the royal family, Rhaenyra’s marriage to Laenor Velaryon produced their first son. Jacaerys. Born only a few moons prior to which Viserys ordered the babes share a wet nurse, following rising tensions between the houses in hopes to restore the strained relationship between Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra. The former donning to wear only the color green, representing her house calling their bannerman to war. 

An act that had Daerra nearly tapping back into her destructive nature by driving her dagger straight through her heart. She resisted…..with a lot of hard work.  

Like most in the Keep, Daerra knew the boy had been sired from the honorable Ser Harwin Strong. Sharing his dark brown hair, eyes, and similar nose. Opposite of the traditional Valyrian features such as silver hair and lilac eyes. A kind man and dutiful knight, Daerra saw the behavior her cousin and her sworn protector shared when they thought no one was looking. 

Rhaenyra was currently carrying her second child, and rumors of the potential paternity of Jace and his unborn sibling were spread. Making Daerra’s brows narrow in question. 

Gently tugging the boy closer after confirming they were the only ones in the nursery, Daerra whispered, “What is this you speak of, sweetling?” Young and naive to the concern in her tone, Aegon continued to fiddle with her chains. 

“He doesn’t have hair like us. I heard mother shouting at the maid that Jace is a ba-ba-bast,” he couldn’t get the word out, and Daerra immediately stopped him with a soft hand on his cheek. 

“Jace is your nephew. Your older sister's son,” she told him sternly but also soothing as one would to a child. “You boys will grow up with each other--and there is nothing stronger in the Seven Kingdoms than the bond between kin. You mustn’t utter these words again, sweetling. Regardless of whom you hear them from.” 

Aegon only nodded, saying something along the lines of, “I won’t,” but Daerra already feared what was to come for the future of her family. Alicent already showed disdain for her Rhaenyra after her father Otto was released as Hand. Now with her voicing the questionable parentage of the Princess’ son, there was little to no hope of reconciliation. 

The rumors only got worse with the arrival of a second son, Lucerys. A spitting image of his older brother. Like Alicent’s children, Daerra was close to Rhaenyra’s sons. Making her often feel in the middle of the feud between the two. Thankfully when it came to the children, both were respectful and grateful for Daerra’s assistance. 

“Come here, my dreamer,” Helaena grasped Daerra’s outstretched hand, not clutching Luke to her chest, to help the princess step out of the carriage. The Lady turned to the knights, “You are to remain here. We’ll only be a moment.” The man’s face consorted to worry, eyes peering into the woods where he swore he heard the rumble of the beast lying ahead.

“My Lady, the Queen and Princess ordered that you must be in sight with the young prince and princess. You’re not to be alone with them and your dragon--for precaution as you can understand.” 

Having dealt with this a number of times already, Daerra’s face stayed neutral, “I appreciate your concern, and honor of maintaining order, good Ser. But you must know my Cannibal does not take kindly to strangers.” Her tone went cold, as did her eyes sending a shudder up the man’s spine. He visibly paled. “He will see you as food. So,” her head tilted in defiance, “do you still wish to join us? Or will you be smart and do as you’re told.”

“I-I-I shall await your return, my Lady,” he nodded, wishing nothing more than to wipe the sweat from his head. Or throw up from the anxiety he felt. 

Daerra smirked, nodding back and holding Helaena’s hand while cradling Luke in her other arm. Guiding the girl through the woods until they reached Cannibal’s nest. Once in front of the clearing, Daerra bows, “Rytsas, uēpa raquiros.” Hello old friend. 

A low rumble filled their ears, followed by the rustling of leaves. The clearing between the trees filling as Cannibal shook the twigs from his back, wildfire eyes focusing on the group. Daerra heard him sniff, letting go of Helaena’s hand to approach. The girl stayed put, gaze glued on the dragon with awe. She’d never seen him up close before, the only time Helaena had made his acquaintance was when Daerra presented her to him as a babe. Then when Daeron and Jace were born, she took Aegon with her. 

Daerra approached with caution. Glancing down at Lucerys while she untucked the blanket to show his face. 

“Nyke’ve maghatan ao nykeā irudy. Nykeā Targārien naejot kustikagon īlva ānogar. Rhaenagon prince Lucerys, tresy hen Rhaenrya se ser Laenor Velaryon.” I’ve brought you a gift. A Targaryen to strengthen our blood. Meet Prince Lucerys, son of Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor Velaryon. 

Cannibal leaned down, bringing his snout level with Daerra, who gently extended her arms. Holding Lucerys out as though she was offering him up to the dragon, making Helaena gasp lightly. Slight fear at what might happen despite finding the sight mesmerizing. 

Emerald eyes met wildfire. Dragon and his rider. Daerra kept her stare as Cannibal’s snout came only a mere inches from the babe. Feeling the heat radiate off him, the fire seeping through his veins. Cannibal sniffed again, Lucerys moving in Daerra’s hands though she kept a grip on him while never taking her eyes off her dragon. Watching him smell his Targaryen blood, the blood of Old Valyria. 

A sound of approval left Cannibal, his body raising to his true height. A stunning sight for anyone who dared graced the wild dragon with their presence. It made Daerra smirk, bringing Lucerys back to her chest when he began whimpering. She cooed softly, stepping back to where Helaena stood. Crouching down, Daerra said, “The dreams you have are not mere illusions or fantasies, Helaena. It is a rare thing for a Targaryen to dream the way you do--but it is in our blood. They are a window into the future--or what the future may bring. I know it’s hard for you to explain when they happen, but you must not be frightened. For you are a dragon,” the girl met her gaze, a mini Rhaenyra staring back at her. “And a dragon does not bow down to fear.”

Alicent’s distant nature for her children was observed early on. As well as the neglectfulness of his Grace the King. So it came as no surprise to servants and guards in the Keep when the children of the King and Queen often sought council and companionship from Lady Daerra and Ser Criston Cole. The two hardly acknowledged each other, only when the time called for it. She disliked his insults of Rhaenyra, and he despised her closeness to the Princess and her sons. 

But when it came to Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond, the two were a force to be reckoned with. Daeron had been sent to Oldtown once he learned to walk. A decision that put a small hole in Daerra’s heart, for she felt she lost a son, although the decision was a wise one. Alicent continued to drive hate into her children while Daerra fought to prevent it. And having Daeron away meant he had a chance to not sour like the rest of the Hightowers in the Keep. Helaena remained a sweet girl. The only solace as Aegon began drowning himself in wine and Aemond grew restless at not having a dragon. 

Like today as a matter of fact. 

Daerra made her way to Rhaenyra’s apartments, passing Laenor and the boys as he escorted them to the Dragonpit. “Aunt Daerra!” Jace bounded to her, excitement coating his entire being. “We’ve got a brother! His name is Joffrey.” 

“So I’ve heard,” she ruffles his hair, then leans down to scoop up Luke who had latched to her leg. “Are you excited to be a big brother, my prince? You’re not the youngest anymore and have to step up to the role Jace has had.” He nods frantically. Ready to prove himself to his family. 

“I can’t wait to go dragon riding with him,” he smiles but then pouts, “but that won’t be till Arrax gets bigger and his egg hatches.” Daerra lightly pinches his cheek, making him squeal.

“Fair not, little dragon, the time will come. Until then--,” she sets him down, bidding a nod to Laenor who returned a nod in respect. Silently thanking her for all the times she was there for the boys and not audibly questioning their lineage. “You gotta grow your bond with Arrax. And we shall pray to the Gods they bless Joffrey with his dragon. Now, I shall leave you to it. I have a new nephew to meet.”

With a kiss to each of their heads, the woman departs as they wave goodbye, continuing on until she reaches Rhaenyra’s chamber. The Whitecloak nods, moving to open the door and announces her arrival, “The Lady Daerra Targaryen, Princess.” 

“Thank you, Ser.” Rhaenyra sits up, grinning up at her cousin, who exchanges courtesies with Harwin. “Good morrow, cousin.” 

“Good morrow it is, my Princess,” Daerra clasps her hands behind her back. Slowly walking forward until she’s directly in front of the woman. Noting the evident exhaustion in her face. “My congratulations to you and Ser Leanor on the healthy birth of another son.” Her head gestures to the babe, cradled in the knight’s arms. “I hear his name is Joffrey.” At her silent reaction, Rhaenyra softly chuckles, giving a knowing look. 

“Laenor chose it. I believe it is a name dear to him--I recall him wanting to name Jace, and then Luke, it when they were born,” her smile was small, lingering with sadness at the memory of Laenor’s lover that’d been killed the night of their wedding. Knowing it was the reason behind the name. “But his father had a hand in naming the boys. Making sure their names were fit for Velaryons.” Daerra didn’t miss the way her cousin’s eyes flickered to Harwin. Or how he looked up from the babe to meet the Princess’ gaze.

Clearing her throat, the woman once again turned her attention to the babe. “Well they are certainly happy to be older brothers. Already planning to take him and their dragons out for their first flight.” Together they all shared a laugh. Daerra made the motion to Joffrey, “Might I?”

“Of course,” Harwin passed the babe, carefully placing her into her arms and lingering when he believed she had him settled. Daerra stayed silent, not wishing to make him uncomfortable by commenting how she'd held all the royal children as babes. 

Harwin took his leave, bowing to Rhaenyra and Daerra as he did so. Leaving the two women and Joffrey alone. That’s when Rhaenyra finally let out the breath she’d been holding, closing her eyes to soothe the tiredness consuming her. Daerra sat on the opposite chair, shaking head with a frown. 

“I’d hoped the maids were speaking nonsense when I heard what took place after the birth.” Daerra took in her cousin, taking her eyes off Joffrey, who fell into a soundless sleep. Rhaenyra opened her eyes, the small smile turning into a frown. 

“I fear it will continue, so long as I produce heirs.” 

Daerra sighed, face consorted with concern. “I admit I have some sympathies toward the Queen for her situation. Only a girl herself when she married your father and had the children. Still,” her face turned strained, indicating she was not defending Alicent. “That does not excuse her behavior toward you. And your boys.”

Rhaenyra looked down, muttering a ‘thank you’ to which the woman simply nodded. They stayed that way for a few minutes, Daerra requesting permission to take the babe to meet Cannibal after the two had rested. Once received, Daerra handed the Joffrey to the maid, gave a comforting squeeze to Rhaenyra’s shoulder, and left the Princess. 

As she migrated through the halls, she heard sniffles in a nearby room, the one belonging to Aemond. Once again the guard acknowledged her with a nod, moving to allow her to pass. 

Her heart broke at the sight of Aemond sitting on his bed, head tucked between his knees. Dust and soot covering his usually clean silver hair and green attire. An indicator he’d been in the Dragonpit. Alone, in an attempt to claim his mount he desperately wanted. After the many years of teasing from his brother and nephews.

Who only did it when Daerra wasn’t present. Fearing her wrath as she did not tolerate bullying in her presence. The one time they did it left them all crying. Mostly out of embarrassment and shame at disappointing her. 

His soft cries echoing in the silent room, until her footsteps entered as she strolled up to him. Daerra takes the spot on the bed beside him. “Aemond.”

“I do not wish for a lecture, Aunt Daerra,” he rubbed his nose, turning the other way to shy away his reddened eyes. He knew she already figured out his adventure in the pit. “Mother already gave me one.” 

“I’m not here to lecture. I’m here to ask if you’re alright.” 

Aemond turned back to face her, eyes glossy with tears and bottom lip beginning to quiver, “They gave me a pig.” Daerra tilted her head, confused at the statement.

“A pig?”

A tear escaped as he nodded, Daerra wiping it away with her thumb. “Aegon. Him, Jace, and Luke told me they had a dragon for me to claim. That it was finally my time to join them as riders.” His head frantically shook, leaning onto her side to which she opened her arm to embrace him. “But-but really it was a pig they dressed up and called it the pink dread.” 

Daerra listened silently, comforting the boy as he began to cry once more. Her fingers raked through his silver locks, as a mother would her child. A gesture he loved, considering his mother hardly showed affection. Unlike his older half-sister did with her children. 

“Why don’t we take a walk?” she suggested, pulling away from Aemond to stand. She held out her hand, “There’s something I want to show you.” Putting himself together, Aemond hopped off the bed and took her hand, letting Daerra lead him out of his room. They reached Rhaenyra’s chamber, where the lady told him to wait while she went inside. A moment later, she returned with Joffrey in her arms. 

“What are you doing?” Aemond’s eyes widened, standing on his tippy toes to see his nephew. Noting the babe was still asleep. 

Daerra smirked, “It’s been some time since a Targaryen babe has been born. Lucerys being the last,” she began to walk, Aemond trailing behind her with an eager pace. “And I’m not one to stray from tradition. Cannibal will be pleased to meet the newest member of the family.” Immediately Aemond lit up. Realizing what Daerra was referring to. 

It was his turn to join her as she introduced a Targaryen baby to her dragon. He’d been four when Luke was born, and Helaena was who she brought with her. Which had Aemond pouting as he wanted to go but Daerra refused. Now he was getting his chance. 

The first stop was to see his mother. Alicent’s already dampened mood increased when the two arrived at the Kings’ chambers. Alicent saw Joffrey and instantly knew what was about to be asked. 

“Is this really necessary, Lady Daerra?” she argued, trying to ignore the pleading eyes Aemond was giving her. Focusing only on Daerra, who did not break under her stare. “The babe was born mere hours ago. And I’m sure the Princess--.”

“Already gave her consent,” Daerra interrupted, keeping her expression neutral. 

From the side, Viserys let out a pained groan, catching their attention. “Let the boy go with her Alicent. All the children have met Cannibal when they were born, and Daerra has proven he will not do harm. Both Aegon and Helaena have joined her with the births of their brother and nephews. Aemond shall go with her to introduce Joffrey.” 

Alicent attempted to put up another argument, but with a 3v1 against her, she ultimately relented. Ordering that a guard must be present at all times and they are to return before the hour is up.

“Of course, your Grace,” Daerra bowed. “We shall make haste so that Aemond is not late to the training yard.” 

“You will be joining them, yes?” Alicent had a tight smile. She had mixed feelings of Daerra assisting Criston Cole and Harwin Strong in training the boys. For one, she admired the woman for being able to do things most women were frowned upon doing. She too, found herself mesmerized as a young girl watching Daerra train with Daemon Targaryen. She was a beauty to behold with her whip and sword. 

But Alicent also resented Daerra for it. Mostly due to envy she spent more time with her sons than she did. 

And that they preferred her company. 

Daerra’s chuckle brought her out of her thoughts, “Someone has to put these princes in line. They forget themselves when a Lady is not present.” Both women drew their gaze to Aemond, the residue of the dragonpit still on him. Pink tinged his cheeks as he looked away. 

“As I agree,” Alicent’s jaw tightened, but she quickly masked her disdain with a tight smile. Shaking her head while looking back at Daerra, “Very well. I shall leave you then.”

Daerra curtsied again, “Your Grace,” then she turned to Viserys. “My King.”

“Thank you, mother,” Aemond bowed, before doing the same to his father. Both wearing small smiles, though only Viserys’ reached his eyes. 

When they finally reached Cannibal’s nest, Aemond was buzzing with nerves and excitement. Heart pounding against his chest. For it would be the first time being so close to his beloved Aunt’s dragon. A moment he’d been waiting years for. 

He remembered Daerra telling him many moons prior that she brought him as a baby to the beast, where the dragon spit his wild green fire into the sky in celebration of the birth of a Targaryen prince. Then Aemond often watched from the Godswood as Daerra flew him around Kings Landing. His shiny black scales bouncing off the sun’s rays. Shouts of the small folk reacting to his massive form. Aemond was always in awe. 

Sitting down on the grass after Daerra presented Cannibal with Joffrey, they watched him find a comfortable spot in his nest to return to his nap. Daerra beamed at the sight, switching Joffrey in her arms when they started to ache. 

“I know you wish nothing more than to claim your dragon, Aemond. I too was upset with each nameday passing and not having one,” Peering down, Daerra saw the way his face shifted to sadness. “I was the age Jace is now when Cannibal chose me.” 

“He chose you?” He repeated, now displaying confusion. 

Daerra raised a brow, “To believe we have the power to control a dragon is a myth. They are who really chose us. It is why when you attempt to claim one, you must accept death as an answer.” Aemond processed her words, fiddling with his fingers that were clasped in his lap. 

“So I have to wait for a dragon to deem me worthy.” The dejection in voice pulled at her heartstrings. His shoulders dropped in defeat. 

Taking his hand in hers not holding Joffrey, Daerra signed and stroked his knuckles. “What your brother and nephews did was cruel. And I’m sorry you had to endure that, Aemond. But remember this, my darling,” Tucking her finger under his chin, she pulled his gaze to hers. Green eyes meeting lilac, “You are a Targaryen. Made of fire and blood, whose ancestors conquered Westeros with the dragons we hold dear to our house. Your time will come. And when the opportunity presents itself, you will know.” Her eyes turn serious, filling Aemond with hope. “And the dragon will choose you.”

Disaster struck an hour later. One that no one, even Daerra, could have anticipated. When Criston Cole decided to instigate a spar between Jace and Aegon. Leading him to antagonize Harwin Strong. 

It all started when all four boys took turns switching off against the four dummies. But not before they were lectured by the woman on their mistreatment of Aemond that morning. All their heads bowed, not able to face her which brought a bit of joy to the prince. Once finished, they took their spots in the yard. Daerra stood on one side while Cole took the other. Observing the four closely as they met their targets. The knight was not pleased or offered technique advice whenever Jace and Luke were by him. Whereas Daerra was equal. Pointing out mistakes for each boy. 

When they switched off again, Jace bumped shoulders with Aemond. An action he did on purpose which received a scolding look from Daerra. She didn’t say anything, her face alone brought a blush to Jace’s cheeks. The boy mumbled a ‘sorry’, embarrassed to have been caught and looking away to not meet her eyes. Daerra moved closer to him, right next to the dummy. 

“This is practice, not the battlefield. I expect better from you.” The red on his cheeks got brighter, nodding his head in silent promise to not do it again. Once satisfied, Daerra commanded. “Feet light, Jace.” Bringing his wooden sword up, he struck the dummy one, two, three times before pivoting on to attack from behind. A sound of approval left her, “Good.” 

Briefly lifting her focus, she caught her cousin and his Hand, Ser Lyonel Strong watching the scene below from the top of the Keep. Surrounded by his Kingsguard. The king raised a hand to wave, a smile on his face and pleased to see his sons and grandsons training together. He received a firm nod from his cousin before turning to speak with Lyonel. 

When she returned her attention to Jace, he had stuck his sword in the dummy, only for it to be smacked down by Aemond. 

“Don’t stand too upright, My Prince,” Cole lectured, tone laced with mocking. “You’ll get knocked down.” The glare from Daerra was ignored, moving his attention to Aegon, who got distracted by passing servants. 

Daerra’s disproving eyes went to Aemond, now facing the dummy Jace had left. “I understand what transpired this morning has made you upset. But to add fire will only make it worse. You are better than that, Aemond.” 

His brows narrowed, “It’s not fair. Everyone tells me to deal with it--why should I? Why does no one--apart from you--say anything!” he whisperer-shouted the last sentence, not wanting to draw attention to them. Daerra didn’t blame Aemond for his outburst. After years of teasing it was bound to take a toll. And part of her blamed his parents lack of involvement for letting it slide for so long. 

“Your anger is justified,” she affirmed, leaning down to lower her voice so only he could hear. “And judgment will come when the Gods deem it so. For now, display your frustration on the dummies. Not your kin. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, Aunt Daerra,” came his mumble. Daerra straightened up when she heard Cole suggest a challenge between him against Aemond and Aegon. Her brows furrowed in suspicion, but made no move to stop the knight. Instead she backed up to stand between Jace and Luke. 

Their spar lasted roughly thirty seconds. Both Targaryen’s put their best efforts to disarm Cole. But the knight was faster. 

“Ah,” the sound of Harwin Strong came from her right. Daerra stiffening when the boys turned to him. Which did not go unnoticed by Cole. “Weapons up, boys. Give your enemies no quarter.”

“Thank you for your input, Ser Harwin,” Daerra gave a curt nod. Motioning for the two to approach the dummies, and much to her displeasure, Harwin turned to address Cole. 

“It seems the younger boys could do better with a bit of your attention, Ser Criston.” 

Daerra cursed under her breath, panning to Cole who did not take lightly to the Lord Commander's words. 

“Do you question my method of instructions, Ser? Or that of the Lady Daerra?”

“Ser Criston,” Daerra warned, then sent a look to Harwin. Pleading to not say anything. Of course, it went to no avail.

“I merely suggest that method be applied to all your pupils.” It didn’t help that Aegon shoved little Luke to the side, the boy bumping into Daerra who had to stop him from hitting the ground.

“Aegon.”

Cole’s animosity breached his expression, “Very well.” Harwin’s face changed as the knight stunted forward. Daerra tensing where she stood. “Jacaerys,” his hand reached out and yanked the boy. “You spar with Aegon.” The silver-hair boys laughed as Cole dragged Jace to the other side. “Eldest son against eldest son.”

Daerra voiced disapproval, “Mayhaps we should continue as we were, Ser Criston.” 

Harwin appeared to agree, “It’s hardly a fair match.” Aegon patted Jace’s back as he passed him. An eager smile painted his lips while the younger became nervous. 

“I know you’ve never seen true battle, ser, but when steel is drawn a fair match isn’t something anyone should expect.”

Daerra hated that Cole had a point. When battle came there was no such thing as fairness. But still, this was training for the young princes. Not a duel between steel. 

She could intervene. Harwin and Jace’s faces were filled with worry. Silently pleading for her to reprimand Cole. Daerra knew better though. This was his element and had all the power. She was only to supervise and offer assistance when needed. But she did say one thing, voice stern as she looked all three--Cole, Jace, and Aegon--in the eyes, “Keep it clean. No blood or this ends as quick as it starts.” 

Cole tightened his lips, “Well said, my Lady.” Their glares on each other lingered, Cole breaking it first when he motioned at the boys. “Blades up.” They awaited the command. “Engage.” 

Aegon charged with a cry, Jace using all his might to counter his attacks. He was brought to the ground with a shove, sword still in his hands. The older boy laughed menacingly, retaking his spot in front of Cole. The smirk, however, left his lips when he caught Daerra’s cold stare. Then Jace came running at him with a shout. 

“Ahhhhh!”

They danced across the yard, the spar pausing when Aegon tried to push a dummy onto Jace. Resulting in Harwin to step in, “Foul play!”

“I’ll deal with him,” Cole announced, both men stepping toward their respected princes. Daerra stiffened, peering up to see her cousin looking awfully confused. The rigid posture of his Lord Hand was a telling sign they too felt unease.

“You!” Aegon yelled, startling Jace who quickly met his oncoming attack. 

“Close with him,” Cole ordered, all three adults following behind the boys. Daerra pointing at Aemond and Luke to stay put. “Push him backward!”

“Light feet, Jacaerys!” Daerra matched Cole’s tone. The brunette boy’s face painted red and stumbling with each step. Aegon was relentless, coming at him like a wild animal. 

“Use your feet!” A harsh kick met Jace’s armored chest, plowing him down. “Don’t let him get up!” Aegon brought the sword down, Jace barely able to counter. He was losing his breath, running out of energy. 

Harwin was losing his patience. As was Daerra, “Ser Criston, that is enough--.”

“Stay on the attack!” 

Aegon raised his sword, ready to charge it onto the already weakened Jace, but was stopped when Harwin grabbed it and pulled him away. “Enough!” With a single movement, Aegon was spun around and thrown to the side. 

“You dare put your hands on me!?”

