#Finally some fat dragons!!!!!

[mithsrising]

Dear people who feel the need to endlessly hate on the new breed:

You are wrong 👍

[thewritetofreespeech]

aemond - prompt 1

Prompt list - 1. Breeding kink

------------------------------⚔️---------------------------------

“Up! Up!”

“Up! Up!”

“Hehe…you’re both too big now for me to carry the both of you on my hip like before. Why don’t we flip a coin then? Heads Jaehaerys you can go first, and tails means Jaehaera can go. Sound like a fun game?”

Aemond watched from the table with his family as his wife made a deal with his niece & nephew. Completely fair. Void of favoritism. He remembers no such favors from his own childhood.

His wife was wonderful with the children. As one of the few Helaena let near them in recent months, due to some new fear she had concocted in her mind, Jaehaera & Jaehaerys clung to her like shadows. Even Maelor, still at his mother’s breast, would swing his fat little arms in his wife’s direction every time she passed. And she never missed an opportunity to give him attention or affection whenever he, or any of the children, clamored for her.

“Everything alright Aemond?”

His trance was broken by her words when she returned to him. Whatever deal or game they had struck over now as a nurse came to put the children to bed. Aemond nodded. Dreams of his own silver-haired babes following her around, tugging at her skirts, in need of constant attention from that sweet face drift out of his mind like dragon’s wings on the horizon. “Yes. I am fine. Let us retire for the evening as well.”

The sun would be up soon. He couldn’t see it from the window, but just felt it in his soul. That time of night that was more the wee hours of the morning. Where the darkness would finally break to the light.

They haven’t slept at all. Rested, but not slept. Sleep seemed immaterial in comparison to the need to fill her again & again. Sleep, water, food, air. All of it seemed trivial as he was a man possessed with possessing her.

“Aemond….please….no more….”

“Just once more.”

His wife whined as his cock still inside her slid back and into her again. One bout giving way to another with truly no rest in between this time.

He was consumed with making his dream a reality. Fill her with so much of him that his child would have no choice but to take root in her belly. They could have a babe come spring. Or a sweet summer child with his pale violet eyes and his mother’s gentle disposition. Aemond thrust harder into her, as if driving the idea home with his cock, making his wife cry out. “Ah! Aemond! Oh Gods!”

She wouldn’t have to take care of Aegon’s children anymore. She would have her own babes to keep her busy. They would be strong and perfect. In constant need of their mother like he was. Maybe she would give him twins like Helaena gave his brother? If his fragile sister could do it, surely his wife could do it too. Judging by the cum spilling out of her onto the already soiled sheets, Aemond had given her more than enough opportunity.

“Aemond….Aemond….”

She couldn’t say much more than his name now and moan. Good. There shouldn’t be any thought of others or anything but the two of them as they made their child.

He looked down at the woman who was going to give him his future and found a blank slate there. Broken with pleasure. Those intelligent, bright eyes black and hazy with lust. Disheveled to the point of madness by his own mad need to put a babe inside her.

He leaned down to kiss her rough, swollen lips and swallowed a whine from his princess. He felt her breath quicken against his lips and her walls quake around him. Her overstimulated body climaxing with even the most minor addition of stimuli between them at this point.

Aemond came just short after that. One final push. Spilling his seed just as deep as the rest before he finally, eventually, let his wife go.

He fell to the other side of the bed, listening to her gasp for breath beside him, before he got up and went to retrieve a rag for the two of them. His wife hiccupped out a gasp when the cool material touched her feverous skin. Her whole-body twitching as it was still too overstimulated to determine how the touch was intended. Aemond cleaned her body starting with her arms. Moving down to her breasts, imagining them larger and fuller in just 4 moons time, then down to her belly that would do just the same. She whined when he gently wiped at her overly sensitive cunt. Red and swollen. His seed still glistening in the folds. He doesn’t want to get rid of it but knows she would be uncomfortable sleeping like that. Aemond had already made her uncomfortable enough for one evening.

He cleaned himself off with much less care and crawled back into bed beside his wife. She willingly came to him when he pulled her in his arms. Or perhaps she was too exhausted to think and just went along with him. Her body still twitching now & then, even in her sleep, from the frenzy he just put her through.

He kissed her head, then covered them with whatever clean blanket he could find.

Come spring they would have a child of their own. A silver haired paragon, who would take Vhagar after he was gone and be his legacy for when his bones became ash. After that, they would work on another. Then another. Then another. His branch would flourish as much as his great-grandfather, and they would build their family to the point that they did not need any others but their own.

He almost felt bad for Jaehaera & Jaehaerys. Soon they would not have their wonderful aunt to dote on them. But his children, and his family, would be what came first.

[kashverse]

it is a rite of passage for every child to have a pet, and when it is finally babykuna’s turn, sukuna—being the extra man that he is—does not just take her to a normal pet shop. no, no, no. he takes her to an exotic pet shop. because why settle for a goldfish when she could have a tarantula named missy? or maybe a snake called george? wouldn’t a scorpion be so much cooler? apparently not. because out of all the fascinating, unique, and terrifying creatures in the shop, babykuna walks past them all—ignores the lizards, dismisses the sugar gliders, doesn’t even look at the parrot that screeches a greeting at her—

and stops dead in front of a massive maine coon that is currently squished into a cage far too small for its body. the cat—fluffy, fat, and looking seconds away from sighing like a disappointed victorian orphan—locks eyes with babykuna. babykuna gasps, pressing her tiny hands against the cage. "mama! papa! it’s him!"

sukuna furrows his brows. "what?"

"him! my pet! my baby! my everything!"

you squint at the cat. it looks back at you like it’s seen some shit. "baby, are you sure?" you ask gently, glancing at the other animals. "there are so many cool options, what about—"

"NO!"

babykuna throws herself onto the ground, wailing like she’s in a period drama. sukuna jumps in alarm. "oi, oi, what the fuck, don’t start—"

before he can finish, the cat in the cage suddenly lets out a long, tragic, soul-crushing howl—as if mourning a life it never got to live.

the entire store falls silent.

"…what the fuck was that," sukuna hisses, visibly unsettled. babykuna gasps again, sitting up. "mr pickles! papa said a bad word!"

"mr…pickles?" sukuna repeats, looking at the cat like it personally offended him. "why is its name mr pickles?"

"because he is my son," babykuna says matter-of-factly, wiping away her fake tears. “and my heart knows his true name.” you press your lips together to keep from laughing. "mr pickles is a cute name, love."

"no, it’s not," sukuna grumbles, rubbing his temples. "baby, listen, papa will get you anything else, okay? you want a wolfdog? a komodo dragon? a fucking capybara?"

babykuna sobs.

"I WANT MR PICKLESSSSSSSSSS—!"

mr pickles, from inside his cage, lets out a sorrowful “AAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOHHH—”

and that is how the fourth member of the family—a fat, depressed maine coon named mr pickles—came to be. turns out, despite his tragic victorian orphan appearance, mr pickles is actually a sweetheart. not only does he fulfill his feline duties—lounging around, occasionally chasing invisible ghosts, and knocking over things just for fun—he also doubles as babykuna’s personal weighted blanket. and let’s be honest, nothing has ever knocked babykuna out quite like mr pickles’ fluffy, oversized body. 

she sleeps like a brick, snoring so loudly that you once thought a grown man had somehow broken into the house and passed out in her room. but there she was—wrapped around mr pickles like a koala, drool dripping onto his fur, dead to the world. and mr pickles? he doesn’t complain even once. in fact, he doesn’t even move. just lies there, accepting his fate, staring blankly into the void while babykuna uses him as her personal mattress. what a versatile king. in fact, mr pickles has so many roles in this household.

a cat? yes.

a weighted blanket? absolutely.

a luxury aesthetic background for your new nail set photos? oh, you better believe it.

you take a picture of your freshly done nails—perfectly manicured, sitting against the soft, plush fur of mr pickles, the perfect neutral background. you send it to sukuna. he normally loves seeing your nails, but this time—his eyebrow twitches as he recognizes the background.

sukuna: are you using that fucking cat as a backdrop again you: mr pickles is an aesthetic marvel. sukuna: i will throw that thing in the washing machine

you report him to babykuna, who screeches in betrayal and slaps his arm like she’s defending her child from a monster. but let’s be real—the best thing about mr pickles? his impeccable manners.

the moment he finishes eating from his bowl, he delicately pushes it towards the sink—like some kind of distinguished gentleman disposing of his fine china. it is so polite that you almost want to give him a little bowtie. sukuna watches this with a blank face. “i feel like i should be impressed, but i also feel like i’m being manipulated.” and maybe, just maybe, he would grow to respect this cat.

except.

mr pickles is a hater. specifically, a sukuna hater. because whenever it comes to sukuna’s belongings? suddenly, mr pickles is the menace of the household.

one night, sukuna walks into the laundry room to grab his freshly washed, neatly pressed shirts, only to find mr pickles sprawled on top of them, looking at him with such deep, sorrowful eyes that sukuna physically cannot yell at him. he stares. mr pickles blinks slowly.

"…get the fuck off."

mr pickles closes his eyes and pretends to sleep.

"GET OFF."

the very next day, sukuna screams when he finds all of his socks shredded into oblivion—like someone went berserk with a pair of scissors. babykuna gasps, pointing at mr pickles. “papa! it was mr pickles!”

sukuna whirls to glare at the culprit. "you little shit—!"

mr pickles blinks at him, looking once again like a victorian boy with consumption.

sukuna’s rage stutters.

"…you think you’re funny, huh?"

mr pickles does not reply.

(but he does later eat an entire stack of sukuna’s important business papers™ and then vomits them out on the living room carpet.)

[takes1]

p.2 bokuto x inexperienced!reader

bokuto is so fun to write it's crazy. merry christmas eve 😋

warnings. nsfw themes, future nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / kuroo's little sister!reader / touchy!bokuto / flirty!bokuto / corruption kink!bokuto / virgin!reader / nerdy!reader / kuroo cockblocking / petnames / protective kuroo / praise kink!bokuto / brother's best friend trope / bokuto being a bad friend / bokuto crushing on you / 2.0k nsfw + future parts to follow, reply to be added to taglist

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. my request box. part one here. part three here. part four here.

"Why are you out?"

You can't help but guffaw at Tetsurou's accusatory tone.

There was no evidence to condemn you for instigating the whole Bokuto situation, except for maybe the deliberate change in attire before you decided to leave your room. You had to put something more skimpy on than your usual house clothes.

You had no plan, no real intentions other than the overwhelming desire for his friend's attention. Pacing around your room for hours had gotten old.

It wasn't too much, but it didn't help you make a strong case to come down from your 'tower' to Tetsurou - who was guarding the bottom of the stairs like a dragon.

"It's 5? I'm feeding your cats? Like I do every day--," You never let him get in your way or push you around before, and today would not be the first.

His hand flew to the other side of the railing. Thanks to his freakish arm span, he was successful in taking up the whole staircase, and then some.

"Fat chance. They're fed. Go back to your room, square."

"Eat shit-- and- die-!" You struggled to muscle your way around him, but it was accomplished- the only problem was that he had you by one ankle. He sat, leaned into the top of the stairs with his bodyweight.

You couldn't overcome a move like that, so you sat down too when he started to crawl, leading with only one arm and drag you back up the stairs. You were trying to use your weight to balance it out like he was, but he was older, stronger, bigger, and meaner, so you were slowly getting dragged up.

The whole ordeal was loud, thunderous because of the hollow floor beneath the even louder, creaky hardwood staircase.

Your head closest to the base railing, you made eye contact with some of his friends on the first floor, watching in giggly fascination at the struggle-, you sneered, rolling your eyes. You were getting so tired of his theatric bullshit making a clown out of you.

"Hey! Kuroo! That's not a fair fight, cut it out!" Somebody, somebody gracious and considerate, shouted to your defense.

Finally, an ounce of kindness.

It made his grip soften just enough for you, with the help of the railing, to take your ankle back.

You sighed and used your hands to pull yourself back up. The two of you were pissed off and out of breath, staring each other down.

"Yo! You almost ready?" Bokuto called from the first floor.

The two of you turned away from one another to look at him. He only spared a small glance towards Tetsurou, coming back down past you, before settling into an obvious, slow scan of your body in that new outfit.

His long arm stretched up the handrail, fingers waving toward you.

"Heyy, Prettyyy," Was gentle, brushing past his perfect lips.

He behaved as if he wasn't in your house, as if you hadn't met a few hours ago, as if Tetsurou's proximity didn't bother him in the slightest.

That was all you wanted. You leaned into your side, weak under his handsome stare, practically melting against the railing. A dreamy smile gave way for an absent giggle to follow, "Hii..."

Bokuto looked so perfect in his athletic clothes. You looked to your brother and realized he had his knee pads on. There was a hustle and bustle about the first floor and you instantly pieced together that they were going to play a game somewhere.

"Watch it," Tetsurou slapped the back of his hand on Bokuto's chest.

He held a firm glare between them for a moment. Bokuto didn't return the intensity until Tetsurou turned to address you. Only then did his brows drop, his frown grew a little darker. His airheaded, empty eyes narrowed with ill intention.

"Go on, go back upstairs," Tetsurou shooed you away like one of his cats.

"What?!" Bokuto scoffed, his friendliness was back in a flash.

He grasped for a quick argument, "We need a score keeper, man!"

It was a glorious opportunity to jump at and defend. No matter how much Tetsurou argued, he couldn't change either of your minds. In the process, you got a few other Nekoma guys to agree with you, and suddenly he was the odd-one-out, unable to make any solid case to keep you stuck at home.

You scrambled up to your room, thanking god for this one in a million chance, to grab a few things. When you barreled out the door, about to fly down the stairs, you nearly trampled over the only tolerable cat of your brother's.

"Woahh, sweetie,"

You stopped to let your door open so she could wander inside while you were gone.

Bokuto eyed you carefully from the first floor, thumb mindlessly brushing over his bottom lip. The little top you opted for was fucking glorious when you leaned down to pet her. He knew he couldn't afford to be careless with you, like most other things. But something about you sabotaged his already poor ability to keep his excitement contained.

-

That's why he squeezed a heavy arm around your waist once you had all made it to the gym- at first, nothing but an enthusiastic, friendly gesture.

Then that cute little laugh, the purity in your eyes avoiding his sharp-toothed grin, got his mind racing again, thinking about all the ways he could make you blush both on and off this court.

"You gonna watch me wrack up all the points today, babe?" Just flew out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

Akaashi raised his brow at both his confirmed suspicions and the cocky assertion.

It was natural that Bokuto was preoccupied performing for the only audience there. The attention whore couldn't get enough of your captivated reactions. The way you ogled at him and gasped at every impressive spike, block, receive fueled his ego so bad that he was getting into an annoyingly good groove.

Every time he did something he wanted to be worthy of praise, his eyes preyed off of you; validated with exactly the kind of reaction he wanted, needed to see.

Since there were so many players, they switched out almost as often as anyone on-court needed a break.

Bokuto stayed until he was drenched in sweat, ragged in breath, and too exhausted to shout anymore.

Usually, members of his actual team liked to switch him out more often than this game called for. But he was riding such a manic high from your feedback that he never crashed like normal.

It wasn't until Akaashi encouraged him to go talk to you on the sidelines did he accept the chance for a rest.

He sauntered to a stop so intimately close to you that it made you side-step away from him, sheepish, eyes firmly on the game.

You could tell he was tired in the way he held himself, hands on his powerful mid-thighs, back expanding and shrinking with uneven breaths. He would only stand upright to drink some water, just to let it spill down the corners of his mouth and onto his sopping shirt.

"(Y/n)! Point for us!"

A panicked flip of the score.

"Sorry!"

Maybe you hadn't been watching the game so well.

He stood up straight, finally rested enough with a big groan, "Aaagh-!"

You briefly caught Bokuto's eye when you looked up from his form-fitted shirt. Your heart nearly stopped. Arms crossed, chest filled with a big breath in, your worried eyes struggled to look straight forward.

His chuckling grew in volume at your mannerisms under a bitten lip.

"Don't worry so much, babygirl," Bokuto finally said something, hand rested right at the base of your neck as he leaned down to speak only to you, "I wantcha to watch me."

