#If you know the quote I like you a little more than the rest

[shaiyasstuff]

a dance of ice and fire | zayne | chapter two

synopsis : Betrothed to the Crown Prince for the sake of peace, you are seen as a weapon to be wielded, not a queen to rule. But it is not your arrogant, power-hungry fiancé you fear—it is his brother, Zayne. Once indifferent to the throne, Zayne now moves with purpose, his quiet defiance and lingering glances far more dangerous than any war. As alliances shift and tensions rise, one truth becomes clear: he never wanted the crown, but for you, he will take it.

content : medieval!au, strategist/advisor!zayne x princess!reader, reader is also future empress consort, arranged marriage!au, elemental!au, forbidden love, maybe a touch of angst if i’m feeling it, loads of eye-fucking, savage reader and zayne, light smut, minors do not interact

writer’s note : inspired by this here. Again I had an idea, I ran with it. Also mentioning the two lovelies who share my vision : @sugarphoric @regalillegal here’s part 2 <3

quote : “Loving him is a sin; of that I’m fully aware. But a sinner I am.” — Bella Jewel

parts | one | two

—•

“If you think I’ll stand by while you’re bound to another man, a man who wants to use you as a bargaining chip, then you never knew me at all.”

—•

The scent of nightshade drifted through the air, mingling with the crisp bite of the evening breeze. The sky had deepened to violet, the last streaks of sunlight fading beyond the treetops.

The world was quiet here, hidden away from the grand halls and watchful eyes of the court.

You sat at the edge of the fountain, fingers tracing the water’s surface, watching as ripples distorted the reflection of the sky.

Beside you, Zayne leaned back on his elbows, one leg stretched out, the other bent, sword resting lazily against his shoulder.

He was quiet tonight. More than usual.

You glanced at him. “You’ll be king one day.”

His lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk, but he didn’t look at you. “Will I?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not a question.”

Zayne exhaled slowly, shifting his gaze to the water. “No, it isn’t.”

His tone was unreadable, but something about it made you pause.

The air between you felt heavier now, the silence stretching.

You watched the way his fingers tapped absently against the hilt of his sword, his movements slow, deliberate, like he was thinking of something else entirely.

You frowned. “You don’t want it.”

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t deny it.

You tilted your head. “Then what do you want?”

Zayne let out a slow breath, tilting his head back to the sky.

His eyes followed the stars, his expression unreadable, unreadable but knowing.

And then, without looking at you,

“Something else.”

The words were quiet. Unshaken. Final.

You watched him carefully, waiting for him to say more.

He didn’t.

Because Zayne never needed many words to tell the truth.

And at the time, you had believed him.

Because Zayne never wanted the throne.

Until now.

—•

The grand hall was alive with the hum of conversation, the clink of goblets, the low murmur of politics veiled beneath laughter.

Golden chandeliers bathed the room in a soft glow, casting long shadows across the polished marble floor.

Nobles swirled in their silks, indulging in excess, oblivious to the shift in the air.

A shift that came from them.

The brothers.

At the center of the banquet, near the head of the long dining table, the air had grown cold.

The torches lining the walls flickered, their flames shrinking as frost began to creep along the silver goblets, delicate but unmistakable.

It had started small.

A remark.

A glance.

A slight too veiled for the courtiers to notice, masked beneath the smooth cadence of conversation and the clink of goblets.

The calculated tilt of the crown prince’s head, the smirk hidden behind his goblet, the way his words curled just a little too deliberately, aimed not at the room but directly at him.

At Zayne.

And he noticed it instantly.

Of course he had.

The crown prince had spoken too carelessly, too smugly. He had leaned back in his chair, lips curled in amusement, fingers tracing the rim of his goblet.

A performance. A taunt.

“Strange, isn’t it?” His voice was smooth, barely audible over the chatter of the hall, but the words were aimed at one man alone.

“For all your careful planning, brother, you still seem so… powerless.”

The ice cracked.

It was subtle, almost unnoticeable.

A small fracture along the prince’s goblet, a thin web of frost spreading outward.

The nobles nearest to them barely noticed, but Zayne did.

His fingers tapped against the table once, twice. His smirk was slow, practiced, but his eyes were cold.

Sharp. Calculating.

“Powerless?” His voice was light, but there was something beneath it. Something smug. “That’s an interesting word choice.”

The crown prince chuckled, tilting his head. “Is it?”

Zayne leaned forward slightly, elbows resting against the table.

“Coming from a man who needs alliances to keep his kingdom together, I would say, yes.”

The prince’s expression flickered.

Just for a second. Just long enough.

Zayne saw it. And pushed.

“Strange, isn’t it? Wearing a crown, holding a kingdom, and yet the one thing that truly matters still slips through your fingers.”

The crack was louder this time. The goblet in the prince’s hand shattered.

The conversation around them stopped. The nearest nobles turned, expressions shifting between curiosity and unease.

A thin veil of frost stretched across the table, creeping toward the prince’s untouched plate.

His jaw tightened. “Mind your tongue, Zayne.”

Zayne didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t stop.

“And if I don’t?”

The tension snapped.

The crown prince stood so fast his chair scraped against the marble, the sound slicing through the silence.

His hand shot forward, fingers curling in the fabric of Zayne’s tunic, a warning, a mistake.

In an instant, Zayne was on his feet, the air dropping around them.

His fingers wrapped around his brother’s wrist, prying him off with a grip too firm to be casual.

Frost spread along their skin, two forces colliding, neither willing to yield.

The nobles stared, some whispering, others watching in stunned silence.

And then.

You walked in.

The room shifted.

The torches swelled back to life, warmth rushing in, but the tension remained thick.

Your gaze swept the scene, the shattered goblet, the frost-laced table, the brothers locked in a silent battle of strength and will.

And you knew.

You knew exactly what was happening.

Not a dispute over politics.

Not a clash of pride.

This was about you.

The grand hall was frozen.

Not in the way of silence or stillness, but in the way frost had spread across the table, curling around the shattered goblet at the crown prince’s feet, creeping toward the legs of the nobles seated nearest to them.

It had reached the silver plates, frosting over untouched wine, dulling the candle flames until they barely flickered.

And yet, in all that cold, Zayne’s grip remained firm and steady, his fingers curled around his brother’s wrist, prying him away as if he had all the time in the world.

The crown prince’s jaw was tight, fury barely restrained beneath his controlled expression, but his ice cracked first.

The doors had barely closed behind you when the words left your lips.

“What are you both doing?”

Your voice echoed through the thick, heavy silence, a thread of warmth against the chill that filled the space.

Both men turned.

Zayne was the first to release his grip, fingers uncoiling from his brother’s wrist, though his expression remained unapologetic and unreadable.

The crown prince inhaled sharply, regaining his composure as he flexed his fingers, as if shaking off the remnants of a fight.

Neither spoke.

The nobles sat in rigid silence, some glancing between the two men, others staring at you, waiting.

You let out a slow breath, exhaling warmth into the frozen air.

The torches lining the walls flickered back to life, the frost receded from the silverware, the thin layer of ice along the table melting beneath your presence.

The temperature in the room shifted.

A quiet, deliberate reminder of who you were.

Of what you were.

The nobles felt it.

The flicker of heat pressed against their skin, the lingering cold dissolving like mist beneath your quiet fury.

The crown prince’s ice was strong. Zayne’s restraint was stronger.

But none of it mattered here, not when you chose to break it.

Your gaze swept between them expectantly. “Well?”

The crown prince was the first to speak, his voice clipped but steady. “A misunderstanding.”

You arched a brow. “A misunderstanding?” You turned slightly, eyes landing on Zayne. “That’s all?”

Zayne, to his credit, didn’t even try to feign innocence.

He exhaled, rolling his shoulders as if he hadn’t just nearly shattered the balance of the room.

“We were just talking.”

A muscle ticked in the crown prince’s jaw. “Is that what you call it?”

Zayne’s smirk was slow, taunting. “You’re the one who reached for me first, brother.”

The prince’s fists clenched at his sides, his patience already hanging by a thread.

You lifted a hand before he could respond, fingers splayed, heat radiating from your palm just enough that they both felt it.

Not enough to burn, but enough to warn.

The torches flared again and the last remnants of frost evaporated.

The nobles exhaled.

Some shifted in their seats, a few murmuring among themselves as the tension in the air cracked and dissolved, as if the moment had never happened.

But you knew better.

You dropped your hand. “Whatever this is, it stops now.”

The crown prince exhaled sharply, stepping back, his control snapping back into place like a mask fitted perfectly over his face.

His voice was smooth, practiced. “Of course, Princess.”

Zayne, however, held your gaze a second longer. He wasn’t smiling anymore, wasn’t taunting.

He was watching you.

And you knew exactly what he was thinking.

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.

—•

The door slammed shut behind you.

Zayne barely had time to turn before you were on him, words sharp and furious.

“What the hell was that?”

His smirk was immediate, lazy, like he had expected this.

Like he was waiting for it. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

You exhaled sharply, stepping closer.

“Don’t play with me, Zayne. That wasn’t just a fight.”

His eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he didn’t argue.

He simply watched you, waiting for you to burn yourself out.

But you weren’t done burning.

“I told you to stop. This isn’t a game.” Your chest rose and fell quickly, heat radiating off your skin, pressing against the cold he carried like opposing forces colliding.

“You don’t get to throw ice at your brother across a table like children. You don’t get to start a war in a banquet hall just because you—”

You stopped.

Because suddenly you were close.

Too close.

Zayne’s fingers brushed against your wrist—not to restrain you, not to challenge you, just enough.

Enough to make you realize how hot your skin had become.

Enough to make you realize how much he had noticed.

His eyes softened, flicking over you, quiet and knowing.

“You’re burning up.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t move away.

“That tends to happen when I’m angry.”

Zayne hummed, head tilting slightly.

“Or when you care too much.”

The words landed like a challenge, but not a cruel one.

Not a taunt. Just the truth.

His fingers, cool and steady, skimmed over your wrist, trailing up just enough to make you shiver.

The heat beneath your skin simmered, just barely tempered by the way he touched you—calm, careful, like he knew exactly how to quiet the storm inside you.

And maybe he did.

You swallowed, voice quieter. “You can’t do this, Zayne.”

His smirk faded. “I can.”

His hand lingered, just for a second longer, before he finally pulled away, the absence of his touch sending a sharp contrast through your skin.

He exhaled, trying to calm himself.