Daerra cut in front of the heated prince as he hastily pushed up from the ground to challenge Harwin. “Calm down, now.” Her pointed finger while free hand hovering over her whip was enough to draw him back. His offensive stance shrinking down, mumbling curses more out of annoyance. 

“Aegon!” the King shouted, mirroring his cousin’s tone. Finding his son to be overdramatic by his choice of words. 

“You forget yourself, Strong, that is the prince,” Cole snarled. 

“This is what you teach, Cole?” came the response. Harwin picked up the disposed swords, spitting “Cruelty. To the weaker opponent.”

“Your interest in the Princes’ training is quite unusual, Commander. Most men would only have that kind of devotion toward a cousin.” 

Oh no.

Harwin stilled, picking up the last sword as Cole turned to face him with a cunning smirk. Daerra narrowed her eyes. Not blind to his indirect accusation, but vexed he would openly announce it in the yard. In front of onlookers. In front of the boys.

“Or a brother.” 

Harwin stood, Daerra unable to see his face to tell what he was thinking. Instinctively she motioned for Jace and Luke to get behind her. While throwing pointed gazes at Aemond and Aegon who were watching with amused expression. 

“Ser Criston, mind your tongue.”

Her warning was left to the wind. Cole let out the final blow, “Or a son.” Faster than they could blink, the Commander of the Night’s watch spun, fist raised to impact Cole’s cheek. Sending him sprawling to the ground as he landed another one. Straddling his chest to continue unleashing deadly hits causing Cole’s face to bleed in various areas. 

It came to an end when the man they called Breakbones was yanked off of Cole by the power of Daerra’s whip. The leather wrapping itself around his neck, the woman jerking it with all her might, letting out a cry until Harwin fell to the ground. A sight that shocked her nephews, all standing wide eyed with their mouths agape. 

They didn’t call her the Daring for nothing.

That was when the Whitecloaks seized him, taking four of them to drag the knight away from Cole. “Say it again!” He seethed, spit flying from his mouth. “Say it again!” Daerra marched up to Cole, surprising him with her strength as she hauled him to his feet. Dizziness filling his vision.

“How dare you speak freely and make that suggestion in front of them,” By her tone, Cole feared he was about to get a second beating. “Go to the maester, you fucking imbecile,” she didn’t care if he was concussed, thrusting him in the opposite direction, making him stumble. And seeing he was in no mood to argue, Cole obeyed, heading to the maester and left Daerra to clean up his mess. 

Turning to where Harwin struggled in the arms of the guards, she bit the inside of her cheek. “Release him.” Once unhanded, Daerra stepped up to the knight, voice low. “Commander, I do not fault you for the rage you just displayed, but It is disappointing you let yourself go so easily--allowing the Princes to be exposed.” Sharply inhaling, she drew her gaze around the yard, displeased to find most in hushed conversation. Not hiding the way they watched the two and eyed the boys. 

Daerra motioned to where his father stood, pale face with fear at what this meant for his house. “You are dismissed.” Turning on her heel, she picked up the discarded swords and threw them onto the rack. “That is it for today,” she called to the boys, who stood like lost sheep waiting to be herded. Jace more so than the others, holding back tears as he was old enough to understand the implication Cole had revealed. “To your chambers--or wherever your Lady mothers need you. Go.” 

To say everything changed that day would be an understatement. Harwin was relieved of his position, and ordered to return to Harrenhal, leaving the boys heartbroken. Daerra, exhausted from the events of the day, found herself using the hours before dusk to ride Cannibal. Sensing her distress, the dragon flew for miles, passing Driftmark and circling Dragonstone. 

Caressing the scales of her beloved friend, Daerra succumbed to her thoughts. Letting her anxiety and fears come to the surface instead of masking them. The only witness being the dragon who’d never judge her. Only share her feelings. 

“Nyke gīmigon, issa raquiros, nyke gīmigon.” She stroked Cannibal’s rough scales. I know, my friend, I know. A grumble filled her ears, Daerra’s slightly curled up then dropped to a frown. “Nyke feel ziry tolī.” 

I feel it too.

[twistedbloodstain]

vincent de gramont x historian!reader: spring breaks loose, but so does fear | sweetness and bitterness within

plot: the one where the both of you are within your walls.

warnings: marquis is different here to canon, expect oc behavior but like all fics he’s gonna be cruel museum worker! reader, entitled af french boi, unreliable sibling relationships/dynamics

masterlist

the rain pattered against the glass windows, ringing through the empty halls of the museum. you sat there deep in thought in front of your desk while the storm raged outside. the moon that had look delicately beautiful earlier had disappeared when flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder replaced the serene scenery, you don’t know how long you’ve been sitting here but surely it hasn’t been that long.

where was he? he should be here by now, you pondered.

a knock snaps you out of your thoughts.

“ma’am?” your assistant calls out as he peeks his head through the door.

you look back at him but your lips stay still, not making a word but silently urging him to continue with the rise of an eyebrow.

“he’s here again, requesting a private viewing,” he informs.

oh. you almost forgot about that.

the constant visitor of the museum for the past few weeks was none other than the eccentric and affluent, marquis de gramont. recently, he frequented the museum for a private viewing for some of the rarest and beautiful pieces of art in french history. not that you’re complaining since he paid good money for his private viewings but his persistent requests to have a historian around him, explaining what the intricate histories and symbols drawn beneath the surface were an inconvenience sometimes.

truthfully, there’s no bad conversation with him. you’re quite eager to answer any additional questions or arguments he imposes upon you but judging by the exhibition of his wealth and power, don’t they teach these things to nobility at a young age?

you pull your feet up and drag them towards the door, your assistant gives you a weary smile knowing how long your discussions with the marquis would usually go, for hours on end. 

the walk to the private room was filled with footsteps, your previous thoughts emerging once again. your brother.

 he was supposed to be here to join you for lunch but he hadn’t shown up. lunches shared with the both of you were also your bonding and catch up time but as of late he missed at least four lunches in six weeks. you could understand that maybe it was just his busy schedule but the fewer times you saw him, he seemed anxious and jumpy with sweat beading on his forehead. as if he was always in a hurry, you consistently persisted in the lunches in an effort to get him to open up his problems with you, after all what are siblings for?

you approach the door cautiously, taking a deep breath to polish your mind before stepping into the role of gracious historian, a person that’s ready to deal with the marquis.

entering the room with an eager smile on your face, you greet the marquis who was sitting on a plush white leather couch, donning another dark blue suit with a jacket and tie to finish the look. he doesn’t offer any greeting in reply and comments on your lateness right away.

“you took a while to get here, mademoiselle.” he mutters, checking his watch.

“i apologize for my tardiness sir, i had matters to attend to.” you force a smile. he stares at you carefully, an amused smirk tugs at the corner of his lips before waving it off.

“let’s get started then.”

the marquis is a difficult person to impress, especially in keeping him engaged in a conversation. more often than not you find yourself exerting a lot of information out of your brain just to keep up with him. you don’t know why you always push yourself to be somewhat superior to him in terms of knowledge but perhaps that’s just what his aura demands of you.

“and that is the final painting for your private viewing today, sir.” you recite familiar lines you’ve been saying for the past six weeks, “are there any questions you have in mind?”

he eyes the painting cryptically before glancing at you and shaking his head, looking somewhat satisfied with the answers you’ve given him. you smile at him once again before speaking.

“if you require any refreshments or desire to make an appointment in the future, enzo will take care of it. thank you for coming to the louvre, sir.” you bow your head before leaving, knowing that the marquis liked to be alone.

once you make it back to the office, you see your phone light up and vibrate. you immediately make a beeline for it and before the ringing ends, unfortunately the call ends before you could answer it but a wave of messages floods your inbox, all from your brother telling you he was at the entrance of the museum.

you hurriedly run out of your office straight to the entrance when you see a faint silhouette by the large doors. you call his name out and he turns to face you, a faint smile on his lips.

”where were you? i’ve been waiting for you the entire day, are you alright?” you immediately assume the worst and begin to fret over your dearest younger brother, gripping his shoulders and checking his face for any possible injuries.

your brother is a good person. you know that. you watched him grow, you watched him become the man he is now but still a small whisper remains in the back of your mind that you are losing him to something , and you can’t do anything to help it.

you can feel it. it  started with the distance and excuses, how every single word that leaves his mouth feels less and less genuine and more like a set of lies meant to calm you down. you want to help him but he won’t let you.

”i’m fine, i just got caught up at work.” he verbally reassures you but pulls away from your touch. you bite your tongue from asking more, afraid of scaring him away. a fight is not what you need right now.

”oh…um” you mumble, taking a small step away from him, feeling your insides crush to the lack of familial warmth from a brother. he stands there unfazed by your movements, the small smile gone in front of you. instead, an uneasiness replaces his eyes and stares at the ground, seemingly too busy to deal with your emotions right now.

“do you want to have dinner together? i know this nice sushi place downtown.” you eagerly offer, his mouth opens to reply but a brief hesitation takes place.

”i can’t.” he replies.

“why?” you ask, annoyance in your tone.

”work, as usual.” he states with a humorless chuckle, worry still present in his face, “i’m here for a favor.”

“what is it? did you get in trouble? you know you can tell me anything right?” you gasp.

“no! no! i just need to borrow some money for this month’s rent. my new job doesn’t pay until the end of the month, my landlord said i’m way overdue for the past three months and he’s gonna kick me out if i don’t pay within this week.”

a silence takes over the conversation as your process the information you are given right now. the excuse feels flimsy and careless.

money isn’t really an issue for you right now. you’re not insanely rich but you are financially stable, yet you feel uncertain about giving your brother money. your brother’s landlord, a strict but yet a sweet old man often texts you whether or not your brother has paid his rent in each month and so far you’ve received no messages from him lately. 

”oh..yeah sure. it’s no problem, i can send it to you later.” you smile for his comfort, making yourself feel approachable to your own blood.

monitoring your sibling’s rent status is definitely odd but with what you’re dealing with right now, to be completely honest you’re just making sure your brother’s alright, there’s nothing wrong with that.

”come on in, it’s raining outside.” you grab his arm and pull him in.

”no, seriously, it's alright. you might have some people inside-“

”it’s closing time, at least sit inside and wait for me, please?” you plead.

”okay, i’ll wait for you.” he smiles.

”good, because if i have to deal with another stubborn asshole under this roof, i’m going to lose my mind.” your brother chuckles and takes a seat by the door.

”dinner’s on me.” he adds, wiping the raindrops gathered on his forehead.

“on you? you can’t even pay your rent!” you jest.

”it was a one time thing!”

the amusement slowly dies down when you hear a large number of footsteps echoing through the halls, the door opens and it reveals the marquis. you immediately straighten up and face his direction, slipping in the professional manner that he is accustomed to.

”good evening, sir.” you greet.

the marquis doesn’t reply but instead whispers an instruction to his guards which they nod to and walk ahead of him. the marquis approaches you carefully, briefly eyeing you before glancing at the person behind you.

”it is quite late, don’t you think?” he starts.

”ah, yes it is. the night staff and i are closing the museum for the night, we were simply waiting for your departure. perhaps, you enjoyed your private viewings much longer than usual, sir.”

”you cannot fault me for that, miss. what hangs on the walls of this establishment is history, glory and beauty wrapped in one.”

”that we agree on.” you reply, “will you be here tomorrow? at the same time?” he looks at you again.

”for what reason are you asking?” he raises an eyebrow.

“so enzo and i can immediately arrange for your appointment and room, sir.” 

he pauses and a silence takes place, his eyes wander all over your face trying to see something through you. you keep your gaze on him, composed and calm. as it should be. you get a feeling he relishes on weakness especially people who have a lower pay grade than him or maybe that’s just how he is with everyone.

narcissism was a major takeaway you observed from the marquis the first time you met him, quite self-centered might you add and somewhat snobbish but then again his attention is not something to be exhilarated about.

”yes, miss. i will be here tomorrow.” a small smirk curves his lips.

”you are quite fond of the art around here.” you start.

”yes, what of it?”

”how come you never bought any of it? i’ve heard from a few auction houses that you have quite the art collection. i’m sure it is much more convenient for you, having the art within the comfort of your home.” you reason to him.

more reason to see him less in your life. you think.

“you are not wrong in that. it would be much more convenient.” he agrees.

so buy it then.

”if that’s the case, i must inform you that there are plans to auction that rembrandt you are so eagerly fond of, perhaps you might be interested in joining?”

”i will have to turn that down, miss. as much as i enjoy the comfort of my home, i appreciate the aura of the louvre, it brings a sense of fulfillment and eagerness to me. i would be a fool to rob myself of that. also, the people around here are not so bad.” his eyes rake over your frame carefully, you wonder if he’s looking at your brother. 

you look back and surprisingly no ones there. you shake it off when you hear a car engine nearby.

”oh, well it doesn’t hurt to try.” you begin to walk towards the door and he follows, outside his car sits with a bodyguard on standby waiting for him.

”i appreciate your service, miss. my private viewings have never been a dull moment during your enlightenments.” you lower you’re head slightly at him with a polite smile.

“i, as well must thank you for your service and approach. i tend to enjoy the art much more than when i am with myself.” the marquis remarks, extending his hand towards you.

”my pleasure, sir.” you respond as you shake his hand.

and it’s warm.

”will you be requiring a ride home? i am more than happy to offer it to you.” he offers when you pull your hand away from him.

”thank you for the offer sir but i will be here for later hours.” you retort.

“i do not mind staying here for a little longer.” he insists, you notice his line of sight eye your hand that shook his hand earlier. the cold rainy breeze must have taken control of the warmth of your palms and the marquis could have noticed the coldness of your hand. the marquis fidgets with his right hand as if it was itching to do something.

”it is not needed sir, i am more than capable of bringing myself home.” you state firmly.

”nonsense. i’ll send a car for you. it would be unfortunate if my favorite art historian was harmed in any possible way, how will i survive my viewings?” he urges with amusement in his tone but once again not wanting to back down.

”i would hate to waste your time and effort sir-“ you politely refuse again.

”it is late and unsafe for a woman of your caliber to be alone in the streets of the city. you will not have a choice in this, mademoiselle.” he states firmly this time as his voice hardens and makes it clear it’s not an offer.

it’s a command.

the marquis’ attention is not to be relished on. in this private viewings, the both of you have always maintained a polite and professional demeanor between client and host although there was some casual conversation here and there but you’ve never outright refused him, desiring to keep his temper from exploding and having his unpredictability in your space.

the marquis always gets his way. having private viewings at any time he desires with whatever piece of art he decides to have his eye on and more importantly taking up your time whenever he comes by at the louvre.

in the recent months you’ve spent with him, compliance is all he knows from you so it’s not unlikely that it’s easy for him to shut you down at the first hint of refusal. not to mention, he does not hesitate at confrontation. any small slight against him is somewhat remembered the next time you meet him.

complaints about making him wait slightly longer than usual for his viewings, comments about the apparently poor maintenance of the paintings  and your tardiness to attend to him are the most prominent experiences you remember from him.

the marquis feels entitled to everything within the walls of the louvre.

and that includes you.

another entitled rich snob that thinks he understands art more than you do is not a first time experience, but his insistence of having you brought home because of him somehow brings a chill to your spine.

entitled rich snobs can come to your work any time and however they like but the moment they try to step into your life, well it’s time to push them back. you have no interest in them unless it’s something to do with your job.

unfortunately, you don’t have the strength to do that right now.

“next time.” you think to yourself, “but never again.”

you back down and thank the marquis for this offer as his body guard opens the door to his vehicle, he flashes a small but pleased smile for your gratitude and bids you a safe trip home.

you return a smile at him and watch him leave until his car disappears from where you stand. exhaustion settles back into your nerves when you realized how late it is again.

oh and your brother.

christ. give me strength to deal with this tomorrow.

you sigh and walk back inside to close up.

later, when you get dropped off by the driver assigned to you, doubt starts to creep into your senses whether or not you told the driver where you live. after thanking him and shutting the door, you tilt your head idly at the car and think deep and hard.

”did you or did you not?” you ponder.

groaning heavily you shake it off as exhaustion for your lack of remembrance.

still weird though.

author’s note: kickstarting another series when i’m still not done with four reqs and one series…anyways enjoy and please feel free to like and reblog!

[izfrogzy]

Soft and Innocent Part V 18+ Aemond x Sister Reader(OC.)

Warnings: 18+ Content, Kissing Heavy petting, nudity, hand jobs, ejaculations, Dry Humping, neck biting, breast kissing, grinding, corrupting, overwhelming desires, denial and purity kink (I am assuming that is what its called....Bro wont do the deed yet as he rather keep her pure for now.) Body worship?

A/N: Very lengthy and a lot more NSFW content in this chapter.....Stepping deeper into Smut in this part.....Sorry no P n V yet but tons of Foreplay and such.....But very fluffy and angst but also steamy and smutty....Hope y'all enjoy Tried my best....may not have good grammar or proper punctuation....apologies in advance.....Characters behavior may not be canon but please remember its all AU scenarios for the fun of it....Enjoy the chapter. :)))))

As time went on over the span of a few weeks, after their intimate night he would come to see her more often during the day after his training  and in the evenings after dinner. They would eat together and sit in the Godswood, they would talk and joke and he even taught her how to properly swing a sword, but no matter how much or long time had passed he couldn't stop thinking about her and how much he desperately longed to be in her presence again and hold her in his arms once more.

When Aemond had to go off to do his duties for his mother and the crown, he would send her little gifts through different servants, flowers and small gifts. He wanted her to know that she was never far from his thoughts. After about a week and a half, from constant back to back assignments and other princely duties,he had a moment to himself and he knew what he needed more than ever, he needed to visit her in her chambers. He needed to see her, to hold her, he could not wait anymore. Once he arrived outside of Seanna's bedchambers. He knocked on the door to her chambers after supper had passed.

Seanna was readying herself for bed when she heard the knocking and she had a feeling she knew who it was. She gussied herself up and threw on her robe messily, not even bothering to close it modestly.

Seanna rushed to the door, her robe loosely on her body and she opened the door seeing it was her beloved brother Aemond. 

“Aemond…” She said smiling happily and pulled him into her room.

His eyes instantly went to her robe and he couldn't stop from smiling when she said his name. As she pulled him into the room he closed the door behind him and once the door was shut and they were inside her room alone he pulled her close and held her in his arms. He groaned softly and he buried his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling deep, taking in her scent.

Seanna sighs and giggles, allowing him more access by tilting her head more for him.

Aemond breathed heavily against her, gently nuzzling and kissing her neck while his arms tightened around her waist and he gently held her against him. He loved the smell of her hair and her skin, he loved holding her and wrapping his arms around her, he never wanted it to end.

Seanna smiled and kissed along his jaw when she could.

He groaned again as he felt her lips on his neck and jaw. He slowly raised his head up and cupped her cheek. He gently traced her skin with the back of his knuckles. His gaze was heavy and he stared down at her with heavy lidded eyes as he gently leaned down and kissed her lips, she kissed him back willingly.

He tilted his head as he continued to kiss her. His other hand slowly traced up her side and he slid his hand up her back slowly. The feel of her mouth and the taste of her lips made his stomach do flips. He had missed her for the past week, more than he ever thought he would.

“Oh brother please….” She begged against his lips.

He groaned upon her begging and at the feeling of her pleading against his lips. He began to nibble on her bottom lip gently while he kissed her and his hand gently caressed the back of her neck. He gently pushed her backwards slightly till she felt her back make contact with the wall.

Seanna sighed and they continued their lip dance against one another,

Aemond felt her against the wall and he pressed his body against hers fully. Feeling her press back against him like this made him groan and his body begin to burn for her. He gently slid his tongue into her mouth, tasting more of her while his hand began to gently tug at her robe.

“Take it off ....Brother.��� She panted and kissed him. She was so hot for him now she didn't even care that she called him her brother. She just wanted him and she couldn't explain why. It went beyond everything she knew, she just needed him like he needed her.

As she whispered the words against his lips he kissed her deeper and harder for a moment. Then he groaned and he grasped at the ends of her robe and he started to unwind it while his mouth ravaged her neck and he was slowly undoing the garment.

“Aemond…” She panted totally submitting to his desires now.

He continued to work on her robe and once it was undone and loosened he gently slid one side of it down her shoulder and he began to kiss her now exposed skin. He pressed his lips in open mouth kisses down her shoulder and to her chest.

She moaned out and closed her eyes and tilted her head back against the wall. 

“Aemond.”  She gasped out his name and his tongue made contact with her heated skin.

He continued to lick and kiss the skin of her chest. He felt her warm skin press softly against his mouth and he groaned while his teeth gently nibbled on her skin. He could feel her heartbeat, feel her heavy and ragged breathing and her panting as she gave little gasps and cries.

“Oh.....brother.....that feels ......good." She gasped out as her body trembled slightly from the contact. Her body felt tingly and shivered and she was completely at his mercy now as he sucked on her warm skin.

He groaned and grunted against her skin as he continued his ministrations. The little gasps and cries she made were like music to his ears and her taste was addicting. He began to leave hickeys on her chest and his hands slowly reached back behind her to reach for the rest of her robe.

She shivered again from each new kiss and each mark he left on her skin. Her body began to feel warm and shaky as she moaned out softly. She loved the feeling of his kisses and the gentle bite and sting as he left his marks of affection along her skin,

Seanna whimpered and tugged his hair slightly. “Please....” She whimpered.

He groaned lowly against her skin as he felt her tug at his hair. Then he lifted his head from her chest to look up at her. The sight of her flushed and panting in front of him and her eyes heavily lidded made his stomach do flips and his body ache for her. He gently reached up to cup her cheek and he leaned up to her and gently kissed her lips. Once their lips met he pushed the robe off of her completely and it fell to the floor. Leaving her completely bare in front of him.

“Gods, you're beautiful.” He spoke softly looking at her. His gaze went all over body , taking in the sight of her bare body. His eyes roamed over her soft looking skin and he was completely at her mercy now. His eyes finally met her gaze once more. His eyes were almost pleading with her to continue, to give in. He didn't want to stop now but only if she wanted to.

Seanna bit her lips when his gaze fell upon her face again and she looked at his face and his eyepatch before speaking, “Take your eyepatch off Lēkia ….” she begged.

He raised his hand up to his eyepatch but before he removed it he looked at her and he spoke in a gentle voice to her. “Are you sure you want to see it?”

She looked at him, seeing his hesitation and she looked at him nodding. “It didn't frighten me as a girl....it doesn't frighten me now. Lēkia.”  She assured reaching her hand up caressing his face for a moment before lowering it and moving aside some of his long hair on his shoulder.

He stared at her for a moment then at her words he gently took off his patch and showed her his sapphire eye and his half scarred face. He was afraid for her to look at it again but she was not the same little girl he had to remind himself of. She was no longer shy and unsure, she had grown into a confident beautiful young woman and they had come a long way from those days.

She smiled and stood up more and her hand caressed his face. “So handsome Lēkia….”

He chuckled gently and he closed his eyes as he basked in her touch. “You're just saying that Sister.” He mumbled softly as he opened his eye and looked at her once more. He leaned into her touch and continued to look at her with a gentle but pleading gaze. Her gentle touch and presence and soft voice helped him to relax and he felt at ease in her presence knowing she would never judge or laugh at him in his scar.

“Never Brother.” Seanna whispered gently to him.

He groaned loudly and all but leapt at her. He gently wrapped his arms around her waist and he pulled her tightly against him. He gently pressed his body against her body and into her and he nuzzled into her neck. His breath was heavy and he gently began to kiss her neck again. His body felt so hot against hers and he felt a need for her.

“Dear brother….” She hummed as she lets him do whatever he wanted.