The lengthy bout of quiet between you may have given you the impression that he was deliberate in his words. But the reality was that nothing he said was very thoughtful. His petnames, his touches, his abundant and inappropriate honesty were all products of his failure to control himself.

Your head was swimming, overwhelmed at his touch and his words.

He was rubbing his thumb against the side of your neck, still bent to watch you closely. Of course, now you wouldn't look at him.

He noticed how, if he tried, he could probably wrap his hand all the way around your throat. His jaw worked, as his hardened gaze flickered from your chest to your lips.

The slam of a ball on the court spurred you to quickly move, turn the score again.

Bokuto straightened, clearing his throat, rubbing his face with intensity at your absence, "Shit."

He realized his team was getting behind when he actually looked at the score. Akaashi made eye contact with him from the court and motioned a switch-out.

In his reluctance to leave, the best idea he'd ever had crossed his mind and he couldn't help but verbalize it.

"How 'bout a good luck kiss?"

Your eyes widened at his suggestion. For a second, you weren't sure if he was making fun of you, so you looked more uncomfortable than anything. Half of your attention was on the game, the other was on him.

"No?" Bokuto looked downright depressed.

His massive shoulders stooped, his pouty eyes so pitiful it spurred you to comfort him.

"Well- waitwait, I- don't know," You were getting warm quickly, unable to tell him yes or no, "I--,"

"Just a peck?" He begged.

Time was up. You couldn't form a word, let alone an answer, under so much pressure.

"Airhead! Your setter wants you," Tetsurou called from the court.

That could've been a deliberate way to get him away from you, but Akaashi did legitimately need him. He trudged onto the court, looking less energized than when he left for a needed break earlier.

He played like it, too. It could have been argued that he was the very reason their slapped-together team ended up losing. His heart was not in it.

All the guys were satisfied and tired, so they called it there, ending on a low note for you, since your brother's team was automatically vilified in your mind.

Your presence was small, apologetic as you passed Bokuto the water he had abandoned.

He barely met your eyes. He was moody and feeling sorry for himself since he felt like a loser in a couple of different ways.

"Akaashi said I pressured you, earlier," Was so quiet that it surprised you. You had no idea he was capable of that volume.

He sighed through his nose, squinting around as he took a big gulp of water. It gave you the opportunity to look for the setter in question, grateful for the consideration, and that he had such a good friend in his life.

"So I'm- sorry," He struggled, eyes on you but not your face, "If I did."

You were holding yourself tight. Heat crawled up your neck and ears.

A small motion for him to come to you, presumably so you could whisper something in his ear. His brow raised, a cute, intrigued look across his face that made you want to swoon as he did so.

You controlled yourself for just long enough to press a gentle kiss against the corner of his mouth.

It felt foreign, like something you had to hold your breath for, being so close to another person. You were hoping you did it correctly as it shocked him upright.

His mouth hung open, his excitement enough to make you laugh under your hands.

"Dude!" He laughed with you, silly and so handsome because his grin fit his face just right, "Fuck yes!"

Bokuto couldn't help but to scoop you up off of your feet in a big bear hug and swing you in a circle, unable to control himself despite the fact that just about everyone left in the gym was watching. When Tetsurou observed this show of affection, he went to separate you.

Yet, in the process, he got picked up instead- and swung around in a similar fashion.

And to your surprise, it did help to shut him up. He couldn't quite remember what he was so concerned about, vision still spinning as he stumbled back, laughing.

"Akaashi! Come here, you're next!"

♕VIP♕

@integers @yuchacco

taglist. thank ya'll!

@tuamadrequellavacca @dumbpuppyluv @raracha @jenerator10 @thisiswhereishitpostalot @feiwelinchen @loodleloodle @partyinthepants @ghostreader0307

my masterlist. my request box.

reply to be added for future parts!

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 7

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible. Also Retconning from Nesta's Spring Birthday to like late November, just because otherwise my plot doesn't work.

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Sky had kinda waited for the two of them to have screeching arguments…as soon as the happy bubble of a new mating bond fell away. 

But…nothing of that sort had happened.

“Let’s just keep it just for us for a little while,” he had whispered and she had agreed, curled up in his arms. Just them.

Just for a little while. Nobody else’s opinion did really matter after all. And she knew that there would be numerous opinion be had about the fact that hse had met her mate and then moved in with him in the span of less than a day…and that the two of them were utterly and deliriously happy since then. 

Just the two of them - at least for a little while longer. Sky knew that they would have to tell their friends and family eventually, that they couldn't stay in their little bubble forever, but she was in no rush. The world could wait. For now, she was perfectly content to just be with Azriel.

And they didn’t fight. About anything. 

It was...weird. 

She was waiting for arguments. She was waiting for screaming and to be told that she wasn’t enough…for him to finally realie that he had made a grave mistake…but nothing happened. 

He didn’t care that she stuffed all his bookcases with her books…or rather that his shadows did, painstakingly replicating the order she had had in her little apartment. 

Azriel even made nice with Hector and bought him tuna, jut for her sake…

She had caught Azriel and Hector curled up on the couch together last week - Azriel reading a book and Hector sprawled on his lap. She'd stared at them for a long moment. He had let Hector drool all over his shirt. Azriel had looked up at her with a sheepish grin when he noticed her staring. "He's very cuddly," he'd said, as if that was all the explanation that was needed.

Sky had just laughed, shaking her head as she made her way over to them, sitting down next to Azriel. She had rested her head on his shoulder, reaching out to pet the cat. Hector purred loudly in approval, nudging his head against Sky's hand, and she couldn't help but smile.

Azriel kept odd hours for his work, sometimes disappearing in the middle of the night or coming home then too…but Sky did too, so it didn’t bother her.

He always made time for her - making them breakfast or bringing her coffee or leaving little notes for her. 

And she horded it all away like a dragon did with it’s hoard, wanting to enjoy that just a little while longer. 

Sky made sure to do the same for him. She knew he never slept much, so she always left a cup of tea by his bed if he was late in returning, and always left some food for him… She found him a new salve for the scars on his hand, massaging it in with all the patience in the world when he admitted to her that the muscles and joints hurt as it got colder… She bought him sweets from the same little shop in the Rainbow she got her own stash of caramel candies from… She wanted to take care of him, even if she knew Azriel would never ask for it.

She loved the way he held her, as if he would never let her go. She loved the way he whispered her name as he kissed down her body, and the way he held her once they were finished, his wings wrapping around them and cocooning her in warmth. Sky had never imagined that she could be loved like this, but Azriel made her feel like she was the most precious thing in the world.

And if Azriel wasn’t there…the shadows were.

They had become her constant companions - sliding beneath doors and around walls and windows, following her through the house. At first, the shadows had been startling, but she had quickly grown used to them - they seemed to relish draping themselves over her, wrapping around her wrists, her ankles, her shoulders. The shadows would stroke at her face and whisper her name, and Sky had taken to speaking to them as well, asking them about Azriel or if they could bring her things or fetch Hector.

It was...nice not being alone anymore. Sky had never realized how lonely she had been in her little apartment, but now that she had the shadows - and Azriel - she didn’t want to go back. She loved the way the shadows seemed to watch over her, always present even if Azriel was not. And in their own way, the shadows cared for her too, always there to provide a steadying or comforting presence - or to bring her a cup of tea, or fetch her a book she needed for research...

And besides, the shadows were much better at moving furniture than Sky was. She had quickly learned that if she needed something rearranged or moved and Azriel was not around to do it, the shadows were more than happy to help.

But most of all, the shadows had come to represent Azriel to her - they were always with her, always watching over her, and she knew that even if Azriel could not be there, the shadows would always look out for her. They would keep her safe. 

It was a strange and unexpected sense of comfort, but Sky had come to cherish it. She never felt truly alone anymore, not with the shadows constantly at her back, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

And if Azriel was there…well.

The sex was better than anything she had ever imagined.

Sometimes she woke up to him between her thighs, right in the middle of throes of her pleasure, her whole body still heavy with sleep and drenched with wetness. 

He made her feel wanted, desired in a way that she had never experienced before. He never tired of her, always wanting to be close her, and she never tired of him. Every touch felt like a new discovery, and Sky was learning Azriel’s body like she had never learned anything else in her life, learning what made him moan and tremble and beg for more. She loved the way he touched her, the way he kissed her, and the way he whispered her name as he moved inside her.

But it wasn't just about the physical pleasure.

After sex…when it was just the two of them curled up in their bed, his wings wrapped around her, his head bedded on body more often than not…they talked. A truth for a truth.

She learned more about him. About his horrible sweet tooth. About the scars that covered his hands…she had traced them one evening and he had looked at her…looked at her in wonder.

He opened up to her about so many things, telling her stories from his childhood, about the horrors of the war, and about his family. Sky listened to all of it, her heart breaking for all the pain and suffering he had endured, and vowing to spend the rest of her life making him happy. And in turn, she shared her own stories with him, telling him things she had never told anyone else. It felt...good to let go of all the secrets and burdens she had carried for so long, and to know that Azriel was there to listen and to understand.

He never once cared about her stuttering. Never once rushed her.

Though she could feel… she felt so safe with him…that the stutter eased. Still there but sometimes she could go whole sentences without stuttering once..

Azriel was always patient with her, letting her take her time when she needed it, and never making her feel rushed. And to her surprise, her stutter had eased, bit by bit.

It was a strange feeling, not having to struggle through every word, to speak without fear of being judged or laughed at. And Azriel never drew attention to it, never made her feel as if she was something to be pitied or fixed. He just accepted her for who she was - stutter and all.

Sky was…so very grateful for that. She could trust Azriel with her deepest fears and insecurities, and he would always be there for her, supporting her and encouraging her. And in turn, she would do the same for him.

Being with him was so easy.

So easy, and so natural. It felt like they had been together for years, not just weeks. She couldn't imagine her life without Azriel, and she never wanted to. He made her laugh, and he made her feel loved and he wanted her.

That was probably the most startling thing.  

Sky was working on her desk, that overlooked the lake, while Azriel preferred to work upstairs in his office, and a cup of tea was gently put down next to her, a kiss pressed against the crown of her head. She couldn’t help but lean back into him with a happy sigh, tipping up her head, turning towards Azriel and letting him kiss her properly.

“Sky?” He asked softly as she leaned into the touch of the hand on her shoulder.

She hummed in answer.

“Isn’t one of your books coming out soon?” Azriel asked her softly.

“In three weeks, just in time for winter solstice shopping,” Sky answered absentmindedly. “Why?”

Azriel was quiet for a moment, his hand still resting on her shoulder. "How high are the chances that I could…have an early copy?" Azriel asked, sounding nearly hesitant.

Sky turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. "You want an early copy of my book?" she asked, curious. Azriel's nod was immediate. A slow smile spread across Sky's face. "You want to read it?” she asked him hesitantly. He wanted to read her book? 

“I do want to read it. And I also have a friend who adores your books and her birthday is coming up…” Azriel said softly. “She’s important to me. Like a little sister. Her name is Nesta. And I think she may be your biggest fan.”

Sky blinked in surprise, touched by Azriel's words. She knew how much Azriel cared about his family, and to hear him describe Nesta as a little sister was...well, it was sweet. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride knowing that her books had made such an impression on someone so important to him.

She opened the drawer of her desk and pulled out one of the dozen or so she had stashed in there. At his surprised look she just shrugged. “I always get a few from the first print run,” she said drily.

Azriel took the book from her hands, his gaze softening as he looked down at the cover. "Thank you," he said quietly, his fingers tracing over the embossed title of the book. "I know she'll love it."

“Just tell her to please not let the newspaper get their hands on it,” Sky said drily, making him laugh. 

“She’ll protect this book fiercely,” he told her sagely. “Would you…sign it?” Azriel asked her. 

Sky hesitated. She had never once signed any of her books. Had never written the name Sellyn Drake as an autograph. 

But for Azriel...she could do it. For Nesta. 

So she took the book back, dipped her quill in her ink, flicking it off twice, and then wrote a short message to Nesta - wishing her a happy birthday and hoping that she enjoyed the book. 

Sky signed Sellyn Drake at the bottom, the movement feeling surprisingly natural… and felt strangely vulnerable as she handed the book back to Azriel.

Azriel looked down at the inscription, reading it over carefully before looking back at Sky. "Thank you," he said again, his voice soft and tender. "This means a lot to me, and to her."

Sky felt a warm glow settle over her, and she knew in that moment that she would do anything for Azriel. Anything to make him happy.

“You are very welcome,” she said simply.

He leaned down and kissed her, and Sky melted into the kiss, wrapping her arms around Azriel's neck and pulling him closer. For a moment, the world outside their little bubble of happiness seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them.

***

“It seems like we need to come to some sort of agreement,” Azriel said tightly.

Hector the cat was staring at him with one eye and doing his best to intimidate him into life-long obedience, from where he was sitting in front of Azriel, who was sitting on the couch. 

"I am not going to stop sleeping in Sky's bed," he told the cat, crossing his arms. "I am not going to stop cuddling with her." Hector hissed at him in response, clearly not a fan of the fact that Azriel was going to stick around. 

It was a potential problem. Azriel glared at the ugly cat.

If it even was a cat. Sometimes he wasn't quite sure. Maybe it was a stunted Mountain Lion. It was quite big for a normal cat. And uglier than that.

"You know, I am not above pretending to be allergic to you," he told the cat drily. Especially if Hector kept scratching him.

Hector shot him a disdainful look, clearly not worried. And then swiped out a paw to smack at Azriel's naked feet, claws carefully withdrawn. 

Azriel scowled down at the cat. "You're lucky Sky loves you so much," he muttered, glaring at Hector.

"We can agree to get along. I'll buy you that ridiculous expensive Tuna you like and you can come join us when we cuddle on the couch. Or we can draw a line in the sand and see who comes out on top." Azriel raised an eyebrow.

Drily he reflected that this was how far he had come. Trying to bargain with the ugliest cat he had ever seen.

Hector stared back at him for a moment, before finally letting out a "Meow" as if to say, "Fine, fine, you can stay - for now." 

Azriel let out a sigh of relief, glad that the cat had finally agreed to some sort of truce. And he knew that Sky would be happy too - she loved that mangly cat more than anything. So he would put up with Hector - for Sky's sake.

Hector smacked him on the arm and crawled into his lap.

Azriel hesitantly petted his head. “You do realize you weigh a ton, right?” he told the cat drily.

Sky had told him that he had been all skin and bones when she had found him. Yeah, that was definitely no longer true.

Hector rolled over on his back, demanding belly rubs.

Azriel sighed, shaking his head as he reluctantly obliged, rubbing Hector's belly, where the cat’s fur was patchy. 

 Azriel couldn't deny that the cat was oddly endearing, even if he would never admit it out loud. And as Hector purred contentedly in his lap, Azriel couldn't help but smile.

Maybe he could put up with this cat after all. For Sky's sake, of course.

Just for Sky. 

Just for Sky's sake, he bought the cat ridiculous expensive treats, a scratching post and toys.

And he found that, as the weeks went on, he didn't mind as much when Hector would jump into bed with them in the middle of the night, curling up next to Sky. Or when he would bat at Azriel's toes while he read.

Nobody ever needed to know when he asked Gwyn to help him find some books about cats and their proper nourishment and exercise.

"Thank you," he thanked the red headed priestess when she handed him a whole stack of them at the end of their next private dagger lesson.

"No, thank you.  Finally I can pay you back for all the dagger lessons," Gwyn said with a bright grin. "Are you...Are you thinking about adopting a cat?" she asked him curiously.

"No. A friend did," he answered truthfully.

"Making nice with it then?" Gwyn asked him and he sighed.

"I am pretty sure the cat plots my murder on a daily basis," he answered only half joking.

Gwyn laughed, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Have you tried giving it treats?" Gwyn suggested helpfully.

Azriel opened his mouth to respond but at that moment, Rhys landed just a few feet away. Probably training with Cassian early in the morning, before they did their usual training with the priestesses and Valkyries.

"I even bought him ridiculously overpriced, fresh tuna," he admitted drily, making her laugh.

"Good luck with your bribes," Gwyn said with another laugh. "See you later, shadowsinger," she said with a wave over her shoulder. Azriel looked after her for a moment and then passed over to one of the weapon racks, starting his usual inspection.

"Dagger Lessons?" Rhys asked him, as he crossed over to him. 