“You think I want to be at that table? Playing politics with men who don’t deserve to rule?” His usual sarcasm was gone, replaced by a seriousness you weren’t used to.

“I never wanted the throne. You know that.”

You held his gaze, waiting. “But?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched.

Zayne let out a slow breath, his fingers curling into fists at his sides before releasing.

“But I can’t watch him take everything and do nothing. Not when it involves you.”

Your heart stumbled.

Because that was it, wasn’t it?

This wasn’t about ambition. It wasn’t about power.

It wasn’t about proving himself.

It was about you.

Zayne had never wanted the throne.

Until you became the price of losing it.

The air between you felt thinner, stretched tight with something unspoken.

The heat that had flared beneath your skin had cooled, but not completely. Not when he was still watching you like that.

Like he was daring you to understand him.

You exhaled, body shaking in frustration.

“So what is it you suggest? Going to war?”

Zayne huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“You nearly froze over a banquet hall.” You retort, crossing your arms.

He stepped closer, slow, deliberate, his voice lowering just enough to make you listen. “That wasn’t war. That was a warning.”

You held his gaze. “And if they don’t listen?”

His lips curled slightly. “Then they’ll wish they had.”

The weight of his words settled.

He wasn’t speaking in riddles or games this time, he meant it.

Every word.

You studied him carefully.

“And where do I fit into this plan of yours?”

Zayne didn’t blink. “You already know.”

The response came too quickly. Too easily. And it sent a shiver through you—not of fear, but of something dangerously close to understanding.

You inhaled sharply. “You want me to choose you.”

He smirked as he tilted his head slightly. “You say that like you haven’t already.”

Your breath caught, a sharp inhale before you could stop it. His confidence was infuriating.

But worse, it was accurate.

Zayne has never asked for power, had never fought for it.

Until now.

Until you.

Your fingers curled, your nails pressing into your palms. “You think this ends with just the two of us?”

Zayne exhaled, hands sliding into his pockets. “No. I think this ends with him losing.”

You weren’t sure which truth hit you harder—the fact that he meant it, or the fact that you didn’t hate the idea as much as you should have.

Because you knew what kind of ruler the crown prince would be.

And for the first time, you weren’t so sure that Zayne stepping out of the shadows was a mistake.

You just weren’t sure if you could handle what it would cost.

The torches lining the walls flickered, the heat of them barely cutting through the cold still clinging to the space between you.

Zayne was waiting.

Not for your answer, but for your realization.

That you already knew what he was asking.

That you had known for a long time.

Your jaw tightened. “You want him to lose.”

Zayne’s head tilted slightly, his smirk slow, almost lazy.

“I do.”

Your pulse stumbled. Not at the words—at how easily he said them, more at how sure he was about it.

Zayne has always been meticulous in his planning.

Always watched from the sidelines, always played the long game while letting others take center stage.

But that wasn’t the man standing before you now.

He already made a plan, a solid, fool-proof one.

And he was done waiting.

You exhaled. “If you do this, there’s no undoing it.”

“I know.” His voice, confident.

Your stomach twisted. “And if I say no?”

For the first time, something flickered in his expression.

A moment of hesitation, gone almost as soon as it appeared. Then he sighed, voice quieter now.

“Then I’ll stop.”

A pause.

“I won’t force you into this.”

Your breath caught, something too heavy, too real pressing into your ribs.

Because you knew him.

You knew he meant it.

And you could not decide if that was worse.

Because if you told him to stop, he would.

But the war wouldn’t.

The crown prince would still rule and the court would still whisper about you as if you were a tool to be tamed, something to be bartered, something to be controlled.

And Zayne would step back, let the game unfold without him, let fate take its course.

Even if it meant losing you.

Your throat tightened. “You’re asking me to betray him.”

Zayne let out a soft breath, a low chuckle. “And what makes you think he hasn’t?”

The words landed.

Because you knew.

The crown prince had never seen you as an equal, never seen you as anything more than an asset, a weapon to be sharpened and wielded.

He would never fear losing you because he never thought you had the choice to leave.

But Zayne did.

Zayne only ever saw you.

And now, he was offering you something the others never had.

A choice.

You inhaled sharply, fingers curling at your sides. “And if I say yes?”

Zayne stepped closer, slow and deliberate.

The air between you cooled, the heat beneath your skin tempered by the quiet intensity in his gaze.

“Then we win.”

Your breath caught.

It wasn’t an if, it was a when.

Because this is Zayne who does not fight his battles unless he was sure he would win.

Especially now that you were his battlefield.

The realisation settled on you like a veil over your head.

Zayne’s gaze held steady, his confidence unshaken, but you felt the weight of what he was asking.

This wasn’t just about power. It wasn’t just about politics.

It was about choosing him.

And that was something you weren’t sure you could do.

Your fingers curled, breath unsteady as you forced yourself to speak.

“This isn’t right.”

Zayne faltered. Just barely.

But you saw it.

The flicker of something raw, something he didn’t bother to hide around you.

“It feels right.” His voice was quieter now, lower, but still unwavering. “You just don’t want to admit it.”

You felt your heart drop.

Because he wasn’t wrong.

And that terrified you.

You shook your head, willing yourself to push past the way he was looking at you, past the way his presence cooled the fire raging inside you when nothing else could.

“I can’t just betray everything I’ve been raised to uphold. I can’t—”

He moved.

Not away. Toward you.

Fast. Reckless.

Before you could say another word, his hands were on your waist, his mouth crashing against yours, stealing every last thought from your mind.

You should have pulled away.

You should have stopped this.

But when his lips parted against yours, when his fingers tangled in your hair, when your own hands betrayed you and gripped onto him like he was the only solid thing left in your world, you let him.

His mouth slanted over yours, firm, demanding, unchained.

Heat and cold clashed where your bodies met, his touch sending shivers down your spine while your own magic curled beneath your skin, fighting the pull of him, yet craving more.

Zayne’s grip tightened at your waist, his fingers pressing into the fabric of your gown as if he could brand himself into you.

You gasped against his lips, and he seized the sound, swallowed it, claimed it like he had been waiting for this moment far longer than either of you would ever admit.

The cool stone wall bit into your back, a stark contrast to the warmth spreading through your body as his hands touched you slow, deliberate, starving.

His lips left yours only to trail down your throat, his breath hot against your skin, his teeth grazing at the sensitive spot beneath your jaw.

A sharp inhale left you, your fingers tightening in his hair, pulling, needing.

This was wrong.

This was reckless.

This was everything you had fought to avoid.

But when his hands slid lower, when his lips moved over your collarbone, when his teeth nipped at your skin before soothing it with his tongue, all you could do was arch into him, your body betraying you as it pressed closer, seeking more.

“Zayne—” Your voice was a whisper, barely more than a breath, but it made him freeze.

Just for a second.

His breathing was uneven, his forehead dropping against your shoulder, his fingers still gripping your waist.

His lips hovered over your skin, his chest rising and falling in deep, controlled breaths.

His voice came low, gravelly, as he forced himself to still.

“Tell me to stop.”

You weren’t sure if you wanted him to stop.

And that terrified you.

Your hands were still in his hair, your body still burning beneath his touch.

But you said nothing.

Zayne lifted his head, his gaze locking onto yours—intense, dark, filled with something dangerously close to possession.

His fingers trailed along your thigh, slow, teasing, testing. Your breath hitched, a shudder rolling through you at the cold of his touch against your overheated skin.

“Say it,” he murmured. “Tell me this isn’t what you want.”

You parted your lips, but nothing came.

Because you couldn’t.

Because this was the moment you had been avoiding, the truth you had buried beneath duty, beneath reason, beneath everything except what you really felt.

And that was all the answer he needed.

His smirk returned, slow and dangerous, his fingers tightening at your waist. “That’s what I thought.”

His lips crashed into yours again, this time deeper, hungrier.

You didn’t fight it anymore.

Because god, you wanted him.

The room was quiet, save for the unsteady breaths between you.

The air still carried the lingering heat of your magic, but it was nothing compared to the fire curling beneath your skin—the fire he had ignited.

Zayne’s gaze burned into yours, dark, intense, his body still pressing you against the cold stone wall.

His lips were kiss-swollen, his breathing ragged, but his hands? His hands hadn’t stopped moving.

“You can still tell me to stop.”

His voice was low, rough, his fingers just beneath your skirts, tracing slow, lazy circles against your thigh. The threat of restraint still lingered in his touch, but barely.

You swallowed, your pulse thrumming against his fingertips, every part of you caught between hesitation and pure, desperate desire.

He wasn’t just waiting for your answer—he was waiting for permission.

But you had already made your choice.

Your hands slid into his hair, pulling him down as your lips met his again, a kiss that held no more restraint, no more second-guessing.

A deep, satisfied groan rumbled in his chest as he grabbed your thighs, spreading them apart, lifting you effortlessly until you were wrapped around him.

His hands gripped your curves, kneading, pulling you flush against the hard press of him, molding you to him like he had every right to take, every right to claim.

The cool of his skin was a stark contrast to the heat rolling off you in waves.

You burned for him and he knew it. He had always known it.

His mouth moved to your throat, teeth scraping, lips soothing, tongue teasing, working his way lower as his hands pushed fabric aside, found more skin, more of you.

Your body arched into him, seeking, needing, powerless against the way he unraveled you.

His fingers teased at your core, a slow, maddening stroke that had your breath catching in your throat. You could feel smirk against your collarbone.

“So eager.”

You had never felt like this.

Like you were coming undone and being put back together all at once.

Like he had all the control while making you feel like you held it.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, back against the stone, thighs tightening around his hips. He groaned at the feeling, his grip bruising, his restraint breaking.

His lips found your ear, breathless, full of promise.

“Let me ruin you, Princess.”

And when his fingers finally slipped inside you, claiming, knowing, teasing you open for more

You did not hold back.

—•

The air was thick with the scent of heated skin and fading restraint.

Your breaths were uneven, your body still trembling against his as you came back down from the high he had torn from you.

Zayne’s forehead pressed against yours, his grip still firm on your hips, like he wasn’t ready to let go.

Like if he did, reality would come crashing back in.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Not uncomfortable. Not uncertain.

Just the stillness of two people who had crossed a line that could never be redrawn.

Your fingers traced the damp strands of his hair, your heartbeat still wild, still trying to catch up.

He exhaled sharply, his hands sliding down your thighs, squeezing once before setting you back on your feet.

Your legs nearly gave out, and he smirked, steadying you, his touch lingering longer than it should have.

His voice came low, husky, tinged with amusement.

