#but also like their relationship was doomed from the start and even re reading my own chapters i get to chapter 11 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

officialaemondtargaryen · 10 months

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A Fine Line [part 1]

Summary: You've been with Aegon for a little over four years and the relationship just isn't the same. His brother isn't helping the situation, either. This is a Modern Day AU!

Pairing: Aegon x Reader / Aemond x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Author’s Note: Guys, I think it goes without saying that you should never cheat on anyone. Just don’t do it. This is a complete re-write of an old Marvel idea that I had. It is also my very first HOTD fic, so I am open to any feedback that you may have. This man just has a motherfuckin' hold on me, like I don't even know what happened. Nevertheless, I hope that you enjoy this! Please let me know if you would like to be tagged.

Warnings for the entire series: severe angst, cheating, unprotected sex, jealousy, lying, possessiveness, stalking, manipulation, and language.

Playlist here

Read Chapter Two

You felt the bed shift.

The sun hadn’t yet made a break in the early morning sky, and the room was still dark; only dimly lit by the bathroom light that had just been turned on. You could hear the faucet running and the faint sound of teeth being brushed as you reached over and checked the time. The intense light of the screen made your vision blur and eyes squint, but after a few blinks, you could make out those three numbers; 5:06 AM.

A shadow moved along the hallway walls, and you quickly placed your phone back on the bedside table and turned on your side. With your eyes clamped shut, you listened as he moved around the room, mentally picturing every action; opening the closet door, pulling a shirt from the hanger, crossing the room to the dresser, finding a pair of socks and boxers in the drawer. It was the same every morning, every day, at the same time.

Aegon wasn’t Aegon without his daily routine; wake up, brush teeth, shower, breakfast, work, lunch, work, home, dinner, bed. You used to enjoy it, the structure that you had both brought to each other's lives. It was a complete change from when you had first met him. He used to be completely haphazard; snoozing through every alarm and perpetually late, but he had come into his own after he had met you.

You used to wake up with him and get an early start on your day; making breakfast together, sitting at the table together, reading your emails while he scrolled through the news. You'd make plans for dinner and talk about your friends, and your jobs, and you'd laugh and joke. And it used to be nice. But now you just pretended to be asleep, waiting until he left before getting out of bed.

You wondered if it was wrong to do that, because, to you, it certainly felt like it was. Aegon brought it up, too, a couple of times; always wanting to know if something was wrong, or if you were okay. Truth be told, you weren't even sure of the reason for the change, so you just told him that you were tired and that work was stressful.

Often, you wondered if maybe you should start again.

Start trying...

Maybe it’d make things better.

Or as your best friend, coworker, and self-proclaimed love guru, Baela, liked to say, there was no getting better. According to the white-haired cynic, the vast majority of relationships are doomed from the start, and that you should take your unhappiness as a sign that things just weren’t meant to work out with Aegon.

Some mornings, you’d look in the mirror- bare feet cold on the tile floor, hands gripping the sides of the porcelain sink- and asked yourself if Bae was right; if all of this was a sign that you just weren’t meant to be. You’d ask yourself if you really loved Aegon, and if it’d be better to break things off than to dig yourself in deeper. You knew that the answer was probably ‘yes’, because if the answer was ‘no’, you wouldn’t even be asking those questions in the first place.

But then you’d remember what it was like to be together when the two of you first started dating, and couldn’t help but hope that one day it’d go back to that. Fooling yourself into believing that this was just something that all couples went through, and allowing yourself to continue on with your boring, auto-pilot type life.

The subway platform was cold and damp as you waited in the crowd of a hundred people. Melting snow from the streets above had water dripping down the walls, and it smelled of musty leather and dirty shoes. Your scarf and jacket weren’t doing much to keep you warm, and you cursed yourself for not grabbing your gloves before you left the house. Although, you probably wouldn’t have kept them on very long because you couldn’t use your phone while wearing them.

It was the first week of January. Christmas and New Years had come and gone and people were making their way back to work after a long weekend. In the office, there was a giant board in the break room for people to write down their resolutions; serving as a reminder to keep people on track for the first few months. Most of them were ‘eat healthy’ and ‘exercise more’, and most people would fall off the wagon before February.

Baela was already at her desk when you got to your tiny, cluttered, shared cubicle. A red coffee cup in one hand and cellphone in the other; her hair was pinned up to perfection and shined underneath the fluorescent lights; swaying softly as she turned around in her desk chair.

“Good morning!” She said with a smile. “Coffee’s on your desk.”

“Thank you,” you replied. “I didn’t have time to stop this morning.” You shrugged out of your jacket and hung it over the back of the chair before grabbing the small, cardboard cup and bringing it to your lips; eyes fluttering shut at the taste and warmth of the beverage. “You’re too good to me, B.”

“I know,” she replied with a kind smile. “How was your weekend? Did you and Aegon do anything exciting?”

“We stayed home, had a couple glasses of champagne and watched the ball drop.” You replied with your back turned to your coworker, fingers dancing over the keyboard as you logged into your computer. “I broke out that pretty, purple lace lingerie set,” Baela made a sound to let you know that she was still listening. “He said that he really liked it, but he didn’t want to do anything because he was too tired, and had to go into work early.”

You could hear her clicking her tongue against her teeth.

“It’s like, we have these really good moments together,” you continued. “And most of the time, things are pretty good, but they just aren’t the same. There’s no passion, or spontaneity, it’s like we don’t have fun anymore.”

“Yeah, but you guys have been together for a few years,” Baela replied, turning slightly in her chair to look at you. “Relationships usually change after awhile, that’s normal.”

“Bae, the last time we really had fun was Jason's birthday.”

"Our boss Jason?" She gulped. You nodded and her eyes widened in disbelief. "But that was last May!"

“That’s exactly my point.”

“Speaking of birthdays,” Baela began, finally changing the subject. “I was planning to celebrate Jace's is on Saturday, and I was thinking we could take him out for a few drinks, let him beat us both at bowling, I might even make a cake.”

“I can do Saturday,” you replied as you marked the date on your desk calendar.

“Great!” Baela exclaimed. “He’ll really like that, I think.”

As if on queue, Jace popped his head over the wall of your cubicle, eyebrows raised. “Hey ladies,” he said smoothly with a slight smile. “How are you both on this Monday morning?”

“Great!" Baela answered first with a wide, sparkling smile.

“I wouldn’t have used that much enthusiasm, but sure, it’s great.” You mumbled in return, not taking your gaze off of your calendar after having noticed that it was almost four years to the day that you met Aegon. Little, red hearts outlined the box that marked the day.

You remembered that day so vividly, as if it was just yesterday; stumbling out of the snow and into an inviting coffeeshop on the corner of 39th & 7th. Your boss had asked you, of all people, to interview the son of the President & CEO of the most well-known oil company in the world regarding the mass job cuts that continued after the COVID-19 pandemic. He was late to the interview by twenty-three minutes and you found it out-of-place that he wasn't wearing a suit. His hair was unkempt and his blazer was not doing a very good job of hiding a toothpaste stain on his button-up.

"Thank you for waiting, the train ran late." He greeted as he shook the snow from his hair and extended his hand to you. The closer he became, the more apparent it was that he was either high or hungover. "Aegon."

"Y/N," you replied and gestured towards the table. "Your assistant said that you liked one cream and two sugars?"

What was supposed to be a 30-45 minute interview turned into an hour and a half long conversation. Aegon had an answer for every one of your pointed questions, and gave great responses about the future of the company with his father's dwindling health and the succession of his business- which was what everyone really cared about, really. But you found yourself nearly hanging on every word, even if you truly thought most of it was bullshit. There was something you found incredibly attractive about his sarcastic smile and the way that he quipped back at you when you'd try to back him into a corner.

When it came to the article, you didn't hold back- you couldn't; blasting Aegon for his unprofessionalism and the excuses that he made for his father and grandfather regarding the layoffs. After the paper was printed and distributed, you received a bouquet for roses to your desk with a card that read, "Thank you for your honesty and the conversation. Let me take you out on a real coffee date some time? 212-555-8598"

You remember the look on Baela's face as she stood over your shoulder reading the tiny, rectangular card along with you. Her elbow digging into your side as she wagged her eyebrows, teasing you as if you were children. But nevertheless, you did text him, and you did let him take you out on that date, and you had been together ever since.

“Hello?” Jace’s voice pierced through your thoughts. “Earth to Y/N! You coming to the meeting or are you just going to sit at your desk and daydream all day?”

You looked up to see Baela and Jace both standing, waiting for you. There was a mandatory team meeting in five minutes.

“Yeah, I’m coming.” You said quickly, grabbing your coffee and following your coworkers towards the conference room.

“What’s got your head in the clouds?” Bae asked under her breath as you walked side-by-side.

“Just thinking about when Aegon and I first met," you replied.

She just shook her head at you and took her seat at the table, pulling a pen from behind her ear, and waited for the meeting to start. Her face was determined and focused, ready to spill all of her new ideas for this week’s paper, and knowing Baela, she had a million and one.

After the meeting, you both went straight back to work, only letting up off of your keyboard for your lunch hour. Your cubicle mate was strictly relationship advice, and had an entire bin in the mail room dedicated to letters from her fans; who were mostly women in their late 30′s to mid 40′s, wondering what to do about their lazy husband who failed to notice that they got their hair cut.

You had your own column that was rightfully called ‘Popular Now’, where you wrote about everything that was popular that week; including television shows, music, people, movies, and restaurants. Sometimes you got to go to fancy restaurants and club openings, movie premiers, and concerts. Despite your life long dream to be a front-page, investigative crime journalist, you enjoyed your job and the perks it offered.

“You want to go grab a drink?” Baela asked, turning off her computer. She had a stack of fan mail in her hand. “We can read about all the horrible break ups that happened this past week.”

“As fun as that sounds,” you began. “I have to go to the grocery store before I head home. I’m making Linguine tonight. Aegon's favorite.” You said as you shut off your desk lamp and began stuffing some papers into you bag.

“Suit yourself,” she replied with a shrug. “I’ll ask Jace.”

“You two have fun, then!”

The streets were overcrowded with overworked city-dwellers who were desperate to get home. The wind had picked up significantly since that morning, numbing your face as you walked through the crowd of double-breasted, suit wearing men and women who were yakking on their phones about what was for dinner. Your tights did nothing to keep your knees from shaking, and you started to regret your decision to walk instead of call a cab. It would have only taken longer for the latter in the stop-and-go traffic of rush hour.

You tried to call Aegon once you got into the store to make sure that there wasn’t anything else he needed added to the list, but he didn’t answer. He barely ever did. He was almost always on his phone, taking business calls and messages for his father, but could never answer the phone for you. At this point you didn’t even bother leaving a message, knowing that he wouldn’t take the time to return it.

After you had made your way through the aisles with your basket in hand, you walked towards the checkout lanes, only to find two long lines that were moving much, too slow. Your foot tapped impatiently against the floor as you waited. You turned your head slightly, watching as more and more patrons continued to line up with their carts. You noticed the gentleman standing behind you with only one item. He looked oddly familiar, but you shrugged him off as just being another hipster guy with long hair.

"Would you like to go in front of me?" You asked him politely.

The corners of his lips turned into a small smile as he eyed your basket. "I appreciate the gesture," his voice was smooth. "Are you sure you don't mind?" You shook your head and stepped to the side for him to move in front of you. "Thank you."

"Of course," you responded.

The line was still moving painfully slow; coming to a halt as the cashier called for a manager on the overhead speaker over the price of a shampoo bottle. Your eyes perused the magazines on the shelf to your left, glossing over the headlines and laughing to yourself at the more ridiculous ones. As you continued to wait, you couldn't help but steal another glance at the man now standing in front of you. Your eyes must have lingered a little longer than they should've, tracing across his sharp features, because you were brought back to reality when you heard him clear his throat- his steely gaze returning yours.

"I'm sorry," you confessed to him as your cheeks grew warm. "You just look so incredibly familiar and I can't put my finger on it- have we met?"

"You're implying that I'm forgettable," he responded with a smirk. "I don't think we have, I would certainly remember if we had as there is nothing forgettable about you." Your blush only intensified as he held his hand out and took your hand into his. "I'm Aemond."