"Yes," Azriel agreed. He could hear the inflection in Rhys' voice, a lilting question. He didn't even want to know what Rhys was thinking.

"Just With Gwyn?" Rhys asked, tone still carefully neutral.

Azriel sighed, turning to face his friend. "Yes, just with Gwyn," he confirmed. Azriel kept his tone neutral, almost indifferent.

Azriel went back to his dagger inspection, keeping his mind focused on the task at hand.

He could feel Rhys's eyes on him, but he didn't waver. He knew his brother well enough to know that Rhys was trying to get a reaction out of him. And je wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of a response.

Azriel didn't need to wait long. He could feel the talons of Rhys' daemati powers scratch against his mental shields just moments later. He let him in with a sigh. Was he officially going to get warned off Gwyn as well? 

Apparently Azriel was.

*If you want more from her, don't you dare pressuring her,* Rhys snapped into his mind.

Azriel nearly started to bristle. He wondered if Rhys even thought about how much of an insult it was. Ever thought of what it meant that he thought that Azriel would pressure Gwyn in anything she didn’t want. 

But he just answered flatly. *Then it will calm you to know that I couldn't possibly be less interested in Gwyn romantically.*

Maybe in another life. But not in this one.

*So what, you'll keep yearning after Elain?* Rhys asked him sharply.

Azriel looked up from the daggers, fixing Rhys with a glare.

*I behave. That's what you want. What I do or don't feel outside of that is none of your business,* Azriel gave back.

He was sick of this. Sick of Rhys treating him like he was some kind of reckless child who couldn't be trusted to make his own decisions. 

*I'll behave. As I always do.* He repeated that with more force, his glare hardening.

And as a side note, I am perfectly capable of handling my own feelings, Rhys. I don't need your interference.

The words hung in the air between them, sharp and pointed.

Azriel held Rhys's gaze for a beat longer, then turned back to the daggers. But he could feel the tension between them, the unspoken words that still hovered in the air.

He was so fucking done with Rhys’ meddling. Or with his brother not trusting him to handle his own feelings like an adult. 

*Oh really?* Rhys crossed his arms, wings spreading wide at his back. *How long have you been pining after Elain, knowing damn well that it would only bring you misery?*

It was a punch beneath what was appropriate. Both knew it.

But AZriel couldn't even fucking care at that moment.

He slammed down the mental walls, forcing Rhys out of his mind immediately.

Quite frankly, he hadn't thought about Elain once after Sky and him had accepted the mating bond. He hadn't fucking cared anymore.

 Elain could do whatever she wanted. So could Mor.  Azriel was kinda busy with doting on his mate.

Sky mattered. 

Sky actually wanted him around. Sky liked him enough to let him share her bed and curl around her and had not once flinched away from his shadows. 

Rhys could say and do whatever he wanted but he was not getting near Sky. 

"Good Morning!" At least Cassian was in a good mood.

Azriel barely acknowledged Cassian's cheerful greeting, his mind still reeling from his confrontation with Rhys. He wasn't in the mood to banter or make small talk. But Cassian, being Cassian, didn't seem to pick up on the tension in the air.

He plopped down on the ground beside Azriel, stretching out his wings lazily.

"What's got you brooding?" Cassian asked, eyeing Azriel curiously.

"Still figuring out Nesta's birthday gift," he said drily. It wasn't even a lie.

Cassian sighed.  "Good luck with that, brother. Nes can be quite the challenge to please," he said with a groan. "I still have no idea what to get her and I am her mate. I thought I would get her a new book but the only one she is interested in at the moment is the next Sellyn Drake book and that's not out for 3 weeks," Cassian complained.

Huh.

It seemed like Cassian may have just solved Azriel’s own gift debacle.

How high were the chances that he could talk Sky into giving him an early peek at her newest book?

Apparently it was as simple as asking. She gave it to him without hesitation, with a smile and he loved her just a little bit more just for that.

And he did love her. So fucking much.

It was so easy to be with her. So easy.

Azriel had never felt like this with anyone before. It was effortless to be with her, to be himself around her. She never expected anything from him, never pushed him to be someone he wasn't. She saw him for who he was, and accepted him completely.

She even accepted the shadows.

Azriel knew that the shadows were a part of him, and he had always been conscious of the way they might make people uncomfortable. But with Sky, it was different. She didn't shy away from them or make him feel like he needed to hide them from her. She even seemed to find a certain beauty in them.

She never flinched away, even when the shadows whispered against her skin...even when they touched her.

It was as if, for the first time, the shadows were not something to be feared or loathed. They were simply just a part of him, and she accepted them as such. She never asked him to change or try to control them, and it was a freedom he had never experienced before.

And quite frankly...he would rather stay with her, in their house and let himself be bullied by her cat that to sit through another family dinner.

But he did it. Just for Nesta. It was her birthday after all.

It wasn't going to be that bad. Probably.

He would just remind himself of who was waiting for him at home. That made it easy. 

And it wasn't even that bad. It could be worse.

Rhys even left him alone, mostly because Azriel did his best to stay away from Mor and Elain and Gwyn and Rhys himself for good measure, which left him with the conversation partners of Amren and Varian...and then he just needed to stay silent and let his mind wander to the feeling of Sky's hands when she scratched his scalp...the way she snuggled up to him in her sleep...to the freckles that covered her face...Azriel let his mind drift to thoughts of Sky as he sat at dinner, choosing to ignore the others' conversation. 

He knew that Rhys was probably watching him with a smug look on his face, probably thinking that Azriel was thinking of Elain instead. But Azriel didn't care. He was content in his thoughts of Sky.

Finally, they were handing gifts to Nesta, which meant that the evening was coming to an end.

Thank the cauldron for that. 

Azriel watched as Nesta unwrapped gifts from the others: jewelry from Amren, a painting of Velaris from Feyre…

“Happy Birthday,” Azriel told her softly as he handed her his gift.

“Thank you,” Nesta told him graciously, smiling at him. “Oh, chocolate!” He couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm at the bag of chocolate candies that was tied to her gift with ribbon. 

Azriel smiled, watching as Nesta excitedly tore open the bag of chocolate candies that he had bought her…Sky and him had taken an ambling walk through Velaris one afternoon, ending near the rainbow in a tiny candy shop where his mate procured her caramel candies from and he had picked them up for Nesta. 

Well, that and a few different ones to try for him and Sky.

He was just glad that Nesta seemed to like it. And then Nesta unwrapped the book.

“Cassian said you were very excited to finally read it,” he told her drily. Nesta flipped it over, eyes devouring the title.

“HOW?!” She demanded, her voice half a screech. A far cry from how composed and quiet she usually was. “How did you get it?!?” And then she was already moving to hug him fiercely, pressing a kiss against his cheek. Azriel chuckled, giving her a quick hug back. He was glad that she seemed to like his gift so much.

"Cassian let it slip that you were interested in the new Sellyn Drake book, so I thought I'd pull some strings and get you an early copy," he explained. "Happy Birthday, Nesta."

“What kind of fucking strings did you pull?!” Cassian complained pouting. “I went to every bookstore in Velaris and none could get it to me earlier than in three weeks.” 

Azriel couldn’t help but smirk at Cassian's complaint. "You know me, Cassian. I have my ways," he drawled. "Maybe you just need to expand your network."

“You had the shadows steal it, didn’t you?” Cassian asked him with a glare. Azriel couldn’t help but snort.

“No, I asked Sellyn Drake to give it to me and she did,” he said drily. “Though I'm sure Nesta couldn't care less how I got the book, as long as she gets to read it."

“Oh, I do care.” Nesta assured him immediately. “You asked Sellyn Drake? Nobody knows who she is! You know her? How? When? Why?”

Azriel chuckled, amused by Nesta's rapid-fire questions. "Yes, I know Sellyn Drake. I asked her for a favor, and she obliged. Simple as that. As for the why, well, I knew how badly you wanted to read her new novel, so I thought it would be a nice surprise for your birthday,” he told her easily, smiling softly at Azriel. 

Cassian still looked suspicious, eyeing Azriel with a critical eye. "You asked the author herself to give you an early copy of her book? Just like that?" he asked skeptically.

“Just like that,” Azriel said calmly.

“So she actually exists?” Gwynn asked him curiously, everybody turned to stare at her. “What?! You know I had my theory!”

“Gwyn’s theory is that Sellyn Drake isn’t one single person, but instead a whole group of incredible talented authors,” Nesta said with a grin.

"Oh, she definitely exists. I can vouch for that. She’s very sweet,” Azriel told Nesta simply, who opened her book, hungrily opening the front pages…

“…this is signed,” Nesta breathed. “Sellyn Drake knows my name.” 

He was pretty sure that he had heard religious people sound less worshipping than Nesta did at that moment. 

For just a moment he wanted to think about how it would be for Nesta and Sky to meet, but he forced himself not to. Not where Rhys could snap that up. 

“What?! No way!” Emerie exclaimed, clambering to take a look at the book. “Cauldron boil me.” She breathed.

“There isn’t a single signed Sellyn Drake book!” Gwyn exclaimed. 

Azriel couldn't help but chuckle at the others’ reactions. "Well, I guess that makes this a pretty special gift then," he said simply, sipping his wine with a satisfied smile.

“Very special,” Nesta told him softly, looking at him wideyed. “This is…This is incredible, Az.” 

Azriel merely inclined his head, accepting the comment. “I’m glad "It's not often that I can surprise someone who's as hard to impress as you are."

Nesta gave him a playful swat on the arm. "You know I'm not that hard to please," she told him. "You just have to know me well enough to know what I want. And apparently you do. Thank you.”

[foone]

Do you ever get the almost-writers-block feeling where your brain gives you an idea but then completely deserts you when it comes to actually fleshing it out or writing a story with it?

Mine came up with "a future where people subscribe to patreons for body models, which they then can wear"

So like you would pay 5$ a month and now you have the body of the person you subscribed to.

And all I can think of is some complications:

* if you stop subscribing or they end their patreon, you're out a body. You gotta find another one, fast. Your clothes might not fit anymore! You bought them for that body!

* the person who actually owns the body has to maintain it, as any changes will be reflected on all their patrons. Get a tattoo? Now hundreds or thousands of people have the same one. Dye your hair? I hope everyone likes being blonde! You'd probably have, like, polls for this sort of thing. Monetized Democratic body choices.

* what if they get hit by a car? A thousand people suddenly break their legs at once?

* licensing differences for bodies. Like, plenty of body patreons to have a "no doing porn" clause (because it'd be visually identical to the owner doing it), but some restrictive ones have "no having sex" (or "no having straight sex", in one notible example)

* you can subscribe to multiple body patreons and swap between which one you use on a daily basis

* pirated bodies on the darkweb

* police trying to solve crimes when the face that shows up on the cameras isn't the perp, it's some instagram model from Atlanta.

* society gets even weirder about fat shaming because anyone can wear the body of a person who weighs less than a sack of flour. Men on social media saying you gotta get her to show you childhood pictures so you can figure out if she's "really" fat.

* "we'd talked a lot online and she seemed really nice and we had great chemistry but when we finally met up, it turns out she always wears the Caitlin body!" "oh no, isn't that what your ex wore?" "exactly! And you know I've still got trauma from everything she put me through..."

* lotta young trans people figure some things out really quick. Forget "trying out crossdressing in secret" or "asking if people can use different pronouns on discord", how about trying having a different gender's body for a day?

* weird hackers trying to figure out how to modify the body-rental system so they can be dragons or elves. Speaking of which,

* people with body modifications to make themselves look less human being very popular. You can be an elf, thanks to that guy in Bowling Green, Florida who got the surgery to make his ears pointy. Apparently it paid for itself within 6 months.

* body reviews. People try out bodies and review how they are in looks and flexibility and stamina and any random aches and pains they might have.

* imagine reading one for your body. Someone walked a mile in your feet and gave a review of how your body looks and feels.

* weird couples who both wear the same body. Worse, polycules. They get together for a big cuddlepile and it's just 7 of the same body, and it gets difficult to tell where one begins and another ends.

* getting a bunch of information when you rent a new body, so you can know how it works and any odd things you gotta watch out for. Plus makeup tutorials and such, to know how to look exactly like how that body looked in certain photos

* everyone goes back to passwords on their phone. Fingerprints and facial recognition are no good, since someone could just rent the same body and now they have the same fingerprints and face.

* a subculture of disabled people who rent specific bodies not for their looks so much as their painless functionality. One of the most rented bodies amongst them is a woman from Minnesota who is definitely no model, but she's a 26 year old with no aches and pains and body that has plenty of energy and flexibility.

* oh so much drama about if it's ethical to rent bodies from other races. Predictable scandals where it turns out some musician or TikTok star is a white guy, despite their appearance as someone non-white. People get a lot madder at the white people wearing blackbody than the ones wearing asianbody, for reasons.

* a little post-it note inside a Starbucks where the customers can't see it, counting how many of a given body they've had in that morning. Someone named Stephan had 12 tally marks, and Lauren has 8. It's only 9:32 am.

Anyway yeah I have writer's block and can't do anything with this concept. Clearly.

[felassan]

Mark Darrah video: 'Dragon Age: The Veilguard Has Shipped. Now What?? #/masseffect'

Video description:

"Dragon Age: The Veilguard has shipped. What happens at BioWare now? BioWare structurally finds itself in uncharted territory as it only has a single Project (Mass Effect) active. Chapters: 0:00 Veilguard is out, now what? 0:22 BioWare Structure and History 1:57 Growth 4:45 Consumption 6:28 Sustain 7:27 Contraction 11:14 Leadership Discontinuity 1 12:48 Leadership Discontinuity 2 14:14 One Project At A Time 16:33 Mass Effect 18:50 Will The People Be There? 22:18 FOCUS"

[source]

Key notes from the vid and the comments underneath:

"Up front I should say that I have every confidence that Mass Effect [5] is in fact being worked on and that that project is going to receive all of the support from EA that it might need."

Slowly and painfully BioWare is figuring out that it simply can't do more than one project at a time anymore. It's now a single-project studio. Mark Darrah expects that both Edmonton and Austin will be working on ME5 together

ME5 effectively paused production for 15 months in order to help DA:TV ship

Right now other than some DA:TV clean up/final patches, everyone at BW is working on ME5

However ME5 isn't yet ready to suddenly have a team of 250-300 people working on it, so while some DA:TV devs moved onto it, some DA:TV devs were moved to/are moving to other parts of EA instead. The ME5 team started, but there is a long way between "start" and "ready to scale" up

The ME5 team is figuring out what ME5 is going to be & its structure, then will get ready to ramp up to a much bigger team size

"BW, for the first time really ever, is able to singularly focus on a single project, is able to put everything it has towards a single goal, which is making the best ME it possibly can."

But it remains to be seen whether BW will be able to get its people back when it needs them and is ready for them. There are a few reasons why this might prove difficult. Alternatively, on the flipside, this degree of focus might be exactly what BW needs to move it into the next phase of its life. "Maybe EA is going to prove to be incredibly effective at moving people around and when ME5 looks to start to grow maybe there will be no troubles".

We will probably have hints of what's going on [with ME5] within the next two years. "I have high hopes for ME. I think that once they figure out staffing, BW being focused on one game at a time is probably great for the studio" (though there may be growing pains to get there)

Does Mark Darrah foresee similar issues in the ME5 dev cycle to what DA:TV had? No, because ME5 hasn't had the same two big directional shifts, and it has had no leadership discontinuity (ME5 paused when they went to help DA:TV i.e. it didn't continue without a leader). But we should only really start counting ME5's dev cycle from today. "It really hasn't been that long with a significant team"

The ME5 teases in recent N7 Days were made by a "very small team"

There are still lots of veterans at BW

Mark Darrah doesn't expect to be involved in what BW makes next

More under cut due to length.