“Careful, Princess. You look like you might fall.”

You swallowed, forcing your body to remember how to move, how to think. “You’re insufferable.”

His smirk deepened. “And yet, here we are.”

Here.

In the dimly lit chamber, with your dress askew, his tunic undone, and the taste of his lips still lingering on yours.

The weight of what had just happened settled between you like a dangerous secret.

Zayne’s expression flickered, something serious, something darker, before he reached up, brushing his thumb over the mark he had left on your skin.

“No regrets?”

You knew what he was really asking.

You held his gaze, your chest rising and falling as you forced the words out. “This changes nothing.”

Zayne let out a slow exhale, but he didn’t look disappointed, as if he expected that answer.

Like he knew better.

His lips curled, slow and knowing. “If you say so.”

And when he stepped back, when the cold air rushed between you, you realized something that made your stomach twist.

It did change everything.

And you both knew it.

—•

The royal court had always been a place of veiled threats and measured words, where influence was played like a finely tuned instrument.

Today was no different, maybe except for the fact that Zayne was no longer playing from the sidelines.

You felt the change the moment he entered the chamber.

It wasn’t loud, not a grand display of force or some reckless grab for power.

No, Zayne was smarter than that.

It was in the way the nobles subtly straightened, in the way conversation faltered for just a breath before resuming, as if pretending they hadn’t noticed the shift.

But they did.

You did.

His steps were unhurried, controlled, the soft click of his boots against the marble floor carrying a weight that hadn’t been there before.

He didn’t linger at the edges of the room today, didn’t settle into his usual place of quiet observation.

Today, he moved with purpose.

Like he belonged there.

You sat beside the crown prince, poised, unreadable, but your attention was fixed on Zayne as he approached the war table, his fingers brushing idly over the map sprawled across it.

Not studying it. Not learning it. Just… familiar.

Lord Callas cleared his throat. “The eastern border remains volatile, Your Highness. Reinforcements are needed before the rebellion grows.” He glanced toward the crown prince, awaiting the usual nod of approval.

But before the prince could speak, Zayne’s voice cut through the room.

“And what do you suggest? More soldiers? More bodies to feed a conflict that should have never started?”

The nobles stilled.

Zayne didn’t look at them.

He remained focused on the map, tracing slow circles over the disputed territory.

Callas shifted in his seat. “Without proper forces, the region will fall further into chaos.”

Zayne hummed, tapping his fingers against the wood. “Funny, considering the coin sent to reinforce those garrisons never actually reached them.”

Callas stiffened. “That is an unfounded accusation—”

“Is it?” Zayne finally lifted his gaze, slow, calculated. His smirk was faint, but his eyes? Cold. Unyielding. “You seem awfully defensive for a man who has nothing to hide.”

The murmurs started, hushed but undeniable.

You exhaled slowly, fingers tightening in your lap.

He wasn’t just making a statement. He was setting the stage.

The crown prince’s tone was clipped. “Enough, Zayne.”

Zayne leaned back slightly, as if considering. “Of course.”

A beat.

Then, with an easy shrug, “After all, I suppose it isn’t my responsibility to keep the kingdom from crumbling, is it?”

“I believe that is your job, brother.”

The court went silent.

The shift was subtle, effortless, but devastating.

Zayne wasn’t just calling out a failing strategy.

He was questioning the throne itself.

The crown prince’s jaw tightened. “Watch yourself.”

Zayne’s smirk was slow, deliberate. “Have I said something untrue?”

The room held its breath.

The weight of Zayne’s words settled over the court like a storm waiting to break.

He didn’t need to say it outright.

He didn’t need to declare that he had been cleaning up his brother’s messes for years.

Didn’t need to point out that he has been the one managing the generals, soothing the nobles, securing the stability that the crown prince took credit for.

He made his point.

And everyone in this room had understood it.

You inhaled, the flicker of heat beneath your skin warning you of what was coming next.

Because for the first time, Zayne wasn’t just standing in his brother’s shadow.

He was stepping into his light.

Soon, the court dispersed, leaving the battle that had only just begun.

Whispers trailed behind you as you walked, the echo of hushed voices filling the grand halls.

The tension from the war table still clung to the air, an invisible weight pressing down on the walls, on the floors, on the very foundation of this palace.

And at the center of it stood the two brothers.

The crown prince, the future Emperor.

And Zayne, the man who had never wanted the throne.

Until now.

You weren’t meant to be here.

But you stayed.

Because this wasn’t something that could be ignored.

Their steps were slow, calculated, the silence between them stretched tight. This wasn’t a simple disagreement.

This wasn’t even a rivalry.

This was war.

You could feel it.

The slow, brewing storm. The tension threading through the air like a knife against silk, waiting to cut.

Finally, the crown prince exhaled, breaking the silence first. “That was bold of you, Zayne.”

Zayne barely spared him a glance, his smirk lazy, unbothered. “You’ll have to be more specific, brother. I do many bold things.”

A flicker of irritation crossed the prince’s features, there and gone in an instant. “You’ve never overstepped like this before.”

Zayne hummed, tilting his head slightly, as if the thought had never occurred to him.

“No, I suppose I haven’t.” He smirked. “That should tell you something.”

You saw it then.

The brief flicker of unease in the crown prince’s eyes.

The tension in his stance, the way his fingers twitched, as if resisting the urge to react.

Because for the first time, Zayne wasn’t standing in his shadow.

He was challenging it.

The crown prince came to a stop, turning to face his brother fully. His voice was low, controlled, but beneath the surface, you heard the threat.

“I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, but let me make something clear.” He took a step forward. “I am the future Emperor. Not you.”

Zayne finally looked at him then.

Not lazily. Not with amusement. But with something colder. Heavier. Unshaken.

And then, he spoke.

“And yet, I do all the work.”

The words cut through the air like a blade, precise, deliberate.

The crown prince inhaled sharply through his nose, his composure slipping, just slightly.

Zayne’s smirk turned sharper. “Strange, isn’t it?”

The air shifted.

Not visibly. Not enough for the nobles still lingering nearby to notice.

But you felt it, the drop in temperature.

It wasn’t a warning.

It was a challenge.

Zayne felt it too.

But he didn’t tense. Didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch.

Instead, he took a step forward.

A fraction of movement. Subtle, barely noticeable.

But the crown prince stepped back.

Not by much. Not enough for anyone else to see.

But you saw it.

And Zayne knew it.

His smirk deepened, his voice softer now, but no less dangerous. “Be careful, brother.”

The prince’s fingers curled at his sides, his breath slow, measured.

But he said nothing.

Because there was nothing left to say.

Because Zayne had already won this round.

And you had just witnessed it.

You inhaled slowly, aware of what this meant.

Zayne was no longer just a prince on the sidelines.

He was claiming the space he had been denied for too long.

And he was doing it for you.

—•

The quiet of your chambers was deceiving.

Outside these walls, the palace still buzzed with the aftermath of the court session. The nobles had seen it.

Zayne’s words, his challenge, the moment he had made them think.

And that was dangerous.

Because once a ruler’s strength was questioned, the throne beneath them began to crack.

And you weren’t sure if you should stop him.

Or help him break it entirely.

Zayne stood by the fireplace, one hand resting against the mantle, his expression unreadable as he watched the flames flicker.

You sat across from him, perched at the edge of your chair, fingers curled against the armrest.

The silence stretched between you, heavy with everything that hadn’t been said.

Finally, you spoke, “You’re going to push him.”

Zayne exhaled slowly, tilting his head slightly. “I already have.”

You narrowed your eyes. “How far?”

His gaze flickered to yours, sharp, calculating. “Far enough to make him doubt himself.”

Your pulse stumbled. “That’s dangerous.”

Zayne hummed in agreement. “It is.”

Your fingers tightened around the fabric of your gown.

“So what’s next? You make him paranoid? Isolate him? Turn the court against him?”

Zayne’s smirk was slow, deliberate. “I don’t have to.” He stepped closer, his presence sinking into the room, pressing into the space between you.

“He’ll do it himself.”

You inhaled, the weight of his words settling into your chest. “And what about me?”

Something flickered in his gaze. Something dangerous.

“You will be by my side.”

The certainty in his voice sent a shiver through you—not of fear, but of something else.

Something inevitable.

You swallowed. “The nobles won’t just fall in line. They need something to believe in.”

Zayne nodded, tapping his fingers against the chair beside him. “Then we give them something.”

“Meetings.” You thought aloud.

“Strategic alliances. We need to control the conversations before my betrothal to your brother becomes the chain he tries to bind me with.”

Zayne’s smirk faded, replaced with something colder. “He won’t control you.”

The way he said it sent heat curling under your skin.

You exhaled slowly. “Then make them believe in something bigger.”

Zayne tilted his head slightly. “You mean us.”

The words settled between you.

You weren’t sure if he meant the political alliance.

Or the one that had already crossed far too many lines.

Before you could answer, a sharp knock at the door shattered the quiet.

You exchanged a glance before the door suddenly barged open.

A guard stepped inside, his face unreadable. “Your Highness.”

His gaze flickered to Zayne before settling on you. “The crown prince requests your presence.”

You inhaled, already knowing what this was.

Already knowing he wasn’t going to sit idly by.

Zayne’s jaw ticked. “And if she refuses?”

The guard hesitated, shifting slightly. “Then he will come here himself.”

You pushed to your feet before Zayne could say anything else. “I’ll handle him.”

Zayne stepped closer, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “He’s already desperate.”

You held his gaze, fingers brushing briefly against his wrist before you pulled away. “Then let’s see how desperate he’s willing to get.”

And then, you left.

Because the real fight was just beginning.

—•

The halls felt colder as you walked.

Not because of the evening air, nor the marble floors that never retained warmth. It was him.

The crown prince.

He stood near the large windows of his chambers, dressed in royal black and deep crimson, the embroidered crest of the empire stitched into his sleeves.

He looked composed, regal, every inch the future Emperor he was supposed to be.

But you could see it.

The tightness in his jaw.

The way his fingers curled against the window ledge.

The way the frost that had begun creeping along the glass betrayed his control slipping.

You stopped a few paces from him, your own posture unyielding. “You summoned me.”

He turned, slowly, eyes sharp as steel, glinting with something dangerous. “It seems I have to.”

The tension in the room coiled tight.

He gestured toward the cushioned chair near the hearth. “Sit.”

You didn’t move.

His gaze flickered over you, unreadable, but his tone remained smooth. “You are my future Empress. This game with my brother ends now.”