"Y/N," you replied, fingers curing around his. "Wait, Aemond?" It finally clicked. This was Aegon's brother that you had never met due to the fact that he was always traveling for business. You had only seen his picture on your refrigerator a million times. Only, in the picture he was about twenty years younger, his cheeks were more plump, and he had both eyes. "You're Aegon's brother, there's a picture of the two of you as kids on our fridge."

"You must be his lady, then." He replied and you thought you could hear a hint of disappointment in his voice. You hadn't even realized that he was still holding on to your hand until he dropped it. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"The pleasure is mine," you smiled as he placed his item onto the conveyor belt as the line began to move again. "Aegon says that you are always traveling for work? How long are you in town for?"

“I actually got promoted,” he replied and you placed the plastic divider on the belt, signaling to the cashier where his order stopped and yours began. "I’m home for good now.”

“Oh that’s great!” You exclaimed. “You should come by some time. I’m sure Aegon would love to see you.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled as he handed his card to the cashier. “I will.” He took his bag from the end of the counter and looked back at you one last time before taking his receipt from the cashier. “I’ll see you around, then.”

You nodded as the cashier asked if you had your discount card.

Aegon wasn’t home when you got there, and you reveled in coming home to an empty apartment. It was so quiet; no loud television or hour long conversations with his financial advisers about the business. Just the sounds of boiling water and the sizzling of shrimp in the frying pan.

It was peaceful.

You stood in front of the refrigerator staring at the small photo of Aegon and his brother held to the stainless steel with a smiley face magnet. Aemond's freckles and messy hair, Aegon's toothy grin and mischievous eyes as they pulled funny faces for the camera. Aegon didn't talk about his brother much, but you knew that he missed him.

“Yeah man! It’ll be great to have you around again.” You heard the front door open shortly after you drained the noodles, signaling that Aegon was home. The door slammed behind him, followed by the thud of his briefcase on the living room floor. “You should definitely come by soon,” he said loudly into his phone. Moments later, he joined you in the kitchen and placed a kiss on the side of your cheek without saying a word and then headed up the stairs to change into something more comfortable. “I can’t wait for you to meet, Y/N. You’re going to love her, brother.”

You smiled to yourself as you pushed the shrimp around in the pan one last time before shutting off the heat. Everything looked and smelled amazing, and you couldn’t wait for Aegon to try it. You had the table completely set up; white wine, the nice plates that were only for when there was company, and the candles were burning.

“Hey babe,” he said as he stepped back into the kitchen. “That was Aemond. He’s back in town for good now, he’s going to come for dinner Friday night.”

“That’s great!” You replied, and Aegon picked a plate off of the table.

“He’s excited to finally meet you.” He was grinning from ear to ear. “I was thinking maybe you could invite Baela?” he followed up as he sat the plate on the counter next to you and moved to grab a bottle of beer from the fridge. “So that you have someone to talk to if we get caught up in catching up."

“Y-yeah,” you replied with your back to him, wondering why Aemond didn’t mention your run-in at the grocery store. “That sounds like a great idea.” You placed the pot on the kitchen table with an oven mitt underneath and took to your usual seat.

Aegon, still standing, hurriedly fixed himself a plate and popped a shrimp in his mouth. “Mm, this is delicious. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to eat in the office. I have a lot of work to catch up on.” He told you quickly and dashed up the stairs.

Before you could say anything, he was already gone.

You took a sip from your wine glass and sighed, staring at the dinner you had prepared. Despite how hungry you might have been before you cooked dinner, your appetite seemed to have completely vanished. You didn’t even bother to fix yourself a plate, just finished your wine instead before standing up and putting the leftover away.

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scorpionrising · 5 months

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there's an ache in you, put there by the ache in me (pt. 1: the road not taken looks real good now)

pairing: aemond targaryen x velaryon!oc word count: 8971 content warnings: explicit sexual content, major character death, cheating/infidelity (not really, but also kind of – it'll make sense when you read it), will add to this list as needed read part 2 here

notes: this is also cross-posted to ao3, as that is my primary place for posting, if you would prefer to read there. this author is fully team black, so proceed with caution. background relationships include cregan/jace/baela and luke/rhaena. feel free to read heavily into daena and rhaenyra's interactions too if you so choose

before reading, please be aware that this is an AU of a completed fanfiction i have written called fireplace ashes. you really don't need to have read it though to read this, as it's pretty self contained. all you need to know at the start:

daena velaryon is the youngest daughter of rhaenys targaryen and corlys velaryon; the same age as aegon. she claimed vermithor when she was eight and laenor was her favorite person in the world growing up, so she loves her nephews very much. she is betrothed to jace and neither of them are happy about it. when rhaenyra sent luke to storm's end, daena went with him. when he chased after luke, she stopped him, and this is where we leave off...

edit, 12/18/2023: because i forgot to mention this before posting — re: any references made to sarya. sarya is an oc from the fic i wrote that this is based on. she is daena’s handmaiden with whom daena has had a clandestine relationship that is so doomed by the narrative that they are both entirely aware of it

Daena and Aemond spoke more and more with each passing day. Mariyah was still sick, confined to her bed and face growing paler as the storms raged outside. Aemond had grown surprisingly competent in dealing with the barn animals, so she spent a majority of her days attending to Mariyah.

“Perhaps it was a miracle,” Mariyah said in a croaking voice as Daena wrung out a cloth to lay atop her forehead.

“What was?” Daena asked.

“Stumbling upon you,” Mariyah said, closing her eyes as Daena laid the cloth down. “The gods knew.”

“What did they know?”

“That I would die, and they ensured I would not die alone.”

There was a faint smile on her deeply lined face, as though she were at peace.

“Oh, don’t say that,” Daena said, taking care to smooth down Mariyah’s gray hair.

“Ever since my Royce passed three years ago, I’ve been waiting for the gods to take me. We never had children, you know.” Mariyah’s muddy green eyes sprung open and she reached out a wrinkled hand to touch Daena’s face. Tears began brimming as she spoke once more. “I’ve been alone for so long. It’s been wonderful, having you and your husband here.”

Daena partly hated herself for lying to Mariyah, but if it gave the old woman comfort in her last days to think she was providing aid to a happy couple in love, she would continue the charade until the moment the storms broke.

“I’d like you and Jack to keep the house,” Mariyah whispered. “Let it be your shelter. Go to Essos if you wish, but let the house remain standing, I beg. Let it still be filled with love even once I’m gone.”

Feeling tears in her own eyes begin to well, Daena nodded. If this was a way to settle her debt with Mariyah, she would declare this house as royal property. It would be a hunting getaway for her ancestors for years to come. It would never crumble as a way to pay thanks to the woman who saved her.

“Of course,” Daena said finally. “We’ll take care of your home.”

“Make it your home,” Mariyah begged. “Make it yours.”

“We will,” Daena promised. “We will.”

Mariyah nodded, contended by Daena’s words, and her eyes fluttered close once more. Her chest stuttered, but then began to rise and fall in time. Pursing her lips, Daena pulled the covers up the Mariyah’s chin and removed the damp cloth from her forehead. She let the water pitcher rest on the bedside table and filled a glass with water in case Mariyah woke up thirsty.

When she went down the stairs, Aemond was sitting by the fire in the main room of the house reading. The candles were dim, burnt down to the wicks around him. They would have to replace them on the morrow with the new ones.

“What are you reading?” she asked him.

He glanced up from his book and pressed his lips together. “A book of Lysene poetry. The old woman is more learned than I thought.”

“Her name is Mariyah,” Daena said, scowling and taking a seat in the chair across from him. She pointed her feet out and let the flames warm her bare ankles. “You ought to have some respect, you know.”

He scoffed at her but did not look back down at his book. Instead, he met her eyes brazenly. Despite herself, she delighted in the way the flames licked at the sapphire embedded in his eye socket. The question was on the tip of her tongue, begging to be asked, but she could not find the words in actuality.

“Our families think us dead,” Daena whispered instead, staring into the flames.

“And whose fault is that?” he retorted.

She flexed her fingers and clenched her jaw, wondering what it might be like to fling her fist into his jaw.

“What if we stay dead?” she asked him.

“If you’d like me to kill you, just give the word,” he said through his teeth.

“Not like that,” she snapped. “I just— Mariyah told me when she dies she wants us— or Alyse and Jack, rather— to keep the house… and I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to stay here and live a simple life.”

“You wouldn’t like that,” Aemond said. He closed his book and set it aside on the floor by his feet. “It would bore you senseless.”

“You said the same thing about my marriage to Jace,” Daena pointed out. She flexed her feet and tilted her head back to stare at the dark ceiling. “It would seem I am destined for a life of dreadful boredom.”

She sighed loudly and pushed her braids off her shoulder to fall over the back of the chair. Aemond’s eye was trained directly on her face, seeming to see through her to her very soul.

“Would it not be better to be bored on my own terms, living my own life rather than forced into a loveless marriage?”

“That would mean abandoning your family,” he pointed out, “which you would never do.”

She huffed and dropped her hands onto her lap. “You’re right. But it’s nice to pretend, I suppose.”

“What’s the point in pretending?” he asked her. “We are not children.”

“You’re infuriating,” she snapped. “We’ve been stuck here for days on end with nothing to do, knowing our families are preparing for war! What’s the point of any of it? Why shouldn’t I imagine an easier life?”

“Because it makes you a coward,” he told her as though it were the simplest thing in the world, voice too placid for her liking. “You cannot run from your destiny, Daena, no matter how hard you might try.”

“I’ve never run from my destiny,” she said defensively, remembering the way Helaena looked at her and whispered ‘Dragonslayer’ all those years ago.

He hummed and turned to the flames, barring the sapphire in his eye from view. All she could see was the unmarred half of his face, and she could see the strange little boy in his bones. She had quite liked that boy, but she thought he might be long dead by now.

“I hope they betrothed Jace to Baela in my absence,” she confessed in a small voice. “She could love him in a manner I could never bear to, I think.”

He slid his feet forward. The house shoes Mariyah had provided for him were neatly placed at one of the chair legs, but he wore thick woolen socks all the same. The heal of one of the socks was fraying and the other was drooping so low that she could see his bony ankle poking out from beneath the pants that were too short for him. It made him look disgustingly human.

“Which Baratheon girl were you going to marry?”

“I do not know,” he said. “Whichever one I found the most tolerable, I suppose.”

“How romantic.” She smirked a bit to herself and adjusted her weight in the seat for a more comfortable position. “I envy the smallfolk in this. They are allowed to fall in love before they marry. We must make an attempt at love only after the wedding, if at all.”

“I’d take a castle and not having to cook my own meals and slaughter my own animals over love any day,” Aemond said.

She frowned, pitying him not for the first time and likely not for the last.

“That’s terribly sad, Aemond.”

When he did not respond, she sighed and stood up.

“I will be going to bed now, I think…” She made her way across the room and faltered, turning back to look at him. He was staring into the empty seat. “Goodnight, Aemond.”

He turned. “Goodnight, Daena.”

With a strange, heavy feeling in her chest, she settled into the bed she made for herself on the floor and laid her head down. Tonight, sleep would not come, no matter how strongly she yearned for it. She tossed and turned, trying to find an acceptable position. Sometime later, Aemond entered and blew out the candles. She listened to him shuffle around and settle down. Once he laid down, he was still. She heard his breaths turn deep as sleep took him over. Irritated by that, she groaned into her pillow and flipped to attempt to sleep on her back.

“Just come up here.”

Her eyes sprung open despite the total darkness. She had thought him fast asleep by now.

“What?” she asked. “Don’t be absurd, Aemond. That would be—”

“I do believe we are far past what is and is not proper at this point,” he told her. “The bed is plenty large enough for two.”

She thought of what her mother and father might say, of what Sarya would believe, of what Jace and Luke might think of her. To share a bed with the enemy was bordering on treason, but was Aemond truly an enemy? Not to her, she thought a bit shamefully.

“You are just saying that to lure me in with false pretenses so that you might sully my name and reputation later on,” she accused, though she knew it was rather halfhearted.

“Gods be good,” he grunted. “Daena, just come up here and sleep.”

“Fine,” she muttered, hating herself for being so weak.

It was merely because her back was beginning to ache all through the day from sleeping on the floor for the last two weeks. That was all. Nothing more.