BW has existed in different ways/structures through its history. We're currently entering into an "unprecedented time" for BW

The purchase of BW by Elevation Partners, the purchase of BW by EA, when Ray Muzyka & Greg Zeschuk left BW, and the year 2017 in general are the 4 most important events (not including shipping games) that Mark Darrah feels have affected BW the most in its history

BW's strategy over time could be seen as having had 4 different phases: grow, consume, sustain, contract. In the contract phase, though BW maybe didn't realize it yet, the number of projects it was capable of running simultaneously was decreasing slowly/gradually. Why? Projects were getting more expensive, requiring more people/resources/time, and by this point BW had essentially burned off all its 'reserves' from the growth phase i.e. there was no longer any fat left to burn off

After DA:I shipped, Mark Darrah experienced that it was very difficult to find resources if your project wasn't the next project that was due out the door

DLC is a safety valve for processes and staff; a place for devs to work when other projects aren't quite ready for them yet; a place for the next gen of leaders to be grown. These things disappear as DLC does. Mark Darrah is pretty sure that the move away from DLC is coming from EA

In the contract phase, in 2013-14 Anthem was starved out by DA & ME:A. ME:A was also somewhat starved out by DA. Then when ME:A was in the driver's seat, it consumed most of the resources

In late 2016/early 2017 during the push to ship ME:A, as part of that BW began to experience leadership discontinuity. As the DA leader, Mark Darrah led a team of DA people onto ME:A to help it ship (the Dragon Age Finaling Team) for a few months. this sort of thing had happened at BW before but this was the first time when senior leadership moved off the projects they led to do this. this caused a change in philosophy in terms of the way that projects were run

When ME:A shipped and Casey Hudson came back to lead BW, there was then a much much larger leadership discontinuity with Anthem. The Montreal studio was supposed to move over onto Joplin to help kickstart it but it ended up getting taken away and given to the leadership in Montreal. but even if this had happened as it was supposed to, BW may not have been able to be in a place where it was going to be able to ship Anthem and Joplin simultaneously

Three quarters of the senior leadership on Joplin moved to Anthem or left BW. DA continued and became Morrison. The discontinuity had massive consequences for DA4

In 2021/22, this happened again in the opposite direction. The leadership team moved onto DA to help it ship, though rather than leaving some of the team in place, everyone moved. The other project (next Mass Effect) effectively ceased to exist for 15 months in order to help DA4 ship. In 2023 for the first time since 1995 BW was only working on 1 project (DA:TV) & there was nobody working on ME5 or remasters or side projects at that time. Now that DA:TV has shipped, apart from some people on cleanup and final patches, there is no plans for DA:TV DLC and "there is only Mass Effect". "Everyone at BW will be working on Mass Effect."

DA:TV being a 'direct sequel' would have been an unlikely path

With BW now focusing on a single project, Mark Darrah does worry that EA will get "itchy"

It'll be a [long] while to DA5 [hypothetically speaking, if it gets made]

MELE involved a lot of external devs

Shadow Realms was BioWare Austin and was due to: "partially places for people, partially a desire for Austin to get something new."

Mark Darrah expects that the devs are hearing everything being said about DA:TV

BW focuses more on consoles because of sales numbers

Unreal Engine 5 (which ME5 is on) is moving onto other EA projects as well, which may help

There are reasons why DA:TV is the way it is

BW has had external consultants on leadership and structure over the years

Mark Darrah expects that the next Dragon Age will once again be pretty different to the last iteration

BW Austin were brought in to help make Anthem. "What didn't happen (that should have) is that they should have had more directional control over the live service direction."

BW has had difficulty learning from previous games because at least one title was too far along TO learn. but a single game leads to staffing issues

Mark Darrah pitched a dev structure back in 2016/17 which would have had "3 fast follow games then a period of retooling"

EA doesn't really sell IPs

Chance of DA:TV DLC? "That's an EA question. And I expect EA's answer to be no". "I don't think we will see DLC. A new DA would be in the future."

"DA has been looking for larger audiences in every iteration. EA has never understood the franchise"

Remake DA:O or ME1? "While I think it would do well, I don't expect it to happen at any time soon. Also the skillsets required don't really over lap"

"The 3 previous games DAVe was are leaking through in places"

Diagram from the video which shows the flow of people throughout BW's history, made by a member of Mark Darrah's community.

[source]

[killergeek]

I'm so excited to finally share this project of mine! My BFFL really loves this Minecraft series on YouTube called Fable SMP. So, while thinking ahead for the holiday presents, I sketched a plush of @sherbertquake56 character Icarus. (If you can't tell, I know almost nothing about this, lol. I'm about halfway through season 1 currently.) I used a lot of fan art and cosplay photos for reference (big thanks for the wiki and Sherbert's insta bc I would've been so lost on trying 2 figure out any of the details of this lol) and decided to actually sew this after a day of debating it.

A little breakdown of this project: all patterns are from Choly Knight/ Sew Desu Ne? I mixed and matched the Chibi Human Doll Plush pattern, Doll Clothing Essentials pattern, Human Eyes Digital Embroidery pattern, and Dragon Eyes #10 Digital Embroidery pattern. I used Minky fabric for the hair and the skin (I was gonna paint on the eye blood, but I wasn't sure if the fabric paint would bleed into the minky uncontrollably, and I only had enough fabric for the actual plush. I'm sorry for the inaccuracy.) The pants shirt and jacket are made from some fat quarters I picked up from my local fabric store. The necklace is made from mini potion bottles, paint, and a bracelet chain I found in my crafting bins. The mini pins are from Aliam x Vitam on Etsy. The bracelet I made from some leftover rainbow loom (omg that's a throwback to like what 2014? lol), and the Goggles (which I forgot 2 photograph, oops) is made from a digital embroidery applique file from the Dragon Eyes #10 Digital Embroidery pattern, felt for the lenses, and scrap purple fabric with fraying lock around the ends. I also didn't have time to figure out how to pierce a doll's ears, so that was a detail I had to skip, unfortunately.

This has been the most fun project I've ever worked on so far. I love sewing, and I just got into sewing plushes, so I hope I did this justice, lol. Let me know what characters or anything else I should sew next. Hopefully, when my semester finishes I can watch the rest of Fable so I can actually understand everything I just made and what I maybe missed, lol. If anyone wants the links to anything I used to make this plush just let me know

[angelpregdreams]

What about delivering a big rough huge egg. It gets partially stuck as the widest part comes but you manage to stretch wide enough

oh, this is fun and super distracting to think about :3

content: fpreg, egg laying, dragon egg birth, 1st person pov

I felt my folds part and the tip of the egg press from my entrance even as I willed my body to not do this now. It didn't listen, the next pain making the pressure unbearable as I spread my thighs apart in my makeshift nest. I arched my back with the pain, crying out as the egg spread me apart further with each push I gave.

My mate told me it would have been easy, had I not been human, but here I was. Massively swollen with his large offspring, the egg bulging out of my pussy as it continued its way down. I cried out with my next pushes, feeling my body spread apart over the rough scales of the shell. I felt every indent and ridge along the egg as my folds were pulled tight around the huge thing.

Screaming, I felt the tightness continue to grow, a steady burn erupting around the egg until I finally lurch into my opening fully. From then on my body was alight with pain. The pain remained, lingering as the egg was holding me open as far apart as I could be stretched.

But it still needed more space.

I cried, fat tears slipping over my cheeks as I pushed with my next contraction, hearing several heavy drops of fluid hit the floor beneath me. I couldn't see over my swollen belly, but I assumed my poor folds were red and puffy, wrapped around the rough edges of the egg shell.

Straining for a while, I had to drop to my hands and knees, feeling the egg hold my hips apart, unable to close my thighs much as I began to push. I released a pained scream, bearing down as hard as I could, my entire body shaking in effort.

My pussy was pulled so tight I sobbed in pain, but I had to get it out of me. I had to.

I pushed again, harder. Then suddenly the shell slipped, with some help of some fluid, and it fell between my knees, landing with a dribble of fluid coating it as I remained still in shock.

[youngies-bae]

Day & Night

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴/𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: ʜᴏɴɢᴊᴏᴏɴɢ x ғᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𝘈𝘜/𝘛𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘐𝘯𝘧𝘰 & 𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: ᴘʀᴇᴅᴇʙᴜᴛ ᴀᴜ, ғᴏᴏᴅ, sᴍᴀʟʟ ʙᴜʀɴ.

𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 & 𝘙𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨: ᴘɢ, ғʟᴜғғ

𝘞/𝘊:

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴊᴏᴏɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴀ ʟɪʟ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ

𝘛𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵: @minkilicious

𝘐𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘰:

𝘈/𝘯: this was short n easy to write jus kinda wanted to put sum out there. Not proof read btw.

Hongjoong looked around while holding onto your hand, “you sure this place is hidden?”

You giggle at him softly, “Joong nobody’s gonna record you… you haven’t even debuted yet.”

Hongjoong was worried about loosing his job as a trainiee at KQ Entertainment. He tried to be extra careful, he never broke any rules except for one, the dating ban.

He’s wearing a hat that covers his face a little bit, although you’re not sure if it’s to hide though Hongjoong almost always wears a hat.

Hongjoong let’s go of your hand for a second to open the door for you, “thank you.”

“Anytime” he replies smiling and flashing his perfect set of teeth. His smile is one of your favorite things about him.

“Hello!! Y/n, it’s great to see you again! How have you been?” The owner of the restaurant recognized you immediately, you had came here everyday after school. You love it, the food is amazing and it’s quite hidden, there aren’t many people that have ate here.

She walked you to an empty table and had set two menus down.

“It’s about time that you brought someone here, who is this boy?” She asks with a warm, welcoming smile.

You smile at her and introduce the boy that sat in front of you to her, “this is Hongjoong, my boyfriend.”

He smiled hearing you call him that, you both haven’t been dating for too long but had known each other for a long time. You both weren’t very close though despite knowing each other since elementary school.

He had liked you for a while and finally decided to confess when his friends pushed him hard enough. Luckily for him you had felt the same way.

The very nice lady raised her eyes slightly and smiled ever bigger, “it’s about danm time. I’ve been waiting for you to get a boyfriend and bring him here for quite some time now. You’re such a sweet girl plus you’re beautiful. I knew that it wouldn’t be long before you got a boyfriend.”

Hongjoong giggled at her comments, he definitely agreed. You are very sweet and kind, maybe a little too sweet even. You sure are beautiful too, the most beautiful girl he had laid eyes on.

“Anyways I’ll let you two be, are you ready to order yet? Or have you decided on any drinks?”

“I know what I want, I’m not sure about him though.” You had said.

She pans her head to him, “yeah, I am ready actually. May I please order Rose Tteokbokki and to drink can I have a sprite?”

She nods her head and writes his order down then looks at you, “I want pork ramen, dragon roll sushi as an appetizer and to drink may I have a Thai Tea with boba?”

She looks down at her paper and writes your order before leaving to the kitchen.

“So what do you think so far?” You ask the man sitting across from you.

“Hmm, she’s really nice. It’s also really cosy in here, feels safe and comfortable.” He explains.

You nod your head agreeing.

As you look at him for a moment you remember how much you had loved what he had wore today. A black cap, a black short sleeved shirt with some writing on it, grey sweats and on his feet were Jordan 1’s Mid Light Smoke Grey.

Not only did you love his outfit he loved yours. You wore a comfortable but clean fit that looked amazing on you, it was very appropriate for the casual date you two were on currently.

You and Hongjoongs head snaps to the entrance of the restaurant as you both see a very attractive man had walked in, Hongjoong looks away instead his eyes are now on you, your eyes stayed on the man a little longer than he had liked.

“Is his ass fat?” You furrow your eyebrows at your boyfriend’s strange question.

“What…?”

“You looked at him for a while I’m sure something had to have caught your eye.” Hongjoong pursed his lips holding them tightly together and smiling slightly while raising his eyebrows.

“Uh. Not to much, don’t act like you don’t be watching edits of Camila Cabello 24/7.”

Hongjoong sighs in defeat.

“Here you are,” the nice lady from before had set down both of your bowls of food in front of you, your appetizer in the middle and both your drinks on the side.

“Thank you”. You both had said in sync.

The food looks amazing, you and he had thought. No matter how many times you come here, you could never get tired of it. It’s one of those things that it’s so good that you can’t get bored of it.

Hongjoong immediately tried to take a bite but instead he had burned his tongue, “oh shit.”. He drops his chopsticks into the Tteokbokki making it splash and burn his eye a little.

“Are you okay?” You ask as soon as he reacted. You stand up a little pushing the table forwards slightly.

You grab a napkin and clean his face off gently. After your done you sit back down in your seat.

“Thanks.” He says giggling at himself a little.

“You have to blow it, it’s very hot.” You say to him instructively.

He nods and starts eating carefully blowing on his food before every bite.

You both had ate your food peacefully savoring every bite, you had shared your sushi with him. He loved it, liked it more than the Tteokbokki honestly.

The boba you had ordered was also amazing.

“Bye!! Come again!” The lady said kindly with a big smile.

“I will.” You smile back at her.

“Oh I know you will, but I was talking to your boyfriend here.” Hongjoongs eyes widened at the mention of himself.

“I’ll come again for sure. The food was amazing. Matter of fact next time she comes I’ll be with her.” He promises.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

They all nod.

Hongjoong takes your hand and walks you to the door opening it for you, walking out along side you.

“Glad you had fun.”

“I’d have fun doing anything with you.”

[toxycodone]

Oxy do you think laios would like pegging, I’ve been ovulating and so I keep thinking of pegging laios and how much I want this big man crying under me…💭😛

Laios being pegged...that is so big brained.

He's so, so into it. Whenever you bring it up he fwips his head around to look at you with an owlish expression. He's not against it, not at all, he's actually excited at the prospect.

However, he has his own desires. He goes shopping online with you for the perfect strap-on. You know he has...particular tastes. He doesn't want something too boring.

When you ask him what he wants. He pulls up the Bad Dragon website with a quickness. Then like, he suddenly looks a little sheepish, but he's still pretty excited.

After a little perusing, you eventually settle on one that's about 3-4 inches and has a nice fat knot. Laios tends to be a "go big or go home" sort of guy, so you kinda have to reign in his fantasies in the beginning because. Dude you are JUST starting out. That footlong horse cock isn't fitting inside you on the first try no matter how much it makes you drool. But the knot still leaves something for him to "conquer" when he gets used to the smaller toy. (You two also decide to invest in the realistic cum lube and some sort of vibrating mechanism for you and him. Just to make things even more enjoyable.)

So anyways, when you finally get down to it. You see the excitement he previously had switch to nerves. Despite how much he wanted this, he never really thought about how different it is. Being the one under you and getting penetrated makes him feel remarkably vulnerable. Thankfully, you two have plenty of time for foreplay.

You kiss him gently and tell him how pretty he is and how much you love him while you trail your finger over his asshole and he just melts. You see his hardening length twitch in anticipation and the tension leave his face as you start to finger him and get him more relaxed, soon enough he's fucking himself on your fingers and whimpering while pleading with you to finally fuck him with the real thing.

When you guys first try pegging, you gotta do it missionary. It's a position where you can easily see his face and body, just so you can make sure he's comfortable. Since you worked him up to it, Laios actually takes things super well. You slowly slide into him and he throws his head back and lets out a strangled groan. You kiss his forehead and taste the sweat on his skin and ask if he's alright as you still. Laios kisses your cheek sweetly and smiles into your skin, letting you know in a breathy voice that he's alright. you're doing so good and he loves you.

That's when you add a bit more lube, lube up his cock, and steadily start stroking him to match your thrusts. You aren't super fast as you do this, you just watch Laios's face as it scrunches in pleasure. A pink flush spreads across his cheeks, neck, and upper chest while you continue to fuck him--sending words of praise his way.

And. Unsurprisingly. Within a handful of strokes Laios is squeaking out a warning that he's gonna cum. And before you can finish thinking "already?" Your hand gets covered in warm, white liquid while he grunts out a couple choked sounds, shaking slightly in pleasure.

You stay completely still, careful not to overwhelm him as you chuckle. He's so damn cute. You lean down and give him a few gentle kisses to the base of his throat and tell him he's a good boy before he states.

"Keep going."

You look at him a bit curiously, brows furrowed.

"Really...? Are you su--"

Laios cuts you off with a whine, throwing his head back on the pillow.

"Please."

And so you do as he asks, continuing to fuck him (now at your pace as you try to reach your high), and he's just a mess. Tears prick his lashes before finally falling. He's gasping and groaning and his thighs can't decide if they wanna lock you in or push you away but Laios doesn't dare use the safe word. He just begs for you to cum in him, let him see you cum, fill him up and plug him with that knot...