Your breath steadied.

“Game?”

The crown prince let out a slow exhale, his head tilting slightly, his expression measured. “I don’t believe I’ve been unclear. You will marry me.”

You didn’t flinch. “Because you command it?”

His smirk was cold. “Because it has already been decided.”

The words landed like a lock clicking into place.

You exhaled through your nose, arms crossing over your chest.

“Funny.” Your voice was smooth, measured. “Because from where I stand, it seems you’re the one who feels the need to secure it.”

His jaw tensed, just barely, but you saw it.

He was pushing now.

Because for the first time, he felt the need to.

He took a step forward, slow, deliberate. “Do not mistake patience for weakness, Princess.”

The temperature in the room dropped. The torches flickered, the frost spreading further along the glass behind him.

Still, you didn’t step back.

Your voice remained steady. “And do not mistake obligation for devotion.”

Silence.

The flicker of something dark in his gaze.

“You overestimate your choices.” His voice lowered, smooth as glass, but it did nothing to hide the warning beneath it.

“This marriage is not an option. You and I will rule, and you will uphold the duty you were born for.”

Your throat tightened, not from fear, but from the sheer weight of what he refused to see.

“And if I don’t?”

A slow inhale.

His expression remained calm, but his power pressed into the room, into your lungs, into the very air you breathed.

And then, he smiled.

“Then I will remind you why you must.”

Ice spread beneath your feet.

A cold so precise, so controlled, that you knew this was no warning.

This was a promise.

Your fingers curled at your sides, heat humming beneath your skin, ready to melt every ounce of frost he dared to place at your feet.

But you didn’t.

Not yet.

Instead, you met his gaze, unyielding, unwavering. “We shall see.”

The smirk that crossed his lips was slow, confident, but there was something else beneath it.

Something uncertain.

Because he didn’t expect you to fight this.

And that would be his first mistake.

The frost beneath your feet crept forward, thin veins of ice threading through the marble, a slow, deliberate claim.

The crown prince watched you, his smirk carefully measured, but you knew him.

You saw what he was trying to hide.

Frustration.

Not because of your defiance—he had always expected you to fight.

But because he couldn’t control you the way he did the others.

And he knew that.

He took another step forward, close enough now that the chilled air clung to your skin.

“We shall see?” His voice was smooth, the tone of a man used to winning before the battle even began. “There is nothing to see, Princess. This union is sealed. You are mine.”

Your jaw tightened. “I am not yours.”

His smirk didn’t falter, but something in his gaze hardened. “Not yet.”

Your breath steadied, heat simmering beneath your skin, pressing against the cold, but you kept it contained.

Controlled.

“Do you think this will work?” You tilted your head, keeping your voice calm, even. “That you can… freeze me into submission?”

His smirk faded slightly. “I think you are playing a dangerous game.”

You stepped forward, the warmth of your presence pushing against his cold, countering, challenging.

“And you think you aren’t?”

A flicker of something dark in his gaze. He exhaled sharply, his control tightening, restraining whatever impulse was itching beneath his skin. “I am offering you power. I am offering you a throne.”

“You are offering me a cage.”

His fingers twitched at his sides. “Careful, Princess.”

The crown prince stood before you, his posture stiff with controlled rage, his eyes dark with something dangerous.

“You think you can fight this?” His voice was smooth, but beneath it, you heard the strain.

The frustration.

The fear.

You exhaled slowly, keeping your voice steady. “I don’t have to fight.” You tilted your head, gaze burning into his. “Because you’re already losing.”

His jaw clenched. The cold around you thickened, the air becoming thin, biting. “You forget your place.”

You took a step forward, the ice melting beneath your feet. “You forget that I am fire.”

The torches flared higher, shadows stretching along the walls, warmth flooding the space between you.

“You think your power makes you untouchable? That your ice will cage me?”

Your gaze hardened, your voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “It will never be enough.”

The crown prince inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring, his control barely holding. “You overestimate yourself.”

You let out a quiet laugh, slow, deliberate. “No. I think you’re finally realizing that you’ve underestimated me.”

For the first time, his silence was not power.

It was defeat.

Suddenly, the door opened.

A guard entered swiftly, bowing low. “Your Highness, the nobles are gathering. They request your presence.”

The prince inhaled slowly, his expression smoothing over in a practiced motion, his power retreating like an ocean wave pulling back before the next storm.

You knew this wasn’t over.

Neither did he.

He turned to you, his smirk returning, but colder now. “We will finish this later.”

You smiled back, slow and deliberate. “I look forward to it.”

He left without another word.

But as the door closed behind him, as the frost faded, your heart was still beating too fast.

Not from fear.

From the certainty that the real war had just begun.

The moment the door closed behind him, you let out a slow breath, releasing the fire you had held so tightly within you.

The heat hummed beneath your skin, the tension still coiled in your chest, but you had won this round.

You had stood your ground.

But you also knew he wasn’t done.

The crown prince had been pushed before, but never like this. Never in a way that made him feel as if his power was slipping through his fingers. He would not take this lightly.

You turned away from the lingering chill in the room and made your way back toward your chambers. Zayne would be waiting.

And you had much to discuss.

—•

Zayne was already there when you arrived.

Leaning against the fireplace, arms crossed, head tilted slightly in that way that told you he had been expecting this.

Waiting for you to come to him.

His gaze swept over you the moment you stepped inside, sharp, already knowing what happened.

“He tried to secure the marriage.”

You exhaled, closing the door behind you. “He’s grasping at what’s already lost.”

Zayne’s smirk was slow, pleased. “Good.”

You took a measured step forward, arms folding neatly at your waist. “Don’t look so smug. He’s going to lash out.”

Zayne chuckled, tilting his head. “Of course he will. It’s the only thing he knows how to do.” His gaze flickered toward the window, thoughtful. “But he’s not thinking ahead. He never does.”

You met his eyes. “And you are.”

He lifted a brow. “Always.”

Your lips curved slightly, mirroring his amusement, but your voice remained steady. “Then tell me.”

Something flickered behind his expression, something that wasn’t just amusement, something that had been there for longer than either of you had admitted.

He stepped closer, his presence calm, certain, inevitable.

“The nobles are already watching. I gave them a reason to doubt him today.” His voice was smooth, unwavering. “Now, I give them a reason to follow someone else.”

You didn’t hesitate. “You mean you.”

Zayne held your gaze. “I mean us.”

Your breath didn’t catch. Your pulse didn’t stutter. You had already made this decision.

His eyes flickered down, searching for hesitation, for doubt. He found none.

He exhaled slowly, something dark, something hungry curling behind his smirk. “He is desperate to keep you. And when a man is desperate, he makes mistakes.”

You tilted your head slightly. “And what mistake will he make?”

Zayne’s smirk deepened. “The one where he forces your hand too soon.”

Your fingers traced the carved edge of the chair beside you. “And when that happens?”

He stepped closer, his voice lowering to something intimate, lethal.

“Then we take everything from him.”

The words settled between you, but there was no tension.

No uncertainty.

You had already chosen.

This wasn’t a question, there was no hesitation.

This was a declaration.

Your fingers brushed his, deliberate, a promise more than a touch.

“Then let’s begin.”

[midnight1nk]

How is fish related to this? 😭😭

Congrats, you unlocked the significance of the black goo's spiral symbol! 🎉

...wait what?

I'll get to the fish part dw. Every design detail the Team has made was completely intentional, whether they knew it at the time or not. The simple glowing symbols of the black goo explain narrative themes, why 4 is the goo's host, as well as other things. Out of all the ones here, the swirl was the most convoluted symbol I had to deal with. Let's start with the obvious meaning of these spirals:

Hypnotism — obviously, it's 4 being possessed by the keyboard itself. But it can also mean in a different sense, 4 is being lured to the idea of the perfect video. And yes, while he was possessed for the most part, he was still in there. (and you can interpret it by how the spiral isn't exactly fully drawn.)

Creativity and Imperfections — I think we are very much aware of how 4 is an artist, aside from being a content creator. Y'know how (mostly traditional) artists struggle to make a perfect circle first try. The truth is, no one can. Even with the best-looking circle, it'll never be perfect. So think of these spirals as harsh "attempts" to make a circle, for 4 trying to be perfect. But in the end, there is no such thing as perfection, which fits with the movie themes.

Well, that's what I have at least, the most concrete. As for the rest, it's going to sound insane but I promise that it works. Buckle up and put on your tinfoil hats for this one. Ok so, hear me out: astrology

You should know anything about me is that I have this giant book of semiology, the study of symbols and their significance in human affairs. During my research, I've seen two zodiacs that resemble a lot like the spiral:

Cancer ♋️

Obviously, one half of its symbol looks similar to the spiral, but its zodiac personality fits 4 and IGBP in some way. to quote:

"Nurturing and loyal, Cancers are also protective of their loved ones. While reserved, they stand on a foundation of strength – and aren't afraid to act when they feel it's necessary. Cancers are also known to be an emotional — and moody — sign....Cancers take pride in their work — and more than a little part of them wants to be the best at it. They are motivated to work hard not only because of personal satisfaction, but so they can support their loved ones. In the sign, [the crab] translates to creative, artistic and intuitive minds, with the power of (sometimes psychic) perception."

While Cancer was pretty solid, it wasn't what caught my attention.

Pisces ♓️

Ofc the symbol itself has no spiral but for its constellation form, there are a lot of depictions have 2 fish circling each other, similar to the yin-yang symbol. (Now, in the goop!4 theory itself, "two sides of the same coin" is a big part when talking about character/narrative parallels. 4 and Mr Puzzles, 4 and 3. While they may act upon similar hopes/dreams, they are different people too.) Sometimes, it's only depicted as one fish.

It might be a stretch to say this spiral is a VERY simplified version of the fish's form but the zodiac significance is quite interesting, quote:

"Pisces are highly creative and imaginative as well as compassionate and loving. Their emotional sensitivity factor is high, helping them to remain in tune with others but also leaving them vulnerable to criticism, worrying a lot about the effect that their actions might have on others. They sometimes put their own needs on the back burner to make sure others are happy. Their intuition helps them guide others often effortlessly. They can also be self-deprecating, which can cause them to underestimate their worth. It may take a lot of work from their friends and family members to convince them they deserve respect and care."

Now, doesn't that sound familiar? That's literally 4 in IGBP, and even beyond that if you think about it. A lot more fitting than what Cancer had.

This might be nice and all, but is it actually proof?