He groaned at the sound of her voice and he began to gently nibble and bite gently the skin of her neck. His hands reached down and gently began to explore and massage her soft skin. He reached down further and grasped her thighs as he lifted her up gently and his mouth continued to feast on her skin.

“Oh Aemond….” She moaned and shivered from his touch on her skin. She loved this feeling that she could not explain. She loved the tingles and thrills she would feel as he kissed and bit and sucked on her flesh. Her hands roamed on his chest and she gently gripped his shirt tightly. She wished the shirt was off and she could feel his hot skin on her heated body too.

“Please brother....” She begged.

He groaned once more deeply as he heard her words and her soft voice as she begged him. He couldn't deny her or himself any longer. “Whatever....you wish, sweet sister.” He gently spoke the words against her skin between the kisses and bites he continued to assault her skin with. He held her up pressed against the wall for a moment more then gently turned and walked the few steps to the bed and gently laid her down

Seanna shivered as she was laid out for him and her heartbeat picked up at his words. She couldn't stop the shivers as she laid on the bed.. Her body was hot and flushed and she looked at him with pleading eyes that he should continue..

His gaze was heavy lidded as he looked down at her on the bed. He took in her flushed look and her pleading eyes and he groaned once more. Then he kneeled on the bed and began to work on the buttons of his shirt. He unbuttoned the first couple of his shirt and he slowly pulled it off and tossed it from the bed. “Tell me...what you want then.”

She looked at him all flustered and she just whined not knowing what to ask.

He chuckled hearing her whine. He was so amused by her innocence and her inexperience. He hovered over her on the bed while he gently slid his hand along her thigh. “Sensitive Sister....tell me what you want.” He whispered her ear in a teasing almost daring way, just to see what she'd say. As he said the words he gently bit her earlobe.

“I...want you brother." She whined more and she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck and began to pepper his throat with kisses.

He continued to groan and he was breathing heavily as she kissed his throat. Then he reached down with his other hand and grasped her thigh while he moaned the words. “Sister.....tell me how.” He moaned and he began to gently massage her thigh as he felt her mouth and her kisses on his throat. Seanna sighed and huffed. 

“I.....I.....I don't…..”  She said trying to think of how he could please her.

He smirked now and as he listened to her huff out an answer he gently nipped and kissed her bottom lip. 

“It's alright sister, I shall figure out how to pleasure you.” He gently spoke with a sultry and teasing tone in his voice while he spoke and his breath was hot and heavy against her lips. Then he lowered his mouth against her neck and he began to kiss her skin again.

She mewled as she felt his breath, it sent a shiver through her body from her spine to her toes and a whimper escaped her lips. She couldn't help how weak she felt when he touched her and his words just made it all the more intense. Her body felt hot and she felt something building up in her she had never felt before. A burning that felt like fire deep within her core.

He groaned hearing her whimper and he felt her shiver. He continued to kiss and lick her neck. Her whimpers and gasps were so sweet and he could feel her squirming just a little bit as he held her. Her body was so hot against his body and he felt it all. He wanted her to feel good just as he did and so he gently moved his mouth down to her chest as he continued to kiss her.

She felt his mouth on her skin and she moaned out. The feeling of his mouth on her chest was like a jolt of electricity through her entire body. She arched her back a little and she gently grasped at his hair to hold him there. “Please Aemond .....please.” She pleaded as she felt his hot mouth on her heaving chest.

As she begged and pleaded and her soft and sweet sounding moans filled his ears he groaned against her skin. His tongue began to lick and tease her skin as he continued to kiss her chest. He loved the sweet sounds she made and the taste of her hot skin. He loved the small gasps and soft cries she made as he kissed her and it only fueled him to please her further as he continued to lick and suck

Her body was all tingly as he suckled upon her breasts with such affection making her body ache for him even more she laid there whimpering and trembling.

He held her steady and as he gently sucked and licked her breasts he groaned lowly, as he gently massaged and moved her thighs. As her body continued to tremble and she lay there in a tingly mess he could tell she was enjoying his ministrations and it only encouraged him to continue. His body also burned and ached for her and his hips gently rocked on top of hers while he continued to assault her breast with a heated passion.

“Disrobe....” she panted. 

“Completely…” She begged, tugging at his hair.

Hearing her words he was still showering her chest with affection, he groaned then immediately lifted his head to look up at her and he gently pressed his lips into hers in a kiss before he nodded his head. “Alright, sweet sister.” He whispered against her lips. Anything for you. He gently pulled away from her, then he reached down to unbutton his trousers before he quickly pulled them off and he completely disrobed. He had removed them so quickly he now knelt on the bed completely bare and the sight of her bare and heated body made his breath hitch in his throat..

Seanna eyes him and his lean body she sat up slightly panting as she gazed upon him and tilted her head back looking at him before her eyes land upon what was between his legs hardened and aroused was his girth and she blushed even more seeing how it looked all due to her.

He noticed her eye his naked body and as he looked down at her he saw her stare down at him between his legs. He felt so exposed and bare in front of her as she looked at him and the sight made his face go hot and his cheeks redden. Yet he also found it kind of exciting and he felt a thrill at the sight of the way she looked at him as if he were delicious. “Do.......you like.....watching me......Sister?” Seanna blushed looking up at him and nodded bashfully.

He groaned hearing her say that and blushed gently as he looked down at her. “Do you....wish to.....touch it this time? Sweet Sister?” He whispered to her and leaned closer to her with a flushed face.

Seanna blushed gulping at such an offer and she looked at his face sitting up a bit more. “C-can I?Lēkia?” she’d ask innocently, biting her lips waiting for his answer.

Her words made him groan and he gently reached down to caress her face in his hand and he nodded gently. “Y-Yes sister....you can.” Seanna smiled and looked at him then down at his manhood then at him “How.....should I?” 

He gently brushed a hair out of her face and he held his hand as he caressed her cheek. “Just do what feels right ......right. As much as you want. Anything.” He whispered to her gently and his face had a loving and gentle look to it as he looked down at her.

They sat up on the bed facing one another and She bit her lips as her hand reached out and she gently grabbed hold of his hardened cock, gently holding and feeling what it felt like.

He sighed as he felt her soft hand wrap around his hard flesh and he shivered from her touch. “Oh sweet Sister...... your touch.......it feels nice.” He whispered out with closed eyes as he gently held her by wrists and he leaned against her forehead and proceeded to guide her hand upon him.

She blushed her eyes, looked at his face and her gently started moving her hand that held him in a up and down motion assuming this is what may give him pleasure.

He groaned as he felt her gently begin to move her hand on him. He closed his eyes and his breath became heavier and his hold on her wrist began to loosens very gently and he had to bite back moans. “Yes......just like that........that feels so nice.” He muttered to her, encouraging her curiosity. 

Her heart raced hearing the groans that escaped him and the feeling of his hold on her hand letting go of her. But she felt she could do more and her second hand gently reached out and gently took what she could not hold and started to move in unison with her other hand. Feeling daring she leaned forward to kiss up his neck in hopes to hear him moan again.

Feeling her other hand reach out and hold more and her movements made him give out a loud groan and he tilted his head back and his body began to shake and shiver slightly from the feeling. As he felt her hot mouth on his neck and her soft kisses up his throat he moaned out her name breathlessly and his face went even hotter. “S-Sister.....that feels so nice....gods…”

“Truly? Lēkia?” She asked gently, kissing his neck.

He moaned louder and groaned as her tongue went up his neck he shivered and he could barely handle anymore. “Yes, so nice......so good......it feels so.....so good.......Sister.” He moaned out in a voice that came out deeper in pleasure.

She moaned softly as she heard the moans coming from his mouth and she felt his reaction to her ministrations, she looked up and seeing the look on his face, it looked good. It made his groans even more pleasing to hear and she couldn't stop the kisses and licks as she moved down to his jaw then back up and licked gently in his ear,

Her hands continued to stroke and grip upon him too earning more noises from him.

As her ministrations continued and as her hands and mouth worked upon his body and soul he was a mess of noises and a puddle really. He shivered and groaned and his moans continued to spill from his lips as if he could not control it anymore while his hand grabbed her wrist. 

“Sister....you....I can't......you're making me.....”. He groaned out and he was sweating now as he tried to control himself just a little longer, Seanna blushed and proceeded to pleasure him with her hands.

Aemond groaned out her name and his breathing was heavy. He felt dizzy as his body felt weak and the feeling was overloading him. “Gods....sister.....I'm.....” He groaned and moans as the feeling began to build up inside of him and began to feel like he might spill over at any second from her pleasuring touches.

As she looked upon his face and the way he moaned her name, she felt how his body reacted. She felt how heavy his breathing was, how he groaned and moaned her name and his face was flushed so beautifully. “You're so beautiful like this, my Lėkia.” She whispered and grinned at him and her hands gripped and massaged him firmer.

His body was so hot and the feeling was building in his lower body. He could feel it building up like a hot pool in his abdomen. He groaned and moaned out his sister's name her soft pleasuring touches were going to his end. He gripped her shoulder a bit tighter; his breath was heavy and labored. “Seanna....I......I'm about to......” He groaned out panting and She kissed along his jaw and she gently whispered to him. “It's alright, Lėkia. Let go.” Seanna assured him as her hand continued to urge his release more and more.

Aemond groaned loudly hearing her permission and and as she whispered next to his ear he finally hit his peak, his body gave out and he released his built up pressure. His hot load spilled over his own body all over his stomach and the pleasure his sister's touch brought him was enough to make him cry out in ecstasy. He leaned against his sister as he groaned loudly and panted as he laid his face into her shoulder.

Seanna blushed and witnessed him releasing on his body but she kept her hands moving even as his release hit him, so he could feel all the pleasure he needed. As he finished and he groaned out into her shoulder and he moaned her name into her skin loudly she moaned as well, feeling very aroused now after what she brought him to, to see him in this messy blissful state made something feel in her and it made tingles go down her back to between her legs more apparent now.

“Lēkia?” She whispered and laid him back upon the bed and she smiled and looked upon him softly. “Oh Lēkia what a mess you are…” She giggled lightly grazing her tips of her fingers down his chest and stomach and she grabbed the blankets and wiped off his seed from his body softly. She knew she better have her maids change the bedding tomorrow now.

He groaned and his breathing was still heavy, he was still floating in pleasure as his body still had tingles running through it from the feeling her soft hands had given him. he sighed gently as she ran her fingers down his chest as he looked at her with a soft look on his face and a weak pleasured smile. “And who....caused it....sister?” He whispered gently with a chuckle.

Seanna gets bashful. “Well…Tis what you wanted....Right Lēkia?” she asked gently and moved up to his side as he laid on his back she laid on her side looking down at him adoringly.

He gently laughed lightly and he smiled up at her gently as he gently reached up and began to stroke her hair on the back of head. He looked at her with all affection in his eyes and in his smile on his face. “Yes......it was sister, and it felt.......so good. I.....do not think anyone.....has ever made me feel that way before”. He whispered gently as he brought his hand to her face now gently caressed her cheek in his hand as she looked down at him.

She smiled and blushed more and moved some strands of hair from his face away from the scarred side of his face with his blue gem rested in his vacant socket.

His smile turned to a soft and fond smile as she moved the strands of the hair from his face and he nuzzled into her hand as it gently moved over that side of his face. The touch of her hand was loving and gentle and he loved it and he loved how she took all of him in and didn't cringe away. “I love.....that....you are not.....disgusted by my face.” Aemond admitted in a hushed voice.

“Oh Lēkia, why would I be? Hmmmm?” She asked gently sighing, and  tracing her finger along the side of his face.

The feeling of her finger traveling softly across his ruined side of his face made him tingle and it made him smile. She truly did love all of him even when his face looked so ruined and his eye was gone. “Because it looks.....horrible.” He said softly as his breath hitched gently as her finger continued to traced his flesh.

Seanna frowns and looks at him “According to whom Brother?” She’d ask softly and with care.

He looked away for a moment then back at her. “The world, sister. I look at myself and it disgusts me when I see that side of my face. What woman.......would want a man with a face like mine?” He said softly he held his breath for a moment as he looked away from her awaiting her response.

Seanna looked at him with sympathy and gently grabbed his chin and turned his face back to look at her. “I would brother…” She whispered softly. “Lēkia if no woman can see you as you are and not love you they are fools.....” She said to him and she was more than serious now. 

He felt her gently grab his chin and he felt her gently turn his head toward her and as he saw her beautiful face he felt his heart tighten up as he listened to her say how she would love him as he is. It made no sense to him how she could think this but....it made him incredibly happy hearing her loving words and seeing her beautiful face. “You......truly feel that way....sister?” He whispered softly in disbelief.

His sister smiled softly and nodded “Yes.....of course.” She assured him and her knuckles brushed along his face gently.

His face turned redder as her knuckles brushed gently along his face and he gently smiled at her in his disbelief as tears welled in his one eye and his throat grew constricted with emotion. “I.......do not know......how I earned such love......from such.....a sweet and pure sister.......but I'm.....so.....so glad that I have.....” He said while his words came out almost shaky as his throat grew thick and she smiled adoringly at him and sighed gazing at him with only love and affection.

As he looked into her gorgeous eyes and he saw the way she looked at him it made his heart swell with love and he gently moved so that he hovered over her now and his long silver hair fell over his shoulders and he cupped her cheeks in his hand gently and the way her hair was splayed out under her head and her eyes and expression......it made his heart flutter. “My beautiful......Sister.” He whispered gently as he looked down at her and she reached up, running her fingers through his hair “Lēkia....?” She whispered.

And he sighed looking at her, “Yes, sweet sister?” He whispered gently, his fingers caressed her skin and he leaned down to gently press his lips on her neck and he let his hair brush against her skin. As he kissed her neck he hummed gently and he shivered as he leaned down even more feeling her body against his.

“Stay in bed with me tonight....” She whispered.

He gently bit down on her neck at her pleas and he groaned at her words and he gently licked the soft spot he just nibbled upon and he whispered gently against her skin. “I.....will stay......with you all night....if you wish me, sweet sister. I am yours.” he murmured and she sighs, having a pleased look on her face.

She smiled and hummed in contentment at the feeling of his mouth on her skin and at his whispered words about how he was hers and she laid her head back against the pillow letting her eyes close for a moment as she just soaked up how good his ministrations made her feel.

As he nuzzled and pressed his face against her neck he continued to gently press soft kisses against the skin of her neck and collarbone. As her head went back he gently licked up her jaw feeling her skin hot against his tongue and he gently lifted his head to look at her beautiful face that laid against the pillows. His breath felt heavy as he looked at her. “You......are too beautiful for this world.”

Once he lifted his head from her neck she slowly opened her eyes and slowly looked at him and she looked at the way he hovered over her. He looked perfect, beautiful, his silver hair framing his face and falling upon his shoulders, his eyes a stunning color of purple and she felt breath catch in her throat from the sight of him. He was truly a sight to behold in the most beautiful way. “As are you brother…..” She whispered blushing letting that slip out by accident.

His lips curled up in a smirk as he heard her words and then she blushed at her own words. He laid down gently on top of her, pressing his full weight down upon her and he gently looked at her as his chest brushed against her. “You think I'm beautiful, sister? Do you think me as beautiful as I think you are.....if not more?” He whispered into her ear gently “Shut up…” She said giggling “Make me…” He chuckled softly as he nipped at her ear and hummed against her skin as he pressed his body against hers and he enjoyed hearing her giggling and She giggled some more and wrapped her arms around him.

He chuckled and shivered feeling her arms wrapped around him and she felt soft underneath him but he continued his onslaught as he began to gently suck on her neck, biting softly and nibbling the spot between her shoulder and her neck.

Seanna shuttered and sighed.

He looked to her face to see a blissed out look on her face as she shivered and sighed and he smirked against her neck and he began to bite slightly harder and his bites became nibbles and his nibbles turned into tiny sucks on her neck. Her skin was so soft on his lips so he couldn't help but feel hungry for her taste on his tongue so he sucked harder at her neck and he was certain a mark would be left on that spot on her skin in the morning.

She moaned at the feel of his mouth on her skin and she pressed her body up into his as it craved more of his wonderful touch and she closed her eyes again just focusing on the way his mouth felt on her flesh.

He groaned lightly as her body pressed into his and her moans as he sucked and marked her flesh were like music to his ears. He continued to mark her neck and he bit a bit harder before sucking hard on her neck leaving behind a pretty bite mark that he gently licked as he finally sat up to look upon his work. The bright red mark looked beautiful on her skin so he bent down to press his tongue against and licked over it softly.

She panted and looked up at him.

He looked down at her with lust and affection in his eyes and a possessive look was in his gaze at seeing his mark upon her skin. His breathing was heavy and he could feel his need stir again, and he bent down to press his hips against hers. “My beautiful sister....” He whispered.

Feeling and hearing his whispered words and she felt his need press up against her she shivered and her own breathing became heavy and as her fingers dug into his back.

He groaned and shivered feeling her nails dig into his back and he leaned down and crashed his lips upon hers hungrily as his need for her grew and he began to grind upon her, “Lēkia….” She whimpered against his hungry lips.

Aemond shivered as he heard her whimper against his hungry mouth and he continued his grinding as he gently reached out and threaded his fingers through her hair and gently grasped the hair at the back of her head gently so she couldn't pull away from his kiss and he began to slip his tongue along hers in their kiss.

As he slipped his tongue into her mouth she moaned and she arched up in to the kiss her chest pushed up against his, her fingers clawing at his back and gently tugging at his hair, whimpering against his hungry, demanding kiss the taste of him was intoxicating and she couldn't get enough.

He groaned lowly into her mouth as he felt her arch up and writhe against him and it made his head spin feeling her against him and from tasting her on his tongue. He felt her tugging at his hair and his back and it egged him on to press himself down more and grind harder as he became addicted to how she felt and tasted.

“Brother please….”

“Please what sweet sister...what do you desire?” He whispered gently against her lips before kissing her again and gently biting at her bottom lip and he rocked against her harder

“You brother with me…”  She begged but she knew he wouldn’t take her maiden hood this night but it didn’t hurt to ask “Truly this time…..”

He shivered as he felt and heard her pleading for him and he groaned as he felt the fire and heat within him rise. Yet, he knew he had to deny it as much as it hurt him too. “Sweet sister please forgive me....we cannot take it that far tonight.” He groaned at her and gently rested his head against hers.

She whimpered and scratched up his back. “But Lēkia….” She whined.

He shivered again and groaned as he felt her scratch his back and he growled feeling her nails drag over his skin and he looked down at her as he felt his back burning pleasantly at her touch. “Sweet, sweet sister, no pleading…” He groaned as he rubbed against her folds with his length. “Please....I cannot be tempted further......” He whispered breathlessly and she whines and whimpered and pants.

Aemond panted heavily and his entire body was burning as he continued to hover over her and he looked down at her face that was flushed and gorgeous and her hair splayed out upon the pillows. And her breathing and her whining were like some sort of song to him and he groaned again feeling his body ache for her and he gripped more desperately at the hair at the back of her head as he felt heat pooling in the pit of his stomach.

Seanna watched him sits up on his knees and he started stroking himself before her as she watched.

He sat up over her with his hair falling around his face and his breathing heavy as he grabbed ahold and started rapidly moving his hand upon himself roughly looking at her before him.

Seanna breathes heavily and watched as he came undone rather quickly groaning and shuttering as his seed shot out upon her body she shutter and trembled and she looked up at him now covered with strings of his warm seed.

He groaned and shuttered as he released upon her and he leaned down to gently rest his forehead against hers and his body shook and was still for a moment. He was breathing heavily and he shivered at her body pressed against his and he gently moved and lay down to her side and pulled her against him and nuzzled into her neck.

And then he pulled her closer. Seanna sighed and wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer while laying her head upon his shoulder, her eyes closed and she let her fingers glide along his chest and stomach “You alright brother?” She’d asked as she sensed he was a bit displeased.

Aemond took a deep breath and shivered as he felt her hand touch upon his stomach and upon his scars as they laid in bed together and he nuzzled his face into her hair. “I....am. Just feeling incredibly sleepy....I am sorry to disappoint you sweet sister.” He whispered against the top of her head and nuzzled his face into her hair to smell her and he hummed softly and she sighed “Hmmm What do you mean?” She asked calmly

He hummed gently and gently traced soft shapes across her back. “I...could not take you tonight.....even though you wanted me to.” He whispered with slight guilt in his voice. He knew it was the right thing to do and yet he felt a slight ache in his heart for not being able to take her tonight.

She blushed and looked up at him. “....I understand brother, do not worry.” She said, trying to assure him.

Aemond looked down at her flushed expression at her words and he cupped her cheek gently in his hand and he smiled fondly and brushed his thumb gently against her cheek. “I am glad you do, sweet sister....I don't think my heart could bare it if you were to hate me for denying us....but I love to hear you ask for me to take you.....even if it is wrong.” He whispered gently and he laid his head back against his pillow.

Seanna sighed and kissed his chest. “You are a gentle man Brother even beneath all your stoicism and coldness you like to portray.” She said softly, laying her cheek on his chest. “But you make it hard for me not to want you like a wife would her husband.”

He shivered as he felt her lips gently pressing upon his chest and he felt his heart flutter and he smiled softly at her words and at hearing her say he was a gentle man. His eyes were feeling heavy and he gently threaded his fingers through her hair and he gently stroked her hair as his eyes grew heavier and heavier from exhaustion the longer they laid together. “You.....are too kind, sweet sister....” He mumbled tiredly.

She smiled and nuzzled her face into his chest, her fingers gently played with his hair on his chest. “Rest Lēkia you deserve it.”

He hummed and he let his eyes close as she continued to gently play and tangle her fingers in his hair and he let his breathing slow down as he gently held her. “I...love you sister......” He whispered before his breathing started to slow as he started to fall asleep. As his body finally relaxed against hers he felt sleep finally come as he fell into the gentle pull of it and he began to breathe gently.

A/N: Sorry for this being lengthy I just couldn't stop writing this part.....I may have gotten carried away but yeah Next part.....may consist of smut but at the end maybe? I'm not sure we shall see....Stay tuned for VI

[erisweekofficial]

Today, we're thrilled to celebrate @climbthemountain2020, the brilliant author behind Flame of Autumn, an Eris x OC fanfic with an arranged marriage trope that has us giggling and kicking our feet. You're going to fall in love with Tilly like we have! (Also who doesn't love a good overthrowing beron plot)

She also is an artist AND makes killer moodboards. We love a triple threat 😈

Read more to get some advice on writing your own OCs and what @climbthemountain2020 would say to Eris on the phone.

What advice do you have for other creators who are interested in writing Eris x OC fics?

I think my best advice is to not be afraid to write differently for Eris than what others might. The fun thing about Eris at this point in canon is we just don't KNOW what he's really like. So if you want to keep his sassy, cunt-serving persona, DO IT. But if you like to picture him a little more like someone who wears a mask and is secretly a softie who is dying for physical affection? Do it! I think I held back writing him for a long time because I was worried I was perceiving him "wrong", but at the end of the day, we're all writing for fun! Don't get caught up in worrying about having to do things a certain way.

What are your thoughts on Eris's relationship with Lucien?

Oh sweet babies. I think Eris knows all about who Lucien's Dad is and has been holding on to that for a very long time. I think Eris loves his littlest brother as much as he's able given his past and their history, and I so hope we get to see some sort of resolution and peace between the two of them before the end of the series.

You have Eris on the phone for 1 minute. What are you saying to him?

The absolute RAUNCHIEST [redacted], and also what happened with Mor in the woods, my guy? What are your thoughts on the Shadowsinger and what did that pesky male whisper in your ear?