And honestly, you're quickly following close behind Laios. Moaning into his ear while you buck your hips into him.

But once he's really gets used to anal he becomes a bit of a whore. He LOVES when you fuck him doggystyle and grip his chin, forcing him to look up at you when you spit in his mouth. Or you just grab him by his hips and just fuck him utterly stupid. Your fingers dig into the plush ski,, causing all kinds of scrapes and bruises while he's crying out underneath you.

But it can be an intimate thing too! No monster dildos or anything. Sharing a toy or having you fuck him slow is another love of his, especially while spooning. You can grab one of his soft pecs in your hand, his plush inner thigh in the other while you slowly pump in and out of him and gently kiss his neck. He lets out soft, breathy moans and hushed whispers of how much he just adores you while he jerks himself off...Yeah <3

[bogleech]

MY DRAGON QUEST MONSTERS THREAD

Dragon Quest Monsters: The Dark Prince is the first DQM game I've ever gotten to play after admiring the series since childhood. The bad news is that it leaves out exactly the three DQ monsters I love most. The good news is that everything else about it is great. I've been taking regular screenshots as I play and I am going to start adding things about it to this post, so it is going to get long. First of all here are exactly my next three favorite monsters in the franchise, which they fortunately did include, and were all available to me by almost the first area:

"Mad Mollusk" or in other dq games "taileater" is great because it has a sad flabby slug face at one end and a fanged leech mouth at the other end. When it uses magic, it reveals giant eyeballs in its antennae somehow?! Love how big the "carnivorous" mouth gets in the attack animation. What a stretchy guy!

"Lunatick" is just called "meda" (eye) in Japanese, I'm glad they decided it was like a parasite thing in the localization.

Finally there's DROHL, a classic DQ enemy that looks like...well I'm not gonna say what it really looks like but I think it's a cool little freak unrelated to that and I think it talks exactly like Droopy dog. Oddly it's known as a "Drohl DRONE," and I believe there are other "castes" in other DQ games, but only the "drones" are in this one sadly. I've yet to find this in the wild; I got it through the breeding system!

....Which is by far the most addicting thing about this game. The actual gameplay is good solid turn based RPG stuff, if a bit basic, but every monster can be bred with another monster to unlock a slew of other species. This is one of the first games in which they actually call it a "fusion" system now, I guess dropping the word "breed" from the English localization, but all other in-game dialog still calls these the 'parents' and 'offspring' and even makes jokes that they're getting married, so yeah, it's still breeding. What happens when you breed a slime with someone's dead grandpa??

.....There are multiple monsters you can get from that, but one of them, and the one that makes the most sense, is Slimeshroom! This is a new DQ slime that's some fungus! What's also fun is that every monster has up to three skills, and each skill actually unlocks a ton of spells, attacks, boosts and effects as you spend skill points on them. Then when you breed two monsters, you can give the baby any three skills from the parents. Any at all! I used this to make my Slimeshroom both a healer and a fire mage in the early game. This catches you up with the same progress I talked about when I first got the game almost two months ago so here's some things that have happened since:

I bred a flying cat and a vampire chinchilla to get a.....sexy bat??

I helped a fat rat - that's the name of his species - rescue his son

I bred a people ghost with a lamp ghost to get a bag of dirt!

I fought this bastard giraffe man who called an elderly wizard a "naughty boy" and put him in candy jail.

"Duffer" from the Giraffe quest is also best friends with Eileen the eye demon, and when you rescue him, they become your loyal subjects! BAD NEWS: this entire game is actually a prequel to Dragon Quest 4, and the player character of this game is the villain of Dragon Quest 4. Duffer and Eileen are also in Dragon Quest 4. They die :( .......Maybe this game gives you a chance to fix that future??? I don't know.

[novaursa]

Between Pride and Fire (matters of the realm)

- Summary: It was a challenge of the hunt that drew the lion to you, but it was your fire that made him yours.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Previous part: royals

- Next part: lion's den

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @punk-in-docs @barnes70stark

From The Testimony of Mushroom, corroborated by Grand Maester Mellos in The Histories of the Dragon’s Heirs

The aftermath of the ill-fated wedding of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Ser Laenor Velaryon left scars that stretched far beyond the stone walls of the Red Keep. What was meant to be a celebration of unity between House Targaryen and Velaryon descended into a night of blood and horror, and the ripples of that chaos were felt throughout the realm. Though the Septon’s final words bound Rhaenyra and Laenor in marriage, no feast nor dance could wash away the stain of Ser Criston Cole’s brutal slaying of Ser Joffrey Lonmouth.

The following morning brought a hush over King’s Landing. Gone were the sounds of trumpets and revelry, replaced instead by whispered rumors that passed like fire through dry grass. Lords muttered behind closed doors, and the smallfolk spun tales of what had occurred within the Red Keep’s great hall. Some claimed it was jealousy that drove Criston Cole into such madness. Others whispered of darker schemes—of secrets unveiled and grudges laid bare. What all could agree on, however, was that nothing would ever be the same again.

Amidst the wreckage of this chaos, Lord Jason Lannister and his Targaryen wife, Princess Y/N, emerged as figures of enviable stability. Where the royal family seemed fractured and fragile, the golden lions of the West stood tall and untouchable, their crimson cloaks as vivid as blood amongst the rubble.

In truth, it is said that Jason Lannister handled the scandalous events of the wedding with the same smug aplomb that defined him. Grand Maester Mellos noted in his letters that Jason “laughed when others wept, as if the bloodshed were no more troubling than spilled wine.” Mushroom, however, provides a far more colorful description, claiming that Jason whispered to his wife as they departed the chaos of the great hall: “This was a wedding for the histories, my dragon—though I do think our lion slaying made for better sport.”

The princess, by contrast, was said to have been troubled. Mushroom claims she remained quiet and pale throughout the night, tending to her twins, Leona and Loren, in the privacy of their chambers while Jason drank deeply and regaled his kin with tales of the absurdity he had witnessed. “My lady soothed babes while her lion roared,” Mushroom writes, “and so it is with all marriages—a woman tends to what matters while a man tends to his pride.”

Yet while others looked upon the aftermath with despair, the Lannisters only seemed to shine brighter. In the days following the wedding, it was Jason and Y/N who took to the streets of King’s Landing to present themselves—her silver hair and his golden crown of curls appearing like twin beams of light amidst the gloom. The smallfolk cheered for them as though they were the ones newly wed, and they cooed over the twins, Leona and Loren, as if the babes themselves were proof that unity could still exist in the realm.

“The king’s first grandchildren,” Jason boasted loudly in the marketplace, clutching a goblet of wine as he stood before the people. Mushroom claims that Y/N chastised her husband for flaunting the twins so openly, fearing what enemies such displays might invite. “They are children, Jason, not trophies,” she is said to have told him. Yet Jason only grinned and replied, “All Lannisters are trophies, wife. Even the cubs.”

It was in this way that Lord Jason and Princess Y/N presented an image of strength when others faltered. While King Viserys withdrew further into his chambers—his health seeming to wane with each passing day—and Queen Alicent surrounded herself with her father’s allies, the Lannisters stood as a spectacle of gold and crimson, untarnished by scandal.

Mushroom, of course, cannot resist adding his usual crudeness to their story. He claims that Jason’s cheer during the day was matched only by his ardor at night. “The Rock’s lion roared as loudly in bed as he did in the streets,” Mushroom writes salaciously, “and if the princess protested, no soul ever heard it. One might think that bloodshed stirred the man’s appetites, for it is said that Jason and his dragon wife scarce left their chambers save to parade the babes like kings at a tourney.”

Whether or not such claims hold any truth is impossible to say, for Mushroom’s accounts are ever prone to exaggeration. Grand Maester Mellos writes only that the princess “remained attentive to her children and dutiful to her husband, keeping her composure where many others faltered.” Yet even he could not deny the sharp contrast between the turmoil within the Red Keep and the Lannisters’ public display of unity.

It is worth noting, too, that the princess did not forget her sister. Rhaenyra, secluded with Laenor in the wake of the tragedy, is said to have received a quiet visit from Y/N in the days following the wedding. No records remain of their conversation, but Mushroom insists he overheard whispers through the keyhole, where Y/N reassured Rhaenyra that “the world may tear at you, but you will endure.”

Jason, meanwhile, paid little mind to such solemn affairs. Mushroom claims that when questioned about the wedding’s bloodshed, Jason merely laughed and said, “The realm would be dull without a bit of chaos. A Lannister thrives in it.”

And so it was that while King Viserys aged before the eyes of the court, and while Rhaenyra and Laenor retreated into their uneasy marriage, Lord Jason Lannister and Princess Y/N stood like a beacon amidst the gathering storm. Mushroom, ever the cynic, described it best: “When the world shakes and dragons roar, the lions stand tall—but make no mistake, my lords, even lions cannot see when the ground is crumbling beneath their paws.”

For now, though, the realm looked upon Jason and Y/N as a shining example—a marriage of fire and gold that burned brighter in the shadows cast by others’ failings. The twins, Leona and Loren, were called “the hope of the Rock” by the smallfolk of the Westerlands, and wherever the Lannisters walked, the world watched.

Yet even as their star rose, the events of Rhaenyra’s wedding left a scar upon the realm—a scar that would fester in the years to come. And while Jason laughed and Y/N stood strong, the first cracks in the foundation had already begun to form.

King Viserys sat slouched in a cushioned chair at the head of a large table, his crown tilted slightly askew as though it weighed far too much. The king looked every bit as weary as he had in the days following Rhaenyra's wedding, though his smile remained warm and genuine as he listened to Laenor Velaryon recount some jest or tale of his youth.

Jason Lannister reclined comfortably in his chair, legs stretched out, a goblet of wine lazily balanced in one hand. He had been summoned to join the king this morning, alongside Ser Laenor, for reasons that were as yet unclear. Jason, of course, never missed an opportunity to enjoy royal company—or to make his presence felt.

Leaning back, Jason smirked at Laenor as the young Velaryon finished his story, his laughter ringing easily through the otherwise quiet chamber. “So let me see if I’ve heard this correctly,” Jason said, his voice dripping with amusement. “You dove headfirst into the harbor after your brother dared you… and were fished out naked before half the ships of Driftmark?”

Laenor grinned, his silver hair catching the sunlight as he shrugged. “What can I say, Lord Jason? I was young and bold, and the water seemed warm enough at the time.”

Viserys barked a laugh, clapping his hand against the armrest of his chair, though the effort seemed to take more energy than it once might have. “Ah, youth,” he said fondly, shaking his head. “If only we could live those days again.”

Jason chuckled softly, raising his goblet toward Laenor. “You’ve spirit, Velaryon. That much, I can respect.”

Across the room, Otto Hightower stood like a shadow, his hands clasped neatly at his waist, though his sharp eyes never stopped watching. His presence was like a cold draft in the otherwise warm chamber, lingering silently but impossible to ignore. His gaze flitted toward Jason every now and again—side glances sharp as a dagger—as though measuring every word that fell from the Lord of Casterly Rock’s mouth.

Jason, for his part, paid him no mind. Or rather, he pretended not to notice.

After a lull in conversation, Otto stepped forward slightly, clearing his throat with deliberate softness. “Your Grace,” he said, though his eyes lingered on Jason, “the matters of the realm wait for no man—even those of noble station.”

Viserys waved a hand, though it lacked its usual vigor. “What matters, Otto? Let us have peace in this room for once. There are no councils here today.”

Otto smiled faintly, though it did not reach his eyes. “Of course, Your Grace.” He turned his gaze fully to Jason now, his tone clipped and polite. “Lord Jason, it is a pleasure to see you still in our halls. Though I must admit… it has been nearly a week since the wedding festivities came to an end. I imagine your people in the Westerlands must miss you greatly by now.”

Jason did not so much as blink, though his smirk sharpened like a blade’s edge as he tilted his goblet, swirling the wine idly. “How kind of you to concern yourself with my duties, Lord Hand,” he said, his tone almost lazy. “But my bannermen are capable. I trust my family is managing affairs in my absence without issue.”

Otto’s smile remained fixed, though his fingers tightened slightly where they rested at his waist. “And yet,” he continued, voice smooth as silk, “I would not wish to keep the Lord of Casterly Rock from the lands he serves so dutifully. Surely your family will be eager to return to the Westerlands soon?”

Jason glanced at Otto from the corner of his eye, the glint of amusement never leaving his face. “In time,” he replied smoothly, sipping his wine. “The king has graciously offered us his hospitality, and it would be rude to leave too soon, don’t you think?”

Viserys, oblivious to the subtle tension in the air, let out a faint chuckle. “Jason is right, Otto. Let them stay a while longer. It’s not every day I have the pleasure of my grandchildren’s company.”

Jason smiled broadly at that, clearly pleased to hear Viserys mention the twins. “Aye, Your Grace. It warms my heart to know the king takes such joy in their presence. Leona and Loren have grown fond of their grandsire already.”

Otto’s expression flickered ever so slightly at the mention of the twins. “Yes, no doubt,” he murmured, though his tone was laced with something unreadable.

Laenor, who had remained quiet throughout this exchange, cleared his throat with a small grin. “Lord Jason, I suspect you’ll find it hard to leave the capital if King Viserys has his way. The man seems to adore your children almost as much as you do.”

Jason turned toward Laenor, his easy grin returning as he raised his goblet. “Who could blame him? The twins are the pride of the West.” He turned back to Otto with a faintly pointed look. “You might even say they shine brighter than gold.”

The jab was subtle, but Otto caught it. His expression remained neutral, though his gaze lingered on Jason for a heartbeat longer than necessary. “Gold fades, my lord,” Otto replied softly. “But the realm endures.”

Jason laughed, though there was little warmth in it. “Wise words, Lord Hand. I’ll be sure to remember them.”

Viserys, sensing none of the tension now thickening in the room, exhaled heavily and leaned back into his chair. “Enough of this talk. Otto, there will be time for matters of duty later. Let us enjoy what peace we can.”

Otto inclined his head, though he cast one final glance at Jason before stepping back into the shadows. Jason, ever unbothered, leaned closer to you as the king settled into a half-doze, murmuring softly near your ear.

“Do you see how he watches me, wife? Like a cat watching a mouse that refuses to scurry.”

You offered him a sidelong look, keeping your voice low. “And what does that make you, my lord?”

Jason grinned, his confidence unshaken. “The mouse who knows the cat can’t catch him.”

You shook your head faintly, though you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Perhaps you should not push him so.”

Jason shrugged, leaning back in his chair with that infuriating air of ease. “Otto Hightower cannot push me from King’s Landing any sooner than I wish to leave it. Besides,” he added, casting a glance toward the king, “I’ll take my leave when it suits me—and when the king tires of spoiling my children.”

“Let us hope that day comes quietly,” you murmured, though even you could sense that the quiet days were already beginning to dwindle.

Jason only smirked, lifting his goblet to his lips once more, as though the game he played was his alone to win.

The city of King's Landing hummed with life beneath the early afternoon sun, its sprawling streets teeming with vendors hawking their wares, children darting between carts, and common folk bustling about their daily routines. The smells of roasted meats, spiced wine, and fresh bread mingled in the air with less savory scents—a testament to the chaotic beauty of the capital. Today, however, the market had something far grander to behold.

Jason Lannister strode through the heart of the city like a king on progress, flanked by his retinue. His cloak swirled behind him with every step, and his pride shone brighter than any coin in the city. At his side walked you, composed and regal. The twins, Leona and Loren, were nestled securely in your arms and the arms of a trusted wet nurse, swaddled in soft crimson silks embroidered with golden lions and dragons.

A royal escort preceded you, knights of the City Watch with their gleaming golden cloaks clearing a path through the crowd while banners of House Targaryen and House Lannister fluttered proudly overhead. Behind you, Jason’s Lannister men and retainers marched in formation, their polished armor catching the sun and dazzling the gawking crowd. What began as an ordinary market day had now become a spectacle—and Jason, ever the lion, relished it.

“Lord Jason Lannister! Princess Y/N!” came the cries from vendors and citizens alike as you passed. A ripple of excitement spread through the market as more people pushed forward, eager for a glimpse of the king’s first grandchildren.

Jason, of course, was all smiles, nodding graciously to the crowd and pausing now and then to lift his hand in greeting. “Good folk of King’s Landing!” he called at one point, his voice carrying like a man born to be heard. “The pride of the West greets you! A fine day, is it not?”