Pillows in hand, she climbed up and made herself comfortable on the bed. She was deeply conscious of Aemond laying stock still beside her, pale skin exposed. Heat from his body radiated towards her and she was mindful not to curl into it, instead turning her back to him and squeezing her eyes shut. She prayed for the storms to end early and for Vermithor to finish healing soon to take her away from this place.

Forgetting she had not gone to sleep on the floor, she was confused when she woke up to warmth and soft cushions and a weight thrown across her middle. She opened her eyes to find Aemond’s head tucked into her shoulder, hand splayed over her stomach. Instantly, she stiffened. This was an intimacy she had only known with Sarya. A traitorous part of herself was glad for it, having missed the feeling of falling asleep wrapped up in another. She quickly murdered that thought and turned onto her side to attempt to slip out of Aemond’s grip. Thankfully, he was a deep sleeper and did not awaken from her efforts. If it were up to her, he would never learn of this.

Mariyah passed four days later in her sleep, and Daena found that her heart was broken. Mariyah, who had been so deeply kind and had taken in two strangers without a thought, was dead and the world was worse off for it.

“We have to bury her,” she insisted.

“Look outside,” Aemond said, gesturing to the raging rain and wind. “You want to dig a grave?”

“It’s either that or we let her rot in here,” Daena argued. “Don’t be so cold hearted, Aemond.”

“Fine,” Aemond hissed. “You can dig the grave yourself. I want no part in it.”

And so she did. Wrapped in the cloak Mariyah wore the night she took them in, Daena marched outside with a shovel and began digging. The grave was shallow, but it would have to do. With all the rain, wind, and mud splattering up onto her face, it was nearly impossible to see what she was doing. Lightning cracked through the sky and a branch snapped off the tree just to her left.

When she turned to go back to the house, Aemond was already walking out with Mariyah’s body wrapped neatly in one of the blankets from her bed. Clearly, he had changed his mind. She was sure she was crying, but she was thankful to the rain for obscuring it from Aemond. Her throat closed as he gently laid Mariyah into the grave she dug. She had never seen him capable of such gentleness before.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

If he heard her, he offered no response. Instead, he took the shovel from her hands and began to cover Mariyah’s body. He moved quickly and methodically and did not even spare her a glance. With every day they spent together, she realized that she understood very little about the prince. He kept his motivations so close to his chest that she was constantly, utterly befuddled by him. Once he was done covering the grave, he stood at Daena’s side—as though waiting for her to move.

“I wrote to you,” she heard herself say, voice hushed in confession. “After that day on the rocky island, I wrote to you.”

“Yes,” he said.

Something within her shattered. She had hoped ceaselessly that the raven had been lost, or that someone else had gotten the letter and kept it from him. That day on the rocky island with him had been one of the best she ever had since Laena’s death, and now they would never ride dragons together again. Her eyes burned.

“Why did you never write back?”

“It seemed pointless,” he said, very pointedly not looking at her.

“I must confess,” she said, “I do not understand your reasoning.”

He flexed his hand, splaying his fingers out. He rounded on her, shoulders set back. The cloak’s hood was low on his forehead, but she could see the deep indigo of his eye clear as day. There was confliction written in his iris, and then determination as a muscle in his jaw ticked.

“Three years ago,” he said, voice hard and cold as sharp steel, “I had intended to ask for your hand.”

It should not have surprised her, with everyone around her back then telling her that he was attempting to court her, and yet it did. The dragon brooch he had gifted her was proof enough of that, but she still had been so blind to it. She had thought it a friendship, and him no more than a boy with a crush. She had no idea that his feelings had ran so deep.

“After that day on the island, I went to my mother and told her my plans. She forbade it and told me I was not to see you again, on account of your allegiances.”

“Oh,” she whispered. “Aemond, I—”

“It matters not,” he said.

“Of course it matters,” she said.

A great gust of wind hit her directly in the face and blew the hood of her cloak off, but she made no move to fix it or run for shelter. This seemed too important.

“No,” he snapped, “it does not. Why bother fixating on the past and things that will never be?”

“Tell me something, then,” she said, pushing her shoulders back. “That stone in your eye. Is it not the sapphire I gave you?”

“It serves as a reminder.”

“What could it possibly remind you of?”

He stepped closer to her. “The things I will never have.”

“Why would you want constant reminders of that?” she asked him.

“Because so long as I am reminded of what I cannot have, I will not be so foolish as to think of what could have been.”

Again, she found him terribly sad. Hesitantly, she reached out and touched his arm.

“You must allow yourself to want things,” she insisted. “Constant restraint is no way to live. Take what you want, Aemond, and let yourself feel.”

Unable to bear it any longer, she backed away from him and reentered the house. She ripped the cloak off and left it to rot on the floor. She was covered in mud and soaked to the bone. It was terrible, disgusting, infuriating. She was not entirely sure what it was, but it was just as likely to be the muddy clothes as it was Aemond’s attitude. She could not fathom how he could possibly be so cold about matters that deserved only warmth. He was sharp, cutting and slicing with his words, as he spoke about wanting to marry her. In this moment, she would have liked nothing more than to skewer him.

Pulling at the strings on her dress, she began the process of disrobing for a bath. She wanted to be rid of him. She wanted to be clean.

She relaxed in the tub until her fingers shriveled and the water turned cold. She dunked her head one last time and stood to leave, but then realized the flaw in her plan. In her haste to take a bath, she had neglected to collect a towel to dry off with or fresh clothes.

“Shit,” she muttered, knowing she would have no choice but to call for Aemond’s aid.

Surely, he would never let her forget this. Especially not after what he just admitted to her. Would he think she was trying to seduce him? Grimacing to herself, she drew her knees to her chest and called his name until she heard his footsteps approach the door.

“What is it?” he asked, sounding just as irritated as she had expected.

“I—” It was already humiliating. “Could you please bring me a towel and chemise? I forgot.”

He made a noise that could have been mistaken for a snort behind the door. Without voicing his assent or denial, he walked away. Gnawing on the inside of her cheek and absentmindedly scratching at her clavicle, Daena debated her options. She glanced a bit disparagingly at her discarded gown from before. She could put that back on, but the thought of it was entirely unappealing.

Then, without warning, the door flew open. Jolting in surprise, Daena quickly drew her knees even closer to her chest to attempt to save her from even more indignity.

“Here.” He held out a bundle of fabrics. “Where do you want them?”

“Um, just… The floor is fine. Thank you.”

He nodded and she watched as his eye flickered from her face to the harsh scar on her shoulder, visible no doubt from the manner in which she was hunched over to prevent him from seeing her more intimate areas. Having let him see the scar, now, she perhaps would have rathered him see the other parts of her. Somehow, the scar felt leagues more intimate than her breasts.

“It happened in the Stepstones,” she said, unsure why she kept him in here.

She really ought to have sent him away, and perhaps in every other life she did. But, in this one, she did not.

Aemond’s cheeks darkened in a flush.

“How?” he asked.

His eye was trained so singularly on her face that she knew he was making a concerted effort not to look elsewhere.

“I was fighting on the ground,” Daena explained. “Turned my back on an opponent I thought was dead.”

Could he hear the undercutting questions in her words? Can I turn my back to you, Aemond? Can I trust you? Once, she might have said yes easily.

“I hope you gave the craven the death he deserved,” Aemond said, nodding sharply. “There is no honor in that.”

She looked at him, and he her. Slowly, she felt the barest of smiles tug at her lips. Each and every day, he surprised her. Whether it was good or bad, she did not know, and she suspected she would not know until it was far too late.

Without another word, he left the room. Left alone, she dressed herself slowly.

Three years ago, I intended to ask for your hand. If he had done it, she would not have wanted it—and yet, she could not help but think about how different things would be if he had. Would things be better? Perhaps so; she could have bridged the gap between Luke and Aemond. That alone would have certainly changed a great many things.

Perhaps the time on the island had driven her mad, but she felt her bare feet pad along the floor until she found Aemond in the bedroom. Again, he looked achingly human. His bony ankles were visible beneath of cuff of his breeches, and his soft tunic was bunched up at the elbows. She stood in the doorway, merely watching. If he was aware of her presence, he gave no indication, and even if he was; he was surely unaware of how entranced she was by the way his hair fell in silken sheets around his shoulders. He was as severe as he was beautiful.

“Answer me this,” she said, breaking the silence.

His shoulders drew taut as he slowly turned to face her.

“What makes you believe you could never have me?”

He scoffed. “Our families are at war. Even before, it would have never been possible.”

She would have agreed to it, had the matter been raised. Seeing him in such mundanity, tending to animals and reading under the low light of the candles, made it impossible to hate him. He was no enemy. He was merely a man led astray, but his heart was good and his soul nowhere near as black as he would like her to believe.

“Do not think of our families,” Daena said. “Think only of yourself and how you feel. That is how you take care of yourself. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go to bed.”

Fingers curling into the material of the chemise at her thighs, Daena pushed past him and began to pull at the bed covers. Whatever she had been thinking before, it was a spark of delusion and madness. Clearly he could not see past his inflated sense of self, and he never would. And she was merely entertaining it because she was bored. Grimacing, she fluffed violently at her pillow.

His long and slender fingers wrapped around the crook of her elbow, and he pulled her towards him without any sense of warning. She was not proud of the gasp she let out in response; sharp and high-pitched. The sapphire embedded in his eye socket—the sapphire she had given him—glinted in the candlelight. He was so close.

“Could I have had you?” he asked, voice low and rushed.

“I would not have minded if you asked,” she answered.

Aemond’s grip on her tightened, and if he clenched any harder she was sure bruises would begin to take form. She considered, briefly, smacking him away, but she did not mind the weight of his grip in all truth. She and Sarya often gripped one another in far greater passions. Besides, she liked seeing Aemond unfurled.

“I have always known what you are, Aemond,” Daena whispered.

“And what am I, my lady?”

“A strange boy with a crush,” she said, tilting her head back. “But I have always been more than fond of strange things.”

She really ought to have expected it after goading him, but his kiss shocked her all the same. His lips landed on the corner of her mouth, sideways down her chin, as though he were unused to the act. Adjusting, she tilted her head to the side to turn the kiss into a proper one. His hands, clutching her hips in a vice, burned at her skin through her chemise. Enthralled by the feeling, she curled her fingers around the sides of his neck, bringing one hand up into the roots of his hair.

However inexperienced he was, he made up for it in enthusiasm. Aemond grasped at her, trailing all across her body as though he were attempting to create a map of her bones. She pushed up onto her toes, tightening her grip on his hair, and gnashed her teeth into his mouth. She took his bottom lip between her teeth and bit down just beyond gently. When his mouth fell open, she slipped her tongue against the roof of his mouth. His hips jolted against hers as a sharp gasp tumbled from his lips.

“Are you going to take me or not?” she mumbled against his neck.

“Please,” he gasped out as she scraped her teeth against his skin.

“Do you want me, Aemond?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me,” she whispered, tugging on his hair. “How do you want me?”

He groaned, low and guttural; rigid against her. His grip only tightened.

“I want—” His head fell forward, atop hers. “I want to taste you.”

Daena pulled away from Aemond, a wicked grin spreading across her full and swollen lips. Holding eye contact, she stepped backwards until she was sat upon the edge of the bed. Then, with Aemond’s attention captured entirely, she spread her legs and pulled the hem of her chemise up slowly, tantalizingly.

“Get on your knees, then,” she said.

Aemond fell without a blink. His fingertips traced along her ankles and then slowly crept up her leg, flexing his entire palm against her skin once he reached her thighs. She could feel his breath against her, his mouth open but still so terribly far from latching onto her as she wanted him to.

“My prince,” she groaned, reaching for the top of his head. “Please.”

He complied, pressing his tongue flat to her. There was no hesitation in his actions; he licked with confidence and precision, shocking her because she struggled to imagine him experienced. He groaned against her, hooking his arms beneath her thighs and pulling her as close to his face as possible. She was unable to keep the shrill moan from escaping her throat.

“Aemond,” she gasped. It was a breathy sort of thing, pulled in a wisp from her lungs. “Use… fingers!”