It can, if we correlate the zodiac to a specific date. Yes, we're going to calculate the stars on this one, and it's a good thing yours truly is an astronomy girly to have planetarium software.

Now, for this to work, you have to be very precise on location and time (to its very second). Everyone has a different view of the constellations and stars shift over the years. So, it won't be easy to take any date related to SMG4, such as Luke's birthday, and plug it in. But one date did work:

May 8 of 2011 at 03:15:19 UTC (Sydney, Australia)

If if this date sounds any way familiar to you, then you already know the cake is a lie. That's right, the channel's first ever video, "super mario 64 blooper short: The cake is a lie!" At the same time it was uploaded, right there in the visible sky, it's Pisces.

And if that SOMEHOW doesn't convince you, then let me ask you: (excluding the 3 & 4 episode) What was the meme 4 obsessed over an episode after the Puzzlevision movie?

Yep, a fish.

Everything from the true PV arc, ever since IGBP, is going to come back full circle. To the monstrous Pit, to the Showgrounds, to the channel's very first episode.

Did the Team absolutely plan this? Probably not.

Have I gone insane? Yeah.

But hey, it is a theory after all.

thanks for the ask! and for joining the QnA! [link]

[daily-crowley]

Crowley Of The Day: “here comes the smolder.”

[pushspacetocontinue]

"It's, it's been a, a long time since I, since I last saw it so I, I um, I don't, I don't rem-remember a, a lot about it," Russell admitted, "I just know my, my brother took the, the chocolates quote to, to heart. But yeah that, that is true. Things you, you missed or, or may have even just, just forgotten can, can come up fresh ag-again."

Russell then nodded.

"Y-yeah, that's, that's how I, I try to see it. That's how my, my oldest bro-brother would, would always try and, and see it. I think as the, the rest of us got, got older, we, we started seeing more, more of his points and trying to take, take them on ourselves," Russell added then, "And of course, we, we took some of that to, to heart, like trying to, to learn from exp-experiences."

He really hoped he wasn't coming across as preachy or boring when he said it like that. But it also served as a harsh reminder that leaving home (even though the problem was much more than a leaky roof) had become a crucial option in the first place. Russell nodded.

"I, I can un-understand that. It, it would be real neat if, if there was, was some form of, of life on, on those planets. Like, like um, bugs or, or animals or, or something."

Russell nodded with the list.

"I, I still go back to, to Skyrim from, from time to, to time. I want to, to try a, a run in, in the survival mode at, at some point," Russell said, "It's where you actually have to let your, your character eat and, and sleep and, and keep warm. Heh, my, my brothers were, were the ones who, who got me, me playing games."

He remembered how when he was younger and there was a quiet moment, Lewis would sit him on his lap while he played Super Mario Bros 3.

"I, I feel a bit, a bit that way a-about the ocean," Russell admitted, "At, at least space won't, won't drag us up into, into the cosmos. That's one reason why, why space is better."

Hopefully that sounded funny. But then his cheeks turned a little bit pink.

"Oh, heh, I'm, I'm glad to, to hear that. I um, well, heh, I do, I do worry ab-about going on a, a bit much and, and you know, not, not letting some-someone else get, get a word in when they, they need to."

Russell took another sip of his drink.

"But I uh, I, I know what, what you mean. I, I love hear-hearing people talk, talk about what, what they live. Their, their eyes light up and it's like, like their whole face is, is glowing from, from the inside, you know?"

❛he does? i like it, too. it always comforts me watching it, even if i’m feeling awful. and if i’m happy, it makes me even happier. i don’t know why.❜ without realising, anton mirrored russel’s smile. ❛i probably saw it with my parents the first time, but since then i’ve seen it at least a couple more times. kids are very clever, but if you go back to films to rewatch them some years later, or to books to read them again, you can find new details you’ve never noticed before. a gift that keeps on giving.❜ then he nodded.

❛that’s also very important, yeah. life is black and white, and no one thing is only bad or only good. and people, too. i’ve met people i did not end up enjoying being around,❜ anton shrugged, ❛and then there are my friends, and then you. but you don’t have to click with everyone and be friends. sometimes things can even fall apart with a bang. but as long as that makes you learn what to do and what not to do next time, and that falling apart hasn’t been too awful...❜

he rubbed his cheek, as if to rub away the awkwardness that crept over his skin, and caught himself watching the people walking outside the window as well. in a few seconds his attention was back to russell.

❛that’s a part of why i probably seem much more... positive, or cheerful, about things. it’s the hope. the hope that keeps you fixing the roof instead of leaving the house. i’d like to keep this house, this planet, fixed, as much as possible. but i would also like to try and find other houses. see how they work. if we found another planet that isn’t habitable, i would be just as excited.❜

anton leaned his head on his hands, listening, a dreamy, thoughtful expression on his face. just like it had been once upon a time, back in school. the quiet kid in the back, the dreamer. the guy who had a band and liked to sing. some things had not changed, even all those years ago.

❛no man’s sky, nice. i like that one.❜ then he chuckled at the thought, ❛trucks in space, that sounds like something i should try sometime. i like the elder scrolls games, especially skyrim. my parents really like fantasy, they started all of that,❜ anton joked with another soft laugh. ❛and assassin’s creed, too, dad would sometimes play the first and the second game, and showed them to me. i used to be a bit scared of space... it’s infinite, and i’m just a tiny human out there.❜ he sighed, hugging himself, falling quiet for a minute or two.

❛when you talk about it, you make me curious, though, so i don’t mind. actually you remind me of a science teacher i used to have. i’m bad with names, but she was also very excited about space.❜ remembering brought a smile on anton’s face.

[fatherbrat]

TELL ME AGAIN, R. SUNA

sum. sequel to one last time. you visit suna after listening to the voicenote he sent you, just to talk, and end up doing a little more than that.

feat. rintaro suna

cw. cheating/infidelity, suna really got on my nerves while i was writing this and he'll probably get on yours too, arguing, choking (m. receiving), edging, cunnilingus, a little manhandling kinda, missionary, multiple instances of "i miss/ed you"

wc. 2k

Suna tries his best to keep the shit-eating grin off his face when you text him to ask if he’s home. 

He knew that voice message would get you. There was a tiny voice in his head that told him it would be a monumental embarrassment if you didn’t, but it was drowned out by all the other voices in his head telling him to send, send, send, send.

His stomach turns with anticipation. He doesn’t even answer your question, just orders an Uber and sends you the car make and model and how long it will take to get to your apartment. 6 minutes. And then 12 minutes from yours to his. 

He fishes out the fancy santal candle he knows you like from beneath the bathroom sink and lights it in his bedroom. Then he brushes his teeth and puts some music on and waits.

He jumps when the doorbell rings.

There’s a moment of silence when he opens the door, the two of you just looking at each other. It hits Suna that this is the first time he’s seen you in person in months. He used to see you everyday. There's a part of his chest that seems to ache at the realization. He ignores it.

“Hi,” you breathe.

He blinks once. Twice. “Hey.” He opens the door a little wider and shifts to the side so you can come in.

You take one step closer and then stop, eyeing him with unjust suspicion. “I didn’t come over here to fuck you.”

Suna takes one look at your outfit—shorts that are definitely too short to be comfortable in this chilly fall weather and a sweatshirt he’s pretty sure is his—and knows you’re lying. He doesn’t call you out, just grins and shrugs and ushers you inside anyway. 

You lean against the kitchen counter to survey the living room, pleased to see that it looks exactly the same as the last time you were here. Suna’s still standing by the door when you look at him again, arms crossed.

“So why’d you come over?” he asks.

It’s your turn to shrug. “You said you missed me.”

“Did I?”

You give him a sideways look. “You did.” You drag out the two words, nodding slowly and widening your eyes as if you’re speaking to a child.

Suna tilts his head to the side, smiling a little. “What else did I say?”

Oh lord. You should’ve known he’d be annoying about it. You shift your gaze up to the ceiling, pretending to struggle to remember even though you listened to his message several times, including once on the car ride over. 

“You said you weren’t happy for me…which is pretty fucked up.”

Suna just rolls his eyes. “What else?”

Eyes on the ceiling again. “You said you liked my Halloween costume. And that if I had sex with you it wouldn’t count as cheating because I haven’t been with him that long.” You put air quotes around his claim, sliding your eyes back down to meet his.

He’s standing closer to you now than he was a minute ago, looking like he’s holding back a laugh. “Now that part’s fucked up. Where is the boyfriend, by the way?”

You make a face and look at the time on the microwave. “Probably home. Probably asleep.”

“Yeah? How’s he doing?” He closes what’s left of the gap between you and tugs on the drawstring of your (his) sweatshirt to even out both ends.

“Fine…” you whisper, breath hitching when his hand brushes your ear on the way to your hoodie.

He hums after fixing the string and walks towards his bedroom, tapping your bare thigh as he passes you as a silent cue to follow.

You realize that he doesn’t believe your intentions for coming over are pure, which is true, but you don’t like that he didn’t even pretend to believe you. 

You follow his lead anyway, resting your head against the doorframe and watching him fish his phone out of his pocket and dump it on his desk. He sits on the edge of the bed and looks over at you with his eyebrows raised.

“I told you I just came over here to talk,” you snap.

Suna’s response is automatic. “No, you said you didn’t come over here to fuck.”

“Rin.”

He puts his hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry.” He leans forward, setting his elbows on his knees and his hands beneath his chin. “Alright. Talk.”

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you mutter. “I shouldn’t have come.” You twist your foot to turn around and immediately hear the bed creak with relief. Suna wraps his hand around your wrist before you can fully turn your back.

“Wait, I’m sorry,” he says. “Stay. Please?”

He sounds like he’s begging. He looks like he’s begging, with his slumped shoulders and pleading eyes and desperation written all over his pretty face. 

It’s not enough. 

“My boyfriend doesn’t taunt me like this, you know,” you tell him, indignant.

Suna’s grip on your arms loosens as his face falls a bit.

You continue. “He’s actually nice to me. And he’s romantic. Treats me like royalty.”

You watch Suna’s jaw tick. His hand returns to his side. “He’s boring.”

“He’s steady.”

Suna’s tone grows terse. “Dull. Stale. Bland. Vanilla.”

“Stable and secure and safe.”

Suna snorts. “Safe,” he repeats, sarcastic. “I seriously don’t get how you can date him.” 

“Because he’s my boyfriend who I love and not just some guy I used to fuck when I was lonely.”

It’s a low blow. You and Suna were friends long before the benefits came along. Good friends. Close friends.