You shot him a look, though amusement tugged at your lips. “Must you parade us so boldly?” you murmured, adjusting the swaddled babe in your arms. Leona, bright-eyed even in her infancy, squirmed softly against you.

“Of course,” Jason replied smoothly, glancing sidelong at you with a grin. “How else will they know that Lannisters walk among them? Besides,” he added, gesturing toward the crowd, “they should see the king’s first grandchildren—let them remember this day.”

“And when they curse us for blocking their stalls?” you teased lightly, though you could not deny the awe on the faces of the smallfolk as they caught sight of the twins. Women gasped and cooed, children shrieked in delight, and men whispered to one another as they craned their necks for a better view.

“If they curse us, it’ll be through tears of joy,” Jason replied with a wink.

The market sprawled open before you, the crowd parting wherever the gold-cloaked guards marched. Jason paused at a particularly loud stall, where a vendor was shouting about the finest Dornish silk. The merchant, an older man with a grizzled beard, nearly dropped his bolts of fabric when Jason stopped before him.

“Silk from Dorne, you say?” Jason asked with mock scrutiny, his grin lazy. “And what makes it finer than the silks worn by my lady wife?”

The merchant blinked rapidly, his mouth hanging open before he stammered, “I-It’s the finest, m’lord—truly! Soft as the morning mist and strong as dragon’s wings!”

Jason glanced back at you with a smug grin. “Shall we compare, wife?” he teased, though his voice carried enough weight to send the merchant into a sputtering fit.

You rolled your eyes, shifting Leona in your arms as the wet nurse beside you held Loren securely. “Lord Jason, if you mean to torment every vendor in the market, we’ll be here till sundown.”

“Perhaps I’m a generous man, parading my coin,” Jason replied with a wink, though he tossed the merchant a gold dragon for his trouble before strolling on, shoulders back and chin high.

The procession wound its way through stalls of fruit, fish, and fine jewelry, with Jason greeting strangers like long-lost friends and showing no signs of humility. Children gawked as the twins passed, their small faces pressed to the edges of the crowd. A small girl, no older than six, tugged at her mother’s skirts and pointed.

“Is it true?” she whispered loudly. “Are they dragons?”

Jason heard and turned, crouching low enough to address the girl directly, his green eyes gleaming with mischief. “Dragons and lions both, little one,” he said with a conspiratorial grin. “Fire and gold, brought together.”

The girl’s eyes widened as she clutched her mother’s hand tightly. “They’re magic,” she breathed.

Jason straightened, glancing toward you with a faint smirk. “Did you hear that, wife? Magic. I knew it.”

“Enough of your games, Jason,” you murmured, though you could not suppress the faint smile on your lips. The twins were beginning to fuss now, little Loren letting out a high-pitched wail that cut through the air. The wet nurse bobbed him gently, but Jason was undeterred.

“Ah, the boy has lungs,” Jason said proudly, as though Loren’s cries were a testament to Lannister strength. “A roar, like his father.”

“And if you don’t let them rest soon,” you replied pointedly, “they’ll roar loud enough to scatter this entire market.”

Jason gave you a good-natured grin before turning to his men. “We’ll head back to the keep,” he announced, waving a hand lazily. “But not before they know they’ve seen the future of the realm.”

As the procession wound its way back toward the gates of the Red Keep, the streets of King’s Landing seemed to buzz with renewed life. Jason Lannister’s “spectacle,” as you had called it, had done its job. The people stared in awe, whispered about the silver-haired babes who would grow to inherit power, and cheered as you passed.

Jason, of course, was entirely unbothered by the extravagance of it all. He slowed his steps as you reached the shadow of the keep, casting a look at you, smug and satisfied. “There,” he said softly, gesturing toward the lingering crowd still watching your departure. “The first of many days when our children will be remembered.”

You shook your head faintly, though your voice held none of the fire your words implied. “You’ll make them into legend before they can even walk.”

Jason laughed softly, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of silver hair behind your ear. “Why not? Let them shine, wife. They are Lannisters and Targaryens both—and worth every cheer.”

As the gates closed behind you and the streets faded into distant hums of noise, you sighed softly, looking down at Leona as she stirred in your arms. “Just try not to make a habit of turning every outing into a parade.”

Jason smirked, his hand brushing yours as you walked. “No promises.”

The sun hung low in the sky, bathing the Red Keep’s sprawling courtyards in its light as the day waned. In the quieter corner of the gardens, two figures stood near a marble bench beneath the shade of an old elm. Jason Lannister, ever confident, leaned lazily against the tree’s trunk, a small goblet dangling loosely from his fingers. His younger twin, Tyland Lannister, stood rigid as ever, hands clasped neatly behind his back, his sharp green eyes scanning the courtyard with watchful intent.

The soft rustle of leaves filled the silence, punctuated only by the distant calls of servants tending the grounds and the faint hum of the city beyond the walls. For once, Jason seemed content to remain quiet, taking a slow sip from his cup as Tyland studied him with a frown.

“You’re too comfortable here,” Tyland said finally, his voice low but firm, cutting through the late afternoon stillness.

Jason glanced at him sidelong, lifting a brow. “And why shouldn’t I be? The king himself welcomed us. The court admires us, my children are the first of Viserys’s grandchildren—tell me, brother, where is the harm in that?”

Tyland exhaled softly through his nose, as though he’d expected Jason’s reply. “Because not everyone admires us, Jason. Some see your pride as a threat, and you do little to dissuade them.”

Jason smirked, pushing himself off the tree trunk to stand straight. “The Hightowers, you mean,” he said, his voice edged with amusement. “Don’t tell me you’ve come all this way to warn me of Otto Hightower. The man’s shadow might loom over the king, but I’m hardly frightened of it.”

“You should be,” Tyland shot back sharply, his tone laced with frustration. He stepped closer, his boots crunching faintly over the gravel. “Otto is not blind to your games, Jason. Nor is Alicent. You parade your wife and children through the city as if you were already king’s heir. You act as though you have nothing to lose, and that arrogance will make you enemies.”

Jason tilted his head slightly, studying his brother with a flicker of curiosity. “And since when have you been so cautious, Tyland? It’s unlike you to sound so… measured.”

Tyland’s jaw tightened, though he kept his composure. “I am cautious because someone in this family needs to be. I’ve seen the way Otto Hightower watches you—and your wife. The man is no fool. He knows the king favors the princess, but that favor extends to you now, too, by marriage and blood. The twins, Jason.” Tyland’s voice dropped lower, as though he feared the words might carry. “They are Targaryen by their mother, but to the Hightowers, they are lions sitting too close to the throne.”

Jason let out a short, dismissive laugh, though the sound held little mirth. “Lions are always close to thrones, brother. That is where we belong.”

“Not in King’s Landing,” Tyland snapped, his patience fraying. “Not here, not now. The Hightowers are careful, deliberate, and they will see every golden thread in this keep as a noose around their necks.”

Jason’s smirk faded just slightly, though he masked it with another sip of wine. “You worry too much, Tyland. Otto can scheme all he likes, but Viserys is no fool. The man loves his daughter, and by extension, he loves me and our family. Us. Do you truly think the Hightowers can undo that with mere whispers?”

Tyland’s expression hardened, his sharp features shadowed by the waning light. “Whispers are all it takes when the right ears hear them. Alicent and her brood will not sit idle while you charm the court into loving you. Mark me, brother—when the queen smiles at you, it is not kindness. It is a measuring look.”

Jason fell silent at that, his gaze narrowing slightly as he studied Tyland. The truth of the words sank in, though he would never admit it aloud. “And what would you have me do?” Jason asked finally, his voice softer now, though his pride still lingered. “Pack my family off to Casterly Rock with our tails between our legs? Run, so Otto Hightower can preen in victory?”

“I would have you be smart, Jason,” Tyland replied firmly. “This is not Casterly Rock. Here, lions are not kings—they are guests. Tread carefully. Do not give the Hightowers reason to fear you more than they already do.”

Jason glanced away briefly, his gaze sweeping across the quiet garden as he weighed his brother’s words. He loathed the idea of playing meek, of hiding the strength he so openly wore, but he could not deny the truth in Tyland’s warning. The Red Keep was no place for complacency, not with so many eyes watching.

Finally, Jason turned back to Tyland with a faint sigh, though his smirk returned—smaller this time, quieter. “Fine. I’ll play the part of a humble lord if it will ease your mind. I’ll even refrain from parading my children through the streets like trophies.”

Tyland arched a brow, unimpressed. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Jason chuckled softly, clapping a hand on his brother’s shoulder as he passed him, his voice light despite the lingering tension. “Come now, Tyland. Where’s your faith in me?”

“I have faith,” Tyland replied dryly, watching him go. “Just not in your restraint.”

As Jason strolled back toward the keep, his confident stride unbroken, Tyland lingered beneath the elm tree, his expression clouded with thought. He had spoken his warning, but whether Jason would heed it—or whether it was already too late—remained to be seen. The game was changing in the Red Keep, and as ever, the lions of the West walked a fine line between power and peril.

The faint sounds of the Red Keep—servants bustling in distant halls, the distant clang of swords from the training yard—faded as Jason entered in your shared chambers, shutting the heavy door behind him with a muted thud.

You sat curled on the chaise near the hearth, a book resting lightly in your lap, though you didn’t appear to be reading it. The soft glow of the fire illuminated your silver hair and the delicate lines of your face, though there was an unmistakable weariness to your features—a weariness that Jason caught immediately.

“Brooding again, wife?” Jason’s voice broke the quiet, his tone light as ever, though he studied you carefully as he stepped deeper into the room. He shrugged off his crimson cloak, letting it pool on the bench near the door before he approached you.

You looked up at him, arching an eyebrow with faint amusement. “I think brooding is your word for thinking, Jason.”

“Perhaps,” Jason admitted, dropping heavily into the armchair across from you with a dramatic sigh. “But I find thinking far less productive than brooding. Brooding invites company. Thinking only invites headaches.”

You smirked faintly, though you said nothing as you marked your page and set the book aside. Jason stretched out his long legs, his boots scuffing against the edge of the hearth. For a long moment, the two of you sat in a companionable silence, the fire crackling softly between you.

At last, Jason spoke again, his tone quieter this time. “And how did you spend your afternoon, my dragon?”

You shifted slightly, smoothing your skirts as you regarded him. “With Rhaenyra,” you said simply. “She needed company, I think. This place weighs on her.”

Jason hummed faintly, his expression unreadable. “I imagine it does,” he said after a moment. “There’s no peace here—not for her, and certainly not for us.”

You tilted your head slightly, catching the edge in his voice. “What did Tyland say to you?”

Jason’s gaze flicked to yours, though his smirk returned almost immediately. “What makes you think he said anything?”

“Because I know you,” you replied, your voice calm but certain. “And Tyland always looks like he’s swallowed a lemon when he’s giving you advice.”

Jason laughed softly at that, leaning his head back against the chair as his smirk widened. “You know me too well, wife. Tyland, ever the solemn twin, has warned me of Otto Hightower’s lingering stares. Apparently, we are a threat.”

You frowned, your brow creasing slightly. “A threat?”

Jason waved a hand dismissively, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t let it trouble you. The Hand has seen a golden lion where there is only a loyal son-in-law and devoted husband.”

You gave him a pointed look, though you didn’t press him further. “You should listen to Tyland, Jason. The Hightowers are dangerous, and Otto plays his games well.”

Jason let out a mock groan, as though exhausted by the topic already. “Enough of the Hightowers. I’ve no interest in talking about dour old men when I have my lovely wife before me.” He pushed himself up from the chair, crossing the room with that familiar easy grace.

You watched him warily as he approached, his green eyes glinting with mischief, though you couldn’t entirely suppress the smile threatening to form. “What are you doing?”

Jason crouched before you, resting his hands lightly on your knees, his expression deceptively innocent. “Admiring you, of course. Can a man not look upon his wife and marvel at his good fortune?”

You arched an eyebrow, though you felt the heat rise faintly in your cheeks. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet you married me,” Jason quipped smoothly, his grin widening. His hands slid slowly up your thighs, his touch deliberate and teasing as he leaned closer. “Are you regretting it now?”

You shot him a look, though your voice held no real bite. “Not yet. But you’re testing me.”

Jason chuckled, the sound low and warm as he brushed his lips against your knuckles. “Testing you? No, my dragon. I’m simply reminding you of how much you adore me.”

You scoffed lightly, though your breath hitched as his hand trailed further, fingers curling just slightly around your waist. “Always an arrogant ass,” you murmured, though your voice softened.

Jason’s smirk turned roguish as he leaned in, his mouth hovering just above yours. “And yet, you can’t resist me,” he whispered. “Admit it.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, Jason closed the space between you, his lips claiming yours in a kiss that stole whatever argument you might have made. He kissed you slowly, deliberately, as though savoring every second. His hands found your waist, tugging you closer until you were pulled against him, your book and thoughts forgotten entirely.

When he pulled back, just slightly, he grinned down at you, his face far too pleased with itself. “See? You’ve no defense against me.”

You exhaled, your heart pounding despite yourself. “You are being ridiculous, Jason.”

“Ridiculous and charming,” he corrected, leaning in to brush his lips against your jawline, his voice soft and teasing. “The perfect combination.”

You shivered slightly as his lips trailed along your neck, his hands sliding up to tangle in the silk of your gown. “And too arrogant for your own good,” you repeated, though the words came out breathless.

“And yet here you are,” Jason murmured, his voice a low rumble against your skin. “Married to me, alone with me, and very soon, in bed with me.”

You let out a quiet laugh despite yourself, your fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic as you allowed yourself to lean into his touch. “You shameless man.”

“I am. Completely,” Jason agreed, pulling you to your feet with one fluid motion. His hands lingered at your waist as he turned you, his breath warm against your ear. “And if I recall, you love that about me.”

Before you could argue, Jason spun you toward the bed, his hands finding the ties at the back of your gown. He tugged gently, loosening the silk as he pressed another kiss to your shoulder. “Let me spoil you tonight, wife,” he whispered. “Let me remind you that we are far from those shadows and games.”

You turned your head slightly, looking at him over your shoulder, your expression softening as you finally let out a sigh. “Fine, my lord. But only if you promise me you’ll behave tomorrow.”

Jason laughed quietly, his grin wicked as he leaned in, pressing his lips to your bare shoulder. “No promises, my fierce dragon.”

As Jason’s deft fingers worked the ties of your gown, the silk slid from your shoulders in a whisper, pooling in a soft heap at your feet. The cool air of the chamber kissed your bare skin, raising a shiver along your spine, though it was quickly replaced by the heat of Jason’s hands. He traced slow, deliberate lines down your back, his touch reverent and maddening all at once.

“You’ve missed this,” Jason murmured against your neck, his breath hot as his lips brushed just beneath your ear. His hands found your waist, pulling you back flush against him, and you could feel the strength of his body pressed against yours. “Don’t deny it.”

You turned in his arms, your bare skin catching the glow of the firelight as you faced him. “And if I said I hadn’t missed it?” you teased, your voice soft but edged with challenge.

Jason’s green eyes gleamed with that infuriating confidence as his hands slid lower, curling possessively over your hips. “Then I’d call you a liar,” he replied, leaning in to press a slow, lingering kiss to your lips. “Because I’ve missed you, my dragon. More than I can bear.”

The admission, so soft and unexpected, sent warmth blooming in your chest. Jason Lannister, smug and untouchable to the world, stood before you with his walls lowered—for you, and you alone.

You pulled him closer, your fingers working at the fastenings of his doublet with practiced ease. “Then perhaps you should spend less time parading through markets and more time here, with me.”

Jason laughed softly against your lips, though there was a hunger beneath it now, his hands growing bolder as he lifted you slightly. “The markets are nothing compared to this,” he murmured, his voice roughened by desire. “Compared to you.”

With a final tug, his tunic fell away, revealing the expanse of his chest. The firelight played over the golden skin, highlighting the lines of muscle and the faint scars earned from years of training and pride. You ran your hands over his skin, savoring the warmth and the way his breath hitched under your touch.

“You’re staring,” Jason teased, though his voice was hoarse, his gaze dark with longing.