Ever the apt listener, he dipped a single finger into her. The moan she let out then was a pitched and trilling squeal. His single finger was the size of two of Sarya’s and reached to far deeper places than Sarya’s petite hands had been able to reach. He pumped the finger in and out, slowly and surely, and grinned against her. Two more fingers then, shoved inside her at once. She collapsed backwards onto the bed with a loud moan. He was relentless in his ministrations, going at a rapid pace until she was writhing and squirming and gasping for air. Swiping her arm over her forehead, she pushed herself up to look down at him.

His face was covered in her, glistening in the flickering, dying light. She swiped her tongue across her bottom lip. She grabbed a fistful of his tunic and yanked at it to get it off him. Catching on, he moved to help her. There was a heavy silence between them, but he moved onto the bed—hovering over her—without her even needing to tell him what she wanted.

She stared up at him, lips parted ever so slightly. His hair hung down in a silky curtain, framing his face. Palms shaking, she reached up and pressed her hand to his face. She arched her neck up and brushed her lips softly, gently, tenderly over his scarred forehead. The sapphire buried within his eye socket seemed to glow, keeping her attention rapt. Her thumb trailed along the underside of his eye, brushing against his long lower lashes. He was silent in her arms, stoic above her.

Afraid to speak, lest she say something too intimate, too weak, too revealing, she pulled his face down and licked herself from his lips. His teeth gnashed against her lip as though he wanted to swallow her whole. Briefly, as she fumbled with the buttons on his breeches, she thought she might let him. They did not speak, not even as she pushed him up against the headboard and sat herself on his lap. He was hard against her inner thigh, but she ignored it for the time being. Instead, she tugged his mouth down to her neck. He licked, bit, and sucked at the flesh, drawing heavy gasps for air from her lungs.

Chemise sticking to her with sweat, Daena pushed him back to begin ripping at the strings to get it off her. Aemond picked up on it and yanked the shift roughly over her head. His eye flickered down to her heaving breasts and a spike of confidence shot through her when she noticed how his cheeks flushed a darker shade at the sight.

“Daena,” he gasped out, voice heady and broken. “I… want—”

“I’ll give you whatever you want,” she promised, moving her hands to cradle his face.

Pulling him in for another angry kiss, she shifted her hips so that she could sink herself down onto him. It was a sensation she had never felt before, reaching places she had never known existed. Tears she did not quite understand burned in her eyes, but she continued to sink down until there was nowhere else for her to go. A groan that sounded more animal than human burst from her as she collapsed against his chest. His hands were hot as coals against her thighs, fingers sure to leave burnt impressions.

Delirious, she dropped her forehead against his and began to move her hips in slow, rocking circles. He swore quietly, tightening his grip on her legs.

“Seven… hells,” he grunted.

She continued until she found a pace that cut her breath off at the base of her throat, where the tip of him hit a place deep within her that caused her vision to go black and her jaw to go slack.

“Aemond.” She exhaled his name, unable to think of anything else but the man beneath her. She wanted to burrow herself within him and find a home within his bones, tucked into his ribs. Every bit of him had invaded her, and she was loath to let it end. This bubble they had created; she wanted it to exist for as long as she could sustain it. Here, they were leagues away from the people they had been and the circumstances that brought them to this island. Here, they were just Alyse and Jack. Here, they were free.

She let him spill within her after she reached her peak, and then collapsed once more against him. It was easy to fall asleep, exhausted and spent, within his arms.

Daena awoke with the first light of morning, as she always did. Naked and sticky with the dried sweat of the night before, she and Aemond were still tangled together; his face pressed into the crook of her neck. She was flooded with a wretched sort of feeling, unable to bear being within his grasp. As gently as she could, she removed herself from his arms and reached down to the floor for her chemise. She dressed quickly and sprinted away from the room.

Unsure if it was more shame or guilt that was flooding through her, she tucked herself into one of the armchairs by the unlit fire and stared into the blackened hearth. If she ever got away from here—if they ever got away from here—how could she possibly hope to look her family in the eye? How could she face Luke, knowing she had sworn to give the uncle who tormented him anything he wanted whilst in the thralls of passion.

A mistake, she decided. That is all it was. A mistake driven from flaring tempers and boredom. That was all it could be; nothing more.

Even so, she could not help but wish in the deepest and darkest depths of her soul for the opportunity to make the mistake again.

A noise from the bedroom informed her that Aemond had woken up. When he came into the main room of the house, their eyes met. After perhaps a moment too long, he tore his gaze away from hers and grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table and stalked back into the bedroom with that infuriating slow strut of his.

They did not speak that day, nor the next. Daena resigned herself to sleeping curled up in the armchair, drawing idly on loose slips of parchment she found around the house until she fell asleep. She mourned the tenuous friendship they had begun to restore in the days past as she did her best to ignore the growing knot in her neck from sleeping in the chair. It truly felt as though they were destined to be on opposing sides, never to truly know each other. She wished he never told her he wanted to marry her. Now, her mind was consumed by thoughts of what could have been and what could still be. It was also how she knew him a liar; if he did not dwell on the past, then he would have forgotten the matter entirely. But he had not, and so she knew he did care.

She would have agreed, she thought to herself as she drew Vermithor’s scales. If he had asked her, she would have married him. It was a terrifying, fleeting thought— and perhaps it was a betrayal of Luke, of Sarya, and, now, of Jace. Still, she could not deny that she liked Aemond well enough. She had been fond of him even when they were children and he smashed her head with a rock. She enjoyed his presence, despite his generally unpleasant demeanor. He was a friend, and she would have liked to marry a friend. She could have been happy in a marriage of friendship. If he had been allowed, she would have accepted.

But perhaps he was correct, and there was no use on dwelling on these things. What did it lead to but unhappiness?

She was curled up in a chair by the fire while Aemond tended to the barn animals, proving once more that he cared far more deeply for things than he liked to pretend. She flipped the page of the parchment back to the portrait she had drawn of Aemond while he slept. In the sketched plains of his face, she could see the strange and innocent boy beneath the cruel man. Pursing her lips, she tore the page and crumpled it. Just as he said, no use in dwelling on things she could not change.

He entered in with a wet gust of wind behind him. He made a grumbling noise as he kicked off his boots and undid the cloak, which really only served to make her laugh. He glared in her direction and stalked off, likely to wash up from being in the barn. Heaving a great sigh, Daena got out of the chair to scrounge together a meal for them. They ate like the smallfolk in Flea Bottom, and Daena was miserable for it. Their lack of communication made the bland food all the worse.

She brought the pot of stew to the hearth and let it come to a boil. Mariyah, in all her elderly wisdom, had planned on a long hurricane season and had gathered enough produce to last them the entirety of it. Aemond emerged from the washroom just as she was removing the pot from the fire. She offered him a tight smile and averted her eyes to began spooning stew into bowls for them to eat.

They sat silently on opposite sides of the table, pointedly not looking at each other. It made her want to scream and cry and rip her hair from its roots and throw the bowl at him. It was suffocating, and she just wanted to be done with it.

It was he, who broke their days-long silence, pushing his bowl away from him and leaning back against the chair. “I apologize,” he said stiffly, “for taking advantage the other night. It was… unworthy of me.”

Daena stared at him blankly, astounded. Then, a laugh that could be classified as nothing other than a cackle burst from her lips. His lips pursed at the sound, clearly displeased by her reaction.

“That is what you apologize for?” she asked, gasping for breath between words. “Oh, Aemond… I am hardly a blushing maiden.”

At that, a flush crept up his cheeks.

“The other night might have been a moment of weakness that can and will never happen again, but you did not take advantage.”

“Well, I apologize nonetheless.” His cheeks were flushed with blood. “And, yes. Never again.”

She bit the inside of her cheeks as her mind cycled through all the motions of their mistake. As far as mistakes go, it had been her most enjoyable one.

“You ought to sleep in the bed again,” Aemond said after another long silence as they cleaned up the kitchen. “I can tell your neck is bothering you.”

Her hand flew to the crook of her neck on instinct. She ripped it away just as quickly.

“I’m quite fine.”

“Then allow me to take the chair or floor.”

“No, that is not necessary,” she insisted, turning away from him to stare out the window. The rain beat mercilessly on the glass. Like it was trying to bring not just the home, but the entire island down. “You sustained more injuries than I did in the fall, and the fault for that lies in my hands.”

She chose to leave out the fact that it was his actions that forced her hand, because at this point that was neither here nor there.

“Then perhaps I sleep in the other room—”

“Mariyah just died on that bed!” Daena exclaimed, half scandalized. She was tired of this conversation. “We will continue as we have.”

“Daena, you cannot—”

“And yet, I will!” she shrieked. Instantly embarrassed, she sucked in a long, slow breath and turned back around to face him. “It is different for me.”

He said nothing, merely staring at her. Gods, how he infuriated her, how he wiggled beneath her skin and stuck there, how he could see right through her.

“If anyone were to discover we were here alone, you would be perfectly fine. I would be…” She thought back to what he hissed at her when he woke. “Ruined.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she pushed on.

“Our mistake, for you, is a story to tell someday. For me, it is nothing less than betrayal.”

“Betrayal.” He scoffed, a sudden glint of venom in his iris. “And what do you call my part, then? Do I not betray my family every moment you remain breathing?”

“Kill me, then, and be done with it!” Daena threw her hands up. “Please, I beg you. Do it, because I will never be able to kill you as I know I ought to.”

He blinked at her, stunned into silence by her manic plea. Frustrated tears brimming in her eyes, Daena stomped away from him and into the washroom. She sank to her knees and remained there until she heard no sounds of movement. Praying that it meant Aemond was asleep, Daena crept out and back into the main room.

She was stopped in her tracks, however, by the sight of Aemond fast asleep on the very armchair she had made her bed the last few nights. One leg was propped up on the cushioned footrest while the other was sprawled onto the floor. Even in her hatred of him— if she could call it that— she was touched by the display. There was hope for him yet, goodness that bubbled beneath the surface. In an effort to repay the kindness, she grabbed a quilt from the chest by the fireplace and laid it over his lap.

They had perhaps left things worse than they ever were before between them, but Daena would deal with those consequences once morning came. Now, she was bone weary and just wanted to sleep. She slept like the dead once her head hit the pillows, though in her dreams Aemond’s face taunted her. In the morning, she woke with a deep, aching need between her legs. Disgusted with herself, Daena kept herself confined within the walls of the bedchamber until she thought she might collapse from hunger. When she pulled the door open, however, she found herself face-to-face with Aemond—a plate of food and mug of mead in hand. His mouth fell open just a bit as she tripped herself to avoid walking right into him.

“You have not eaten,” he said in a hoarse voice. “It is getting late… I thought you might like some food.”

“Thank you,” she said, unable to do much anything else than focus on his lavender iris boring into her. “How very thoughtful, my prince.”

“Aemond,” he said suddenly. “Just— Call me Aemond.”

Oh.

“Very well,” she said. “Aemond.”

“I wanted to thank you… for the blanket last night.” He shuffled closer infinitesimally. The mug was shaking ever so slightly in his clenched fist. “And, I was thinking… here, we can just be…”

She pulled the plate and mug from his hands and dropped them onto the small table in the room, discarded to be forgotten. Sighing, she pushed her braids over her shoulder and turned back to him. Did she haunt his dreams as he did hers?

“We can just be… what, Aemond?”

“I—” He opened his mouth and closed it thrice. “You said to take what I want.”

A whirling thrill spiked in her blood, the ache inside of her leading her straight to him.

“A mistake it might be, but what does it matter?” he asked. “We are alone.”

“I suppose it doesn’t,” she admitted.

Taking him to her bed once, twice, or however many times mattered not so long as it ceased once they returned to where they belonged. She just liked to see him finally breaking free of that hardened shell he encased himself in. He kissed her, then, and she forgot all about her hunger for food. All she hungered for was him. His fingers yanked at the curls at the base of her skull, forcing her head back so that he could kiss down her jaw and neck.

There were no words shared between them. Perhaps that would be too personal, too indicative of their wrongdoing. Neither took the time to undress, merely hiking up her chemise and shoving down his breeches. They fell backwards onto the bed just as he pushed himself inside her. She gasped into his mouth, digging her nails into his cheekbones and looping her legs around his waist to pull him close.