If he’s offended he doesn’t show it, just latches on to the first part of your sentence. “You don’t love him.”

He’s right. “You’re wrong.”

“Really? Why are you here then?” He narrows his eyes. “And don’t say it’s because I said I missed you.”

You’re not sure when you started taking steps forward, or when Suna started moving backwards, but his calves hit the edge of the bed and suddenly he’s sitting again, looking up at you with that infuriating self-righteousness that makes your eye twitch.

And then your hand is squeezing his throat and your lips are on his and you’re straddling him and moaning into his mouth.

You feel him start to smile against you before he pulls away. 

He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. “Don’t fucking say anything,” you tell him, before tugging his face towards you neck. 

You can tell Suna’s still smiling, but he obeys, sucking the tender spot right above your collarbone without another word. His hands find the bottom of your sweatshirt and he pulls it up. 

His lips leave your skin and your hand leaves his neck so you can take your arms out of the sleeves and he can yank it over your head and drop it on the floor. Then he rests his hands on your hips and just looks at you. 

Goosebumps dance across your shoulders and arms. Suna wants to comment on how you're not wearing a bra but he doesn’t, just continues to stare. 

“What?” you ask.

He takes in the sight of you on top of him, the rise and fall of your chest—quicker than normal, a side effect of him riling you up. He revels in the weight of you on his legs and tries to recall the last time you had him beneath you like this. Your birthday? His birthday? Or maybe it was that time he tried to cheer you up after you got laid off. Either way, it’s been a long time and he hates to think about how you’ve probably been doing this with your boyfriend instead of him.

He can’t help himself. “You straddle the boyfriend like this?”

You huff and press your palm to his chest, shoving him onto his back. Your face hovers over his. “What are you gonna do if I say yes?”

Suna studies your face and puts his hands around your waist and beams. It’s the only signal you get before he flips you, putting your head on a pillow and taking his own shirt off before he drops it on the ground somewhere near your hoodie.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, glancing at the hard outline growing in his sweats as you trail your fingertips up his thigh. He leans into you and rests his forehead against yours. 

“I missed you,” he says softly. 

Your heart beats at a concerning speed. “I know.”

He gets up from the bed and snaps the waistband of your shorts before telling you to take them off and removing the rest of his own clothes. When he crouches over you again, you place the sole of your foot flat against him and tut. 

“You also said you’d do that thing I like with your tongue.”

Again, Suna chooses not to comment. He wonders how many times you listened to the message, because it’s sounding like more than once, more than a couple. He grabs your ankles and drags you down the bed, forcing a giggle out of your throat before he plants his head between your legs. 

He circles your clit, avoiding making contact with it directly and making teasing strokes with his fingers until you’re panting and quivering and making shaky demands for him to let you come on his tongue. When he does, you scream his name. 

“Music to my fucking ears,” he says under his breath, licking your slick off his lips. “You scream this loud for him too?”

You can't believe you forgot how aggravating he is. “Shut up and fuck me.”

He looks so smug. You start to think that the desperation from before was too short-lived, until he’s inside you and you’re filled with him and that familiar need that makes you wrap your legs around him and claw at his back.

All you can think about is how you miss him and you missed this, and you’re telling him to fuck you harder, and then his mouth is right below your ear and his hair is tickling your cheek and a stream of yes’s and Rin’s are tumbling out of your mouth like dominoes and youre trying to pull him impossibly closer and youre so surrounded by him that its dizzying and youre whispering i miss you in his ear and hoping it doesnt sound like i love you and hes saying i miss you too and youre wondering if he really means i love you too and then youre biting into his shoulder and—  

You lose count of how many times you come. Both of you do. The two of you are coated in sweat, laying on damp sheets in a room that now smells like sex and sandalwood. Neither of you speak, busy catching your breath and being lost in thought. You don’t want to say anything, afraid you’ll break the spell.

You didn’t have to worry about that, though, because you hear your phone ping loudly and realize it’s on the floor, still tucked away in the front pocket of your sweatshirt. Suna turns his head towards you.

“You should break up with him.”

You raise an eyebrow at the seriousness in his voice and sigh. “I know.”

“Today.”

A pause. “Okay.”

There’s another moment where none of you speak. And then–

“You should date me instead.”

You turn to face him and the earnestness in his expression catches you so off guard you have to look away again. It’s not that you never expected him to bring it up, you just hadn't expected him to sound so sincere when he did.

You had toyed with the idea before, a handful of times even, but everything between you two was so easy—why would you mess it up with a what are we? conversation? Although, you suppose you messed it up anyway by getting a boyfriend and ditching Suna without warning.

It takes you a long time to respond, long enough that Suna starts to game plan an exit strategy, but then you meet his gaze again.

“Okay.”

[sanemistar]

᧔o᧓ husband!kento x wife!reader, established relationship, domestic fluff, requested by @luvnami <3 (i hope you don’t mind the headcanons, i just wanted to include as many fluff themes as possible <3)

ᡣ𐭩 | husband!kento who never misses his good morning and good night kisses to you.

ᡣ𐭩 | husband!kento who gets you a bouquet of your favorite flowers almost every day, because he knows how much you love them.

ᡣ𐭩 | husband!kento who almost never eats outside because he loves when you cook dinner for him after a long day of work, takeout can never stand a chance against your cooking.

ᡣ𐭩 | husband!kento who praises you for every little thing you do for him, because you deserve to be praised all the time.

ᡣ𐭩 | husband!kento who rests his head on your lap as he grabs one of his favorite books to read, your thighs are far more comfortable and warmer than any pillow.

ᡣ𐭩 | husband!kento who lets you do his tie for him every time, not because he doesn’t know how to. but because he likes having your hands all over his chest.

ᡣ𐭩 | husband!kento who loves giving you back massages when you feel exhausted (it’s mostly just an excuse for him to touch you)

ᡣ𐭩 | husband!kento who brings you breakfast to bed every morning, you're his wife so you're definitely getting that princess treatment.

ᡣ𐭩 | husband!kento who does the house chores for you when you're tired, even if he's also pretty tired himself. your comfort is his most important priority.

ᡣ𐭩 | husband!kento who takes pride in calling you his wife, you have everything he’s ever asked for and more.

ᡣ𐭩 | husband!kento who never lets go of your hand when you two are walking together in public, especially in crowded areas. you will never be separated, not on his watch.

ᡣ𐭩 | husband!kento who lets you pick his clothes for him every time you two go shopping for clothes.

ᡣ𐭩 | husband!kento who loves to travel with you on his days off, he wants to see the world with you by his side.

ᡣ𐭩 | husband!kento who expresses his love for you using the most romantic book quotes.

ᡣ𐭩 | husband!kento who’s still head over heels for you every day as if he’s falling in love with you all over again for the first time.

୨୧ taglist: @spkyssn @yueliie @ayrastv | back: jjk m.list

[tsunodaradio]

sorry, chat! ⛐ 𝐋𝐍𝟒

lando has a soft spot for you. (or: the one where lando keeps interrupting his streams for you.)

ꔮ starring: lando norris x girlfriend!reader. ꔮ word count: 0.8k. ꔮ includes: fluff, romance, mention of food. established relationship. ꔮ commentary box: part of my soft spot mini-series! need lando to start paying rent for the space he's taking up in my mind. :-/ 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It takes Lando’s viewers approximately four months to realize— no, confirm— what they’d all be speculating. 

Lando wasn’t really trying to be discreet. He could be private if he wanted to, and the truth of the matter is that he never really had any plans to hide you. 

He had groveled at your feet about going public, about hard-launching you at your soonest convenience. Just one Instagram post, he had practically begged. Okay, okay. I’ll settle for a story!

In the end, he conceded to taking things slow. Feeling it out. You had to assure him that you weren’t embarrassed of him, that it was just a matter of wanting to protect your identity for a little longer before the rest of the world began to see you as Lando Norris’ girlfriend. 

The mere thought of the title has Lando valiantly holding back a dreamy sigh. 

His girlfriend. His girl. What a dream. 

When the two of you are eventually found out, you accuse him of orchestrating the whole thing. “How could I have, love,” he whines, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you from nervously pacing. “I swear, my chat just knows.” 

The chat did know, yes, because Lando is obvious. It’s the sort of obvious that’s written in neon lighting across the wall. Bright, glaring, hard to ignore. 

It started with the fruit. 

“Sorry, chat,” he says during one stream, “gimme a second.” 

He mutes his microphone and reaches for something out of frame. When he returns, he’s holding… an orange. 

Lando throws the camera a cheeky wink. His hands are deft as they work on peeling the fruit, and he holds a soundless conversation with whoever had requested the help. 

The chat goes crazy. Some people are quoting poetry— I love you, I want us both to eat well— but the vast majority are throwing out playful comments about Lando being ‘down bad’. 

By the time Lando is back, it’s like the interruption never happened. He goes right back to streaming, addressing none of the questions lighting up the screen. 

The next questionable stream happens a couple of weeks later. Lando’s gaze keeps flitting past the camera, past his setup. He throws several rounds of Fortnite and crashes more often than not on iRacing, drawing insults and jeers from his audience. 

Usually, Lando would try to defend himself. Tonight, though, he can only smile sheepishly as his viewers relentlessly tease him for being distracted. 

His teeth sink into his lower lip, as if he’s fighting back a smirk. “Sorry, chat,” he huffs. “Looks like my luck is shot today. I think it’s best if I log off. Byeee!”

(That’s the last time you work from Lando’s bed while he’s streaming. His gaze is drawn to you like a magnet, and he’s quick to crawl under the sheets to join you. Done so soon?, you ask, your fingers carding through his curls. 

He looks at you like you hung the stars and the moon. Mhm, he hums, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Didn’t have much to say.) 

If you really, really think about it, the big reveal could actually be pinned on you. 

Lando is too enamored to ever blame you for anything. You’re faultless in his eyes, even though he can get a bit petulant with smaller misgivings. Like when you forgot his pre-stream ritual, for instance. 

Four kisses. 

For good luck. A wordless I love you lots. His driver number. Call it whatever, but it’s ultimately Lando’s excuse to have as much of you that you’ll give. 

On The Stream To Beat All Streams, you’d neglected it. He had a set stream time. You cut your shower too close to his start. He’d been unable to delay, logging on to Twitch with his lips tugging into a frown.

He’s half an hour into the stream when your head pops through the door, dressed to the nines for your night out. You’re so pretty that Lando has to hold himself back from ending the broadcast early again. 