Any Eris headcanons?

Eris would annihilate on Hot Ones

Eris lets the dogs sleep in his bed--they absolutely hate everyone but him and it was becoming to dangerous to allow them all to sleep in the stables full time

Eris has always known about Lucien's parentage and has helped his mother keep it a secret

Eris and Rhys are mirror images of each other--Eris is just Rhys without a found family to support him

Please give us a name for one of Eris’s Brothers.

Heavy Bray supporter.

Please give us a name for one of Eris's Dogs.

Cinder, of course.

[scryarchives]

𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 - 𝐣𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬

it's been almost a month since the whole "Victoria Kord Blue Beetle Fiasco", and Jaime has loads to sort out, especially since the new neighbour might not be what she says she is...

masterlist | next !

– pairings: jaime reyes x oc

– warning: fluff, canon divergent, blue beetle movie spoilers

– author's note: after watching the blue beetle movie, I've been so down bad for jaime reyes i had to make a one-shot series for him. disclaimer: i'm not of Hispanic descent and i have don't know casual terms spoken, so do correct me if im wrong!

The sun's heat beat down on the hot sand, heat waves radiating off the ground from the high temperature. A winding tarmac road lay between the plains, and a little vehicle sped down it, emptiness surrounding them.

“Mama, how much longer until we get to… Palmera City?” The woman drawled, picking up a pamphlet in her right hand, and pulling her wireless headphones down with the other.

“We're pretty much there, Drea,” A woman replied, hands on the steering while and eyes trained on the road. “We’re almost there.”

“Why can’t I just fly there myself? You and Amma can take the car. I’m twenty Ma, not five,” Drea huffed, neatening out her ruffled ebony waves. “You taught me how to fly when I was ten, anyways.”

“Kanna, you don’t even know where Palmera City is,” Another woman turned her head in the passenger’s seat to face her daughter in the back. “And you don’t know where the house is.”

“I do know where it is, El Paso Street, Palmera City.”

“Which house then? And you only knew Palmera City from the pamphlet,” The woman driving chuckled. “Besides, don’t you like spending time with your mamas?”

Drea said nothing in return, grumbling and pulling her headphones back over her ears, blasting her music at almost full volume.

“She grew up too fast,” The other passenger sighed, her hand on her forehead. “When did she become twenty? Remind me, please.”

“She turned twenty almost two days ago, aṉpu,” The driver grinned. “Did you forget that she almost set the house on fire when we told her about the move?”

“Please, don’t remind me, Zara,” Anika sighed at her wife’s entertainment. “I’m still drained from all of the mess I had to clean up after.”

“Nika, we’re moving, new people, new sights to see, and new opportunities for a good life for you and me. For our family,” Zara, the driver, smiled softly. One of her hands slipped off the driver’s wheel, encasing itself around Anika’s smaller hand.

“Besides, Drea needs a job, something that can keep her steady until she finds out what she wants to do,” She shrugged. “And Palmera City might have everything she needs.”

“‘Might have’ are the keywords.” Anika’s worried eyes met Zara’s calm ones. “If it doesn’t? Then what? She’ll just, what, fly alone to a new place?”

“Probably. But that’s okay, I was her age when I came here, and I needed something new. Something different. And then I met you, and I felt love for the first time,” She winked, her wife flushing.

“Oh stop it you, focus on driving!”

“Alright, alright. But you get my point, right?”

“Yeah… I do."

“Until that happens, if that ever happens, we’ll be just fine.”

“Hermano,” Milagro huffed, her hands forearm deep in water as she held a plate in her hands, holding it up to her brother, who was staring out the window in curiosity.

“Jaime,” She called out once more, her brother still unresponsive, the girl’s patience snapping. “Earth to Jaime Reyes!”

Jaime jumped slightly, taking the plate, gaze focused back on the window while muttering apologies to his younger sister.

“Sorry, sorry,” He wrapped the plate with the cloth in his hands hurriedly.

“What’s got you so distracted?” Milagro frowned, peering over his shoulder to see a moving truck parked outside their house. More accurately, in front of the empty house across the road from them.

“Oh, new neighbours,” She nodded, taking another soapy plate to rinse off from her mother. 

“I wonder what they’ll be like,” Bianca Reyes hummed, handing Milagro another plate.

“It’s about time someone moved in that house,” Milagro chirped. “That house has been empty for as long as I can remember."

"That's not true," Jaime glanced at his sister. "Mrs. Diaz lived there for a while before her son moved out."

"Oh yeah… But that was still ages ago. So my statement still counts."

Jaime playfully rolled his eyes, a smile faint on his face. Glancing over, Milagro questioned her brother teasingly.

"Why are you staring there so much, anyways? Did you see Jenny?" She wiggled her eyebrows.

"What? No, no. We're just friends," He huffed.

"Sure you are."

"No, look. Khaji-Da scanned their moving stuff—"

"Woah! Boundaries, hermano!"

"Exactly! But she did it somehow and she warned me about them."

"What? Is she saying that they're villains? Like Jenny's crazy aunt?" The girl beside Jaime placed a hand on her hip. "C'mon, they're new neighbours, how bad can they be?"

"Pretty bad," Khaji-Da chimed in Jaime's head, her host glaring.

The rest of the day proceeded to be uneventful. After dishwashing and tidying up after lunch, Jaime hadn't done much other than trying to find work or helping his mother around the house.

Occasionally, Nana would come around for a drink while taking a break from her sewing, and Milagro soon joined Jaime in his room, the two job-hunting together. Uncle Rudy was… well, somewhere working on "an upgrade for the truck Jenny had gifted", according to him.

If he could, Jaime would have described the atmosphere as "chill and somewhat productive".

His mind drifted from the list of temporary jobs he could apply for on the site he sat on to the whole "Blue Beetle Fiasco" over a month ago. To the friend he hoped would be something more, until she, in the nicest way possible, tried to turn him down.

"Jaime, you're thinking about Jennifer again."

Instantly, he shook his head, trying to refocus his attention.

"Nope, nope. I'm completely focused. See? I can qualify for a…" He narrowed his eyes, reading the word his pointer was aimed at. "Chiropractor? What, no—"

"You need to move on, Jaime. The positive is that Jennifer is still your friend. You have more responsibilities."

"Yeah, and I'm doing it with Mili," Jaime then looked around him, wondering why his sister's questioning and prying hadn't begun.

"Milagro had left to get a drink, while you were busy 'looking for jobs'," Khaji-Da chimed in, rubbing in her point before her host could ask.

"Thank you, Khaji," Jaime huffed sarcastically. "How long has she been gone for?"

"Ten minutes."

"That long?"

"You were deep in thought."

"Got it," He grumbled, pushing himself off of his bed to find his job-hunting partner. "Mili!"

He called out his sister's name, hoping to find her peering around a corner in response, but was returned with nothing, not even a single quip.

"Mili?" Jaime frowned at the lack of noise in his home.

"Nana? Uncle Rudy?"

Seeing that no one was responding, Jaime narrowed his eyes, his mind darting to the worst-case scenario.

"Khaji, can you scan or locate where my family is?"

"Your mother—"

"Jaime! There you are!" Bianca cut Jaime off, her son relieved to see that she was alright.

"—is right here."

"Thank you for the… status, Khaji," He whispered before smiling, letting out a sigh. "Mama, where's everyone?"

"They're outside, greeting the new neighbours!" She furrowed her brows, a smile still gracing her lips. "I thought Mili told you? Oh, I'll talk to her about it later, come come! Let's meet the neighbours, yes?"

She grabbed Jaime's upper arm, rushing out to meet up with the rest of the family.

"Jaime, meet Mrs Tlatilpa, and her daughter, Alejandra!" Bianca smiled.

Jaime smiled over at who he assumed was Alejandra, as she did look quite a bit younger than the woman beside her.

Taking in her appearance, he noticed that she almost looked Hispanic, like him, though her skin was slightly darker. Her hair remained wavy and was a dark shade of brown, pretty much black if he hadn't noticed it against the sunlight. If he looked close enough, he noticed that she had a few strands of braids tied together here and there.

She tilted her head as her wireless headphones covered in vibrant stickers were plastered all over, covering the brand's logo, and it seemed like stars — he noticed a few hand-sewn ones on her baggy jeans — seemed to be her favourite pattern.

Triangle earrings glinted in the light as her dark brown eyes watched him in curiosity. If he looked close enough, he could almost see sparks of red—

"You're staring, Jaime."

He flinched from Khaji-Da's comment, holding his hand out to shake hands, the woman across from him doing the same.

"Reyes, my name's Jaime Reyes," He nodded, putting on his best smile.

"Alejandra Tlatilpa. But you can call me Drea," She nodded respectfully before switching her glance to his shoes. "Cool shoes."

"Ah, uhm thanks. Not my favourite pair, but they serve their purpose," He chuckled, almost sadly as he remembered the fate of his now-incinerated favoured shoes.

"She's dangerous," Khaji-Da pointed out, Jaime's brows furrowing.

"What? No way," Jaime muttered, Drea, blinking in confusion.

"I'm sorry?" She questioned for clarification.

"No, sorry, I uhm… just a habit of mine, I talk. To myself," He quickly responded, his smile turning awkward.

"Right," She pointed a finger, nodding once more. "Got it. Don't worry about it, we all have our habits."

"Look at the two of you getting along!" Mrs Tlatilpa grinned. "Kanna, why don't you go get Mama? I'm sure she'd love to meet new people."

"Yeah, sure," Drea chirped, smiling one last time at Jaime. "See you around."

"So, your wife?" Bianca questioned, her eyes curious.

"Ah yes, it's a long story," Anika laughed nervously.

"No, no worries! In fact, would your family like to join us for tea?"

gif by @rob-pattinson

taglist: @mooncleaver < comment/dm me if you'd like to be on the taglist! >

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary:  John is dead. Your whole world crumbles. Arthur and you are facing your first real argument, and everything grows out of control -- featuring Tommy Shelby x Reader.

Words: 5.8k

TW: Extreme angst - read at your own risk, graphic depiction of violence, domestic violence, mention of drug use, canonical violence, graphic depiction of murder, major character death, self-harm, guilt trip, co-dependent relationship.

Notes:

✞ Read the notes at the end.

Previous || Masterlist || NEXT

The creaking which resounded in the whole morgue when the door opened sent shivers down Tommy’s spine. The infamous Peaky Blinders’ boss was standing next to the mortuary table, staring at the ashen face of his little brother, frozen in a peaceful expression. Although Tommy tried his best to remain neutral, the way his enchanting turquoise eyes gleamed belied his profound sorrow. A sorrow so distressing that he was not even able to express it – instead, his negative thoughts piled up inside of his already decaying heart. First Grace, then John… Tommy let out a long exhale from his nostrils while going on with his morbid contemplation. How many more deaths would he have to endure before his hunger for power was sated? “Fuck, I’m sorry John.” He whispered, softly pressing his large hand on his brother’s muscular shoulder. The sensation of John was cold and hard, even above the fabric of his blood-stained shirt, “It wasn’t supposed to happen.” His hand then reached for the funeral shroud and pulled it over his brother’s chest, which had been riddled with bullets. He did not want John to look weak, even in death. He wished for people to recall his joy and strength, not his troubled last moments. “I’m sorry.” He reiterated, offering a last apologetic look at his little brother before turning around at the sound of someone’s heels beating the cold tiled floor. Tommy’s forehead creased as he furrowed his brows: he had not been expecting anyone now that Arthur and Esme had left.

“Tommy.”

The hypnotizing and melodious voice that called him led him to briefly open his eyes wide in surprise — especially when he recognized its owner. And when he did, his face immediately hardened. It was only seconds later that he saw you walking towards him with hastened steps, rivers of tears still streaming down your angelic face. He didn’t know what surprised him the most though, to see you here in this morgue, to hear you calling him “Tommy” and not “Thomas” for the very first time, or maybe the unexpected way you threw yourself into his arms. In fact, it was certainly a bit of the three at once. As soon as your body collapsed with his, the gangster’s muscles tensed, and his placid expression shifted into a stunned one: your affection had taken him aback.

“Oh my God, Tommy…”  You were crying your eyes out, your face buried in the crook of his neck. He could even feel the warm wetness of your tears on his skin, the little salty drops running down his chest and dying under his shirt. Esme had told him everything. Tommy blinked a few times to chase away the surprise and, gradually, his body relaxed as he felt your frail being snuggling against him, the freezing sensation of your dainty frame meeting the warm temperature of his skin even separated by the clothes you were wearing. He gave you a quick glance from above your head to check if what was happening was true and, finally, he sighed. As his arms wrapped around you softly, you felt like you were falling apart and, ironically, the only thing that held you together at this very moment was Thomas Shelby. The man you hated since day one.

“I’m here.”  His quiet and deep voice simply stated, soon followed by his arms tightening around you and his fingers gently diving into your waist, not willing to let you go anymore. To hell with your mutual hatred, you thought, Tommy had just lost a brother and you wanted to be here for him too. Surely, all the ice of his heart couldn’t shield him from grieving a loved one.

What started as an awkward hug soon turned into a powerful embrace when Tommy indulged in your love. All the resent, all your past arguments, all the fear… The more you were pressing together, the more they were turned into dust, “I’m fuckin’ here.” One of his hands ran up your body only to rest on the back of your head, inviting you to nuzzle your nose in the crook of his neck even more – which was what you did, desperately looking for comfort.

“I can’t… I can’t let him go. I don’t want to.” Your voice was merely a desperate whimper, for the uncontrollable sobbing and the ball of sorrow in your throat wouldn’t allow you to align more words. Another hiccup — The excruciating sadness almost suffocated you when you realized that John’s dry blood was still stuck under your nails.

“He’s gone, Heaven.” His words, stone cold, made you shake like a leaf, to the extent that Tommy was now certain you would shatter if he were not holding you. He started rubbing your back with his powerful free hand, the other clenching its fingers on the back of your head, “Listen to me.” He started, holding you firmly against his strong body: he was not going to let you all apart.

“They fucking shot him! Ces enculés lui ont tiré dessus!” You repeated in French, and of course he understood. He tried to hush your worries down but it didn’t work. Deaf to his attempt to comfort you, you gritted your teeth and let out a frustrated and painful cry. John was dead and your whole world felt like it was collapsing. Your little fists hit Tommy’s strong chest in a weak blow, anger taking over sadness as seconds passed. You were angry at him, at you, at Changretta, at the whole damn world. In truth, your mind didn’t know how to cope with grief anymore, and rather let you experience various emotions to test which one hurt the less. In response, the gangster restrained your movements by hugging you tighter and then, he brought his lips near your ear to keep you focused on him and only him.

“Hey, listen to me now.” He said with a firmer tone, catching your attention. You glanced at him and froze, realizing how dangerously close his face was, “I want you to calm down. You’re a fucking Shelby.” Despite his harsh words, Tommy’s tender caresses made amends for his toughness and managed to dry your tears up. His palms, then, wandered on your back and shoulders, stimulating every nerve of your quivering body to anchor you to reality, “There. Better.” He finally praised you, warming up your body with the sole power of his touch and rubs. Feeling calmer, you sniffed a little bit and tried to focus on the musky yet delicate fragrances of his cologne rather than on John’s corpse that was lying a bit further from you.

“Better.” You softly replied, surprisingly lulled by little King Shelby’s presence. A real miracle. Once comforted, you decided it was time for you to move your body from him and break the embrace though. After all, Tommy and you had never got along. Plus, you were pretty sure he wanted this to end as quickly as possible now that he had done his in-law duty. But, somehow, a little part of you still hope for this moment to improve your relationship from now. Maybe things wasn’t that hopeless? You were about to move but the gangster didn’t let you leave him. Quite the contrary, he pulled you closer until your breasts flattened against his chest and your cheek rested on his collarbone. Surprised, your lips parted but no sound came out.

“Stay.” Even though he did not mean it, his tone sounded like an order more than a request. Truth was, he couldn’t control it – the way his heart had quickened at the physical contact he was sharing with you unsettled him. As much as the thought that you came to him for comfort, not to your husband. Under the crushing weight of something he couldn’t name, Tommy delicately rubbed his perfectly shaven cheek against yours and buried his nose in your long white hair to get himself drunk with your spring-like perfume, “I’ll keep you out of sorrow, if you ask me,” He whispered, shutting his eyes tight and deepening his embrace again, until it became slightly painful. His thoughts swirled in his restless mind, and between plans for the Vendetta and the grief of John’s death, there was you. You and your intoxicating perfume. With his breath quickening and his lower lip trembling, Tommy allowed himself to sink into your softness, “And you’ll keep me out of it.” His husky voice was merely a murmur only you could hear. A soft whisper even the Grim Reaper, who was leaning over John and contemplating about where he was going to send him, did not catch.

“What do you mean?” You bated your doe lashes, confused at this sudden passionate demonstration of affection. But Tommy didn’t reply. In fact, he did not even hear a word you said for his mind was trying to cope with the overwhelming feelings and sensations that were drowning him. He felt like a sailor thrown into a raging see, desperately trying to keep his head above the water, and the only hope for him to survive was to cling onto you as hard as he could. The truth was it felt so good to have you in his arms, blessed with your holy and calming aura, that he had momentarily forgot what pain was like. For a split second, colors came back in his black and white life – something he hadn’t experience since Grace’s death. Letting out a relieved sigh, Tommy gently pulled his face away from you only for his mesmerizing turquoise eyes to dive into your celeste iris.

“It’s going to be alright, Tommy. It’s not your fault.” You stuttered, trying to comfort him too despite being slightly confused by his intense stare. Nevertheless, you could not help but commiserate with him, grief being one of the most universal human feelings to share. United in pain, you offered him a faint smile. The fearful gangster replied with utter silence – struck by the fact that he loved how his nickname sounded in your mouth. Only his brows frowned slightly as he watched you for the very first time: your big fair eyes, your long lashes, your plumped lips, the way your snow-white hair reflected the dull lights of the morgue… Last time he recalled having stared at you like this was during your first meeting, when his hand was wrapped around your throat. Worried by the unfamiliar ways he was looking at you, your little cold fingers grazed one of his hollow cheeks as softly as a feather’s caress to bring him back to his senses. A surge of electricity ran through his soul at the skin-to-skin contact. You touched him and, all of sudden, Tommy understood Arthur. He understood what he meant when he told him you were an angel. And after the epiphany came a moment of madness.

“No, it won’t.” He admitted with a sad tone you never suspected he was capable of. At his words, he finally gave in and broke the distance between your lips. Life flashed before your eyes, your brain momentarily ceasing to function at the soft press of his mouth. Tommy’s hand had wrapped itself around the back of your neck, keeping you from moving your face with one thick and strong palm. His kiss, eager but indescribably sensual, made your heart miss a small beat. It took you two solid seconds to realize what was happening, and one extra to push him away from you as he started to make it slow and deep with the wet stroke of his tongue. Forced to take a few steps back, his chest vibrated with a low groan of disappointment.

“No, Tommy.” You stuttered in a whisper, astounded by his bold and senseless move. Your fingertips grazed your swollen lips, still tingling with the sensation of his lips against yours, all the while your otherworldly pale eyes gawked at him wide open.

Tommy’s lashes fluttered, then he slightly shook his head to chase away the sweet torpor that had overtaken him for a short while. Regaining his composure, he clenched his jaws and tried to cope with your rejection. Admittedly, it had been a bit too much for him to handle. Why did he do that? What did happen in his goddamn mind? And how the hell could a woman say no to him? Unfortunately, Tommy couldn’t find any answer to these questions. All he found was frustration and anger, fueled by his unsufferable heartache of John’s death.

“No.” Tommy’s face closed up, going placid again while the blue of his iris turned two shades darker, “No” he repeated, trying his best to keep his emotions how he always did: hidden behind coolness, “So why did you come here and throw yourself in my arms?”

His question had taken you aback, for you didn’t expect him to wonder about such a trivial thing. Somehow, you wondered if he ever knew what the definition of platonic love was, or if all his interactions with women, except the ones from his family, always led him to their bed. “I just wanted someone to talk to...” Your eyes fled his, and you folded your arms to hug yourself, feeling suddenly freezing, “And I thought you’d maybe need someone too? I mean… I wanted to comfort you too. Just not—like this.” In truth, you were left agape by the whole misunderstanding. And by Tommy’s unfathomable mind.

Not minding that he was in a morgue, the King of Small Heath took of a cigarette from his pocket and rubbed it nervously on his lower lip before lighting it. Thoughts were now racing in his mind, along with your words. He could have dismissed the topic with a simple wave from his hand, but he couldn’t come to terms with how good you had made him felt for a few fleeting but intense minutes. Tommy’s chest rose and fell with rapid breath, for both shame and anger had crept into his bones. Why? He thought. Why did his brother had been allowed to meet you before he could? Why did Arthur, broken and fragile Arthur, had been allowed to have a loving woman by his side and not him? After all, he was the one who needed it the most. No, he was the one who deserved it the most. But now Grace was dead, all women he shared his bed with tended to leave an unpleasant after taste of ashes in his mouth, and the one he thought who could heal him didn’t want him. What kind of freaking curse was that? But in his inner turmoil and feeling of unfairness, Tommy forgot to take into account the real problem: you could do nothing for his heart. No one could.

“Alright then, you wanna talk? We gonna talk, ey. I wanna know something, Heaven. Why didn’t you save him ey?” A cloud of smoke escaped from his mouth, leaving you wondering if it was due to the cigarette or to his rage.

“Sorry?” You asked, feeling your shoulders tense.

He threw his cigarette further away before squinting his eyes as he talked to you “You resurrected a damn bird. Polly talked y’know. She told me you had the great power of healing, something that’s fucking rare. So why?”

“Why?! Why what?! What the hell are you implying?” You were starting to lose your patience, already fed up with his mean games. Moreover, your emotions was already all messed up with all the earliest events.

“Why the fuck didn’t you save John?! Why the fuck didn’t you bring him back to life?” His voice rose, resounding in the morgue so loudly that John probably heard it from where he was.

You blinked, astonished. “Because it doesn’t work like that, you fucking idiot!” You replied to his screams with louder ones, now troubling the dead’s final rest.

“Of course, it doesn’t. Isn’t it a bit ironic? I mean… For everyone, you’re a saint. For Arthur you’re a fucking angel, ey, even a divine being. But now that you have the occasion to use your wicked powers for something useful you can’t even do it!” His prose had turned into poison, seeping through your veins and contaminating soul.

“Thomas, stop it.” You begged, trying to remain calm. Surely, you didn’t want to argue right after John’s death. Especially not when he was there… You took a quick glance at his motionless body and your heart sank. Was it your fault?

“I told you what it is. You’ve bewitched all of them. You’ve bewitched me,” His eyes darkened, “All your so-called gifts come from the Devil... So come on! Bring John back to life, you fucking witch!”  He was now pointing John with his index finger, “Bring him back now!”

“HIS HEART HAD STOPPED BEATING!” You howled, self-control breaking down.

“It doesn’t matter, you had let him die!”

“I didn’t!” You shook your head, rage taking over you, “It’s the blood. My witchcraft doesn’t come from the Devil, it comes from the fucking blood. From the human body. That’s what I manipulate. I could have done something if his heart had been still beating the slightest, or if it had just stopped. But it wasn’t the fucking case!” Tears of wrath left a moist trail on your skin as you wiped them away quickly with the palm of your hand, “He was dead for too long when I found him!” A short silence fell in the morgue after your attempt to justify yourself – Tommy didn’t buy it.

“It’s your fault.” He concluded in a quiet and low tone, desperately trying to both find someone to blame for his brother’s death, and wanting to make you pay for rejecting him.