They continued at that pace until they were fully spent; collapsed upon one another. Daena yawned loudly, reaching her hand out to grab hold of the apple Aemond put on the plate for her. The generosity of it did not escape her; those apples seemed to be the only thing that made him even a shade of content. She took several bites of it before offering it out to Aemond. As though it were a natural sort of thing to do. And he took a bite from her hand, half convincing her this were a dream. When the apple was nothing but a discarded core and the bread nothing but crumbs, it was Daena who pounced on Aemond. Now that she had been given a taste, she was insatiable. And it seemed, so was he.

But, it was more languid this time. He did not hurry himself as he mouthed at her neck and began to pull at the strings on her chemise. She wanted to touch him, but quickly lost all means to do so when he pulled her chemise off and began to kiss down her torso. Her breath hitched at the base of her throat and delirium flooded her veins as she became enthralled in the pleasure she wrought from him.

“Seven Hells,” she groaned out, tossing her head back against the pillows.

She could feel Aemond’s lips curl upwards into a smile as he traced his tongue along her hip bone in response.

Much later, when they had tired themselves out entirely, he laid himself down beside her, resting his head on her bare chest. It was strange, how easy it was to simply be with him— and it terrified her as much as it befuddled her. But, then, it had always been easy with Aemond. They fell asleep like that, tangled together, pressed closer than close. Daena had never slept better in her life.

“I would never ruin you,” he spoke quietly against her collarbone one night some weeks later. She had long since stopped keeping track of the days as they passed, dreary and thunderous as they were.

Daena stilled beneath him. “What?”

“Your reputation,” he said, “I would never allow it to fall to ruin.”

For some reason, she believed him and kissed him hard on the mouth for the first time outside the thralls of passion. He returned the kiss with vigor and they fell asleep in the middle of it, which she had also never done before.

When morning came, she awoke to a thunderous roar outside her window. Gasping, she shot up and looked around, scrambling to pull her chemise over her head. She knew that roar. Barefoot and without any protection from the weather, she sprinted outside, past Aemond who was slowly blinking his eyes and sitting up from the commotion she caused. Toes digging into the mud, Daena ran from the house to Vermithor.

His bronze scales were like the rays of the sun amidst all the rain. Grinning, she flung herself forward.

“My brave boy,” she wept, pressing her forehead to his snout.

He snuffed and knocked his snout against her head. Laughing, she kissed one of his horns and stepped back to examine him.

“How is your wing, hm?” she asked, walking around to take in his form.

He flared his wings out as though to prove he was in perfect condition. She reached her hand out to stroke the wing that had been injured when they took down Vhagar. She could see the scar tissue, but the tendons were healed and strong. She could go home. As though sensing her realization, he tilted his head back, opened his jaws wide, and screeched so loud that the trees shook. His hind legs stomped the ground, as though he were preparing for takeoff. It was everything she wanted to hear.

“What are you doing?” Aemond shouted, standing in the threshold of the doorway.

Vermithor’s neck snaked around and he positioned himself firmly between Daena and Aemond. He remembered Aemond from the attack, and he did not trust the prince. Laughing at her dragon’s protection, she stepped forward and placed her hand on the underside of Vermithor’s jaw. He grumbled quietly and settled.

“Umbagon,” she ordered before walking back to the house.

Aemond was staring at her like he found her mad. At least that had not changed. She pushed her wet braids from her face.

“Vermithor is healed,” she said.

“I can see that,” he said. He held out a large blanket for her. “Come inside.”

Feeling the chill suddenly, she stepped in and allowed him to pull the blanket over her shoulders. His hands stayed on her shoulders, rubbing over her upper arms to help warm her. She furrowed her eyebrows and stared up at him. His face was pulled taut and there was concern evident, his lips pursed as he took care to help her dry off.

“What?” he asked, seeing that she was staring.

She cleared her throat and averted her gaze. “It’s nothing.” She smiled to herself and tilted her head to the side. “Well, it is nice to see you care.”

He frowned. “When have I ever given you the impression I do not care for you?”

That response took her by surprise. It was shockingly earnest, coming from him— but that had been a running theme with him in the last few days.

“Aemond,” she whispered, lifting a hand to his scarred cheek.

It was absurd and utterly mad of her, but a sudden shot struck her like lightning. It would be so very easy to love him. Her love for Sarya had not lessened in her time on the island, but there was merely more space in her heart than she once thought. She would never be able to pursue it, of course. She was betrothed and he… Aemond was a traitor and an attempted kinslayer. And all that to say, she still wanted him. Something sinister had overtaken her in the last three moons, sunken its claws into her skin and dripped its poison onto her tongue.

She was fond of him, desired him, enjoyed him, but she had a duty now that Vermithor was in flying condition. Aemond was a traitor and an attempted kinslayer, and she needed to bring him to justice.

“I will come quietly,” he said softly, reaching out and gingerly curling the loose end of one of her braids around his finger. She had a keen memory of her own fingers wrapped in his hair. “I will surrender and bend the knee if that is what you wish.”

“What I wish?” she echoed. “And what of your wishes?”

It was as though the island emboldened him, pulled apart his strong defenses and left him bare but more confident than she had ever seen him.

“I wish for whatever will keep me in your life, my lady.”

“You can’t mean that,” she whispered, hardly daring to believe it.

She was not immune to the effects of dashing confessions made, easily swept up in the romance of it all. It was her most foolish trait, but being aware of it did not subdue it. It only made her aware of the breadth of stupidity she was capable of.

“You took my eye. You took my dragon. Take my heart as well; it is yours.”

Her cheeks burned under the weight of his gaze and words. Mouth dry, she crafted the most intelligent response she could muster.

“I did not take your eye.”

He shrugged, as though his reasoning were the only sort that made sense. Perhaps he would have preferred it to have been her. Their injuries were settled like scores, canceling the other out— even if he had gotten off far worse than she had. In his mind, it should have been her, and so it was it seemed. Or that he held her in just as much blame as he did Luke.

“And as for Vhagar—” Her own voice betrayed her, choking off in an unbecoming squeal. “I wish I could have stopped you without killing her.”

Aemond looked away from her then, finally pulling his face from her palm. She tucked her hand back under the blanket he provided her as quickly as she could so as though it were never there in the first place. Then, he surprised her yet again.

“I know.” It was a simple thing. “I forgave you a long time ago.”

She furrowed her brow, a million and one questions racing about her mind, but she kept them to herself.

“You will come without fight or argument?” she asked slowly.

“I will,” he confirmed.

Bewildered and pleased alike, Daena observed him for a moment before ultimately deciding he seemed honest.

“Then we must dress. It is at least a half day’s flight from here to Dragonstone.”

They did not speak again as they readied themselves for departure. What was there to say, really? They had, for better or worse, betrayed their families and themselves by falling into bed with one another, and now fate had come knocking. They both knew that on Dragonstone he would likely face imprisonment at best. There was always the threat of execution, but Daena was not sure Rhaenyra, even at her most bloodthirsty and vicious, had it in her to be a kinslayer. No, Rhaenyra would not take her brother’s head, but she might strip him of all titles and inheritance and send him to the Wall where he could never be a threat to her again. And rather stupidly, Daena did not wish for that. Perhaps this was what Aemond wanted all along; for her to trust him, to vouch for him, to be more than fond of him.

That decided it for her. Upon arriving to Dragonstone, what happened here on the island would fade into the past. She would dedicate herself to whatever war effort there was and accept her fate as Queen after Rhaenyra. “Whatever claim to the throne I have left, you are it’s heir now. Both of you.” Daena would never be able to forget the sheen of sweat covering the older woman’s body, the way her face was scrunched up in pain and her voice quivered as she laid out commands for her oldest son and Daena.

There was a truth about Daena Velaryon that Sarya had always seen: For her family, Daena would sacrifice anyone and anything, including herself, and let the entire world burn to ashes. And as Aemond perched himself behind her on Vermithor’s saddle without complaint, she wondered if he saw it too. An unstoppable force meets and immovable object, and whatever happens in the aftermath is only nature. And yet, Daena did not think she would go so quietly if the roles were reversed.

“Sōves, Vermithor!” Daena yelled as loud as she could over the violent winds and rain, already soaked through to the bone.

Without complaint or hesitance, Vermithor roared and took to the skies.

Aemond and her did not speak for entire flight, and Daena was glad for the silence as the black sand beaches of Dragonstone grew ever nearer. It had been a year’s quarter since she left Dragonstone for Storm’s End, and war had been brewing when she did. There was no telling what they would find when they landed.

#aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond targaryen x reader #team black #hotd au #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #cregan stark #jace x cregan #jacegan #jacaela #fic: fireplace ashes

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boyfridged · 1 year

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so much of jay’s storyline and his unique position in the narrative is lost/upstaged in contemporary canon because of the retcons regarding his parents. i wholeheartedly believe that the best iteration and reading of his story has to incorporate the og characterisation of them, especially of willis. two aspects to be talked ab here:

a. ethics & crime: when talking ab jay's parents, people usually focus on catherine as a good mom. there's nothing wrong with that, but she is traditionally seen as more of a passive victim of crime, and in post-res jay content (+his backstory retcons, look: cheer) it makes him especially resentful to... dealers. on its own, it could be dismissed, but that along with making willis into an abusive father reframes the early storyline of jay to have a criminal antagonist, which gives him the incentive to become bitter and spiteful towards criminals. and that's, in my opinion, an actual antithesis to everything interesting ab jason's introduction. i talked about it at length here but what is utterly fascinating in his early stories is that jay doesn't care much for labeling people as criminals. he doesn't link the notion of 'crime' with that of moral standing, and explicitly says that he doesn't think that surviving is a crime, a statement that most probably also applies to willis. it's extremely important because it shows that jay is not ever vengeful as robin for the sake of serving any high black-and-white notion of justice; jay's understanding of morality is highly situational. it is both his strength (as it makes it easy for him to empathize with people) and also something that will make vigilantism difficult for him – where bruce's limits are still somewhat dictated by the law, jay will still seek justice guided by his own intuitions (garzonas case.)

b. grief & vigilantism: painting willis as an abusive father is usually followed by writers (and readers) dismissing one of jay's most important storylines. batman #410-#411 covers jay's grief after he learns about willis' death and imo these issues are one of the keys to understanding his character in general. i talk ab it more here (in another context) but tldr; i think that jay's initial way of dealing with grief has little to do with vigilantism and that he seemingly sees it as an independent matter. and around 2-3 years later, we learn that jay is still heavily grieving in private (once again, same quotes as from the linked post, batman #426) “i’ve come upon him, several times, looking at that battered old photograph of his mother and father, crying.” “in other words, i may have started jason as robin before he had a chance to come to grips with his parents' deaths.” so. it's explicitly stated that unlike in bruce's case, vigilantism isn't a coping mechanism for jay's grief at all, but even interrupts it. and jay grieves after both of his parents.

this is also all interesting in the context of jay's relationship with bruce – bruce views jason as both a victim of criminality and someone who might go down this road in a cyclic reenaction of his father's [willis] life. in batman #410 bruce says clearly that he believes that if he were on the streets, jay would be doomed to die a criminal like his father [willis] did. but jay isn't murdered following a "path of crime" like his first father; he dies living up to his next father's (bruce's) heroic ideals.

#me saying the same thing 4839 times but in a slightly different context? it's more likely than you think.#also another thing #willis presumably goes into a life of crime to provide for the family -> which ends up in his own death and orphaning jay #bruce makes jay a vigilante in hopes of diverting that “fate” -> jay dies #uhm. plus maybe something about how willis is willing to abandon morality to make jay's life better #dc #jay.txt #jay.zip #core texts #robin days #willis.zip

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blainesebastian · 1 year

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sticks & stones

words: 2,546 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (anon request) “ Austin launches his relationship with his girlfriend, she has a few thousand followers on IG and will post lots of selfies/risque photos and everyone’s tearing her down saying she’s too slutty/Austin is to classy for her?” warnings: none notes: thanks for reading!! slightly different from request. will re-open my requests after i finish this next fic i’m working on :) thanks everyone! tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @stylespresleyhearted

You've always been pretty liberal with posting photos of yourself. Your mother has this saying that she got from these old-timey song lyrics that goes 'accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative'—and it kinda just boils down to that for you? You appreciate a lot about your looks, your body, not in a completely conceded way, but in admiration. Too many women in your opinion aren’t fond with their looks or find something wrong with themselves, that's human, and you definitely have those moments. But you've also worked very hard to love yourself, every part of you. Your body supports you, nourishes you, is your home. Not that you post for anyone other than yourself? but you can't remember a time when anyone's ever had a problem with you either.