You mouth an I’m sorry to Lando. He trails off in the middle of answering someone’s question, his slouched back straightening ever so slightly.

This time, he doesn’t even bother informing the stream. He just pushes his chair back, stands, and doubles back to mute when he realizes he missed it the first time. 

He still misses it the second time. 

The clips don’t lie. They all catch the sound of Lando’s voice going just a pitch higher, like he’s trying to act cuter than he already is. 

Comments flood the chat as your soft, amused voice responds something inaudible. The affectionate tilt of your voice is all the confirmation they need. And then Lando’s giggling, and there’s the unmistakable sound of lips smacking. 

Not once, not twice, but four times. 

The hashtags write themselves. McLaren’s PR manager wakes up to 81 missed calls. 

Lando comes back on stream, his mood having done a full 180. It takes him a moment to realize what just went down, and so the oblivious grin on his face— paired with the lipstick mark neither of you noticed, staining the side of his neck— makes the situation all the more interesting. 

“Sorry, chat,” Lando chirps. “What did I miss?” ⛐

[mochinomnoms]

unhinged and raunchy

In which your mouth runs faster than your brain and you say something absolutely and horrifically horny by accident. All quote come from this person's tiktok series "might as well"

Third-years x gn!reader

[tw/cw} — highly suggestive, crack, idk just having fun with it i guess

Trey Clover: "If I was a donut I'd be a Boston Cream the way he fills me up with his..."

Poor Trey. He's already not a morning person, but he's wide fucking awake now.

You still look like the sleep hasn't quite left your brain, but it's starting to process what you said in front of Ace at the table.

"Bro, right in front of my scrambled eggs?" He made gagging sound, grabbing his plate and grumbling as he elected to eat outside. "I don't wanna hear about your sex life, gross."

Trey sighed pinching at his noses as he eyed you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you sleepily leaned into his side.

"You're still half-asleep, aren't you?"

"Hmm...I...think...mm" You nodded, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Yeah...cream...in me—"

"Okay let's get you back to bed actually."

"Oooh...gonna make me a dooooonut...creamy donut..."

It takes him a bit longer than usual to go through the rest of his morning routine. You're no where to be found until well into the afternoon, though Ace (unfortunately) has an inkling of where you'd been.

Cater Diamond: "Slow and steady sets the pace but fast and quick lets him get a taste~"

Why are you looking at him like that?? You're the one who opened your mouth!

"Seven help me, what was that?!" He was cackling though, almost sliding off the bench from how much he was in hysterics.

"I DON'T KNOW! SNRK—" You had burst into a fit of laughter, falling off the bench yourself into the sidewalk, covering your face in embarrassment.

"Ooh~ Got your CayCay on the brain, huh? You're lucky no one else's here and that you're such a cutie~"

Both of you were losing it by now, crumpled together in a pile on the ground, clutching at each other's shoulders between fits of laughter.

"Yeah, good thing your cutie's been drinking pomegranate juice and pineapple—"

"Pffpt—stooop!"

"—Cause I'm the only sweet thing you wanna taste~"

"BWAAAHAHAHA—"

Leona Kingscholar: "I call that man my coffee 'cause of the way I guzzle him down in the morning—"

A hand smacked over your mouth, but it didn't change the fact that the poor students sitting across from you looked like they'd just witnessed a murder.

"...A lil salt never hurt nobody." You finished your sentence against Leona's palm, muffled but loud enough to make the others cringe even more.

Leona's tail smacked against your thigh as he let out a grumble, gesturing to the others.

"Out. Now." The lounge was empty in less than 30 seconds, leaving just the two of you in Leona's favorite lounge chair, next to the waterfall.

"And you." Laying back down on the cushion, Leona pulled you with him, an amused smirk on his face. "If you're gonna talk big words, you better make sure it's true. I don't think you had your 'coffee' this morning, hm?"

You grinned back at him, turning to rest your knees over his hips.

"Well, I am thirsty, and if you're offering~"

Vil Schoenheit: "Callin' you face wash with the way you come all over my face—wooooah"

Both you and Vil froze mid-routine, he applying his make up primer and you drying your face with a plush towel.

"...I don't think that would be good for my skin."

"That's the issue with what you said? Nothing else?"

Vil scoffed, tapping the tips of his fingers to spread the product around his face.

You shrugged, folding your towel and placing it on the counter before you come up behind Vil, wrapping your arms around his waist. Nuzzling into his back, he felt you grin against his shoulders.

"Well, I mean, why don't we hold a little experiment real quick and see—"

"Absolutely not now, I have places to be." Vil clicked his tongue at your as you let out a whiny pout. "Now, now dearest. I said not now. I'm more than happy to make you a mess tonight, have patience."

Rook Hunt: "A pogo stick ain't got nothing on me with the way I'm bouncin' on it."

"Oui? Is that so?" Rook looked at you with amusement, though a pretty pink blush was on his cheeks.

You yelped, jumping in your seat, almost falling off the couch, as you glared at your boyfriend behind you.

"How long have you been here listening to me spew shit?"

"As long as you've been singing your desires pour moi, I am particularly fond of the one calling me a blessing between—"

"YOU'VE BEEN HERE AT LEAST AN HOUR?? Dammit Rook, you should be thankful I fucking love your weird ass."

"As am I, mon adorable filou~" Green eyes flitted down your body, the corner of his lips quirking up as he looked back up to meet your own.

"A pogo stick, hmm?"

"Oh, yeah. Go hard and fast just like—" You sighed, rubbing a hand down your face. "I should stop."

"Pourquoi? I find it rather sweet you think such thoughts of me!" Rook leaned in close, a coy smile on his lips.

I'd be more than happy to indugle in them, rien que pour vous!

Idia Shroud: "Call him a remote with the way he makes me louder with just his thumb~"

The clatter of a controller dropping on the ground and the sight of blue flames going pink made you shrink into Idia's bed as he turned in his chair to stare at you.

"Huh, I'll call you back later, 'kay bye." You rapidly hung up, crawling backwards as Idia clambered over to you and on the bed, reaching for your phone.

"WHO YOU WERE YOU TALKING TO? WHY ARE YOU TELLING THEM OUR BUSINESS!"

Curling around your phone and pushing him away with your foot on his chest (easily mind you, he was barely resisting), you batted your eyes.

"I didn't mean to. It just came out while gossiping with Cat—"

"YOU'RE TELLING CATER ABOUT OUR SEX LIFE?" Idia shrieked, collapsing on top of you, effectively trapping you to the bed with his weight. "How am I ever going to face him..."

"You don't even talk to him! You actively go out of your way to avoid him. I was just bragging about you..."

Idia mumbled into your chest, making you pause until he popped up and gave you a glare, tips now turning red.

"I'm not gonna help you beat the final boss of your dumb game anymore."

"Idia! Noooo I need you!"

Malleus Draconia: "Call me soil with the way he plows me—oooooh."

Malleus's arms where steadying you as you giggled, tipsy from the wine Lilia had brought out earlier. Evidently, humans are much more susceptible to the effects of fae wine, you didn't even recognize the man holding you.

"No, no, no, no. I don' wanna go with you, I want Mal...to plow...heh." You snorted, tripping over your feet.

"Come now beastie, wait until we're in my chambers." He was both concerned for how quickly you became drunk but also amused from the chatter coming from your mouth.

"I—hmm. Where's Mal?" The two of you managed to get to his room, though you pushed him off you and tripped over to the bed. "MalMal...He can plant his seed in me..."

You planted face down into the bed, still giggling as Malleus carefully moved you under the covers with a soft smile.

"A tempting proposition, perhaps we can discuss in the morning when you're right of mind."

Lilia Vanrouge: "Might as well call me a book the way this man opens me up before bed every night..."

"I'm begging you to stop, please."

"...Flipping my pages…"

"I really don't want to hear your nights with Fa—Lilia. Please."

Silver gave Lilia a pleading look, nodding his head to you. Lilia was covering a smile as he watched you tiredly blink up at the two of them.

The consequences of you staying up for two days to do homework and study for an exam, evidently, were having you say the most amusing things. Especially about Lilia.

"But-but-but, it's true! I gotta speak my truth man." You slurred your words, squeezing your eyes tightly and opening, as if it would help.

"He's soooo good! And-and I just love him so much Silver. Silver. Silver. SILVER!"

Silver tilted his head as far back as possible as you grabbed his shoulders with a wild look in your eye. Again, his eyes begged Lilia to intervene, though said fae was still watching with amusement.

"...I need him carnally."

"Father please."

"Okay, okay. Sweetheart, come 'ere. Let's get you to bed."

You let yourself get led away by Lilia, squinting at him in confusion until you realized who was holding you.

"Lilia! Yaaaay~ I was just talking about you!"

"Yes, and you can talk about me more in my room, alright sweet?"

comments and reblogs appreciated 🩷

[gravegoer]

Hello, how about a part 2 of being Sevika's boss maybe when they got together or something like that thankyouuu and i love all of your ficss thank you making them hehe

Sevika's Boss ꩜ part 2

hi anon, sevikas boss fanfic got a lot of love a while ago so im happy to write part 2 !! let me know if you enjoyed i threw in some misunderstandings for fun here..maybe kind of angst?? its okay tho you make up very quickly PART 1 , masterlist

You and Sevika hung around eachother a lot, I mean that was normal right? She is your second in command afterall.

Personally, you didn't see a problem with it, and nor did Sevika.

She had grown accustomed to your presence and didn't mind all your small, loving touches and annoying jokes.

And yes, sometimes she went a little overboard for you, like what kind of subordinate stays at their bosses house to tend to them whilst they are injured? Or goes out for drinks every weekend? But maybe your relationship was starting to exceed the bounds of boss and employee.

She has definitely warmed up to you more than she did with Silco. She thinks it was your charming personality, or cute outfits, your smile...

Some people might say you sitting in Sevikas lap while you fixed up her arm might be indecency in the workplace, but you found it to be a simple and innocent task.

But this begs the question, what exactly is your relationship?

This is also a question Jinx was starting to ask herself.

"So uh...whats with you and Sevika?" Jinx asked in an almost singsongy voice.

She flipped her gun around in her hand haphazardly while she was sprawled out on your (Silcos) desk.

"What do you mean whats with us..?" You shook your head, mimicking her movements with your pen.

"I meaaan, you guys act like a married couple or something!" She threw her two hands in the air with a 'duh' kind of look plastered on her face.

You pushed one of her braids to the side to pull out a paper from under it. One of Sevikas reports from a recent trip. Her handwriting was an imperfect cursive. Sighing, you put your face in your hand while you held the paper, staring at it diligently.