“W-What?” His words had stabbed you right in the heart.

“It’s your fault if John is now lying in a fucking morgue, dead and cold. You have let him die.”

“I didn’t!” Your voice broke.

“You fucking did! Look at him now, look at his fucking corpse riddled with bullet! Look at the fuck you did, ey!” Tommy had stepped aside and pulled the shroud from John’s body. Doing so, he gave you full sight on his bloody chest, whose round bullet wounds were already darkening. Such a macabre spectacle momentarily broke the last bit of sanity you had left.

John, Oh John, your soul lamented.

“ENOUGH!” You yelled. The way your usually sweet voice screeched was so powerful, so inhumane that all the lights of the morgue flickered, rendering the place even more ominous than it already was. On top of the dancing lights, whose glow had been undermined by your own darkness, the atmosphere around Tommy thickened. The gangster swallowed the lump in his throat, suddenly overtaken by an unpleasant and eerie feeling of unease. In other circumstances, your brother-in-law’s change in behavior would have appeased you. Especially when considering that shutting up was not in Tommy’s habits. Nevertheless, far too hurtful words and years of restrained spite got the best of you: from the moment you met to this one, Tommy had been nothing but a bane. Anger rippled through you, hardening your maimed heart and blurring every notion of decorum you’d usually try to respect for Arthur’s sake, “You wanna make me your villain?” You had stopped screaming. Quite the contrary, your tone had turned from a bawling banshee to the quiet and sinister sigh of Death. With that last question posed, you extended one of your arms, palm facing Tommy, and spread your fingers, “I’ll give you a reason to fear me!”

At first, Tommy raised a brow wondering what the goal behind your move was. Then, the fact you dared to scream at him and insult him – certainly combined with your rejection – made rage coiled in his stomach. He opened his mouth, about to reply to your arrogance when words choked in his throat. Hit by a sudden and obliterating pain in the chest,  Tommy pressed his hand were his heart was and looked up in terror as a thin trickle of blood started to run down one of his nostrils, dying his thin lips with a crimson color, “What—What are you doing to me?!” He stuttered, barely hearing his voice because of the sound of his own heart beating faster and faster echoed in his skull far too loudly. However, you didn’t answer him, far too consumed by the flames of your rage, licking though your delicate bones and dainty frame. With your hand still facing him, you started to close your fingers very slowly. Tommy coughed for each inch your fingers moved, his lungs were crushed harder in his tight chest. He wanted to scream – scream to let out the pain, scream to stop you, but the only noise he could make was muffled squeals, similar to an agonizing prey.

“Here is what I can do, Tommy! This is the pain I am capable to cause with my delicate and fragile little being! See? If I can heal, I can also make one sick and destroy them.”

“S—St—Stop...” He tried to beg, bloody mouth gaping, desperate for air. But this time he was not only met by your silence, but by the worsening of his pain to the extent that his legs were about to collapse. No, you didn’t want to stop. In fact, you wanted him to pay for everything. You wanted him to kneel.

“Beg.” Your voice echoed in the morgue and your eyes were staring coldly at Tommy Shelby who, crushed by the extreme pain you were exerting on his body, had no other choice than to rest one of his knees on the ground, right in front of you. The metallic taste of blood that kept running down his throat, thick and hot, enhanced his suffocating and labored attempt to breath. At this point Tommy had one certitude; you were going to kill him. Whether by a heart attack or by smashing his lungs to a pulp, it did not matter. What mattered was that, for the very first time since you met, he was at your mercy. Far too well he understood that all you had to do was to close your fist, and then he would end up lying down on the table next to John’s.

The shovels, the dirt in his mouth, everything came back to his mind as he fought to breath.

“Heaven!”

“Listen closely to what I’m about to say,” You spoke calmly, “I think I’ve had enough of your hypocritic ways and your unjustified battle against me, whose only goal is to tear me down. I am not going to kill you, Thomas Shelby. But if I spare you, it’s only because, first I don’t want to murder you in front of John, and then, because Arthur loves you. I don’t fucking know how he still does after every mean thing you’ve said and done to him, but the facts remain that he does.” You paused, finally reopening your hand, and lowering your arm. It didn’t take more for Tommy’s lungs to finally be able to stock air again and for his heart to return to a normal pace. The gangster immediately inhaled, still under the shock of what had just happened. Hands on the cold tiled floor, eyes wide open, he was shaking like a leaf in a raging storm, “So for Arthur’s sake and John’s memory, I want you to wear your most beautiful smile next time you’ll see me. Just like you told me the first time we met ey?”

By the time you’ve stopped stabbing him with your murderous and poisoned words, Tommy had managed to stand up on his quivering legs. Yet, he was still catching his breath and pressing one hand on his chest to alleviate the soreness of his lungs. He licked his lips to clean the blood off them, the taste of his own crimson essence reminding him of what he was: not a God. Much less the Devil. Just one simple mortal man. At this very moment, Tommy Shelby had lost his splendor. Still shaken and utterly terrified by your wicked abilities, little King Shelby looked at you, his face contorted in pure horror and disgust. “You…”  His enchanting turquoise eyes, whose color made women’s head spin, were now glazed with an almost primal fear, “You’re a fucking monster.”

“At least we have something in common.” You retorted, before turning your heels and leaving the morgue. John’s spirit wasn’t there anyway.

Following your quarrel with your brother-in-law, all you wanted was to go back home and hide from this cruel world in Arthur’s arms; the only place in which you could find a bit of inner peace. Moreover, you knew he would certainly need you after his visit at the morgue.  Your holy tears had flown from your eyes all the way home, only chased away by your delicate hands. The only thing that kept you from collapsing in the midst of the streets, weeping on the ground like a fallen angel, was the thought of finding your husband. It has always been you against the rest of the world anyway. So, what was your disappointment when hours flew and Arthur was nowhere to be seen. 

A little sigh escaped from your lips as you poured the rest of the red wine bottle you had opened earlier in your glass. Once your glass was refilled with alcohol, you simply dragged your exhausted body to the living room and collapsed on the sofa, looking blankly at the dancing flames in the hearth. Before panic settled in, you thought that Arthur needed time for himself after being informed of his little brother’s death — which was perfectly fine and understandable. He had every right to stay with his family, grieving the loss of his own blood. But the more time passed, the more his absence was weighing on you. Feeling your sorrow, Kaiser woke up from his nap, stretched his muscular body, and came closer to rest his large head on your thighs. The dog’s cropped ears were flattened, and his large hazel eyes were looking at you with sincere worry.

“That’s okay big boy, that’s okay.” You gently stroke his head, but despite loving your caresses the Cane Corso let out a sad whining sound, “I know…” You simply replied, knowing that Kaiser missed Arthur too, on top of hating the sight of you being that mournful. Suddenly, the mutt’s ears raised again, and he turned his head towards the door, sensing someone was coming. Trusting his shape senses, your eyes looked up at the entrance too. When your instincts weren’t working, you knew you could always count on Kaiser and tonight was no exception: only seconds later the door opened, revealing Arthur’s lanky silhouette. You got up from the sofa, putting your glass of red wine on the coffee table, and watched him carefully. 

“Cheri?”

“Hm.” The only reply you got was a grunt, followed by his staggering frame walking past you without stopping for a hug nor a kiss. In fact, you wondered if he even saw you. The strong scents of alcohol and tobacco floated in the air at his passage, leaving no doubt on his intoxicated state. You sighed, watching him walking towards the furniture and pouring himself another whiskey. Not the first of the evening for sure.

“Arthur, maybe you shouldn’t do that.” You said quietly, with care and sincere worry. Losing John had broken him, obviously, so you knew you had to be delicate with him. A lecture was definitely not what he needed at this aching moment, which was why you used suggestions rather than orders.  Nevertheless, your husband remained deaf to your gentle advice and gulped down the alcohol in one mouthful, right before pouring himself another glass. You shook your head and walked to him, for you could not let Arthur drink his pain until he passed out – because that was what he was trying to do. Somehow, he only acknowledged your existence when he felt your hand gently touching his arm, right above the thin texture of his shirt, “I’m going to run you a bath and we’ll go to bed, alright?” You finally said, knowing that no words would ease the tormenting grief he was experiencing. Why? Because you did too. John Shelby was your best friend. No. He was more than that, he was like another part of you. But as you weren’t blood-related, you’d rather leave your own pain on the back burner and take care of your husband, who hadn’t lost a friend but a baby brother. A loss whose ache you knew far too well. Taking this into account, you didn’t want to ask him if he was okay nor if he wanted to talk because you knew that no he wasn’t and no he didn’t want to.

“Yeah.” Arthur drank the second glass of whiskey and put it on the furniture a bit bluntly, his reflexes numbed by alcohol, “Yeah…” He sniffed, tears flooding his vision for the umpteenth time today – he had lost count. He didn’t think he had some left but here he was, crying again, unlike Tommy who could hold it well. “Heaven…” He moaned in pain, his suffering coming from the deepest part of his soul. You opened your lips to reassure him but you stopped: there was something unusual in his voice, “I need ye to save me …” He begged, turning around to face you even if his gaze remained fixed on the floor.

“I’m here.” One of your hands reached his waist with an indescribable tenderness, “Look at me Arthur.” The other slipped under his chin and gently forced him to look at you — which he ultimately did. Yet, the moment your eyes dived into his iris your heart stopped beating for a micro-while. His pupils were so dilated that the blue of his eyes was barely visible, reduced to small rings around two soul-sucking black holes. From then, you were quick to react: you slipped your hand in the pocket of his trouser and, when you did, your fingertips were met with the cold surface of a little vial. “No…” You whispered, pulling the object from his pocket and observing it with genuine disgust and disappointment. In truth, you could recognize it from miles away for those blue and small vials usually contained cocaine, “What the fuck, Arthur!” you exclaimed, stepping back from him and showing him the small bottle you were holding between your index finger and your thumb.

“What?” He straight off hissed, eyes half closed and his body slightly reeling left to right due to his state of inebriation.

“Did you take it?!” The answer was obvious, but you still wanted to hear it from him. You wanted him to admit it and assume the consequences of his relapse.

“Yes I did eh!” He finally exclaimed after one long second of staring at your eyes, searching for any kind of excuses he could find. But the disappointment in your frozen iris kept him from lying – He definitely could not do this to you, even drunk and high. You closed your eyelids a brief moment, for his words felt like a stab in the chest despite you already knew the undeniable truth.

“No Arthur that’s not going to be possible. You made a promise,” You tried to remain calm but red wine, your fight with Tommy, and the mess in your emotions had destroyed your diplomacy, “You’ve promised me! That’s… Thats not going to help you cope with John’s death!” One of your bare feet was nervously tapping the wooden floor.

“AND HOW AM I GOING TO COPE WITH IT EH? FOOKIN’ HOW?” He burst in anger, your words fueling the raging fire that was burning inside of him. Carried away by his emotional turmoil and the drug, Arthur swept the furniture with one violent movement of his arms, knocking the bottle and the glass over. The cacophony of broken glass made you jump a little as they crashed on the floor, exploding in dozens of shards.

You looked at him, shocked to the core, for he had never really yelled at you before. Each time his voice would rise in your presence it was always because of external factors, never because of you. In truth, Arthur had never got mad at you. The more he could do in your presence was being grumpy. However, tonight you were the source of his sudden anger, and such a revelation hurt like hell. For a fraction of a second, your angry expression flickered into an aching one. Still, you swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat and answered him with a cool, almost placid tone.

“Don’t yell at me. Understand?” You warned him, jaw clenched and every muscle of your tiny body tense,  “I don’t want you to take drug except on very, very rare occasions and I must be here– It was part of the deal.” You punctuated you sentence by throwing the vial into the fire, which burnt brighter for a short while. Arthur scoffed, his lips stretching in a sarcastic and irked grin.

“Isn’t it a fookin’ rare occasion? My brother’s dead. That’s a once-in-a-lifetime event that needs to be celebrated properly eh.” His bitter smirk disappeared as he winced with pain, bringing his trembling hands in his hair to pull it. “I need to numb the pain. To numb everything. Oh God, John is dead. Dead. He’s fookin’ dead!”  Each time he repeated the last word, Arthur hit his head with his fists. The dancing flames reflected in his teary eyes, and lit his face with an orange hue. It was getting hard to tell if such an effect came from the fire in the hearth, or if he was burning from inside.

“Stop it Arthur!” You grabbed his wrists with your little hands, trying your best to keep him from hurting himself, “I know alright? I know you’re suffering and I’m deeply sorry for it. I swear I’d love to take your pain away, but I can’t. I can’t,” You forced him to look at you by squeezing his wrists, “Thing is, I don’t want to watch you destroying yourself with cocaine or God knows what other kind of drugs! That’s out of fucking question!” Despite your attempt to remain calm, your emotions got the best of you. The betrayal of him breaking his promise was more painful than a bullet shot through your chest. Maybe more painful than losing John itself. Tears began to stream down your face as you let go of Arthur and observed his enraged and dilated pupils.

“What the hell do ye know, eh.” Arthur stumbled, closing the distance between you a second time and leaning over until his face and yours were only a few inches away. His whiskey breath fanned over your skin. “What the hell do ye knew about pain, little angel? You have no idea what I’m going through. If ye did you’d be the first to snort snow ey.”  

“Listen,” You sniffed, swallowing back a sob. Okay, maybe yelling at him wasn’t the best way to react so, in a desperate attempt of not aggravating the situation, you forced yourself to regain your calm  “I’ve lost my family, I know what it—”

“IT’S NOT ABOUT YOUR FAMILY!” He cut you, yelling so loud your ears buzzed, “THEY’VE BEEN SIX FEET UNDER FOR A FOOKIN’ WHILE! WE’RE TALKING ABOUT JOHN! MY LITTLE BROTHER!” Arthur’s eyes darkened and then, he bared his teeth like a wounded wolf trying his best to scare someone away, “They’ve riddled him with bullets, those mops. Those bastards! We’re in a fookin’ war and here you are scolding me like a kid because I took drugs! That’s fookin’ ridicu—”

The sound of flesh snapping echoed in the living room when your hand slapped him, followed by a heavy silence only the fire’s cracks broke. Arthur backed up at the blow, eyes wide open. Slowly, his shaking fingers brushed his reddened cheek, right where his skin was tingling. At this well-deserved reality check, the tall gangster blinked several times and finally noticed the heart-wrenching pain in your glistening eyes. You, who had tried to hold back your tears and be strong for Arthur, could not keep your sadness for yourself anymore. They flowed from your holy eyes, salty waterfall of sorrows. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Not a single sound. It was not really the fact you had hit him that petrified his whole soul, but rather the realization that he had hurt you, his beloved angel. The woman of his life.

Your face contorted with a caustic combination of pain, sorrow and anger. In truth, you didn’t want to hit him. You really didn’t. But he had been barking at you like a rabid dog, almost spitting at your face as he screamed. And then, he had the stupid idea of talking about your family while knowing what had happened to them. All brutally murdered in a matter of hours. Guided with rage, your blood had boiled, and your hand slapped him even before you truly realized it. “Don’t talk about my family like this anymore.” You hissed through gritted teeth, your cold voice seeping through him and turning his blood into liquid nitrogen.

“Heaven…” Arthur said, feeling himself breaking down at your hateful gaze. He quickly moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, thinking carefully about the next words that were about to come from his mouth but you didn’t let him the time to speak. You had heard enough.

“Shut up. Seriously Arthur, just… Shut up.” Your eyes, who always looked at him with indescribable love and tenderness, were now filled with Hell’s fury and it tore his soul. All of sudden, he felt very small despite towering you with his height.

“You think I’m not suffering from John’s death? You have no idea how much he meant to me. Of course, he wasn’t my brother! Of course, his blood doesn’t run through my veins. But still, he mattered like no one else did, except you.” Each sentence had a bitter taste. Then, you turned away from him and walked to the smashed bottle to take one huge shard between your fragile fingers, “You wanna know how it makes me feel when you’re high? We’ll that’s easy.” Now you were determined to make him understand, no matter what it took. First thing, you showed him the pale flesh of your forearm, “I’m not Linda, right? I didn’t put a leash around your neck because I trusted you. Now, I want you to look at me carefully. When you take drug, it’s as if I was doing this to myself.” Turning your words into deeds, you suddenly slashed your skin with the glass fragment in one quick motion. The sharp surface cut your skin just like butter, and crimson blood quickly filled the gash, overflowing from it and dripping down your arm to your elbow under Arthur’s astounded eyes.

“No, angel!” Suddenly sobering up at the sight of blood on your porcelain skin, he almost pounced on you and took the shard from your hand to threw it away, “The fook ye did eh?! Bloody hell…” Arthur tried to take your arm to examine the depth of your wound but you pushed him away with a stern “Don’t touch me”.

Don’t touch me. Surely, you didn’t mean it right?

You didn’t – Arthur’s heart ached.

“Now just imagine that all you can do is watch me cutting myself until, one day, I bleed to death. How fucking bad it would make you feel? How powerless?!”

“Gosh Heaven, you’re hurt. Oh God!” Arthur started to panic, tears filling his eyes and shoulder jolting with dawning sobs. His whole being ached at the sight of you wounded. It was stronger than him: he couldn’t bear the idea of your being hurt, even less when it was because of him — whether he was the direct cause or not. “I’m sorry love. Fuck, I’m so sorry…” He begged, trying to approach you again but each step he made caused you to step back. Arthur’s hand slowly squeezed his own arm, for he could almost feel the pain of your cut on his own unwounded flesh. Everything began to spin around him as he realized how stupid he had been, “Please, love…”

“Keep your apologies for yourself, Arthur. Let’s make things clear:  I’d rather burn at the stake than watch you slowly killing yourself with this shit.” You retorted, turning your heels and heading to the door not minding the fact you were not wearing shoes and that your arm was abundantly bleeding. It didn’t matter, you needed so fresh air and, more than anything, you needed to be away from Arthur for a little while. Meeting his eyes had become far too painful for you to bear anymore. You had almost reached the door when the gangster’s long and calloused fingers grabbed your hands to hold you back.

“No! Don’t leave me! Please, please I fookin’ beg ye but don’t… Just don’t leave me, Heaven.” He kept repeating over and over again, the gravel in his voice rising from one octave under the weight of despair and utter fear. The way his menacing traits had turned into the facial expression of a panicking child was truly heart wrenching – Arthur could not live without you, and it wasn’t a euphemism. Yet, you snatched your hand from his and, as you did, his very soul crumbled. As painful as it was to see him like this, you just couldn’t let this pass – he had to understand how serious you were about the whole drug issue, and how deep he had maimed your heart. You took one last look at him, shaking your head in disapproval, and stormed out of the house, letting the darkness of Watery Lane swallowing you whole.

At first, he had wanted to pin you against the wall and force you to stay. His desperate mind, seeking for any way to keep you by his side, had even thought about threatening to kill himself with his gun right in front of you if you left, but he had been frozen by the disappointed look on your face. Petrified by your gaze, as a poor unfortunate traveler meeting Medusa’s deadly eyes. Following your departure, Arthur had screamed until his throat hurt and his voice broke. The drowning misery he was experiencing, far worst than suffocating in French tunnels, had led him to destroy everything he could in the living room. Maddened by the thought of losing you, the flip in his brain switched and nothing made sense anymore. You had left him alone here, and he felt his mental health getting worse and worse as minutes passed, until he was completely out of his mind. He had done all he could to alleviate his guilt and sadness: from throwing in the fire all the cocaine he kept to hiting a furniture until his knuckles’ skin cracked open. God, he even threw his lanky frame at the wall several times in a frenzied attempt to knock himself up and get a break from the pain of your absence, but nothing worked. He was now sitting on the rug, rocking himself back and forth in front of the dying fire. If you didn’t want him anymore, all was left for him was to blow his damn brains out with his gun for if you’d rather burn than witness his fall, he'd rather die than existing one sole second without your heavenly presence by his side. He could afford to lose Linda, John, hell even Tommy, but he couldn’t do it without you.

Arthur looked at his wedding ring, jaw clenched and heart in bits.

He had fucked up. And he had fucked up really bad.

As he always did.

✞ Readers are left to interpret/choose what the characters feel for the reader. By no means it wants to make Reader/Heaven a Mary Sue everyone loves. Nevertheless, fanfiction should remain fun for readers so that's why I leave most of the things open to interpretation.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ Tag list: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @brummiereader @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @shelbydelrey @peakyswritings @helen06dreamer

[hisonlyreid-er]

School Girl Crush Pt 2

Part 1| Part 2| Part 3| Part 4| Part 5| A new BAU member appears and Spencer sees her as a little threat to his status of boy genius. Being unable to get comfortable with each other causes some issues within the team. Will they be able to move past it and work together?

Spencer Reid x FemBau!OC Warnings: canonical violence, guns, knife, angst if you squint, 1 singular swear word

Since joining the BAU, we've been working case to case. As we worked, I grew closer to the team, getting more accustom to their individual personalities and dynamics. I had now been living here for two and a half months.

I sat on my couch, phone to my ear as I listened to the voice on the other end. "Are you sure you're doing ok Lyn?" Rolling my eyes, I stood from the couch. "Mum. I'm fine. Everything is going really well." Keeping my phone between my ear and shoulder, I begun to clean up the dishes I left in the kitchen from last night. "I'm just worried." My eye checked the clock, noting my need to get ready for work. "I know you are but you don't need to be. I can protect myself and I trust my team members." I hear her sigh through the phone. "Ok. I have to go and I'm guessing you do too." A little smile formed at her reluctant tone. "Yeah I do. I have to be at work in like an hour." I took hold of the phone again having finished cleaning. "You need to call me sooner next time. And make sure to talk to your brother, he misses you." "Yes mum. I have to go. Bye, love you." I had to start getting ready for work. "Bye hon, love you too." The call cut off and I was glad. Of course I love my mum but sometimes she was so overbearing. For the last hour she had talked my ear off about some random drama about Sharon's affair and a wheelie bin mix-up. Then she told me about how dangerous the US was and proceeded to lecture me about my choices. Not even being on a different continent could stop my mums annoying habits.

5:21. Shit. It was a 15 minute drive to headquarters. I needed to get a move on.

5:58. Perfect. I liked to be punctual. However, because of my need for punctuality, I had run around my apartment like a crazy woman, tripping over my discarded possessions. I mentally swore to myself about the mess I left everything in. In my rush, I hadn't had time to deal with my hair. The ginger frizz was extremely unprofessional and I noticed when I caught sight of myself in a window. I stood in the lift, wrestling the waves into a messy ponytail. It would do. Just to make sure I was prepared, I flicked through my bag to ensure I had everything I needed.

As I walked towards my desk I spotted Morgan. A little detour wouldn't hurt. I pivoted and headed towards the kitchen. "Mornin'." He looked a little shocked at my sudden appearance. "Oh, hey Colesta." He was pouring himself a mug of coffee. "Want some?" I turned my nose up and I shook my head. "Oh right, I forgot. You only like a cuppa tea." The stereotypical British accent was so bad. I shot him a dirty look but reached for the kettle because I in fact did want a cup of tea. Stupid stereotypes. "You're here early." I didn't look up as I spoke, checking I had my keys. Forever paranoid. "Unlike some of you, I'm normal and like sleep but, I have some paperwork left from the last case that I want to finish before the next one." His explanation made sense. "We have a case?" I hadn't gotten the usual call so it must be fairly recent. "Yeah, I ran into Hotch on my way in. Sacramento." I had never been there. It felt strange being excited to visit new places when the reason we are there in the first place is so horrible.