At least not until recently.

It comes and goes in waves ever since you started dating Austin—it never ceases to amaze you the audacity some people have online, how they're incredibly bold to strangers just because you so happen to be dating someone specific. You melt it all down to jealousy, you quell down the voices in the back of your mind that start to agree with terrible comments you've read and ignore it because what's the point?

You talk yourself out of it bothering you—until you can't.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, you doom scroll as your other hand holds a cup of matcha tea. You take a sip every so often but you're not really paying attention to anything other than the commentary on these candid photos that have been posted. You went to this Italian restaurant for dinner with Austin and his sister to celebrate her birthday and you're wearing a stunning navy-blue dress. It's got an open back, thin gold chains holding it together. The front is high-neck and you paired it with strappy gold heels and…really you've worn this dress around your own family and have gotten so many compliments. There's nothing wrong with it?

If you allow yourself to dive into the black hole of what's 'appropriate' for a woman to wear to dinner, you might not ever return. It'll never change the fact that people have strong opinions on absolutely everything and they somehow deem to apply it to you, what you want to wear, or how you and Austin are in your relationship. You and Austin have so much mutual love and respect for one another, he has never made you feel less than or like you should feel guilty or embarrassed for knowing and appreciating yourself.

And he's certainly never complained about what you've worn. You often know what he thinks about your clothes because he tells you—and something that you love best? No matter whether you're wearing a pair of joggers and one of his t-shirts or an elaborate dress from Fashion Week, the compliment is always in the same wheelhouse—'you're beautiful'.

So…why are these range of comments beginning to bother you? Especially when you realize the small sample size is women. You can’t even appreciate when others step in to back you up.

kelly_allen: she wore that to a…family dinner? austin44: yikes jessi1030: 😍😍😍 elvisfan: oh come on guys, maybe they’re going to a club afterwards? stylespreseleyhearted: pretty sure what she’s wearing is no one’s business—besides, do you see Austin complaining?? elvisthepelvis: bro just saying, his last gf wasn’t nearly as slutty

You don't even hear Austin come into the kitchen but suddenly he's in front of you, gently taking your phone out of your hand with a soft expression, "Told you not to look at that crap."

You crinkle your nose—were you being that obvious? "I know," You turn to lean back against the counter as Austin sets your phone face down, moving to stand in front of you and carefully pin you against the surface. His arms create a cage as he tilts his head down to nip at your lower lip, causing you to laugh. "Sometimes it's hard to avoid."

Austin hums lightly, lifting his one hand to cup your cheek. You turn into the touch a little, pressing a kiss to his palm and closing your eyes for a few moments to take a breath.

"It doesn't bother you?" You ask, gazing up into his blue ones, "What people say?"

He shakes his head before trailing his thumb over your lower lip, "It bothers me that you're upset."

Letting out a soft sigh, you roll your eyes to the ceiling before a semi-dramatic huff leaves your lips. You tilt forward a little until your forehead rests against Austin’s shoulder and it’s…a perfectly good spot right now. His arms move to wrap around your frame, squeezing, one hand massaging circles into your spine. Up and down in a soothing motion, almost perfect enough to fall asleep to.

You just…come to the decision that you can’t let it sit with you. It’s alright to let it upset you, you’re human and you have real emotions, but those words don’t have to plant seeds of doubt—there is nothing wrong with utterly being yourself.

Tilting your head back up, you give Austin a small smile, “I love you.”

He playfully grabs your chin with his fingers, his own matching smile as he leans down to kiss you in response.

Everything’s fine until it isn’t.

You kinda remove yourself from social media for a little bit, not deactivating anything, just not actively posting any updates about you and Austin or yourself. It’s definitely unlike you but you feel like you need a cleanse? To just get back on track of just doing your own thing without worrying about what anyone else thinks.

And that works for a while.

You’re out and about to grab lunch with a friend and after you’ve done that, you stop at a coffee shop that you frequent to get a latte that you’re only slightly obsessed with. It’s a nice day out so you’re wearing this t-shirt dress that hikes up the leg, showing off a thigh tattoo you have. You’ve paired it with this jean corset that creates a silhouette look, it’s one of your favorite fashion combinations to put together.

You turn to walk out of the café with your order and hold the door for someone behind you and you feel what happens before you even have time to process it. That same person says your name and there’s a fraction of a second where you’re confused because you’re ninety percent sure you don’t know them—

Then, “Slut.” And they toss their drink down the front of you.

You gasp and take a step back out of instinct and your mouth hangs open, not necessarily out of pain even though the coffee is hot, but because you’re shocked.

One of the baristas who know you and Austin well as regulars rushes out from behind the counter to hand you a hand-towel and ask you if you’re alright but…you can barely grasp the towel to begin patting yourself down, let alone answer their question. Emotions are heavy and quick, hitting you like a ton of bricks. Your eyes burn with tears and this lump appears in your throat that is incredibly difficult to swallow over.

You barely push out the words thank you before handing the towel back and rushing out of the doorway, making a b-line for home.

It’s a mixed bag of emotions and maybe you’re pissed off because you have no idea how to actually feel. You’re angry and vulnerable and sick to your stomach all at once, you don’t even realize your hands are shaking until you tear off your clothes and toss them on the floor. You lean against the sink in your stained nude bra and underwear, squeezing the sink, not being able to look yourself in the mirror because you know you’ll cry.

Austin chooses that exact moment to walk in the front door.

You quickly turn the shower on and reach for the bathroom door as your boyfriend wanders into the bedroom, “Hey Y/N.”

And you can’t quite close it now, giving him a ghost of a smile as you leave it open a crack to say, “Hey, just gonna grab a shower.”

But your voice does not sound like your own and Austin immediately picks up on that, taking a step closer. His eyebrows draw together as he touches the door, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” You reply, a bit too quickly.

Now Austin’s concerned, you can see the look right on his face because he knows you’re lying. He gently pushes on the door a bit more, getting you to take a step back.

“Austin—” You shake your head.

His eyes flutter across you then to the stained clothes on the floor, “What happened?”

Your voice changes, just slightly, because now you’re starting to get worked up. You just want him to leave you alone at the very same time that you want to tell him everything. And yet the words stick like glue in the back of your mouth because you know this was one of his fans that’s done this to you and…your interaction with Austin’s fans have always been pleasant. They’ve been nice and thoughtful and respectful so the fact that this happened feels messed up even more than it already is.

“Coffee happened,” You reply, voice sharp as you motion to the floor, “Obviously.”

“Y/N.” He says and it’s gentle, far too gentle and yet it somehow feels like a dagger right between your ribs and suddenly everything spills right out.

“Oh my god,” You scoff out a laugh, running a hand over your forehead, pushing your hair back. “What happened was I was at the café on the corner and when I went to leave, someone called me a slut and thew coffee at me. Okay? Happy?”

Austin stands there for a moment, a mixture of emotions passing over his face, his jaw clenching in that way where you know he’s pissed off. He doesn’t say anything though, like you expect he might, instead he takes a step forward and clasps the back of your neck with the palm of his hand. He draws you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you and you’re tense for a long few moments until you just…melt against his embrace.

That’s when the tears come.

There’s no loud sobbing but a stream of silent crying against his shoulder, turning your face into his neck and sniffling, fingers gathering the fabric of his shirt in your hands as your shoulders tremble. He doesn’t move for a long time, just keeps you against him, his hand stroking through your hair and massaging along your shoulders. He pulls back just slightly to look down at you, his hand cupping your cheek and removing a tear track with his thumb.

“M'sorry baby,” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You shake your head, sniffling again—your face feels puffy and wet, eyes red-rimmed, a bit congested from crying. A mess, really, can’t even imagine what you must look like. The thing is—he doesn’t have to apologize to you. He’s not in control of any of this, especially his fans. You know it’s not one hundred percent responsibility but moreso he cares that you’re upset, he’s hurt because you’re hurting.

“I love you.” Austin says, tilting your chin up just slightly so that your gazes meet.

That always manages to pull the softest of smiles from you and this is no different, regardless of how terrible you feel. You nod as you rest your hand on his chest, a point of connection, grounding, as Austin tugs you into his embrace again.

A few days pass since the incident and Austin has been relatively quiet about it. It's not that he's ignoring the situation or refusing to talk about it but rather he's just giving you open space to talk to him, or not talk at all. You appreciate that more than you can really put into words, you're not quite sure what you'd say anyways. It's such a push and pull kind of situation—you know that tensions and emotions run really high for fans, they feel a connection to Austin as real as the one you have with him, even if it's not the same at all. You don't want to disrespect that, you get that fans are also what make Austin's work so important—he cares about them and what they bring to the table in terms of his stardom. But at the same time? you definitely feel insulted, hurt, and you don't understand what you've done exactly to deserve such strong words and actions from a stranger.

It's a warmer day out and Austin's decided to take you out because you both have time off (secretly you know he's just trying to make you feel better, but it's working). It's a pretty lazy day, you're wearing a soft yellow sundress, a bit sheer, but it hangs on you beautifully. You're on your way to a brunch after visiting a farmer's market, a tote bag filled with fresh produce, cheese and some homemade fruit pastries that you couldn't pass up.

You wander down the sidewalk, Austin ending up behind you and it takes you a moment to turn around...to see him taking a video of you. Your cheeks flush pink and you kinda give him this look before laughing,

"What are you doing?"

"Filming my beautiful girlfriend." Austin replies, like it's obvious. "Do a twirl or somethin'."

You laugh, shaking your head, "No, stop."

"C'mon, can't be wearin' a pretty dress like that for no reason."

You roll your eyes but you're grinning, so you do what he asks. You do a playful twirl and come to meet him, grabbing his other hand as he flips the video around so that it's in selfie mode, you pressed up against his chest. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to your lips before ending the video. Lazily wrapping your arms around his waist, you watch as he taps open his Instagram on his phone, your eyebrows lifting slightly. You...didn't actually think he was going to do anything with the video he took. He snaps photos and takes videos all the time but they never end up on social media, which is fine, you know Austin isn't as active as you are on apps.

But for him to be...putting this on his story?

"Austin."

"I know what I'm doin'." He replies, drawing an arm around your shoulder. He presses a kiss to your temple and uploads the video to his story with the comment 'main character energy' and you can't help but snort out a laugh because he's ridiculous and cute and…sweet. And you fall a little bit more in love with him in that very moment.

He waits until the video loads before he closes his phone, putting it back into his pocket. Giving you a soft smile, he leans down to brush a kiss along the bridge of your nose. You hum lightly, eyes fluttering closed as you soak in the moment with him.

He definitely didn't need to do that? But it makes all the difference.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things

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anauro · 5 months

Note

Me again!

Ok to be honest, I did not understand what was so bad about James getting clean for Reg by the power of love and everything. I thought it was a bit sad but still OK, but the other ask made me realize that if it was that easy, James would have indeed done it for his son. And also, when I re-read the fic, it became clearer as Poppy told James he needs to focus on HIM first... So yeah, I'm scarred now, even more after doing my homework and catching up on Tumblr and seeing you promised more angst... 🥴🥴

And! Reg does not know that James has not been as clean as he thinks! 😭 And the half-empty bottle in the closet is still here... 🥴

We're joking about Reg falling in love super fast with James but part of me also wonders if it's not linked to his fallout with Sirius. I'm not saying that James is a replacement, but something like this, if you get what I mean.

If James could be like this now, then he could stay like this forever and prove to Regulus that he was a good enough reason to get clean for, in a way he never was for his brother.

I don't know, I read this part and felt a bit weird for and about Regulus haha. I would like to hope for the best but... *ominous piano sounds* 💔 - 🇫🇷

Coucou, ça va? 🧋

The first paragraph, yes!!! And I kind of think Regulus is and isn’t responsible for this…

It was okay when Regulus was like a taste of normalcy (?Is that a word?) for James and the motivation to quit because he too wants a job, a house and evenings in front of TV.