You smirked faintly, your fingers trailing down his abdomen. “Perhaps I missed you too.”

Jason’s hands slid over your thighs, gripping just above your knees as he lowered himself, pressing kisses to the delicate curve of your hip. “Say it,” he murmured between each kiss, his voice a low rumble. “Say you missed me.”

Your breath caught as he nipped softly at the sensitive skin just below your ribs. “Jason—”

“Say it,” he repeated, his green eyes flickering up to meet yours, his lips still trailing fire along your skin.

You exhaled shakily, your fingers tangling in his curls as you gave in. “I missed you.”

The words seemed to light something in him. Jason surged upward, his lips claiming yours with sudden, ferocious need. He lifted you easily into his arms, carrying you the short distance to the bed and laying you down against the soft furs with a gentleness that belied the hunger in his movements.

He knelt above you for a moment, taking you in—your silver hair spilling across the pillows, the firelight turning your skin brilliant, your chest rising and falling as you waited for him. His gaze softened slightly, the usual arrogance replaced by something deeper, something almost tender.

“You are a sight,” Jason whispered, his voice thick with reverence. “The gods themselves would weep to see you.”

You reached up, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Then come here, my lion. Before I lose my patience.”

Jason grinned, leaning down until his body hovered just above yours. “Impatient, are we? I’ve hardly begun, wife.”

His lips found yours again, slow and teasing at first, before he deepened the kiss, his hands wandering across your body with unhurried possession. He kissed down your neck, your collarbone, until his mouth found your breast, his tongue flicking softly over the sensitive skin. Your back arched beneath him as you gasped his name, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

Jason growled softly against your skin, his voice thick with satisfaction. “There’s my fierce dragon.”

His lips traveled lower, kissing and nipping at every inch of you until you were writhing beneath him, your breaths coming in shallow pants. When you could take no more, you pulled him up by his hair, claiming his lips in a fierce kiss before rolling him onto his back with surprising strength.

Jason let out a startled laugh as you straddled him, his hands instinctively finding your hips. “Oh, you’ve wanted this for a while, haven’t you?” he teased breathlessly, though his voice broke slightly as you sank onto him, his fingers tightening against your skin.

Your breath caught, your body shivering as you adjusted to him. “Quiet, Jason,” you murmured, leaning forward until your lips brushed his ear. “Or I’ll make you beg.”

Jason groaned low in his throat, his hands sliding up to grip your waist as you began to move. “Then beg I will,” he gasped, his voice raw. “If it means you’ll never stop.”

The world around you faded as you moved together, the rhythm of your bodies unashamed and wild. Jason’s hands roamed your body, worshipping you as though he might never touch you again. Your name fell from his lips like a prayer, a litany of reverence and longing that filled the space between each gasp and moan.

When he sat up, wrapping his arms tightly around you, your bodies pressed flush together, his forehead rested against yours as he whispered fiercely, “I love you, Y/N. By the gods, I love you.”

The confession sent you spiraling closer to the edge, your hands tangling in his hair as you gasped against his lips, “I love you too, Jason. Always.”

With a final surge, you both shattered together, your cries mingling as the world fell away, leaving only the two of you in the aftermath of your shared storm.

Jason collapsed back against the furs, pulling you down with him, his arms still wrapped securely around you as though he would never let you go. His breath came ragged, his curls damp with sweat, but his grin—soft and content—remained unshakable.

“Now tell me,” he murmured, brushing a strand of silver hair from your face. “Wasn’t that better than brooding?”

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his chest, your voice a sleepy murmur. “It always is.”

Jason hummed contentedly, pulling the furs up around you both as he settled against the pillows. “Good. Because I intend to keep you here for a long, long while, my dragon.”

And as you lay together in the flickering firelight, your bodies tangled and hearts still racing, you allowed yourself to believe—if only for tonight—that the shadows of the Red Keep would never reach you. Not here, not in Jason’s arms.

The great chamber, once a place of solemnity and power, now buzzed faintly with anxiety as lords and retainers gathered in pockets of conversation. Banners of House Targaryen hung heavy from the rafters, their dragons coiling in silent vigilance, while the Iron Throne loomed in the center, cold and sharp as ever.

At the far end of the room, Jason Lannister stood in the center of a small circle of crimson-cloaked retainers from House Lannister. Their polished armor shining in the morning light, each lion sigil stark against the deep red of their cloaks. Jason, of course, stood at the center of it all, utterly at ease. He leaned casually on one hip, his smirk firmly in place as he nodded in faux politeness to whatever Lord Jasper Wylde was droning on about.

“—and with the Crown’s coffers dwindling,” Wylde concluded dourly, “prudence must be taken, my lord. These expenditures cannot continue unchecked.”

Jason tilted his head, a hint of boredom flickering in his green eyes. “Ah, but where would the joy of the realm go, Wylde, if the king stopped spending? No feasts, no tourneys—what a miserable place Westeros would become.” He waved a hand lazily, as though swatting at a fly. “We’re all the poorer for it.”

“Some more than others,” muttered Wylde, though Jason had already stopped listening, his attention shifting as the doors to the chamber groaned open.

Prince Daemon Targaryen swept into the room with all the casual arrogance of a man who had long stopped caring for pleasantries. His presence immediately drew whispers from the assembled lords, their gazes flickering warily toward the Rogue Prince. Clad in black leather, his silver hair falling loose over his shoulders, Daemon strode forward like a shadow cut from firelight. Behind him, the doors slammed shut with a thunderous echo.

Jason’s smile widened faintly as he spotted Daemon heading in his direction, the prince’s gaze sharp and unmistakably amused. The murmurs around them quieted as Daemon stopped just short of Jason’s circle, his dark violet eyes glinting with something that might have been humor.

“Well,” Daemon drawled, his voice a silken purr that carried through the chamber, “if it isn’t the lion of Casterly Rock, still lingering in a dragon’s court.”

Jason turned smoothly, inclining his head in a show of mock respect. “Prince Daemon,” he greeted, his voice light but edged with wit. “To what do I owe the honor of your company? Surely you didn’t come all this way to admire my cloak.”

Daemon smirked faintly, folding his arms across his chest. “I came because the whispers of your presence refuse to die down, Lord Jason. Some might wonder if you’re here to take root in King’s Landing.”

Jason chuckled, unbothered. “And why shouldn’t I? The king himself has extended his hospitality, and my wife and children are most welcome here. Is it so strange that I enjoy the company of my royal kin?”

“Strange? No.” Daemon tilted his head, a sardonic smile curling at the corner of his lips. “Amusing? Very.”

Behind Jason, his brother Tyland shifted uncomfortably, though he kept silent. Jason, ever unflappable, only grinned. “I’m glad I amuse you, Prince Daemon. The court could use more laughter.”

“Laughter,” Daemon repeated, his tone laced with mockery. “Otto Hightower must be beside himself with joy to have you here.”

At the mention of the Hand, Jason’s grin sharpened. “I believe the Hand is a man of great patience, Prince Daemon. Surely my lingering presence does not trouble him. I am, after all, only a devoted husband and proud father of the king’s grandchildren.”

Daemon let out a soft, dark chuckle, his violet eyes narrowing slightly. “Careful, lion. The Hightowers are not known for their humor. I would hate to see Otto lose his temper.”

Jason shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “If he does, I’ll offer him a Lannister coin to soothe his nerves. A man like Otto values coin more than laughter, wouldn’t you agree?”

The corner of Daemon’s mouth twitched as though he were holding back a laugh. “You’ve a dangerous tongue, Lord Jason. Perhaps I’ve misjudged you—I thought the lions roared only when provoked.”

Jason inclined his head slightly, his voice dropping just enough that only Daemon could hear. “Only when it suits us, my prince.”

The tension between them stayed for a moment, though it was not born of hostility. Daemon’s sharp gaze lingered on Jason, as though weighing him, before the Rogue Prince let out a soft snort of amusement. “You’ll be trouble yet,” he said, though there was something almost approving in his tone. “I’ll enjoy watching Otto squirm over you.”

“You’ll have front-row seats, I’m sure,” Jason replied smoothly, the two men sharing a knowing look.

Before Daemon could respond, a sharp voice broke through the growing quiet.

“Prince Daemon. Lord Jason.”

Both men turned to find Otto Hightower approaching with all the grace of a vulture circling its prey. His expression was carefully neutral, though his sharp eyes flickered with thinly veiled annoyance as they settled on Jason.

“My lord,” Otto said, his tone clipped, “I wonder how it is you find so much time to linger in our halls. Surely the Westerlands require your attention?”

Jason smiled—pleasant and unbothered. “Ah, Lord Hand, I was just telling Prince Daemon how generous the king has been in extending his hospitality to my family. It would be most ungrateful of me to leave too soon.”

Otto’s jaw tightened slightly, though his composure remained intact. “Generosity is a virtue, my lord, but it is easily taken advantage of.”

Jason’s smile didn’t falter, though his green eyes glittered with something sharper. “I assure you, Lord Otto, I take only what is offered. Nothing more.”

Daemon, watching the exchange like a cat watching two dogs squabble, leaned closer to Jason. “Careful, Lannister,” he murmured just loud enough for Otto to hear. “The Hand might mistake your charm for ambition.”

Otto’s gaze flickered toward Daemon, his expression icy. “Prince Daemon, your concern for the realm is, as always, commendable.”

Jason let out a soft laugh, clearly enjoying the exchange. “I’m flattered by your interest in my affairs, Lord Otto, but I assure you—I have no ambition beyond enjoying the company of my wife and children.”

“Of course,” Otto replied coldly. “May it remain so.”

With a final glance between Jason and Daemon, the Hand turned on his heel and strode back toward the throne, leaving the two men in his wake.

Jason watched him go, his smirk firmly in place. “Charming, isn’t he?”

Daemon huffed a quiet laugh, his violet eyes gleaming with amusement. “You’ll give him a fit before this is done.”

“Let him fret,” Jason replied smoothly, straightening his crimson cloak. “It does him good to remember the lions are watching.”

Daemon tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m beginning to think I misjudged you, Lannister.”

“Good,” Jason replied, grinning as he turned toward his retainers. “Let them all keep guessing.”

And as the chamber’s murmur swelled once more, Jason Lannister stood tall amidst the dragons and shadows, a lion who would not be cowed—much to the dismay of those who watched.

A warm breeze fluttered the silken curtains, carrying with it the faint hum of the city beyond the walls. Inside, the quiet of the room was broken only by the soft coos of the twins and the rustle of the nursemaid’s skirts as she moved about with quiet efficiency.

You sat near the center of the room in a cushioned chair, a babe cradled in each arm. Leona’s tiny fingers were wrapped around the edge of your gown as she blinked up at you with curious eyes. Beside you, Loren dozed with a furrowed brow, his small chest rising and falling steadily as the morning’s warmth lulled him to sleep.

Rhaenyra stood just inside the doorway, her presence as silent as the shadows she brought with her. Her gown, simple yet elegant, pooled lightly at her feet, the faintest glimmer of pearls lining the bodice. She watched you with a carefully neutral expression, her violet gaze lingering first on the twins and then on you as you murmured softly to Leona.

“You must stop grabbing at my gown,” you said quietly to the little girl, though your voice held no true chastisement. “One day, you’ll have gowns of your own, stitched with dragons and lions both. But for now, you must be patient, little one.”

Leona gurgled in response, her tiny grip tightening stubbornly, as though determined to prove she already possessed a lion’s pride. You smiled faintly, brushing your fingers over her soft hair as Loren let out a small sigh in his sleep.

Rhaenyra’s voice broke the silence, soft and tentative. “You’re very good with them.”

Your head lifted, surprised to find her standing there. Her tone was not unkind, but there was a strange hesitation to her words—as though she were unsure of herself.

“They’re babes,” you replied gently, though your gaze held hers for a moment longer than necessary. “They demand little more than patience.”

Rhaenyra stepped further into the room, her hands clasped loosely before her as she approached. “Patience is not something I possess in abundance.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips. “I recall.”

The words hung between you like a bridge half-built, both of you waiting to see whether the other would step forward to cross it. Rhaenyra finally moved to sit in the chair opposite you, her gaze flickering briefly to Loren before returning to you.

“They have your hair,” she observed, her voice quieter now. “Leona, especially.”

“And Jason’s stubbornness,” you added, glancing down at the girl still gripping your gown with surprising tenacity. “I’m afraid they’ve inherited the worst of both of us.”

Rhaenyra’s lips quirked faintly, though her expression soon softened as her gaze lingered on Loren’s sleeping form. “They are beautiful,” she said after a moment. “The first dragons born to the realm since… well, since us.”

There was a note of something unreadable in her voice—nostalgia, perhaps, or longing. You looked up, studying her carefully. “You sound as though that troubles you.”

Rhaenyra shook her head slightly, though her gaze didn’t meet yours. “It does not trouble me. It only… makes me think.” She paused, the hesitation returning to her voice. “Of what people will say. What they will expect.”

You shifted slightly in your chair, adjusting Loren’s position as you replied. “What people say has never stopped you before, sister.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes met yours then, sharp and searching. “Perhaps it should have.”

The words surprised you, though you masked it quickly. “You don’t mean that.”

Rhaenyra exhaled softly, her gaze dropping to her hands. “I don’t know what I mean anymore.” She paused before adding, almost reluctantly, “You’ve always been better at this than I.”

“At what?” you asked gently.

“At… being what they want,” Rhaenyra replied, her tone tinged with something that sounded like envy. “A wife. A mother. A princess who doesn’t stray too far from her place.” Her eyes lifted to meet yours again, and the truth of her words lay bare. “They look at you and see everything they wish I could be.”

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by Leona’s quiet babbling and the soft sound of the nursemaid tending to the blankets nearby. You held Rhaenyra’s gaze, searching for the right words.

“I am not what they wish me to be,” you said finally, your voice steady but quiet. “Nor have I ever been. Do you think they truly love me for who I am, Rhaenyra? The people love what they see—a perfect marriage, perfect babes, a union of that everybody supports. But it’s all illusion.” You paused, brushing your thumb over Loren’s tiny hand. “You know as well as I do that illusions are not so easily kept.”

Rhaenyra looked away, her jaw tightening as she absorbed your words. “You make it look so simple.”

“It is not simple,” you said softly. “It never has been. But I chose this path, as you chose yours.”

“And mine feels heavier,” Rhaenyra murmured, her voice faint.

You regarded her carefully, sensing the cracks beneath her carefully maintained facade. “Your path was never meant to be light, Rhaenyra. You will be queen someday, and queens carry the weight of the realm on their shoulders.”

“And what if I stumble?” she whispered, almost to herself. “What if I fall?”

“Then you will rise again,” you replied firmly, your gaze unyielding. “You are a Targaryen, sister. It is what we do.”

Rhaenyra looked at you then, truly looked at you, and for the first time in days, something softened between you. The distance that had lingered—unspoken but present—seemed to ease ever so slightly. She nodded once, her lips pressing into a faint, almost reluctant smile.

“You would make a fine queen,” she said, though her tone held no bitterness this time.

“And you will be a better one,” you replied, offering her a small, genuine smile.

Rhaenyra seemed to consider your words for a moment before she leaned forward slightly, her gaze drifting to Leona, who was now sucking on her tiny fist. “May I hold her?”

You hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Of course.”

Carefully, you handed Leona to Rhaenyra, who cradled the babe with surprising gentleness. The little girl blinked up at her aunt, cooing softly as Rhaenyra traced a finger along her delicate cheek.

“She’s fierce,” Rhaenyra murmured, her voice quiet but fond. “I can see it in her eyes.”

“Just like you,” you replied softly, watching the two of them with something that felt like hope.

Rhaenyra glanced up, her smile small but real this time. “Perhaps.”

And for the first time in what felt like too long, the silence between you wasn’t awkward—it was comforting. The cracks between sisters were not yet healed, but they were mending. One soft moment at a time.

From The Testimony of Mushroom, corroborated in part by Grand Maester Mellos and court records, as recorded in The Histories of the Dragon’s Heirs

Three moons after the ill-fated wedding of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Ser Laenor Velaryon, the golden lions of the West departed King’s Landing. Lord Jason Lannister, his wife, Princess Y/N, and their twin babes, Leona and Loren, took leave of the Red Keep amidst great fanfare, accompanied by a grand retinue of Lannister knights, bannermen, and retainers. Their banners, adorned with roaring lions, snapped in the breeze as they made their way through the capital, a sight as impressive as it was final.