"Better got on that paperwork mate. You're running out of time." A little laugh and he was gone. I took my mug and finished making my tea. A few more people had trickled in. On the way to my desk I passed by Prentiss and greeted her but she was never a morning person. Dr Reid wasn't here yet but he usually arrived at 6:15 considering the train times. Rossi was probably in his office, mulling over something or other. Settling into my seat, I retrieved everything from my bag, folders, files, pens. I had just started to go over my report for the last case a final time, being meticulous. My phone vibrated in my pocket with a message. I prayed to everything holy that it wasn't my mum sending me another article about a shooting in a state a 6 hour drive away. Luckily, the name on the screen wasn't my mum, it was Garcia. Come here right now and tell me everything about your date!!!!! Then there was an obnoxious amount of emojis. Deciding it was best not to defy her wishes, I grab my mug and start to journey to her little cave. On my way out I ran into Dr Reid who was just arriving. "Morning Dr Reid." I didn't stop. The chances were that he wouldn't acknowledge me so I tried not to dwell on it when I recieved no response.

Garcia sat me down and made me spill every detail of last night. "He was nice..." The look she gave me could have killed. "That can't be it. Where did you go? What did you wear? What did he look like? How did he act? You have to tell me everything Colesta." She pointed a threatening finger in my direction. "He took me to that Italian restaurant, the one with the massive pizzas. I wore that red top with a pair of black trousers, you picked my outfit." That reminded her. "Oops, yeah, sorry." Her hands prompted me to continue. "He was blonde. He's what I think a surfer dude looks like. Yeah. He was nice but that was it. His name was Tom and he was just kind of shallow. Maybe my standards are too high but he just wasn't anything I was looking for." I leant back in the chair, sipping my tea. "Why not? What're you looking for?" I thought for a moment. I had only known her for 2 months but Penelope was my closest friend here. "A gentleman, someone who opens a door for me, offers me his jacket. And he knows that I can open my own door but he wants to do it for me, y'know? He needs to be kind, considerate and has to understand that looks aren't everything." I sighed a little as I stared at the wall behind her head. "Understandable. Some men are trash. I can look through some data bases if you want, find you a boyfriend that way." I laughed, properly, for the first time in a while. "While I appreciate to offer, that's not entirely necessary Garcia. I'm not that bothered by dating right now." My phone pinged as I finished talking. Roundtable, 30 minutes. I hoped Garcia would let me leave. I went to stand up but she grabbed me and stopped me from getting up. "You've got 30 minutes. I'm not done with you yet Colesta." Dread settled in my stomach.

As I walked into the room, Penelope was bounding behind me, elated with everything I'd told her. "What's got you so happy baby girl?" I slumped into my chair, opening the folder on the table in front of me. "I've just got all the details about Colestas date last night." That drew some surprised looks. Agent Hotchner wasn't in the room yet so there was no one to save me from this. "You forgot to mention that, mate." I glare at Morgan as he mocks me. If this was one of my friends back home I would've flipped them off but I wasn't back home and this was a colleague. I just turned my attention to the case file. A nudge hit me in the side. I looked at Prentiss. "A date, huh? How was it?" Yeah, I wasn't getting out of this. "He wasn't great, kinda shallow." I prayed that was it. It wasn't. A barrage of questions ensued. I should never have told Garcia about my date. As I look around the table I see Dr Reid looking frustrated by the conversation and the lack of concentration on the case at hand. Like an angel descending from heaven, Agent Hotchner walked into the room. I was utterly mortified as he rose an eyebrow, hearing the discussion at hand. He caught my eye and I practically pleaded with him. "We have a case. You can talk about Agent Colestas love life in your own time." Now that wasn't quite what I was hoping for but it worked well enough.

This case was one of the tougher ones, having us stay in Sacramento for 4 days already. We were all exhausted, struggling to accurately profile this guy. The clock was ticking as a new body could show up at any time.

It was 1 in the morning and I hadn't left the precinct yet, my brain firing at 100 mph as I try to piece together anything I could. My back ached from the plastic chairs and my horrendous posture. Dr Reid was stood by the whiteboard in the room. We never really spoke much, more like tolerated each others presence. I tried to get to know him when I first joined the team but I was met with a brick wall. It was a little saddening at first but I got over it, Garcia told me he didn't warm up to people easily and we'd get there eventually. I wanted to believe her but sometimes it just felt pointless.

"What if we profiled this wrong? Maybe he's not a sadist. He shows no empathy for his victims, humiliating them right up until he kills them. And every after they're dead, he humiliates them by staging them publicly. It's more likely that we are dealing with a narcissist." I was mainly thinking out loud but my ramblings brought Dr Reids attention to me. I couldn't stop the hint of pride I felt as he seemed to consider my idea. "That would explain the methods of disposal. But I think we need to focus on victimology." This was the longest time we'd spoken in the last 2 months I'd been a member of the team.

I stood from my chair, walking over to the board with the photos of the victims. There was nothing obviously similar about them. Each woman had a different hair colour, was a different race, had different eye colours and had no noticeable overlaps in any other aspect of their lives. Pattern recognition was one of my strong points so this was so frustrating. I just stared at the pictures, hoping that I would have an epiphany. Dr Reid had moved to examine some of the folders again, even though he knew them off by heart. Stupid eidetic memory. It was always a little surprising how high IQs can effect people differently. Dr Reid had an IQ of 187 and he could read 20,000 words per minute and could remember everything due to his eidetic memory. I, on the other hand, had an IQ of 174 and while I couldn't do anything near what Dr Reid could, I excelled in the more emotional, mental side of things. During my time with the NCA, I was the lead interrogator in the unit because of my ability to get into their head and use it to get the answers we seeked. Some people in the past had just called me straight up manipulative but it was part of the job and I was pretty good at it. It cause some issues when it came to dating, I was constantly worried about profiling my date and scaring them off.

Dating. My eyes grew wide as a spark flickered in my mind. "Were all the victims single?" I asked the human computer. He thought for a moment before shaking his head. "Victim 3 was married." I looked at the pictures from Victim 3's autopsy. No ring. That's pretty common among married victims, the unsub removes it, keeps it as a trophy but that wasn't the case here. "There's no line." Dr Reid looked up, confused. "What?" Everything was being pieced together in my head. "It's sunny here, right. She had tan lines from the straps of her clothing but not one on her hand. She hasn't been wearing her wedding ring." I hadn't even finished my sentence before I grabbed my phone, calling Garcia. "My amazing brain is at your service." Her sunny attitude lifted my mood a little. "Hey Garcia. Can you check Maria Gardener? Check bills, withdrawals, spending. Anything that might show issues in her marriage." I hear the clacking of keys as I spoke. "Any examples to guide me?" I tapped my fingers against my thigh, a habit I needed to break. "Lots of hotel stays, excessive spending. Maybe she even hired a lawyer recently." Dr Reid was flicking through the files as I spoke, clearly understanding my train of thought. "Bingo! Mrs. Gardener has had 5 lengthy hotel stays in the past 3 months. And a nice cherry on top, there's a receipt from a local pawn shop for an engagement ring. Safe to say that marriage was pretty much gone." That was it. "Garcia, I am so in love with you it's not even funny." I hung up the phone and started my hunt. There had to be the connection. I looked at the victims clothes. They were all from different social classes but each one of them seemed to be dressed nicely. "They were going on a date with the unsub." The final piece fell into place. "But we found nothing online to show the victims going out to meet someone, no mentions as a date." Silly Dr Reid. "The unsub is playing on what most women want. A meet-cute. He's bumping into them in a coffee shop or another place they frequent. They exchange numbers, he uses a burner phone and a fake name, but he tells them he'll pick them up at 7. No online exchanges as he plays it old school."

The rest of the team were out trying to find a coffee shop open at the time. None of us were planning to sleep tonight. My first call was the Agent Hotchner. He picked up on the 2nd ring. "Hotchner." He was about to have his socks blown off. "It's Colesta. We've figured out how he's finding his victims." I couldn't help the little smile I had. "Let me patch Morgan in." I pulled the phone form my ear and dialed Morgan. "Morgan." Why does everyone answer the phone like that? "We know how the unsub is finding his victims." I was itching to explain. "Ok, you're on speaker. I've got Prentiss and JJ here." Any bit of exhaustion had been wiped from my body. I explained everything I'd pieced together. The rest of the team added other ideas, everyone agreeing that it made sense. The call ended and I dropped into the chair next to me. "How did you figure that out?" Dr Reid questioned, as he continued to flick through the various sheets of paper adorning the table. "I was just thinking about that date I had, got the cogs turning." I was a little shameful as his gaze turned to me. "That's a bit unprofessional." My cheeks burnt red. His whispered comment. There goes any progress I hoped we had made.

We had found him. Michel Ines. 32 years old. The vest was tight against my chest, creating a sense of security. My gun was raised as we circled the building. There was a missing woman that we suspected to be inside. Our main goal was getting her out safely. I was paired up with Morgan. His fist banged on the door. "Michel Ines. This is the FBI, come out with your hands up." Morgans voice boomed but there was no response. We didn't expect him to give up easily. We exchanged a look before he kicked the door in. I moved into the dark house first. The rest of the team was spread out around the building. Morgan and I moved together, clearing the house as we went. A muffled thud could be heard beneath us. We knew what to do. Locating the stairs was easy. I took in a deep breath as we began our descent into the basement. I went first, taking each step slowly. Why did is always end up in a basement?

The damp, dark of the basement was suffocating as I took the finally few steps. Morgan was still near the top of the stairs. She was alive. I could hear muffled cries echoing through the empty space. "Michel Ines. FBI, come out with your hands up." It was worth a shot but nothing. The cries erupt again at the sound of my voice. I take a step into the darkness, towards the noise. My mouth opens to call out to the woman. The words died in my mouth as someone tackles me, my gun flying out of my hand. A grunt erupts from me as my side hits the hard concrete. Morgans footsteps as close. The cool metal of a knife hits my face. With all my strength, I push back, trying to keep as much distance between me and the blade meant for my head. A quick pain blooms on my cheek but I don't let it distract me. The surprise of the attack and the size of this man meant I couldn't do much but fend him off. Luckily, Morgan appeared just in time, dragging the unsub off me and works on getting his weapon off him. The desperate cries are back and I'm on my feet instantly. I knew Morgan could deal with him, my focus was on Lucy Williams, the missing woman being kept in the basement.

As I round the corner, I see her. She's tied to a chair in the middle of the room. A blindfold covers her eyes and a gag is in place to keep her quiet. Kneeling down in front of her, I took hold of the blindfold. She thrashed in the chair, clearly terrified. The second the fabric is off, I hold my hands up. "Lucy. I'm with the FBI and we're here to get you out." She frantically nodded at me, telling me she understood. I pulled the gag from her mouth, watching as she took deep breaths through her sobs. I block out her thank you's as I moved to untie her. Bruises scattered her skin. With my pocket knife, I sawed through the rope. It dropped away from her. I had to stop her from jumping up from the seat. All signs of struggling had stopped. "Colesta. I'm taking him up. You got her?" I started my check over of Lucy, making sure she could walk. "Yeah, I got her. Is my gun out there?" I realised I had lost sight of it when the unsub tackled me. "Its out here." He sounded further away as he left the basement. I'd grab it on the way out. The woman seemed a little bruised but mostly ok. I let her stand up from the chair. She seemed a little shaky on her feet so I slid my arm behind her back, keeping her tucked into my side as I guided us towards the stairs. The light from upstairs came into view. I spotted my gun on the floor and stopped to pick it up, returning it to my holster.

With a steady pace, I led Lucy out of the basement. I got her out of that house. As we emerged on the porch, the paramedics had just pulled up. She's taken from me and led towards the ambulance. "Thank you." I heard her whisper as she accepts the help. I see Morgan closing the door on the unsub, preparing him to be locked up for a long time. Relief engulfs me as I realise the case is finally over, we've locked away another murderer. Agent Hotchner approached me, his ever stoic look on his face. "Agent Colesta." I start to loosen the straps on my vest. "Agent Hotchner." I give a small smile to my boss. Morgan appeared next to me. I didn't even notice him walking over. "You took quite the hit there Colesta. You good?" Agent Hotchner looked over at me. "Go see EMS." The order rattled me a little. I was absolutely fine. Annoyance bubbled as he didn't waver, his stare commanding. "I'm fine." I pulled at my vest, a twinge of pain appearing in my side. My face must have shown it. "Go see EMS. That's an order Colesta." I huff but follow commands, walking over to the nearest ambulance.

I was vaguely aware of a stinging on my left cheek. Oh yeah. The knife. Clearly I didn't have an eidetic memory. The paramedic got me to sit on the edge of the open door as he cleaned my face. He was just about to give me the all clear when Morgan walked past. "Gotta check her side man, don't let her fool you." I shot him a dirty look as the paramedic turned back to me. With his help, I got my vest off and I realised that I might be a little hurt. Stretching up caused pain to flare up my side. I lift the hem of my blouse, revealing my side. A bruise was already forming and took up most of the skin. The next few minutes were quite painful as he checked for any breaks. Thankfully, nothing was broken but I would be bruised for a while.

We gathered all our belongings, preparing to go home. I received a clap on the bac from Prentiss, kind words from JJ and a very, very brief side hug from Rossi. I was actually proud of myself. I was. Until I happened to glance over to Dr Reid. There was an almost disgusted look on his face as he looked at me. My heart sank. "That's a bit unprofessional." That rung in my mind on the jet, on the drive home, sat in my empty apartment, working at my desk. His words didn't leave my head for weeks, leaving me in a constant state of uncertainty. Goddamn Dr Reid.

[howyouloveyourdragon]

Only Fair

Prologue Part I

so only the prologue relating to my ao3 version of Only Fair will be posted on tumblr (both parts) as far as I can decide right now but i hope if you do decide to keep reading on ao3 that you enjoy! of course the original rhaenyra x reader only fair will also be receiving updates but the two will diverge heavily in plot and only fair ao3 will likely be updated more frequently thank you for reading ♡

pairing: rhaenyra targaryen x fem!half-sister!oc alternate universe: A/B/O, canon divergent pronouns: she/her Summary: Rhaenyra Targaryen has never been fond of the siblings forced upon her but she was willing to accept them until they were made of her former best friend. At two and twenty, having birthed her first child, she made a choice. She was going to treat them with the respect of a peer and young royalty but nothing else. They may be her father's spawn but they are not her siblings. But after years pass and her husband has fallen, she finds that not all of them are as besmirching as she had imagined. Perhaps one in particular is even quite favourable. Viserra. A sweet girl, she remembers that. Viserra... Viserra has always been kind, gentle and fierce. She had always admired her siblings and their dragons more than her books, and imagined how one day she might soar as high as Aegon does upon Sunfyre. Her brother shares everything but very rarely does he allow her flight. Though perhaps she has made an error, she does not need dreams and unfulfilling dreams, she needs to seize her own fate and she must quickly... warnings: none in this chapter that i know of other than perhaps a short discussion on child neglect dividers: saradika

Rhaenyra can still remember the day that her once-friend’s screams echoed around the Keep for not one but two twin girls in early morn. She can still remember mounting Syrax at the sounds of her cries and squeezing her eyes shut in hopes to ignore it–the same way she ignored the announcement of Alicent’s second and first pregnancy. She did not return for six weeks in favour of Dragonstone and when she returned? She avoided every leering stare and finally agreed to begin touring for a suitor. One she knew she would not take…Until she did. Viserra in contrast–which the court did often–was a sweet slip of a thing in her youth and her eldest sister did not intend to entertain her befuddled ramblings. Of course she had been, an arm always looped in her elder brother’s and her mother combing through the rough coarse curls of child's play. A coddled child and smothered in warm embraces throughout her youth. Glowing from praise as The Golden Princess. Except for perhaps the King’s. His stare was as blank as the toys she adored just as much as her father’s attention. It was the rare gem she craved, exploring the depth of a cave and more just to catch that glistening sparkle. She didn’t mind the cool disposition or forgotten namesdays, she had something better. She had her siblings and nephews at her side and the promise of a kind suitor (she particularly favoured the Tully boy who had brought her a fish the size of her arm the year prior.) And she had held onto that promise until she was ten and three namesdays passed. And instead of returning Viserra’s quizzical stares, Rhaenyra avoided her as she avoided all her siblings once two more boys were born…  

“No.” “Oh please!” Young Jacaerys whines, pounding his fist on the desk. Viserra jumps and flashes her sights to him, brows raised and warning. She is sitting within a violet armchair in the auburn library, a thick book between her hands. Instantly, the boy simmers and tucks his palms into each other and his head tilts down. “Sorry.” He mutters this time and her lips tilt at the success. Then she sighs. “High Valyrian is not something that you can place half your will into, it is a language carefully threaded and sewn like the seams of a dress. It must be perfected.” Jacaerys wrinkles his nose yet she takes no notice. “But I want to join in!” He argues, hands curling into the skirt of his aunt’s rust dress and kneeling down in front of her. It was more reminiscent of a rotting orange than that of a dress but now was not the time to insult her. She tuts. He pouts his lips and tilts his head to the side this time. “You and Aegon are always leaving me out! Oh please, oh please!” He begs like a puppy grovelling for fresh scraps. Her eyes scan over him, regret already stirring her insides. His eyes are wide and pleading. “Please?” He asks, more gentle this time. At that she hesitates. Jacaerys was a somewhat sweet boy when he wanted to be and he always brought her a new book when it entered the realms of the library, always begged for her to read it to him. Perhaps it was a puppy crush or perhaps it was simply a want for approval. That she had also noticed and if she could stop him following her brother around like a lost lamb she would. But alas he was rather convincing. So her lips pressed firmly together and she scans over his much shorter figure and then sighs. “Fine.” She relents, wincing at his grin of victory. You’d have thought he had just succeeded a boar with his bare hands. He grins impishly at her, the light of his excitement almost blinding. She was already dreading her decision. “What have the maesters taught you already?” He blinks at her and another sigh parts her lips. “Oh the Seven help me on my quest.” She murmurs quietly, snickering when his fist prods her. “Meet me on every second day and I shall try.” He nods quickly and wraps suffocating arms around her. “Kar-Karo” Jacaerys struggles, cheeks tinging pink.”Karamvose?” He tilts his head up at her and she tries to fend off her own amusement. “Kirimvose.” She corrects. “Kirimvose.” He repeats with a grin. And then she leaves. 

Her lilac eyes slowly raise in guilt, fingers shifting and tearing at the beds of her nails. A nervous girl, since she had been brought into the life of court, and a trait she was often chastised for by her Septas and grandsire. Septa Morring’s coal sights narrow and her lips thin. She carefully stiffens her posture and clenches her jaw as she awaits an answer. Panic swells in the quick pace of her breath. Viserra draws her lower lip between her teeth and bites down before she can stutter a half-hearted response. She swallows but the act is difficult under the control of her rampant thoughts. Finally she releases her lip and takes in a breath but before she can humiliate herself as much as she’s dreading, her face snaps to the side, a small voice is already speaking. “One violet, one green were both to be seen. The first female alpha since Visenya herself.” The Septa sighs but waves her hand begrudgingly and allows Viserra to seat herself again. She does so quickly. “Very good Helaena but it ‘twas not your answer to recall. You may all gather your things but do not take such haste again, young princess.” The Septa casts an impenetrable stare at young Helaena. Finally Viserra breathes and nudges her sister, muttering a “thank you” before swiftly grasping her hand and tugging her alongside their embroidery to the thick door opening. 

They both ignore as the Septa prays after the session, giggling into one another’s ear. The long winding hallways are calmer as always at this time but as Viserra catches sight of her mother and Ser Criston Cole, she beams. Viserra may not have been her mother’s favourite but she favoured her mother over anyone else in the room. It is in an instant that she drags Helaena toward them, Helaena’s smaller legs struggling more than Viserra’s but unheard over the excitement. Helaena sighs with her lips tilting. Viserra releases her sister–alongside her embroidery which skitters across the long hall–and launches forward at the knight who stumbles back. Her mother’s disapproving sigh is present as ever but they both know that she is smiling. It is specifically why Viserra did not launch herself at her mother instead. Ser Cole stiffens as always, even after all this time, and gently pats her hair down. He worries for many reasons but at the head of all of them, he worries about the pain his armour must bring her. “Your Septa again?” He asks carefully with narrowed eyes. She blinks her own soft ones up at him and it is enough to make him grimace. He nods. “I will take care of it, princess.” He has to pry her hands off him but Alicent quickly snatches them up to hold and lace her fingers with Viserra’s own. Replacing the rejection with comfort as she had done so often before. Viserra watches as his figure leaves, he is as swift as the dust of parchment and as protective as the steel he bears. “You mustn’t run off such as this.” Alicent chastises, leaning down to land warm palms on her child’s shoulders. “It is not the behaviour of a princess. Despite the tone, her voice is soft. It is what Viserra favours most about her mother. Soil eyes pierce lilac and Viserra slowly whines. Then she pouts. “My fingers hurt, needlepoint is horrible! It hurts and-and only Helaena ever likes the sigils I make! The Septas are mean and Aeggy doesn’t even hang them up in his chambers anymore, he puts them in a drawer.” Alicent sighs, perhaps the coddling has gifted upon them some petulance. “We are not owed our appreciation, young darling. You must recall that.” 

“But uncle Daemon said–!” “I do not care what your beloved heathen said, I am your mother!” The Queen snaps, gone is the doting parent. Viserra blinks in shock before leaning back and softening her previously wrinkled nose. Alicent sighs, pinching the bridge of her own. She opens her eyes and smiles tightly. That familiar shame wraps her in a scratchy blanket. Alicent thins her lips. “Now, have you seen your brothers? They should have been back from their studies by now for luncheon.” Viserra shakes her head. She pauses for a moment then her brows pinch. “Have you seen your nephews?” The words are tentative this time, almost frightened for the answer. Her fingers dig into Viserra’s gown. Again Viserra shakes her head. It’s quick that a needle sharp lump thickens in the Queen’s throat. “Right…” She murmurs, her thoughts skip over her brain, desperate to be the one she voices. THe Queen looks to Helaena firmly. “Go and take your sister into your chambers, teach her your embroidery.” While the elder grimaces, Helaena smiles. She receives a dark look and huffs, folding her arms. She nods, suddenly remembering why she stopped asking where her fish went. Her palm is grasped with trepidation but still Helaena’s gentle fingers tug at her. “The small and the elder refuse to fly.” The younger princess murmurs with that same dreamy expression that her sister loves so dearly. 

“Sweet Laena,” Rhaenyra smiles warm as a winter fire at her supposed sister-in-law. The relationship between them had always been odd but never in a bad way. Things tend to tense within the blur of two alpha claims…and having to hide that claim. Laena’s dark eyes flitter up at her from beneath coal lashes. She smirks. “Good sister,” Laena returns in a quick beam. “I am glad to see you, I apologise for it being so long since the last of our…meetings. I have missed you.” Rhaenyra’s violet eyes drift to cast over the familiar broach encircling snowy coils. A twitch signals her lips. Her fingers caress it. “So it has but we are both with child, it is to be expected. I might say that Pentos is rather beautiful at such an hour,” The lilt of her voice lands to blanket atop them. Discretion is not her priority, Laena's softening figure and closing eyes are. A chuckle drips between the heir’s brash lips. “Is Vhagar doing well here?” She asks, hand moving to cup the other woman’s swollen stomach. Laena smiles and flutters her eyes open, mischief lacing them. “As much as a dragon can. She has grown restless at her lack of flight, I must confess.” “Ah,” Rhaenyra nods. “Syrax is the same while I am with child. You would think I had passed onto the next world rather than being under that condition. I am rather relieved that she was gentle when she met Luke. I was almost fearful she would blame him for my predicament.” A chuckle passes between them. “They are fierce creatures, not of our hand nor of our whims.” “Hm,” Rhaenyra wrinkles her nose. “I believe so, as does my father.” Laena bristles slightly but not for long. She looks down at her feet. “Daemon has missed you.” She comments, nerves weaselling through her teeth. A bitter taste swells on both their tongues. “Hm,” Rhaenyra nods, irritation spurring. “Well, he can only blame himself.” Laena sighs involuntarily. “You know his words do not connect with his mind,” She argues in vain. Rhaenyra grimaces. “And you know that he is a childish man grown and capable of handling his own consequences.” Rhaenyra thins her lips. “Nevermind this talk, how are little Baela and Rhaena?” “They want a brother,” The younger one smiled tightly. “Though they wish they do not have to see me in this state.” “It shall pass,” Rhaenyra assures, squeezing her hand. “I promise this to you. It will pass and you shall bring your babes onto Driftmark soil, delight in the pleasures of Dragonstone and wherever else you might wish.” 