Then it started going downhill rapidly and tbh James was doomed from the moment he chose to stay with Regulus over leaving with Sirius. Like, he didn’t do it to get clean like Regulus thinks and now that I think back on it, Regulus should have properly established some boundaries there and then. He was no longer left with James because of Sirius… he made an active choice to have him around and should have thought more about what that means.

I consciously made sure James wasn’t Regulus’ patient at any point in the beginning of the fic, cause I think that would have been a little bit creepy (for me at least), but Regulus almost immediately started acting like James’ doctor: doing his injections, making sure he eats, taking him to the dentist. It happened kind of naturally, but then as soon as feelings came into play (which Regulus did not predict lol) all the doctoring stopped. We went from Regulus not wanting to disclose even what his favourite animal is to them two sleeping together in a space of weeks!!!

And Regulus knows relationships shouldn’t be on James’ mind!! And Poppy points it out too, but obviously at that point it’s kind of too late - breaking things off with James would be equally disastrous and likely lead to a massive relapse (especially if you think James would go back to live with happily in love Wolfstar)… thankfully Regulus saved the day by providing an alternative which surely is guaranteed to work out.. 🫥

#roc answers #drugs and surgical scrubs #dass #french anon

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neonscandal · 2 months

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Hi, I'm the one who send this https://www.tumblr.com/neonscandal/744748284319498240/do-you-know-that-the-mangaka-of-wotakoi-love-is?source=share

I also just realized this. But after reading the manga and watch the anime, we could tell that the mangaka also love BL, right? Yes, I have read that GL one shot, love them, wish it could be longer...

Just finished discussing with a few people that think canon BL and GL >> non canon BL and GL (like from shounen & shoujo). I disagree with them, and you know what, I showed them a few posts from various blogs (one of them are your blog). And let's just say, some of them now have also become SatoSugu, BakuDeku, and YumiHisu shipper... 😉

Your answers to asks similar to our discussion also help. Thanks for this amazing blog of yours .....

Hello again and thank you for your ask! Oh for sure. I mean, it's been a while since I last watched it but wasn't Momose a fujoshi? And I'm not saying Hanako being a crossplayer is tangential territory but the girls that get it, get it. 😂

RE: canon BL and GL vs non canon BL and GL, I giggled so much. One, thanks for sharing my posts, it's funny to think they're a catalyst for others to fall into the same brainrot I find myself in, constantly. I think there's a level of drama in the non canon BL and GL that is different from canon BL and GL. Not sure if that makes sense to say.

What I've noticed is that, typically, the drama in MLM and WLW romance stories that I've read is either from coming to terms with their feelings (like a coming of age) or just straight up reconciling trauma. There's a crazy amount of abuse that gets passed off as romance which I take issue with whether they are straight or queer stories. Occasionally, you'll see drama from enemies or rivals overcoming tense relations but, sometimes, even those stories are precipitated by some kind of sexual violence.

Non canon, there's an independent story that is typically multilayered and has nothing to do with romance. But there's enough "give" in these longer running stories to find deeper connections between the cast. There are also enough gaps in a developing story where fandom can fill in the blanks, especially with rich and dynamic characters that have development independent of their relationship with someone else. I think that's why I lean on queer characters having storylines independent of being queer because while that's part of ones' experience that's not all they are. So these stories provide this desperate sort of drama as characters play their role in this unfurling story, right? But then, there's another facet of drama in the "will they, won't they" that we convince ourselves of and it just compounds. Let's not forget stories with an element of danger that isn't caused between a ship.. Okay, maybe I'm finally starting to understand doom toxic yaoi.. 😅

ALSO, don't forget that canonically, Ymir was a queer character who loved Historia. Whether Historia reciprocated those feelings in the same way does not negate that representation. It makes me happy to know that people are having such sincere conversations and that my posts are a means of discourse 😂 because I'm out here smashing my keyboard and screaming into the internet void: "AND YA KNOW WHAT ELSE IS SAD!?" hahahaha so thank you for reading, genuinely, and for including me in your conversations.

#neon asks #anon asks #anime #manga #queerness in anime #queerness in media #shonen ai #yuri #wlw #shonen anime #shojo anime #shipping discourse #mlm

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herequeerexitentialfear · 1 month

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fuck it its lesbian week of visibility im dropping the Amelia lore. too many bisexuals* in Cela & co, time for Celias lesbian protégé to shine<3 so time for a ramble<3

[*Rametto is ace aro they just dated a boy for a few weeks to try [read: to rub it in Cecios face that he is chronically unable to get in a serious & honest romantic relationship] but the rest are bi/pan] anyway clarification over:

Amelia is one of the less doomed characters, mainly because shes 1. not part of the immediate family group [of her own volition] E.g. she never has her main residence be with Celia except for a few situations for a short amount of time where she he nowhere and 2. Shes part of the 'second generation' aka not Celia Tesoro, Conficcare or even Elenas cohort, so like Rametto, she gets the benefits of the older ones hard work as well as their protection as they grow into their own.

Her story is fairly simple, her mother is disabled due to a gang related attack, so she steps up to avenge her mother as well as make money to support them both. shes barely a teenager, but so angry at the world for her mother getting hurt that she starts hunting down local gang members to find out who did it and where to find them. she starts shaking down students at Rametto's school, leading to a fight where she breaks one of his year mates arms, getting her expelled from her current school. Rametto is curious at to why she was picking fights, especially given with Celia and Conficcares not so long ago rise to the district squad, people are looking to him as their future successor & leader of the younger members. Rametto tells her it wasnt any of them that hurt her mother, hoping to end the issue

but Amelia ends up joining Ramettos school, and thanks to her already existing reputation, she makes a name for herself as an excellent fighter and a smart one too. Her and Rametto are, to put it simply, rivals for the leadership of the students, and have their own followers and factions, but will join ranks when a threat appears from outside. they gain a lot of respect for each other, an open lesbian, and a glass closet case of gender nonconformity. she was traditionally strong and charismatic and he was manipulative and a chess master- they made very interesting enemies, but when united they were terrifying- and Celia noticed and not only fostered that competition, but also [with Tesoros help] carefully made them closer.

Celia became the adult Amelia could unload her worries to [when shes worried about burdening her mother], acting as an uncle of sorts, and Amelia remains one of the only people who Celia has talked about being a woman [or not] with, after Amelia eventually snaps at Celia about being a coward and not being herself, instead hiding behind masks and masculinity, and hiding from the misogyny she 'should' be receiving, but instead all of which gets placed on Amelia's shoulders.

[shoving my old tags here for an explanation for the implications of that argument: #idk why i havent really taled about her before#oh yea its her complicated relationship with Celia re: womanhood & the rejection of it#Amelia is not being transphobic? well thats not her intent. but Celia hiding something that Amelia gets plenty of shit for is important#i mean none of these characters even my beloved butch lesbian are meant to be paragons of virtue#but none of these fuckers are going to therapy ofc they be yelling at each other# and like i get it i feel shit that im genderqueer and yet just pretend to just be a man to be safer. #idk when i write that argument its gonna be uncomfortable but like. that why im writing these characters ]

like Rametto, she has a complicated relationship with Celia, and especially to do with what Celia has and has not chosen to do. still, because Amelia still has her mother who she can talk to, she fares a lot better than Rametto.

Eventually Rametto is forced to join Passione, and she is now the de facto leader after years of progressively friendlier competition. they are still best friends and rivals though, and they keep each other grounded, joking that they are blood brothers [despite neither being men]

if its not already clear, she a parallel to Elena [a openly girl leading] as well as a contrast to Celia who had to hide her own genderfuckery, where Amelia is openly a butch lesbian. but still, she can be so, in large part to Celia hiding her own identity. her & Ramettos friendship is so fun, both bitchy petty and extremely meaningful for the both of them [ALSO her mother survived and so she has a lifeline & family outside of the violent life, even as she needs to enter it- just like how Celia would have never fallen so deep if not for her mothers death. which is why Celia is seen by her as an uncle of sorts, whereas Rametto has said your not my father one to many times for him to not see her as one]

#gold & silver #amelia #i love her<333 #need to talk about her more #the shenanigans her & Rametto get into are infinite #and i didnt talk about it. but she has an arc about coming to terms with her greif for how her mother was injured and also realizing its no #the end of the world for her mother. she can live life even when mostly wheelchair bound and just because Amelia has to step up #doesnt mean she cant lean on her mother. they just have to relearn a lot of things #and she realizes for the better that strength doesn't mean everything #despite what shes learned from it being the only thing that people respect from her #shes a total mamas girl<3

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chocochipbiscuit · 6 months

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8, 23, 50?

8. What song would make a great fic (to either write or read)?

Isn’t any song a great fic song when you’re vibing? Or rather: when I’m in fully ship mode, doesn’t every song remind me of my blorbos?

That said, there’s one specific song that always makes me think of a fic I’ll never write: This is Gonna Hurt by Sixx AM. It gives me Shadowrun feels, specifically Dragonfall: a brave and doomed final stand for a runner trying to save the Kreuzbasar during the game’s epilogue.

…basically, this is the ending I’m never gonna write for IR-8. When I first started thinking about the disaster decker, I knew exactly the kind of altruistic idiot they were gonna be. And when I first finished the game, I also realized oh no. Just like Dietrich, they’re gonna die in a fight they can’t win.

So! I’m never gonna write it. (Or maybe I will. Just twist the knife on Laine once again outliving a young fighter he cares for.)

23. What’s a trope, AU, or concept you’ve never written, but would like to?

There’s a lot of self-indulgent smut I’d like to write, but haven’t yet. Does that count? :P

Very broadly: there’s a lot of original work ideas I’d like to explore. More things exploring monstrous femininity and the edge between the terrifying and erotic. More redemption or growth arcs for female villains.

50. Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!

If my response to 23 sounded introspective, vague, and navel-gazy, then OH BOY will you be excited where I take this question!!!

I’ve been thinking a lot about my relationship to fandom and writing as a creative outlet. I’ve been thinking about it both as a queer Chinese-American writer and as someone who’s been targeted for months-long harassment in one of my older fandoms.

Basically: I’ve not been reading as much fanfic for a while, and been interrogating why that is. Instead I’ve been reading more original work, both fiction and nonfiction. I’ve been thinking about what nourishes me.

In a nutshell: as much as I love fandom when it’s willing to engage with women, with queerness, with characters of color, fandom trends tend to be overwhelmingly white, Eurocentric, and focused on men. (Please note I am talking about fandom as a whole, I am not trying to ascribe guilt or reasoning for why these things exist.) Even the parts of creative fandom that try to focus on the characters I love (usually women kissing) tend to only focus on white women kissing, or otherwise don’t engage with the experience of being not just a queer woman, but a queer woman of color.

It’s become easier for me to find what I need through original work. (No, not all experiences are universal; reading a romance novel featuring a straight Chinese-Canadian woman is not the same as reading a horror story featuring a lesbian Malaysian-American which isn’t the same as reading a memoir by a Korean-American male chef. But it gives me more than the popular media of fandom.) It’s made me re-examine what I want out of fandom.

That said: I’m still writing, but my focus has shifted. I’m considering what fandoms I want to write for, the kinds of stories I want to tell, and the kinds of stories I want to read. I’m also dipping my toe into more original work just because it stretches a different kind of muscle for me.

All of which is to say: I’m curating my fandom experience. I’m trying to be more conscientious and critical about what I engage with. (And yes, I still want to write super mutant smut. :P)

(from Questions for Fic Writers!)

#choco answers #hawkjuggler #ask memes #questions for fic writers

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c4llezz · 2 years

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THAT LOOK

Requested: Yes (I decided to join two different request because I thought they could fit together) Could you do a piece inspired by the song 'Boy x' by Tate McRae with Yves? Reader is like the girl, and Yves is Boy x (More like girl x but moving on). R does not fall in love easily but immediately falls in love with Yves the girl across the street. Yves breaks her heart like how the song says. r reflecs on the relationship like how the songs says, and a few weeks later r talks to Yves about (Lyrics: Don't do that stupid thing with your eyes, unless you mean it etc...). Thank you! Hii, can i request any loona member x reader based on Conan Gray's song Fight or flight thank you!