It is said that the mood within the Red Keep on that morning was somber, weighed down by the unspoken truths no one dared name aloud. King Viserys I, whose health had begun to falter visibly in those days, stood at the gates of the keep with his remaining strength, watching his daughter’s family prepare for their journey westward. Mushroom, ever a creature of dramatic embellishment, claims that tears streamed openly down the king’s cheeks as he embraced his grandchildren for the last time.

"The king wept like a man broken," Mushroom writes, "his great hands trembling as he cradled the babes—one silver-haired dragon, the other emerald-eyed as a lion’s cub. He kissed both upon their brows and clutched at his daughter’s hands as though he meant to anchor her to King’s Landing forever. ‘You must write to me,’ the king pleaded, his voice weak. ‘Tell me when the child comes.’”

For it was true, according to Grand Maester Mellos’s accounts, that Princess Y/N was once again with child—an unexpected but not unwelcome revelation that had caused much murmuring within the court. Mushroom, in his usual crude candor, claims that Jason Lannister was adamant that “no child of his would first draw breath beneath the shadow of the Iron Throne.” Whether this was a remark made in jest or in earnest cannot be determined, but Jason’s swift preparations for their departure following the announcement left many to speculate.

It was not only the king who was affected by the Lannisters’ leave-taking. Princess Rhaenyra, whose relationship with her sister had been marked by coolness since the events of her wedding, was said to have watched the procession in stony silence from her chambers high above the courtyard. Mushroom, who ever claims to be where he should not, reports that Rhaenyra said nothing as the last Lannister banner disappeared from view, but her handmaidens noted the tension in her shoulders and the faint crease of her brow. “Perhaps,” Mushroom muses, “she regretted letting her sister go—for once gone, the princess of lions and dragons would be far beyond the reach of her whispers.”

The Hand of the King, Ser Otto Hightower, watched the departure with far less sentimentality. The Hand had grown increasingly wary of Lord Jason’s presence in King’s Landing, seeing in him a lion too bold and too loved by the king. His swift departure—though ostensibly amicable—was seen by many as a quiet victory for Otto, who had long worked to reclaim control of the court’s increasingly volatile politics.

As for Jason himself, Grand Maester Mellos writes that the Lord of Casterly Rock wore a face of supreme satisfaction as he escorted his family through the gates of the Red Keep. The man’s pride had not dimmed in the slightest since his arrival moons earlier, and he departed King’s Landing as he had entered it—with confidence, grandeur, and an unshakable air of triumph.

Mushroom, however, paints a different picture of Jason Lannister’s parting. “The lion was no fool,” he writes. “He knew the game in the Red Keep had changed, and he would not allow his wife or babes to be pieces upon the board. His laughter may have echoed through the halls, but I saw him that morning, whispering in his lady’s ear as she held their son. There was steel beneath his smiles, and a man who wears his pride so boldly knows when to retreat.”

What cannot be denied is the impression the Lannisters left behind. The smallfolk of King’s Landing gathered to watch their departure, crowding the streets and calling out blessings for the twins, whose silver hair had become the subject of many songs and stories. Women tossed flowers into the path of their carriages, while men waved banners and shouted cheers for “the lions and dragons of the West.”

It is said that the departure left an emptiness in the Red Keep that even King Viserys’s courtiers could not ignore. The king himself withdrew to his chambers more often in the days that followed, his health waning as his spirits seemed to diminish without the presence of his grandchildren. Mushroom claims that he heard the king sigh heavily during a council meeting weeks later, muttering, “The Rock is far, and my halls are silent.”

In the moons to come, the absence of Lord Jason and his family would be felt keenly as tensions in King’s Landing deepened. The king’s failing health, the ever-growing influence of the Hightowers, and the lingering shadows of the past all threatened to boil over. And yet, from the Westerlands, news would arrive that Princess Y/N Lannister—beloved daughter of King Viserys and proud lady of Casterly Rock—had given birth to a third child. Mushroom, always fond of theatrics, claims that Jason Lannister toasted the babe’s arrival with a goblet in hand, declaring:

"Born of fire, the West’s future grows brighter still."

What cannot be denied is this: while the Red Keep festered with whispers and schemes, the lions of the West had returned to their den—strong, unshaken, and with the future firmly in their grasp.

[eliima141]

Part two of Dragon!Price and Deer!Reader

Warnings!: nsfw, age gaps, breeding, two cock price, cubby/thick reader.

Im gonna try more fluff this time. :3

• Since Price is used to nesting and being around female dragons he would so try to get Reader to nest as well, mixing their cultures together.

• Price’s favorite positions are lazy positions. The two of you being comfortable together while he rams into Readers tiny little cunt. Making them easily cock drunk from how deep the angle was. Specially in spooning positions since he could have more control of your legs, being able to move them up and down to hit your gummy little spots.

•Price the type of guy to over do foreplay. Kissing Reader for at least 12 minutes before finally trailing kisses down readers neck and jaw, putting his giant leg between your legs to grind your cubby pussy against it. Taunting you as you leave a wet spot on the pant of his knee.

•Before he started courting you he was never much of munch. Yea sure he would give the laddies he did before you tons of pleasure but going down on them and lapping their folds with his tongue? He didn’t see the appeal. until Reader came into his forest, well How could he not? They were so sweet smelling and soft, even better is that they had a fat fucking pussy. Who in their right mind would refuse to be in between thighs like theirs? It was like trying to find a treasure between their thick folds, sucking on readers clit and tonguing her gooey hole. The satisfaction was unbeatable when he made Reader cum on his face for the first time. He was good with his cock and hands but being able to suck on Readers cunt was something new, like a new level being unlocked. Ever since then his beard has been getting more and more bleached every time he’s off of deployment. 141 teases him for it, his dark brown beard and mustache slowly getting streaks of red, orange and other colors into the mix around his mouth.

• Price can and will make you black out during sex, specially near his ruts, he gets more energy in to actually fuck you like a mad man. Gripping your hips before slamming you down onto his cock, readjusting and then shoving you into a mating press. And shit, his ruts are even worse, monthly ruts, lasting for about 3 days to a week. Since Reader starting dating price they had become a regular at the towns furniture store due to how many couches and beds they break on a monthly. The poor wall having dents, scratches and holes where ever they place the bed frame. Whatever at least they know what room to not put their kids in. Might as well sound proof the place due to how loud they fuck.

•Price has a breeding kink no doubt. First time he ever got to touch you he imagined what you would be like pregnant, such a tiny thing waddling around with a giant belly full of little dragon and deer hybrids.

•I dont think dragon price would be one to dabble in much aftercare. Washing your little body after scenting and marking you all over? Why would he do that? He already does his best to make sure you stink of his scent. Cumming in your lotion to have a tad of that scent, rubbing his scent glands over any part of you at any given second, when your not around spilling your clean clothes onto the bed, then instantly laying on them, making sure he it had been a few hours since he showered. But price would care for you, not leaving you cold and alone, cuddling you. almost whining when getting up to get you some fruit and water maybe some pain killers depending on the type of session.

[willowser]

you don't know how much comfort your dragon king bkg drabble has given me ever since you posted it!! i keep reading it i love it sm 🥹

as it turns out, the man bakugou is — a bit harder to handle.

he sleeps like a heathen; you once thought the dragon bakugou to be a bit lazy, with how often he tended to curl up in the fields of grass, warm under the sun, but now — it would seem his little human form needs significantly less rest.

almost up all hours of the day, and when he does finally lay down, he's everywhere. a mess of limbs: one thrown carelessly out to the side and the other bent at an angle you can't believe doesn't hurt his joints. his head stays tucked into you somehow, either buried in your neck or pressed against your ribs — or you'll wake to find him nose-to-nose with you. he still snores like a dragon, however.

you're also beginning to wonder if there is a bottom to the pit of his stomach. he ate much before, whole fields of things, but you expected that appetite to dwindle, at least a little, now that his stomach has decreased considerably in size. and in number ? you're not even sure how many stomachs a dragon has; that's not something that was mentioned in the fairytales.

it burns through him quickly, gives him more energy than he needs, and it doesn't ever seem to affect his weight much. already, he's huge and thick with muscle and eating as much as he does never dulls the severity of his cut abdomen. not that you're looking all that much.

— not that you have a choice not to, as he seems to have little-to-no understanding of —

the door to the bathhouse kicks open, with enough force that you already know who it is without ever turning to look. you try not to shriek when you see him, because he seems to like that in some evil, impish way.

you've been alone to wash so far, thankfully, as the inn you'd managed to find was small and far enough out from the nearest kingdom that the occupancy was low — enough for you and your little brute.

the man bakugou comes to stand in front of the bath, blinking and huffing against the steam. finding clothes for him was — nearly impossible, and so the trousers you'd found hanging on someone's line outside fit above his ankles, a bit too tight around his waist. instead of a shirt, you've wrapped him in a scratchy linen, swaddled him up like a baby to cover the small smattering of scales that decorate his body, almost like freckles from the sun, though they gleam just as bright and red as they ever have. no matter his form.

a horn has started to sprout, on the right side of his forehead, and you've done your best to cover that, too.

you have no idea how long this man thing will last. if it's permanent or if he even has control over it. the last thing you need is for him to switch back, somehow, while you're in the middle of feeding him, absolutely demolishing whatever tavern you're in and calling all of king todoroki's guards to attention.

bakugou grunts, almost sleepy, and tosses a fat, weighty sack onto the edge of the bath. it jingles a certain jingle that makes your heart stop.

"oh, allfather—" you move for the edge, awkwardly keeping one arm against your chest despite the fact that he's seen it all by now. when you peek inside and confirm your fears, you lob it back to him furiously, as if it were a steaming potato. "where do you keep getting this stuff?"

things have started to turn up, miraculously. shiny things — like coins and rings and gems. things he could not have simply found rolling around in the dirt.

"go put it back!" you hiss at him, and the tone of your voice makes his frown deepen. you never realized how pouty he was, when he was still a dragon.

you think he understands you, and you're pretty certain he just chooses not to listen; instead of doing what you've told him in the slightest, he simply dumps the coin-purse to the floor, and then lets his linen and stolen trousers cover it as he unceremoniously undresses.

the biggest issue that you would say the man bakugou poses is — his complete lack of understanding of personal space.

"bakugou!" your voice wavers, shocked again by his nakedness. as if you haven't seen it all by now. "no, you — get out!"

but he does the exact opposite, which is hop into the steaming water, ignoring the arm you hold out to keep him away as he saddles up beside you. skin against scales, pressing a nose into your hair to huff out his annoyance, to make it something you can feel.

if anyone were to walk in right now, they would — probably think the lie you'd told the innkeeper was true. that you are a simple traveler and this is your mute, over-sized husband.

regardless, you think this behavior isn't polite. especially in a public bathhouse.

"bakugou," you try again, turning your face away as you speak to the wood-paneled wall. "i'm taking a bath, you have to wait your turn."

all you receive in response is another huff against your ear and a low rumble of disagreement from his chest.

he has yet to speak back, and has only used inhuman sounds as his points of conversation. the only word you've ever heard him utter is oi, which he does when he really thinks he needs your attention. you're starting to wonder if he's named you that in his head. oi.

curiously, you turn back to him and the movement has him pulling his face from your hair, just enough that he can look down at you, too. watch you, with the red-rippled sea in his eyes.

they're — amazing, you will admit. just as bright and detailed as they always have been. fit for a fairytale told by the fire, veiled by the soft-ash of his lashes. he watches you through them, half-lidded, and you wonder if it's something other than fatigue that has them so heavy.

"do you know what i'm saying?" you ask quietly, voice lacking the firm heat you want it to. instead it's heavy, too, weighted by something soft and unfamiliar and frightening. "can you even understand me?"

bakugou doesn't respond, not with a huff or a rumble or ever a purr, like the one he let out on the night he lay over you by the lake. you've only heard it sparingly since then, oftentimes in his sleep when his face is pressed into you.

you try not to frown at his silence, try not to let it disappoint you because it shouldn't; he's a dragon afterall, and you're not sure what it matters. the little horn protruding from his forehead catches your eye and you reach up to touch it gently, watching him blink away the water that drips from your wrist — and then he's turning into you again, too close.

beneath the water, you feel his hands skate up your bare thighs, wrap around your waist until your chest is pulled flush against his. you feel his huff, again, against the damp skin of your neck but it's slower, lighter. not laced with his frustration. some unknown thing you feel guilty for liking.

you drop your hand to his hair, rushing full force into all the damned things you've thought about doing but have been too afraid to. he's soft between your fingers, and you trace your nails lightly against his scalp until he groans quietly; a new noise, one you don't know how to translate.

your fingers stop when they brush upon little spines that have grown at the base of his skull, that have started to trail down the center of his back.

suddenly, tangled up in the bath with him, you wonder how much time you have left.

bakugou huffs again into your skin, a little fiercer this time, and it's because of his light jostling that you realize how rigid you've gone. you try to relax so that he will, too, though you must not do a convincing job, because a sharp nip comes to your earlobe.

"ow!" you squeal, but he doesn't let you go far, not even as you try to jerk away from him. in fact, the harder you try the more his teeth show: into your cheek and the point of your jaw and then dangerously low on your neck.

it's not until you finally freeze that he stops, huffing again, with a warmth that burns more than the steaming water.

and then, very quietly, he grumbles, "shitty wife," into your collarbone, just before biting you again.

[secondtolastfr]

actually no i have opinions about everlux

when dusthides dropped so many people said "it could have been a modern, it's not breaking the mold enough" and when fathoms dropped people compared it to nearly every other breed we have (mostly skydancers, pearlcatchers, guardians). but now we finally have an ancient that 1) most definitely could not wear apparel and 2) looks entirely unlike any other breed we have it's suddenly too much??

"how can it move? it doesn't make sense!" while i can get the argument of proportions to a degree i don't think we can apply actual biology to a fictional creature, especially a bug dragon that is neither mammalian, reptilian, insectoid, or in any way real. also we should be used to weird/unrealistic dragon proportions by now, given fae neck, tundra arm/foot, and aberrations in general.

"why is it fat?" why the fuck not?? i cannot emphasize enough that dragons aren't real and i don't get why we're fine with a million skinny tube-bodied breeds but we draw the line at one more fat breed because "no healthy animal looks like that irl!" the rhetoric used around the fatness is fucking vile. i've seen them described as bloated, diseased, pregnant (???), grotesque, and a lot worse. it reeks of fatphobia and i would think for a playerbase like ours we'd do better.

"we have too many bug dragons!" when veils dropped people said they weren't buggy enough so staff made aethers, and when aethers dropped people said they weren't buggy enough, and now we have a dragon that is Undeniably A Bug people suddenly don't want an actual bug dragon??

"bugs are disgusting!" ...that's probably the one argument i can't go up against. if you don't like bugs, if you have a bug phobia (idk what it's called), that's fine. but not everything on this site is for you. and that's okay! the best part about this site is that if you don't like a breed, you don't have to have it. i'm sure they'll release something you'll enjoy eventually, but at least let the bug lovers have this one.

"they don't look elegant enough to be a light breed!" who the fuck said light is an elegant flight?? pearlcatchers are stuck-up cowardly gossips who eat their shells, vomit up pearls, and then annually vomit up more Pearl Juice to make their pearl bigger. imps have to be buried properly or their dead bodies will melt into an undead monstrosity. the lightweaver calls the imps a literal mistake, pearlcatchers and imps fucking hate each other, and to top it all off there's a fucking zombie dragon destroying the area. what about any of that says elegance to you people. any elegance associated with the light flight comes from the users, not staff.

also i've seen so many people say "i want an eldritch horror breed!" or "i want something biblically accurate!" okay. riddle me this batman: how the hell would they pull that off. it has to look in some way draconic or like some kind of actual creature (not an irl creature ofc), so it can't just be a disembodied Thing With Eyes. we already have a many-winged breed (auras); tentacles and extra wings are already terts we have access too, and multigaze and other eye types already give us the eye horror. what the hell would staff be able to give us that 1) doesn't break their own ToS 2) doesn't draw too heavily from religious iconography and 3) still looks like a dragon that all flights can use.