“Daemon is not quite acquitted by such thoughts.” “Then he needn’t come.” Rhaenyra snips, a bitterness lying upon her tongue. “He is my husband.” Laena announces in frustration. Rhaenyra pauses and lets a silence pass before she nods. “Yes…I apologise for my misgivings.” Her tone is sharp but her eyes are kind. Gentle. Conflict was not new in their relationship. Fierce dragons rarely settle for compromising thoughts. Laena’s eyes track her lover’s form. She could not pretend that the childlike behaviour Rhaenyra complained over resided in her own blood. It could be rather amusing. Rhaenyra grimaces and roams her own bump, rubbing it gently. Rhaenyra takes a step forward and cups her omega’s face, rolling her thumb over her cheek. “We will see one another again.” Laena confirms with a sigh. “After the babe has come.” A frown settles across Rhaenyra’s brow. She scoffs. “You do not expect me to leave you in this state, surely–” Laena holds up a palm. “We do not need further rumours.” Rhaenyra’s jaw drops. “We are Valyrians, Targaryens, we have conquered both the sky and land. What are rumours worth if they cannot harm us.” Laena’s eyes narrow on her sternly. “We both know that they will tarnish your claim. They already suspect that your boys are not Laenor’s, we do not need them to suspect they one in your womb is of Daemon’s seed.” “Daemon is not even here–” “But he will be. Leave.” Rhaenyra sighs at the command. “I do not wish to cause you stress.” She utters dejectedly. At the first calm words leaving her lips, Laena reaches to grasp both her princess’ hands and squeeze them. “Then leave us. Return home, return to the Red Keep and I will await your letters.” Her lilting voice summons both restraint and power. Rhaenyra had always been the more impulsive of them both. Fire mingles her veins stronger than Laena’s of sea salt. Rhaenyra’s violet eyes flash down at newly joined hands and she nods slowly. Again her eyes flicker up at Laena’s. She doesn’t have to apologise because the words ring in both of their ears. Both of their hearts swell in anxiety and warmth. Both of their stomachs twist at the thought of her leaving. 

But it must be done.

It isn’t with especially good solace the next night that Viserra’s fingers thread through Aemond’s hair, securing a braid at the back as he quietly seethes. “I will have a dragon.” He grunts to which her hands still. “I know.” She coos gently, it is no secret that her brother is not fond of their nephews nor their teasing. Or Aegon’s for that matter. “Have…” She hesitates, tucking her lower lip between pearl teeth. Aemond’s eyes flit up at her, his head resting in her lap as she arranges the braids to entwine with each other. “Have what?” He prompts. “Have you considered claiming one?” Silence swarms and suddenly she feels the need to rectify herself. “Not yet of course but…well father claimed Balerion after he presented.” Nerves tighten her muscles and anxiety creeps up her throat in the form of acid. At the mention of their father, the tension grows thick and regret seeps into her gut. “Perhaps...” He murmurs in thought, eyes slowly tracking to the ceiling. “Might you as well? Claim a dragon?” “He was ten and six, that is a mere three years from I, and Aegon claimed Sunfyre just one summer ago.” Viserra continues, fingers stalling in his hair. Aemond grimaces. “That is too long! You do not understand that they tease me more than they do you.” He pouts, his brows furrowing as he does so. “Then they shall regret it once we have grown.” She dismisses with the ease of denying a second cup. “And all shall envy you instead.” His lip twitches upward but he stalls. “Why did his hatch?” He then asks quietly. Viserra’s brows slowly knit together. “Who?” “Daeron’s.” Silence hangs with the weight of a curtain. “Do our ancestors think us so unworthy that they would gift him such genes but not us too? What makes him different?” Hesitation covered her like a cup to a spider. She squirms slightly which must have clued Aemond further for he did not vent further. He merely lets out a huff. 

She taps his cheek and shimmies so that he has to lift his back. He frowns as his eyes flicker to hers, twisting himself to face her. She lands each hand on his cheeks and looked into his eyes. “You are fierce.” She begins, attracting a furrowed brow. “You are valiant. I can feel it in our blood. You have the essence of every great Targaryen and someday you shall be celebrated as such.” Heat swells in her brother’s cheeks, resembling the raucous flames of Caraxes himself and he grins up at her. “I shall present and prove myself to you and to–” He vows which she is quick to protest, jutting a pointed finger to his chest. “No. You shall prove nothing to anyone, it will only lead to your downfall.” She knows he is not listening when he bites his lip, the give-away to when he is lying despite not utterances. An owl sounds from behind them out the window and they both glance into the blackened sky while it twinkles like a blanket strewn with a thousand diamond pieces. A bird soars through the darkness. “That shall be us one day.” Aemond states boldly. “And we shall be greater than any other dragonlord, to that I swear you.” A smile warms across Viserra’s face. “I can already see it.” She murmurs softly, arm looping with his. “You shall be the greatest alpha anyone has ever seen. There shall never be a tourney that you cannot conquer as your own. No battle that you cannot bring to your own mercy.” 

[kodaboda-ch33se]

I got a little bored but…

Master Shake x Carrie Anarchy headcanons by me

NOTE!! : Carrie is my oc, so this is an oc x canon, and warning for cringe

Carrie’s Side:

Master Shake was her enemy at first, but once he somewhat charms her she starts to develop feelings for him

She doesn’t really like bringing up her relationship with Master Shake back at her home town

She usually hides her feelings whenever they’re in public

Gets cuddly with Shake when she wants to be

She keeps his things that he got/gave her, such as gifts, his clothes, and she plants flowers he gave her in her garden.

Once her brothers and father finds out about her relationship, they were surprisingly supportive of her. They just don’t trust Shake 😭

Master Shake’s side:

Love, or h0rniness, at first sight

Knows he’s supposed to hate her but just can’t

Tried, and successfully, made Carrie have feelings for him.

Agrees to keep their relationship private from her hometown (before her family found out), but on the surface (the upper ground), that’s where all the relationship things come to play

He likes her not just for her body, but for her feisty attitude, weird species, and similar taste in music

Loves to annoy Carrie for fun, but once she gets a little heated he immediately stops and acts all pathetic.

Date Night:

Carrie wanted to go burn Carl’s house down but Shake took her to a restaurant.

“You’re such a sweetheart~.” “Oh uh, thanks.. uh, road kill.”

Carrie does NOT like the places due to it being infested with humans.

Shake is “using” Frylock’s credit card because the man’s literally broke asf 💀. Carrie brought her own money but either it’s not exactly the human currency or Shake said not to worry about it.

Well, Shake was maybe trying to steal a kiss from Carrie to make this date night even more splendid.

I can imagine Meatwad being somewhat a third wheel with Carrie being confused while Shake looking like he wants to straggle him. (But that’s for when he’s there)

[stardusksx]

BORN OF THE SAME SIN, Jacaery’s Velaryon x original!fem!character . ( chapter one )

summary: Ivorlyn Targaryen is the bastard daughter of Daemon Targaryen, and despite the dysfunctional nature of living with the man, his new wife and their many children— she finds her life on dragon stone somewhat peaceful. That is, until, they’re called back to Kings Landing and her relationship with a certain future king is put under a new light.

This story is in tandem with a future aemond fic, so there is another OC ( Valaena ) who will feature through out! <3 not my gif !!

Just a preface of the ages seen so HOTD is a little vague— Jace, Valaena and Ivy are 18, Aemond is 19, Helaena is 21 & Aegon is 22.

warnings: canon typical violence & themes, angst, targ!cest, sexual assault, abuse, illusions to childhood abuse/trauma, eventual smut.

word count: 4.0k

Valaena's skirt was hitched up to her knees— more for the added agility it would grant her than to keep it dry as the scarlet fabric had become sodden long ago. Water lapped against her skin, and she treaded through it seamlessly, almost as if it caused her no resistance at all. "Luke!" She chided, her voice lilted with laughter as the boy sloshed towards her, hands full of seaweed. Ivorlyn watched with an amused sort of melancholy— her step siblings had always been so free in character, so careless in joy, and some ugly part of her envied it. Her admiration for them was plentiful, but she wished for their candour in her state of guarded introversion. Rhaenyra's gleeful laugh spilled out like honey, one hand resting on her swollen stomach as she watched her children.

Jace raised Joff onto his shoulder, water soaking the breast of his tunic from the younger boys legs. He was one or two years too old to be carried now, but Jacaerys didn't seem to care. "I fear they will never grow up." Her stepmother mused, tone indicating she had no such fears.

Ivorlyn smiled gently, "Perhaps not."

Aegon tugged at her skirt, his silky hair golden with the setting sun. He was her fathers heir— a boy of legitimate birth and clear, undeniable, Targaryen features. She had those feature too, granted, but her blood was not pure like his. His little hands made a grabbing motion at her, so she hoisted him onto her hip and allowed his head to nuzzle into her neck. "Where is father?" Ivorlyn found the question slipping out— truthfully, the man had always made her rather anxious, and she tried to steer clear of the topic of him.

Rhaenyra gave her a tired smile, "Research."

Oh. She could barley mask her grimace. Ivorlyn was dragonless— she was not born with an egg to warm her cradle, nor had she attempted to claim one in the years since, a fact which her father detested. She wasn't the only child of his to not have a dragon, Rhaena, too, was yet to claim, but for some reason that didn't bother him as much. She didn't let the thought of it being because she was his only bastard child to burden her for too long. No. She always dismissed the thought, but it lingered, he's trying to give you value. Make you worthy. No.

Her fingers ran soothingly through Aegon's hair. "Have you told them of the news?" She nodded towards the sea, her half siblings looked younger playing amongst the waves, like children— a sight she knew would become scares in the coming months. Jace, Laena and herself where nearing eighteen, Luke only a few ages behind, and the past few years had been peaceful enough to facilitate a happy childhood.

"I am to tell them tonight," Rhaenyra responded, a troubled look on her face, "I do worry, though, of Luke. He has felt the weight of... the rumours... more so than his brothers."

Ivorlyn gave a sympathetic hum. It was true that Luke was insecure of the whispers that echoed the realm, she'd seen first hand how it manifested into self doubt— his older brother was more defensive over such matters, quicker to anger rather than yield meekly to thoughts that made him feel unworthy. She felt for Luke in that regard, but the whispers of her illegitimacy where more like screams. Joff was still slightly young to fully comprehend, or care, about the topic.

"It will unnerve him, I think, but he is more resilient than we credit him for. It's his title, and deep down— he knows he has every right to it."

Her stepmother sighed, "You are right, it just bothers me. I do not like to see him distressed."

She smiled reassuringly at her, "You love them, such a dislike is only natural."

She smiled back, rubbing a hand once again over her stomach. The women watched her children for a moment longer before she spoke again, "Ivy?"

"Yes?"

"Your addition to this... to our family... we are grateful for it. All of us."

She felt the weight of Aegon in her arms, the sound of laughter that echoed back to them from the sea, the look of warmth in Rhaenyra's eyes and nodded. While her father was a difficult man to understand— to feel connected to, she was glad for the family he came with. The people who had accepted her and given her a home.

"I do," She said appreciatively, "I share the same affection for all of you."

Viserys, from where he'd been seated by his mothers feet, toddled up to her and began to tug at her skirt. She laughed slightly, struggling to crouch down and hoist him onto her hip with only one available arm. Sand stained the fabric, and she slipped onto her knees for a moment with a startled noise. The grin on her face, however, never faded as Aegon let out an excited squeal. Viserys arms wound around her neck, and with each child resting on a hip, she attempted to stand once again. It failed however, and she fell onto her backside still gripping onto them. They giggled relentlessly as she huffed.

Hands plucked Aegon from her grasp, and she looked up to see Jace smirking down at her, the sliver hair boy now resting on his oldest brother’s hip. He held out a hand to her, and she allowed him to pull her and Viserys upright.

"They have grown too big for you." He was smiling, poking Visery's cheek as he squirmed away from him in her arms.

"It's picking them up," She denied, "I think I can carry them both for a little longer."

He cocked a brow at her, then a mischievous look overtook his face before he handed the small boy back to her. Okay, Ivy struggled to hoist him comfortably onto her hip, maybe they are getting heavy. She wasn't prepared to admit that, however. It didn't matter though, Jace was grinning like he'd read her mind.

"Soon they will be just as tall as Joff."

"Don't speak such words," She feigned heartbreak, a pout befalling her lips as her head came to rest on Aegon's, "They must stay small forever so that I may always be able to set them on my lap and listen to their made-up stories."

"They will always have stories to tell you," He smiled warmly and caressed their youngest brothers cheek, jesting, "Perhaps one day, they'll even be true."

Ivorlyn snorted, "I don't know, the one about the water snake that breathed fire over their boat before falling a victim to Egg's sword sounded rather real to me."

Jace swept Visery's onto his own hip— much to her chagrin, she was clearly not going to be able to carry them both back. "Oh no, that one was most definitely true," He laughed, then sent her a wink as he turned to walk back towards the castle— glancing over his shoulder as she followed with their younger sibling, "I was there."

Ivorlyn let out a snort— which seemed to heighten his amusement— "Oh how it sets my blood alight with envy that you boys get to have such exciting adventures."

He was walking backwards now, boots kicking up sand, still grinning, "Perhaps if you're nice enough he'll let you be apart of the next adventure."

Ivorlyn mocked offence, "I'm already nice enough."

He gave her a I-don't-know-what-to-tell-you shrug, "Egg's rules, not mine."

She looked down at the boy on her hip, poking him in the cheek until he squirmed with giggles, "I'm nice enough to be in your stories, right Aegon?"

"You're a girl," he said between gasps of laughter, "You can't fight sea monsters."

"Now, Aegon," Jace protested, only a light tone of scolding in his voice— their brother was young after all, such idealisations were merely a product of what he'd been taught, "Girls can fight sea monsters— some of the best fighters in history were girls."

Ivorlyn was already confident Jacaerys was going to make a good king— he was determined to learn his duties and had a moral heart, but it was when he said things like this that she believed he would be a great one. Someone who wasn't too arrogant to deny help from anyone who could give it— be it boy or girl, rich or poor, what mattered to Jace would be what is best for the realm, not best for reputation. Aegon looked curious, tilting his head, "Really?"

Ivorlyn hummed in response, "Visenya Targaryen, your ancestor, is one of the most well known warriors to have ever lived. She was the sister-wife of your namesake."

"Oh." He said, like he'd never considered such a thing. Perhaps he hadn't— she, Valaena and Rhaena were not trained like the boys where to fight, so Aegon was not accustomed to the concept of such a thing. Ivorlyn supposed if Baela was here— who cared not for the scorn of people's opinions when it came to training with her swords, then perhaps Aegon wouldn't be so surprised. Ivy could recall a phases of interest Valaena had in learning the skill when they'd been back at the redkeep— Sir Harwin had always been kind to her, and she was determined to be involved with his training of her brothers. After his death, her interest had diminished. Ivorlyn wasn't sure wether it was the swords, or the man who was comfortingly familiar to her that had driven the desire to be taught.

She did not ponder the question with contempt— it was a sad thing, the void it created within one's heart to feel something to be inherently true within the depths of your very soul, to know a little secret that was valuable and shaping to who you are, and not be able to acknowledge it within reality. It was a feeling she knew well, so the whispered judgement surrounding the the dark hair was not a stigma she shared her scorn with.

“It’s getting late,” It was Rhaenyra who spoke next, offering a small smile to Valaena when she took the women’s arm to alleviate the strain pregnancy had put onto her body, “Time we get the little ones ready for bed.”

Luke carried Joffrey on his back, racing slightly ahead of Jace as they laughed towards the castle. Fondly; she smiled down at the boy in her arms as he gradually began to show his tiredness through the way his eyelids grew heavier. Tomorrow, things would be different, but for now she would enjoy the peace for as long as she could.

•*⁀➷

She did remember her mother. Ivorlyn was only young when her uncle had taken her in— five, in-fact, but there had been a time when it had just been her and the older women with the hair of honey and a musical voice that she could still hear in the wind sometimes. Her name had been Alessia, and she was a beauty favoured by men of depravity— one of those being her father, Daemon Targaryen. She had been kind. Ivorlyn remember that, even when her face began to fade to her memory and that part of her childhood felt so very distant. Kind and gentle. Yet, a whore house was no place for a child, and there was vivid parts of those days that where scarred into her mind permanently. Scenes too obscene for such a young age, men's eyes that burned with things that made her skin crawl— things that shouldn't be aimed at girl of not even six.

She didn't speak of those days to anyone. It took up a quite, yet screaming, part of her mind. And when she slept, and the nightmares crept in, it was those men that haunted them.

"Ivy?" She startled, her book slipping out of her grasp and colliding with the carpet. An apology slipped from her lips instantly as she reached to pick it up, the figure filling her with a momentary sense of guilt. Yet, it was only Jacaerys, and she wasn't in some place she wasn't suppose to be— this was the family library. Her guilt was unfounded, and she tried to suppress it as she looked at him.

"Jace," She fidgeted with the spine of the book, yet the apology she fought against still came, "Sorry, I did not think anyone—"

"No need," Jace smiled tiredly, his hair unkempt as he stood in just his night shirt and slacks. It was clear he'd been trying to sleep not long ago. "Tis' late, you couldn't sleep?"

"No," She murmured, "I... no." There was no explanation she could give him, it was all too long of a story to tell and she was certain he only asked out of pleasantry. He'd always been kind to her— kind like a future king should be, all chivalry and self-assuredness. He racked a hand through his hair and closed the door behind him, placing the candle he was carrying on the table.

She watched him as he walked towards her, allowed him to take the book from her hands, and noted the small smile that curled his lips. "You where always fond of this story in our history lessons."

Surprise washed over her. They'd shared lessons with her cousins and his sister in the year before they left kings landing— but education had been separated after that, she didn't think such a minute detail would have stayed with him. "You remembered these things quicker than I, the stories where always harder for me to learn and commit to memory."

"I didn't know you struggled with such things," Ivorlyn said truthfully, because he'd never seemed to miss a question, "You always knew what you where talking about."

"Only the big parts," He grinned, "The little details that weaved the story together always skipped my mind. You could retell a whole history word for word."

"They where a comfort to me," She admitted, "I think it was something to do with knowing how it ended. There is no surprises in history."

"You are not fond of surprises?"

"Not necessarily surprises," She shook her head, "The unknown."

He nodded like he understood something, and asked gently, "The whole future is unknown, do you fear it?"

"Yes," She answered honestly, but it felt more complicated than that, "It makes me silly, I suppose, to be afraid of the inevitable."

"It makes you brave," He responded half in jest, half sincerely, "To face fear everyday."

Ivorlyn blew out a breath of a laugh, "I don't think I've ever been considered brave before."

"You have," Jacaerys smiled at her, "T'was unspoken, but I have always considered you as such."

Her eyebrows pinched— Jace had never spoken to her like this. They where always friendly but never discussed much beyond small talk. He was familiar and a stranger all at once. "Why?" She found herself asking, too curious to bypass it.

"It's no small thing, to come into a family like ours when you weren't raised into it from a babe. You never cowered, even in those early days in Kings Landing when we where all strangers to you."

Ivy had always thought of herself as timid, quite, so hearing someone speak of her like she was anything but was rather jarring. Not in a bad way, but it was always strange to know someone's perception of you was far from the one you had of yourself. "I was terrified," She admitted, "It was a lot different from where I'd come from."

Jace looked curious, "You never talk about before."

"Some things are better forgotten." And it was true, there where parts of those few years she'd spent with her mother that shouldn't be spoken of— what would they think? What would the realm think? To know that the Targaryen's not only harboured a bastard, but a one who had been tarnished? No, she thought, it will remain in history, and be forgotten to it. Though she knew— she'd always remember. Yet there was good parts, parts where her mother had been kind and loving and a lost women who was trying her best. Ivorlyn wondered what had become of her.

Jacaerys was gentle as he smiled, and it was one of sympathy and sadness, "Nothing is better forgotten, not when it paves way for who you are now."

"They are not good memories, Jace."

"Where you come from is not your flaw, Ivy. It's a display of your resilience."

"Maybe," She gave him a small smile, "But the realm won't see it that way— I'm already disgraced through my illegitimate conception, but if people where to know the circumstances behind it... I fear they won't take well to a ruler that supports such a thing, and your mothers claim to the throne is already questioned enough on a mere basis of her gender. She doesn't need her name tangled in my mess."

"There isn't anything that she wouldn't bare for you," He told her, "That we wouldn't bare for you. All of us. You don't have to be alone with your torments, it's harder to be isolated in these things."

"You are to be king one day, too." She murmured, looking away from him and to the book in her hands, "'Tis best you don't know of such things, either, it'll make it easier should you ever need to exile me if your ignorance is authentic."

"I would never." Jace was frowning as he took a determined step towards her, hand curling around her wrist, "I would never exile you, Ivorlyn. There are things I'd bare scrutiny for, and you are one of them."

Ivorlyn blinked, unable to hide her surprise. She was the bastard daughter of a man who had showed up out of the shadows and wed his mother only a breath after the death of his father. Yes, he was kind and cordial, but that had always been Jace— a boy who knew of the weight he'd one day bare, and had been preparing for it ever since his birth. He couldn't afford to be cruel, couldn't afford his reputation to be that of man who displayed his contempt so brazenly for those who he didn't hold in high favour. He had conflict with his uncles, that was known to many, but he could afford such information to be public knowledge because they where threats. She wasn't. She was a girl who he could either be civil with, or display a weakness to— show the realm that he didn't tolerate people who had differences to him. It wasn't a good message to send, especially with so many rifts between the Targaryen name and other high status families that would need fixing during his and his mother's reign.

"You doubt it?" He sounded confused, as if he couldn't comprehend where such an idea would set root in her mind, "We are family," His voice was softer than she'd ever heard it, gentle, "And you are not defined by the things that brought you into this world, Ivy. It is your character I place my judgments upon, and I happen to like it very much."

She'd never known her breath to freeze in her lungs like this before, and gods, was her eyes beginning to sting? Maybe she'd never realised how much she'd wanted to know that she finally belonged somewhere, told herself that she was okay with being the outsider as long as she had somewhere safe to be. After all, how could she ever want for anything more when what she already had is beyond what she deserves. A bastard. A child born of sin, of a whore house. Ruined long before she even knew the concept of ruin.

She swallowed, unable to meet his eyes, but he was reaching out to swipe away the single tear that had struck her cheek. Oh, she thought, I'm actually crying. She shouldn't be— it was undignified, he was the future king. But for a moment, as he watched her with empathic eyes, he just felt like a boy.

"You will always have a place here, no matter what whispers follow your name. That's a promise."