YVES X F!READER

COLLAGE!AU

TW: Cheating

Genre: Angst, tiny tiny fluff

Word count: 2.8K

A/N: I'm sorry for taking too long, I had to re-do it many times because I didn't like the result. Based on Boy x by Tate McRae and Fight or Flight by Conan Gray

Also this is pure fiction and the actions here have nothing to do with the real people mentioned.

Gif made by me!

Expect mistakes, happy reading!

You never really believed in love, since you were young you could see it didn’t really exist. First your parents, they were always fighting for reasons you couldn’t understand at the time. Then your older brother got a girlfriend in high school who broke his heart. Then you entered high school yourself, and your best friend developed a crush on a dumb guy who wouldn’t even look at her unless it was for his own benefit. She ended with her heart broken too.

That’s why you decided to close your heart to everyone. It worked well through your high school years, you went out on dates with people but you always made sure to not fall in love with them, you never gave your heart to anyone.

Until she came around.

You moved away to start college and when you were moving some boxes inside your house, she came out of her house across the street to help you. Just one look at her eyes and you knew you were doomed. On the first day of classes, she helped you around too, saying “I would have liked that someone helped me on my first day here.”

You found out she was already in a relationship with someone so you didn’t try anything with her. But she kept on looking for you and you didn’t want to admit it, but you were falling, falling hard, then you would remember she already had someone and buried your feelings and avoid her the most you could.

A few weeks later she told you her relationship was over and started flirting with you more and more. Your brain was telling you to not do anything but your heart said otherwise, so when she asked you on a date you decided to follow your heart and accepted. After that you continue going out frequently, she was always at your house even when you were busy with projects you had to do and she would look at you in the most loving way someone could.

One day you were at your desk studying for some test you had the next day when you heard someone knocking at your door. You stood up from your chair confused, when you opened the door you saw Sooyoung carrying bags full of food “I brought food” she said waiting for you to let her in, which you did after a few seconds “You said you had a really important test tomorrow and you probably forgot to cook and you know how important it is to eat” She walked up to your kitchen counter and let the bags there “So I went to that restaurant you said you liked and bought something for us to eat together” She had a bright smile on her face and you couldn’t resist the urge to kiss her. She gladly kissed you back and wrapped her arms around your waist to pull you closer. “Would you be my girlfriend now?” she asked after the kiss was over, you chuckled and nodded your head, then she kissed you again.

You met Sooyoung’s friends the next week when she invited you to eat with them at a restaurant near campus. You were nervous to meet them and you made that very clear when you said “Don’t you dare leave me alone with them.” Which your girlfriend answer with an “I’ll never leave you alone, I promise”

“So… you are Yves girlfriend?” Jinsoul asked after you arrived at the place

You looked at Sooyoung confused mouthing Yves? she just shrugged her shoulders before putting her arm around your shoulders and answering her friend’s question “Yes, she is. Isn’t she gorgeous?” You blushed at her comment and turn to look away from the group, you didn’t notice the exchange of looks between her other two friends, Haseul and Vivi.

Before your food arrived Sooyoung, you were going to start calling her Yves, stood up and said she was going to the bathroom. Leaving you alone with her friends, even after you send her a panic look.

“Do you like music, Y/N?�� Haseul asked after she left, you nodded nervously “I don’t want this to sound weird or anything, but do you happen to write songs?”

You nodded again “Sometimes when is hard for me to express my feelings”

“Your major has something to do with music?” Vivi asked

You shook your head “Not really. I wanted to, but my parents didn’t like the idea. It was like, the first time they agreed on something” you shrugged your shoulders

Jinsoul whisper something to the other girls at the table, you could understand the word type, which they answered by nodding their heads. It made you feel uncomfortable and out of habit you started playing with the rings on your fingers, Vivi seemed to notice but before she could say something Yves arrived and sat next to you with a smile “What were you talking about?”

“Nothing interesting” Vivi started “Just music” It seems that sentence had a deeper meaning you didn’t know about because Yves's smile quickly faded away “Oh, cool” you could feel the tension in the air but you didn’t say anything about it. You were really glad the food arrived just a few seconds later

After that awkward encounter, you found yourself with your girlfriend and her friends more and more. They apologized for making you uncomfortable the first time you met and even invited you to a more expensive restaurant to make it up to you, you declined at first but they insisted until you accepted. Haseul paid for everything and even though you should’ve guessed, you were shocked after finding out she was wealthy.

Your relationship with Yves was great, that’s what you wanted to think. She was at your house a lot to have movie nights on your couch. She would walk with you to class and wait for you if she had free time. She would send you a "good morning, babe. I’m waiting for you outside" every morning and a "good night, sweet dreams" every night.

There were also times she would forget dates you had planned, saying “I’m sorry I've been really busy, I promise I’ll make it up to you”. You understood, you were busy too. The problem was that her way of apologizing was always the same. She would knock at your door with a bucket of flowers and a teddy bear make an excuse with that look and kiss you until you forgot what had happened. You had to admit that the first few times you found it romantic, but your collection of teddy bears grew almost every week. It was stupid to be mad about that, you told yourself, so you acted like it didn’t matter.

Now you were leaving your last lecture of the day, you thought she was going to wait for you in the hall, but when you didn’t see her there you took your phone out to text her. It was not necessary, because before you could even search her contact, she was beside you. “Hey babe,” she said kissing your cheek. “Sorry I’m late, Haseul asked me for something.”

You smiled at her “Don’t worry” you started walking to the exit, and after a few steps you notice she was not following you. You turned to around to look at her, but she was distracted looking in another direction. You followed her eyes and found she was making eye contact with another girl, she had the same look when you met. Did you feel bad? Yes. Were you going to cry about it? Probably. Were you going to cry in front of her? No, definitely not. So you went straight to your house without her, texting some shitty excuse about meeting up with your brother and that you were calling her later.

That night you cried for hours, was she getting bored of you already? She seemed to do that a lot according to some people in your class. But those were just rumors and you were not one to believe them easily. Were they just rumors though? you shook your head at the sudden thought, she probably just zoned out and the girl was on the way. You try to believe your own thoughts, but deep down you knew they were not true.

The next days you were acting distant, she notice she had done something and did everything to fix it. You used to sing some songs you had written just for her, now she did the same thing. She sat on your bed singing a song for you, it was good, and hearing her sing made your heart flutter, even when your brain told you she had probably sung that song to everyone she has dated.

With the end of the semester coming up you were really busy and stopped hanging out with Yves’ friends. She was busier too and whenever you were together, she would get a phone call and leave telling you she had to do some project with her classmates. You didn’t question anything until you heard someone talking about how they had seen your girlfriend a little too close with someone else. You notice the way she looked at you changed, but when you tried to talk to her about it, she would look at you with that look (again) in her brown eyes, and your doubting faded away. You were blinded by the love you had for her, but you were scared of saying it.

You were packing your things when one of your few friends on campus approached you. “So this girl invited my best friend to a party” You met Jungeun (she liked Kim Lip better) on a rainy day, you had to stay longer in the cafeteria waiting for the rain to stop and she was there too. You made small conversation and found out you shared some classes, after that you started talking more and became friends. “They are like dating or something, I don’t really understand, but I don’t want to third wheel. Would you like to come and save me the awkward time?”

You looked at her “I don’t know, Lip. I’m really tired”

“Come on! It’ll distract you. And classes are almost over, we should celebrate” She said

“Ok, just text me the address and I’ll meet you there” She cheered at your comment.

After changing you arrived at the address she send you, it was not that far from your house so instead of using your car you went walking. You looked around at the people who were talking outside before knocking. You were surprised to find Jinsoul behind the door when she opened it. She seemed surprised too “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“A friend invited me,” You explained, “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head “No, no. I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable after everything”

You were confused, you had already sorted things out a long time ago and you considered you were close friends “We already talked about it, it’s fine”

“Really? Well come in then” She opened the door more revealing a lot of people, some were dancing others just talking with their friends “Do you want me to help you find your friend?” You declined her offer telling her you could find her while she had fun “Ok, the kitchen is right there” she pointed to the kitchen “And if you want to use the bathroom, is near the stairs, if someone is inside you can go to the one upstairs.” After you thanked her, she left you to find Kim Lip.

You found her sitting on a couch with a drink in her hand. “Hey! I’m glad you came” was the first thing she said when she saw you “My friend and the girl are dancing and I didn’t know what to do” she pointed at where her friend was and you looked that way.

You wished you hadn’t. Because even though you couldn’t see Kim Lip’s friend’s face, you could clearly see Yves's face. Your heart now had another opening, but when you saw them both leaning in it broke completely. You stood there looking at the scene with tears gathering, then you and Yves made eye contact and you turned around and started walking to the door “Y/N!” you could hear two different voices calling your name but you didn’t turn and started walking even faster around all the people.

You ran until you arrived at your house, after closing the door you let the tears slip from your eyes. Now you understood what Jinsoul was talking about. After you stopped hanging out with them and with Yves talking with Kim Lip’s friend, they probably thought you had broken up. Some minutes after you heard a knock at your door “Y/N?” you didn’t answer so she knocked again “Y/N, can we talk?”

You sniffed before saying “I don’t want to talk to you”

“Just let me explain” You didn’t open the door. After some time you heard her leaving and you sighed, still crying.

You only left your house to go to the last week of class, always doing your best to avoid her (you told yourself not to mention her name). Which resulted easier said than done, since she lived just across from you. You left your house an hour earlier so you didn’t encounter her and after your last class of the day, you walked straight out looking at the ground so no one could see your face.

You were glad when classes ended, you didn’t have to go out and risk seeing her, but not even three days lasted before you had to leave to buy food. After some time thinking about it you decided you were not going to go out to the store in your pajamas, so you change into your usual clothes and put on some makeup to hide how bad you looked at the moment.

Luck was not on your side that day because when you arrived at the place she was just leaving. Great, just great. She stopped in front of you, blocking the entrance “Can we talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you said trying to get past but she just moved again

“You know there is”

“Well, I’m not going to stay here and hear your stupid excuses, you know what you did”

“But-” before she could say something you interrupted her

“I know you get bored easily, but don’t do the same thing to her. If you found someone else let her know, yeah?.” you were surprised at how calm you sounded “And please, don’t do that stupid thing with your eyes you do to make her forget everything unless you mean it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” she denied

You rolled your eyes “Just don’t make her feel like she’s on top of the world when you are looking at someone else. Nice talk, now can you let me in?” She didn’t know what to say so she just moved out of the way. After you entered the door and made sure she was not outside you sighed and stood there for a moment before composing yourself and started looking for what you needed.

It was late at night and you were laying on your couch watching a movie when someone rang your doorbell, which you didn’t know you had, by the way, you stood up pausing what was playing on the tv. When you opened the door, you were met with a girl with bangs looking at you with red puffy eyes. “Hi?”

“I’m so sorry,” was the first thing she said “I didn’t know she had a girlfriend, she told me she was not seeing anyone at the moment and invited me to her friend’s party and then she kissed me and then run out of there. I was confused, but yesterday Lip said she found out why she did that and I felt really bad. Don’t worry, I already talked to her and broke what we had going on. I’m really sorry.” By the time she ended her rambling, she had tears running out of her eyes again.

“Wow, you had strong lungs” she chuckled sniffing “I’m sorry, I couldn’t understand much of what you said. What’s your name?” she answered you in a low voice “Chuu, do you want to come in?” she nodded and you let her in. “Now what were you saying about Lip?”

She started saying everything she had said but slower, you counted 10 sorry in all her speech “I’m really sorry” 11 now.

“It’s not really your fault, you didn’t know” you wiped the tears that were still running down her cheeks “Now, stop crying about it. You are too pretty for that” you smiled at her.

She smiled back “Thanks,” she said before looking at her watch “I should go now”

“Would you like me to take you home, is kind of late”

“I wouldn’t like to be a bother” she declined both of your offers

“You are not, do you leave with Lip?” she nodded “Let’s go then,” you said taking your car keys with you. Maybe love was not good, but you were not going to deny a friendship you could get out of it.

#girl group reactions #girl group imagines #girl group scenarios #gg imagines #girl group x reader #loona x reader #loona imagines #loona scenarios #yves x reader #loona yves #loona #c4llezz

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