But they won't be whispers, she wanted to say, they will be screams. But he sounded so sincere, and maybe it was through the haze of her emotions that she let herself believe him. "You will be a good king, Jace," She told him, meaning it entirely, "When your time to serve the realm comes, it will be an honour to witness it."

She saw something flicker on his face— a side to him she'd never noticed before; self doubt. It hadn't occurred to her that he was anything but confident in his abilities. He'd never been arrogant, no, but the way he carried himself had always been self-assured. The momentary flash of vulnerability was surprising to her, yet it humanised him in a whole new way. It wasn't that he'd been this imperial type of being to her before— she'd known him knee deep in mud laughing with his siblings, or teasing Luke in that brotherly-well-meaning way. He was teenage boy, and he acted like it, that part wasn't foreign to her. The idea that he harboured doubts about his claims to throne, however, was. Anytime she'd known him to be challenged in such a regard he'd always met it with a firm and unwavering defence. He didn't cower to whispers, to rumours, and there was plenty of them where he and his brothers was concerned.

She admired the newfound revelation about him, truthfully. It took a different kind of courage to not allow those insecurities turn into cowardice.

He gave her an appreciative smile, "Thank you, it means a great deal to me that you believe so."

She wanted to tell him that it wasn't just a belief, that it was a simple fact that she knew. He was as stubborn as his mother though, and no brief reassurance would change his beliefs. A thought dawned on her, as to why he was awake and unable to sleep at such an hour, "Your mother has told you then? About the Vaemond?"

Jace tugged at the hair on the nape of his neck as weary sigh escaped him, "She did," he folded his arms, "It troubles Luke."

"She thought it would," A small thrown fell onto her lips, concerned for her step-brother, and there was a distantly fond look on his face at her words, "The claims will not matter though, Visery's has never tolerated the entertainment of such rumours."

An unspoken understanding passed between, one that had existed ever since they where young children. The circumstances of his birth where not openly acknowledged by anyone unless they wished to know the punishments of treason, and while they where different in that way ( the Targaryen bastard being a more common title to refer to her by than her own name ) they still felt the weight of such scrutiny equally. Because, while she'd never say it, Ivorlyn knew the truth of it all— and she also knew that he did too. Born of the same sin.

"I know," Jace smiled at her tiredly, the picture of boy who was already baring the weight of something far bigger than him, "It will be sorted swiftly, of that I am sure."

Then he tilted his head at her fondly, and she realised a yawn had risen from her and exposed just how tired she was begging to feel. "Let me walk you back to your chambers," He reached to pick up his candle from the table, "It would cause quite the surprise if one of the guards found you sleeping in the hallway."

Ivorlyn scoffed in amusement, "I'm not going to keel over on my way back, Jace."

He gave her a boyish grin, "A king must take his precautions."

"You're not king yet, Jacaerys."

His grin only widened as he guided her towards the door, "However could I let such a thing slip my mind."

When he bid her goodnight as she slipped back into her rooms, their final exchange of looks was fond. She slept with little disruption.

[vagabond-umlaut]

THE LOVE CONFESSION THAT NEVER HAPPENED

▸ TEEN!GOJO SATORU X TEEN!FEM!READER; FLUFF WITH A PINCH OF ANGST; THIS FIC IS NOT CANON TO THE SERIES WE'RE THE SUMMER TO OUR WINTER RAIN!!!!; READER MIGHT BE A BIT OOC!!!! ▸ READER'S CLAN NAME & CURSED TECHNIQUE ARE REVEALED IN THIS. ANY & ALL SIMILARITIES TO ANOTHER'S READER/OC IS PURELY UNINTENTIONAL AND COINCIDENTAL. I SWEAR I DIDN'T PLAGIARIZE IT. ALSO, I'M UTTERLY AWFUL AT FINDING JAPANESE TERMS OF ENDEARMENT, DESPITE GOOGLING. SORRY :((

▸ THIS IS FOR THE AWESOME @heresan WHO NEVER FAILS TO SPOIL ME WITH HER ASK. ILYSM TINA! <333 ▸ WARNING: BRIEF MENTION OF A HIT-AND-RUN CASE & INFIDELITY IN ONE LINE [SATORU & READER ARE NOT INVOLVED, DW] ▸ AS ALWAYS, THE GIF, DIVIDER & CHARACTERS USED AIN'T MINE. PLS DON'T PLAGIARIZE, TRANSLATE OR REPOST THIS. ENJOY READING! ❤️

The stars are but mere fireflies to the sun that is the Kojima household tonight. 

Bedecked in bright lights and a thousand and one paper lanterns, the palatial grounds of the property exude a brilliance, the likes of which the guests claim to have never been seen before, their awestruck voices drawing a polite smile from your grandmother (though the pride in her ancient eyes is unmistakable, you note). 

You move your eyes away from your clan matriarch and let them rove over those around you – and their glowing selves – rendered more luminous by their expensive fabrics, sparkling jewels, and gleaming smiles. 

Oh, what a couple of scraps of paper can do to one’s self, you muse silently, glancing at the woman batting her eyelashes at your cousin – the former the same one who was convicted in a hit-and-run case a year or two back, though now, with a Louis Vuitton dress hanging off her frame, no one, except you, perhaps, remembers on seeing her the innocent blood she wiped off her hands, all thanks to her wealth. 

Not wanting to mar this celebratory evening with such dark thoughts, you shift your gaze to tonight’s centre of attention: the older of your two brothers, Takeshi and his fiancée Sara, your lips turning upwards into a small smile on seeing how dazzling they look beside each other – how beautiful, how well-suited, how happy, how… very artificial they look beside each other. 

As artificial as the thousand and one paper lanterns your grandmother’s so proud of. 

As artificial as your guests’ smiles - too-white, too-wide, too-thin. 

As artificial as the compliments you can hear that woman shower upon the wife of the man she was attempting to seduce not too long ago. 

Your smile disappears to give way to a frown, as you take in the falsity around you. 

And a leaden weight lodges itself in your chest, right where your heart should be, when your eyes again meet the sight of your brother and your childhood friend smiling at the photographer – while your ears hear the wails of anguish, the snarls of contempt and the sighs of wistfulness –a cacophony of abandoned dreams and stifled desires emanating from the two souls soon to be joined in holy matrimony, two weeks from today. 

Your mother says marriage is one of, if not the happiest event in a person’s life. 

Oh Mom! If only you could hear what I can now… 

Placing your empty glass of mojito mocktail on the grass near you, you lean back against a tree and close your eyes to soothe the throbbing pain in your temples – one which always happens after you’ve been amid too many people for too long a time, much to your great discomfort. 

Sighing loudly, you move to lie down on the grass when the sounds of an approaching pair of footsteps reach you, soon joined by a boisterous yell of “Aha! There’s the woman of my dreams I’ve been searching for so long!” 

“Hello to you too, Satoru,” You say, turning to the side and propping yourself up on an elbow, your eyes now open. “Didn’t think you would make it to the party.” 

Gojo flops down beside you with an exaggerated pout. 

“Oh, come on, Momo-chan. Think a bit higher of me, will you? Of course, I would make it to the party. My best friend’s brother’s getting engaged today. How on earth could I ever miss it?” 

“And since when have you and Takeshi been on such good terms, hm? That you’re willing to leave your comfortable life at school to attend a party filled with clan elders for an entire evening?” You ask him, an eyebrow raised, unwilling to buy into his rubbish explanation. 

Gojo chuckles. “Oh, it’s not Takeshi I’m here for today,” He says softly, shuffling closer to you until your sides are almost touching, “It’s you.” 

You open your mouth, ready with a snarky reply, when his expression makes you stop – the words you were planning to say, now lost in your throat, as you look at his unusually earnest face. 

“Satoru?” Your voice comes out as a shaky whisper, reasons behind which you cannot fathom for the love of your life. 

(It’s ’cause he’s so close to you, silly! A part of your brain whispers – the same one which had made you call Gojo handsome, out of all the damned things you could say to him – that day you first saw him in his Jujutsu Tech uniform – much to your utter bewilderment and embarrassment.) 

You clear your throat and repeat yourself loudly, “Hey, Satoru?” 

“Hm?” Gojo moves even closer to you when you call his name and places a hand on your cheek, the warmth of it making a wonderful contrast with your cold skin that chilly autumn night. 

“Do-” You hesitate, as an odd (warm? bubbly?) feeling creeps into your chest, but ultimately your concern for the eerie way his eyes seem to shine at you outweighs that weird feeling, and you ask, “Do you have a fever, Satoru? You don’t really look okay there.” 

Gojo blinks, his unusual expression soon overtaken by a stupefied one as you continue to peer up at him, frowning. 

“Satoru,” You shake him gently, after a few seconds of him staring at you. “Hey! Gojo!” 

That seems to shake him out of his stupor, as he quickly removes his hand away from your cheek and scoots away, his face reddening with each passing moment. 

“N-no, no. I’m okay. Totally okay,” He mumbles, “There’s no need to worry. I’m perfectly fine.” 

But you know the white-haired shaman way better than that. 

You sit up and move closer to him and place your palm on his forehead, the other palm on your own forehead. “Now, lie still and let me check your temperature.” 

“Your skin’s warm… But not so warm for you to have a fever,” You say after a while, still frowning down at your friend whose head you have now placed in your lap, “But your face looks awfully red. And your eyes too seem weird. And,” Pausing, you place your hand on the kimono over his heart, remembering a person’s pulse rate is said to speak volumes about their health, and gasp. 

“My goodness, Toru! What the hell happened to you? Your heart is beating really fast! Are you-” 

A finger to your lips stops your outburst, and within the next moment, you find yourself crushed to his chest, his arms holding you in a vice-like grip and his nose muzzling into your hair. 

“Toru, you’re not really okay, are you?” You ask, tilting your head up at him, the slight tremor in your voice inaudible to all except you – and Gojo too, perhaps, judging by the way you notice him smirk a little at you, before it slips into an indecipherable twitch of his lips. 

“No, I’m not okay,” He answers above you, his arms around you tightening a touch. “I’m really, really not okay.” 

You crane your neck upwards to fully look at him and brush the pads of your thumbs over the skin under his eyes. “Then why did you come here tonight, you idiot? You should have stayed back in your dorms and taken rest,” You scold him, concerned eyes sweeping over his appearance. 

Gently removing your hand from his face to intertwine his fingers with yours, Gojo leans closer to your face and whispers, every breath he exhales hitting your face like a little puff of smoke in the cold, “But I couldn’t stay back in my dorms tonight, Momo-chan – Not when I know the medicine to my treatment is here.” 

It takes a while for his words to register themselves in your brain. 

And when they do, you can’t help but let out a small gasp (the same time as that portion of your brain lets out a small squeal in joy). 

“Are you-” You begin but stop yourself from speaking any further, your trust in your oratory skills having plummeted to an all-time low, and choose instead to focus on his electric blue eyes as the slew of nervous mutterings, which had been lost in the background of your mind until now, slowly turns intelligible. 

Was that too much for her? 

Am I going to get rejected? 

Well, shit, she’s going to reject me. 

Oh wait – did she even understand me? 

My Momo-chan can be really dense at times – though she’s cute too then – like really, really cute! 

But no, seriously – was I too roundabout for her? Or should I have confessed to her directly? 

Oh no, she’s looking at me right now. Is she angry? Is she disappointed? Is she horrified? 

Oh no, that’d be the worst – if she’s horrified. 

Calm down, Satoru. Calm down. Take a breath in and think straight. Panicking won’t help you now. 

But I’m too much in love with Momo-chan to even think straight. 

Damn it, damn it, just damn it. 

I should have just listened to Suguru and written her a love letter or something. 

“Love letters are really beautiful, Toru-chan,” Reaching up a hand, you tuck some of his unkempt hair behind his ear – while a giggle erupts from you at the way his face changes from being lovestruck (and not fever-stricken, you realise, relieved) to horrified to the most apprehensive you’ve ever seen him – and you add with a grin, “But this confession is the most beautiful of them all. I love it.” 

Gojo blinks. “So does that mean…” He trails off, an unsure yet hopeful look in his eyes. 

Sliding your hand down to his cheek and keeping it there, you reply, “Yeah, I guess it does mean so, Toru-chan.” 

A moment passes in pin drop silence between the two – the only sounds being the distant chatter of the party and the occasional wind blowing through the trees – before a wide grin breaks out across Gojo’s face, its absolute natural radiance banishing the darkness around you in a way a billion suns could never do – your grandmother’s flimsy paper lanterns or your vain guests’ mountains of gold and gems nothing but tiny specks of dust to the constellation of stars his joy reveals to you. 

And in that instant, as Gojo presses a sweet kiss to your forehead and wraps his arms around you, excitedly describing the new dessert café he discovered on his last mission and the matcha eclairs you just can’t not try – you swear to yourself that you will do anything to keep that blinding beauty of his smile unharmed – even throw away your life, if that’s what it takes. 

[I'M LOW-KEY ASHAMED OF THIS LMAOOO]

▸ MASTERLIST

[rui-drawsbox]

Okay obligatory DnD person as per the Dungon Meshi post(dnd/fantasy au + our life is amazing and I love it) but also I just wanted to say that there is a subclass of elves in dnd called aquatic elves that are kind of a happy mix between a mermaid and a, well, normal elf. I stick more towards spooky rather than nautical campaigns myself, so I’m not too familiar, but if I remember correctly they’re amphibious but with two legs rather than full mermaid.

Also obviously please ignore if you have different ideas but based off of what people have written about battle roles I could absolutely see some subclasses for the four!

Derek I could absolutely see as a Paladin(subclass possibly being oath of devotion or glory) basically the more defensive tank guys bound by an oath they make to themselves or someone important to them, which gives them a little spellcasting as well as actual auras that buff their allies later on.

Baxter I could see being a Bard (College of Swords), or what I kind of think of as a sort of battledancer. It would be a little less of a full spellcaster, but you can do special flourishes when fighting with a rapier which I always imagine as pseudo-dancing, plus he’d still get all the flashy bard spells. And to top it off, Bards actually use their charm(charisma stat) to cast spells which just screams Baxter to me.

Cove is a little harder but if you were going with him having a fish/animal companion while still being a melee fighter a Ranger(Beastmaster or Swarmkeeper) would be a good fit IMO, obviously with the Cove Creater he’s harder to pin than Baxter or Derek, but Ranger is pretty flexible. You basically get to choose a companion that’s from the land, air, or sea; and they can help you out in battle and follow you around, or as Swarmkeeper he could have his swarm be a school of fish.

Ruri is obviously a bit harder because you know your OC best, but if you really wanted to lean into more into the familiar/animal buddy route. Druid(circle of the shepherd) is always a fun choice! It’s kind of like the more spellcaster version of rangers’ Swarmkeeper where you can summon a lot of critters while still having some super strong elemental spells.

But anyway! I hope this wasn’t too long, I saw some (kinda) DnD our life content and I couldn’t resist! But thank you again for the adorable art of the main boys(and your lovely OC!) in a fantasy setting!

Second ask from dnd anon:

Oh! DnD anon part two!

But basically the theoretical party composition would look like:

Derek = Tank/Damage

Cove = Weapon Damage/Companion(s)

Baxter = Spells/Weapon Damage

and Ruri = Healing/Spells.

Also one last note about Druid is while druids have a lot of elemental spells (create water, spike growth, etc.), they also have the ability to do something called wildshape, where they can shapeshift into an animal for either out of battle(wildshape into a mouse to get under the crack in a door, then returning to normal and unlocking it) or battle (at later levels imagine fighting a spellcasting bear or even dragon) but also has more silly implications like wild shaping into a songbird to sing with Baxter, or a cat or sloth to ride on Cove’s shoulder.

got these asks a few days ago but i let them marinate in my brain hope you dont mind anon KJDSAUH

anyways AQUATIC ELF THATS PERFECT i tried to stick to what i knew about dumenshi rules in that post but for my first fantasy AU ideas i was going to do Cove a half mermaid (Cliff human x mermaid Kyra or elf Kyra [shes just so pretty its insane] x mermaid Cliff) that lived in a house right on the beach lmao, im happy that actually makes sense somewhere in dnd

i tried to look at the aquatic elves wiki from the forgotten realms fandom and omg so much text in the main page

also paladin Derek canon‼‼ imagine he does his oath to his brothers right after something dangerous happens to them when they were kids (im not saying his parents should die but im not saying they shouldnt--)

and bam!! tragic backstory 10x worse than his canon that is already bad enough :DD (try to make him feel less responsable now i wanna see that)

baxter turn rn. DO YOU THINK HE WOULD PLAY VIOLIN? I WANNA SEE THAT (<-this person didnt thought about drawing him with an instrument until it was time to write her thoughts) anyway it would def be a fancy instrument, daddy and mommy wanted to keep appearances i bet

one his spells makes his sword and moves shine and when hes under the sun his enemies become fucking blind

everything about him screams I HAVE MONEY but everytime people try to rob him he just rolls a nat20 in persuasion and they end up giving him money

and omg just imagine Cove's school of fish are all his pet fishes from the game JGASDFJK

im also. not discussing roles when the most i know about dnd is bg3 and i just finished 2 playthroughs. if you say ruri is a druid she's a druid, she makes super artsy flower fields and decorates every tree she sees with organical paint or smth jkfhds

Ruri's forest has a tree that connects with the ocean and they both just hangout sometimes (as if theyre not together 60% of the time already)

DRUID RURI THAT LIKES TO BRAID COVE'S HAIR WITH LITTLE POPPIES‼‼‼

MERMAID COVE THAT LETS RURI (otter form!!) RIDE HIS BACK WHILE HE SWIMS‼‼‼‼

mermaid cove humming a song and ruri falling to the river in trance/j

anyways anon i agree with everything tbh, there's so many ways to do a fantasy AU and i adore the dnd version (id kill for a dnd group or smth in my city)

i also have another fantasy au more vanilla but not-really. basically isekai baxter LMAO mostly an excuse to make ruri and baxter being domestic but before baxter developed any real domestic skill JHASFD

[inkedeye2345]

Got on the wrong foot Pt.5

Air turtle

Rise Leo x oc

warning:non but cursing and short

Kyle's pov: "HOT SOUP!!!" | raise my head to see Leo do a slam dunk I was sitting down on the bleachers while writing a note (and yes it's for Leo but it'll be all the way in the end 🤭)

"Leo's on fire tonight boysss!" I see him walk almost like walking to me as I slam my book shut trying to act normal and he gives me a wink I turn red and he turns around to his brothers "next baskets for the win!" | see Raph and Mikey serious but Donnie he's just typing on his phone "Mikey m up let's shut his flashy blue face down" I giggle knowing they definitely were going to lose and I got

back to writing while looking at them at the same time

I see Leo do a trick "You can't guard me double me I dare you" and Mikey looked offended "are you daring us to double you?" He said pointing at Leo and I look at Donnie still watching his phone "no l'm double daring you to double me" Raph got pissed off "you did not just double dare us to double you!"

Mikey and Raph surround Leonardo "oh oh oh oh!"

Leo shook the ball side to side messing with his two brothers "ah I'm open transfer it!" Donnie said behind Mikey and Raph and Leo threw the ball at Leo but it hit Donnie's head and Leo caught the ball and slammed dunked it and Raph and Mikey yelled no

and Donnie sat down sighing and I sat next to him hearing Leo "sorry don ton I gotta win tried losing for once not for me" I put my hand on Donnie's shoulder "you'll get better the only thing I can play is base ball" | chuckled Donnie was still grumpy "at least you know how to do something" I smile softly as I fiddle with the note I had in my hand

Donnie noticed it and snatched it "h-hey that's mine!" He opened the note and read it

Dear Leo I have been catching feelings for you for a long time now and I want you to know I'm biromantic-asexual and non binary and I really like you and idk why you accept me when I betrayed you and your family and I'm very sorry for that and I just wanted to make this note and say I like you a lot when I mean by a life I mean more than a friend and it's okay if you say no I totally understand because I used to be a foot soldier and because of my sexualitys i total understand so pls just give me a chance By:Kyle

I see Donnie stare at me "just give it back it's useless-" | felt a tight embrace "we aren't so different after all...I guess we both have trouble coming out" I hug him back "thx Donnie...it looks like dr.feelings did a good job" he rolls his eyes playfully "scoff what did he do to help me" we both laughed

(time skip)

We’re at a basketball stadium “let’s go!” And everyone starts booing as Leo kept on rooting i felt bad cause this place was a bit empty

(time skip)

We we’re all bored for the next game as we just sat there bored as fuck and I see Leo come to us “You guys are in luck I’m going to bring out my victory dance once we win tonight” “ya right and Leo” turned to us “trust me I’m on the inside” April scoffed “that’s a mascot” “more as a consulted who wears a costume when fires at-shirt cannon”

(time skip again)

We see pro players and I was a bit concerned “those guys are going to whoop the Dave’s” Raph said as he points to them I nod my head and we hear the horn go on “YA LETS GO DAVES LET ME HEAR YA” I hear Leo yell and starts dancing as Leo uses the t-shirt Canon

I see Leo grab a speaker as he gets on one of the Dave players shoulder “I’m Dave get loud!” And no one cheers I knew I was going to be embarrassed but this is for Leo I start cheering and clapping my hands and he points to me “she gets it!”

(time skip)

Leo comes up to us nervous “so about that arch thingyyy?” Mikey looks at him “ya think?” “That’s why me and Donnie called the expert” as I let Donnie speak “on all things Mystic” I start to speak “aka Draxum who officially adopted me” as I hear through the phone “ugh point me at the idiot” one of Donnie’s tech pointed the phone to Leo showing Draxum “do you know what you have done!” Leo was confused

“What uhh!” One of Donnie’s tech cupped Leo’s cheek and made him face the mystic thing “that is the arch or Acuna who ever walks under it turn into oh i don’t know A DEMONIC WARRIOR!!!!” “apa cálmate por favor!” I yelled at my father “ohh ya that makes sense” Leo nods I slap my head (time skip) I see Donnie shoot as he was about to miss but Leo came in and dunked the ball in as I cheer and when they stopped cheering Leo comes to me saying “lucky rock lucky rock lucky rock” when he came up to me he grabbed my wrist and brought me to the changing room

he looked at me as his eyes light up “so what did you think did I look awesome of course I looked awesome cause we won!” He put his hand up for a high five and when I did our fingers intertwined (i can’t describe how so go with the flow Kai GO WOTH THE MOTHER F#CKING FLOW-) I look up at him “Leo…” I hand him a note looking down

I felt him grab it I looked away after some seconds later he grabbed my wrist and brought me closer to him i turned more red than raphs mask we were inches away it looked like he got impatient when our lips brush together and he kissed him and I kissed back

this was heaven I cup the sides of his face and he wraps his arms around my waist I break the kiss and turn red “s-so is that a-“ “yes!…I mean ya that sounds cool” I giggle and peck his lips and heard clapping fro behind and i turned around to see everyone watching and I hide behind Leo

and he chuckles and he picks me up (idk the name of the position my bad) and I squeak a bit and heard Donnie take a photo and sent it to the group chat

(Familia loca)

Don tron 👾: scoff more annoying people

(Let’s just say Leo carried them like that cause i can’t fin another photo so just imagine it from this photo)

Draxum 👺: Leonardo I need to have a word with you

I heard another notification on my phone as I looked at the text message and smile

(DON TRON👾)

Don tron👾: welcome to the family Kyle

(Hello I hope you like this part cause it was really short cause I was really lazy and I got really tired so I made it short and I got inspired by the song see you again by idk who so ya comment on my story’s and ask for any requests cause they open so right now I’m going to knock the f#ck out right now so have a good day or night and god bless you beautiful people bye)

PREVIOUS NEXT