Jinx looked at you quizically at your lack of an answer. She sharply pushes the paper down with the tip of her gun, "Hey, are you— Oh," She let out a nasally laugh at the paper, "Damn, you got it bad, huh, toots?"

"What? I have what bad?" You slid the paper away and tilted your head at her.

The blue-haired girl sat up and rested a spindly arm on her knee, "You're so in L word with her." She snickered at you.

"Im in—" Your face flushed at your realization. "I am not in 'L word' with her." You raised your hands to do finger quotes around 'L word.'

"Hmmmm, are you sure?" She teased, putting her gun to her chin and looking up in mock thought "I mean, you practically cling to her, you always walk home with her, and plus you talk about her all the time– hell! You talk to her all the time."

You stared at Jinx, now zoning out in thought. What were you supposed to tell Sevika? Does Sevika even think the same way about you? Would that relationship even be appropriate?

"You know what?" You stood up and pointed in Jinx' face, "Im going to do it—"

She attempted to cut you off with a meek,

"Sevikas—"

"Im going to tell her I love her," You continued, Jinx' half attempt to save your ass fell on deaf ears.

You looked up, finger still in the girls face to make eye contact with a very familiar set of grey eyes. Fuck.

Sevikas gaze faltered, and she cleared her throat, bringing a fist to her mouth, "Um. I came to ask you if you wanted to grab a drink, but it seems like you have better plans."

Holy shit. She didn't know it was about her. Is that good or bad? You only felt a few seconds of relief before Sevika just turned around and walked out. That was bad.

Jinx whistled, still under the pressure of your pointing finger, "You have some explaining to do."

You fumbled over your words before pushing Jinx' forehead back with your finger. "Ughh.. This is your fault."

You drooped back down into the large chair, putting your head in your hand and heaving a sigh.

"Just go tell her while you still have a chance. She's probably going to be moping around the Last Drop," Jinx got up from her spot on the desk, and some papers fell with her.

"That's my queue to leave, though," She hopped out of the office with a little too much energy, probably on her way to cause more mischief.

You sighed and packed up your stuff, picking up stray papers and shoving them into a random drawer on your desk.

Grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder, you pushed open the double doors to your office. It was time to go to the last drop.

poor sevika

Your entrance was signified with the ding of a bell atop the door. Music was playing loudly, and people were swarmed around the bar. Your eyes scanned the nearest areas for Sevika, but as you figures she was nowhere in sight.

She was most definitely in her usual gambling spot. You didn't want to approach her while she was in the middle of a game, so you waited at a nearby table, making sure to stay out of her sight.

You could hear the groans of the men at her table, most definitely losing. Chuckling at this, you watched as a waiter came up to your table asking for your order.

You just asked for a simple whiskey sour, hanging your bag on the back of your chair.

Several minutes (and a few drinks later), you felt someone's eyes on the back of your head. Turning around, you, once again, were met with steely grey eyes. Sevika stood near behind you with her arms crossed. The game had finished.

"You get rejected or something." She deadpanned.

"No—well.. not yet." You turned around in your chair to face her, the metal back of the chair was now settled between your legs.

You held what you thought was your sixth whiskey sour in between your fingers, chin resting on the top of the chair back.

She scoffed at this, turning her head to avoid eye contact. You could have sworn a small blush coated her cheeks. But her frown made you think otherwise, her large forearms tensed before she spoke.

"Oh, so you're waiting for her here."

How cruel of you to profess your love to someone in the place you knew Sevika would be. You probably wanted her to see it, right?

"Yeah, shes already here." You said, still staring at her side profile, tracing the scar on her cheek with your eyes.

The neon lights illuminated her face and brought out every curve and angle. But your thoughts were interrupted by her stern and almost angry voice.

"I should leave then," she started to walk away, but you reached out quickly.

(I dont know why you would do that when she wasn't even in arms length to begin with.) You started to fall forward, you let out a small yelp and held onto the chair, your drink falling onto the ground. You awaited impact, but it never came.

Instead, you were met with strong arms holding the back of your chair up. Sevika was bent over slightly, both mechanical arm and human arm on the metal of the chair. And for the third time, you made eye contact with now very close grey eyes. Her eyebrows were furrowed in shock or frustration- you couldn't tell.

Without another thought, you grabbed her by the collar and pulled her lips into yours. At first, she tried to pull away but eventually melted into the heat of the kiss. She sat your chair back up on four legs, and her elbows lean on the top of the chair, encircling you.

Almost as soon and she relented she pulled away, "What the hell are you doing," She rasped, wiping her mouth with the back of a large hand.

Her lips were still puffy from the kiss, but almost more downturned than before. When you didn't respond she offered a question, "Are you drunk?"

Your lopsided grin told her all she needed to know. She knew she needed to take you home, but she was going to do so reluctantly. Afterall you were going to become someone else's girl, couldn't have her hands all over you like she usually did.

She grabbed you (almost roughly) by the arms and pulled you out of the chair, "How are you going to profess your love now?" She scoffed.

"I just did, was that not enough?" Your words were slurred and you helped her by stepping up with heavy legs.

She furrowed her brows until she came to a not-so-shocking realization. Cursing under her breath she smirked at you. You could almost see the relief wash over her face.

Her thick arm held you by your upper torso as she almost carried you to the doors. She sighed at your stupidness, why not just tell her right away, then you wouldn't have to have gone through all the trouble.

She eyed your glossed over eyes, shaking her head at the dumb smirk that held its place on your face. She could feel the quiver of your body against the cold night wind.

At that she lifted you into her arms, covering you with her cloak. You looked up at her with wide eyes, burying your face in the material. God she wanted to kiss you so bad. But she'd save that for the awkward talk in the morning.

thank you for reading ! yes i see your asks all your fics are on the way I swear !!!! much love

[shouyuus]

18+, mdni

inspired by @rabbbitseason's insane sae art right here pls direct all complaints to that-a-way :)

ta!sae who's known campus-wide for being a no-nonsense guy, a harsh grader, and an even harsher tutor when it comes to giving critical feedback. who barely says a word during lectures when the professor's there, content to sit in his corner desk at the front of the classroom, occasionally scanning the lecture hall for anyone who's clearly not paying attention to the professor (participation is 35% of the final grade, so you had better be actively listening/taking notes during class).

ta!sae who always shows up in the same getup -- white shirt, suspenders, clean dark slacks. sometimes, he'd wear glasses, sometimes, he'd be without. who has a habit of absently rolling up his sleeves when he gets really into a passage, even though you can't tell from the flatness of his voice, there's a certain way his fingers always dance when he gets properly invested in one topic or other.

ta!sae who, despite his ice-cold rep, has full office hours, because he is as good as they say (if not better), his comments and critiques, if a little on the harsher side, are always helpful and right to the point, and sure, he's been known to make students with more tender dispositions cry on occasion from his hyper-blunt comments ("and what exactly are you trying to say with this sentence? it goes on for... half the paragraph and doesn't make a cohesive point." "there's no coherent thread between the in-text examples and your examination of them -- did you consider these quotes at all before you chose them?") but it's an undisputed fact that he helps you get better, no matter the method.

ta!sae who's got a weird fan-following amongst the more precocious female students (and a handful of the males as well), but he never pays them much mind, treating them like he does everyone else, brushing off their obvious advances, never blushing when a girl gets too close, tries to run her finger along the length of his suspenders, asks him if he's down to get coffee -- he'd pin her with a flat look and repeat that "office hours are monday through thursday, from 3-5pm" and that if she needs help, she can sign up for a slot just like everyone else.

ta!sae who almost does a double-take the first time you step into his little office, but he manages to keep his gaze steady when you settle yourself across his desk and lay out your notes; he can't help thinking to himself that you're a pretty one. but he files that thought away for later -- it's not like you're the first pretty girl to appear opposite him in this office, and he's sure you won't be the last. but there's something about you... he just doesn't know what yet.

ta!sae who expects you to recoil from his comments, but you don't. you push back, you question him, force him to pause and rethink his viewpoints. he blinks, meets your eyes -- and for the first time, he feels a heat prickling into the skin of his cheeks. who, finds himself glancing at the clock on the wall, only to find that he's held you longer than your allotted time but when you get up to leave, he feels a sharp tug in his stomach, like the urge to lean forward and catch your wrist in his, just to see if your pulse is jumping, like his just did.

"i'll see you in a week, then."

you turn at the door, your eyes bright.

"but i haven't made another appointment."

sae blinks owlishly at you, the hard turquoise of his gaze sharpening beneath the florescent lighting.

"then make one."

you cock your head to the side; the corner of your lip twitches. then, you're turning and slipping through his door.

ta!sae who refreshes his calendar every 30 minutes for the next day and a half until he sees that you've finally made an appointment for the same time next week. and the week after. and, the week after that. he allows himself a tiny smile, turns his phone onto do not disturb, and does not check it again for the rest of that week.

ta!sae who pays a bit more attention to you in class, though not enough for any of the other students to notice. who lets his eyes linger on you, even though you never sit in the first row, whenever you look up from your notes, it's to find him watching you, though the second your eyes meet, he'll blink once, and turn away, going back to the lecture. and when you show up to your second appointment for his office hours, he's waiting for you, his fingers laced casually over his desk, his glasses perched on his nose.

you pause for a second by the door to admire the image -- sharp-tongued as he may be, reticent and even cold-shouldered, he still cuts a startling image, strawberry hair and ocean eyes, set off by the muted woods of the bookshelf behind him, the walnut grain of his desk, the piles of papers and books just a tad messier than one might expect of someone like him.

"come. sit."

you do, dropping into the seat opposite him and pressing your bag into your lap. a beat of silence. you point towards a small manila file on his desk.

"you gave me a b minus on the last pop quiz."

sae glances towards it before his eye slingshot back to you. it takes everything inside you not to shiver at the contact.

"yes, and?"

"i -- i don't think i deserved that grade."

he makes a soft noise and reaches over, tugging your quiz out with near surgical precision. he presses it to the table and flips it around, pushing it towards you, the red marks jarring against the white page, the black in, the faint grayscale of your penciled in answers.

"and why's that?"

"i --" you suck in a breath, "on question three, you marked me off, but my answer was correct. it was just a phrasing issue."

"hm. i appreciate you feel that way. i don't agree."

ta!sae who doesn't waste time arguing with you, but does take your complaints into account. the rest of your session is spent going over the notes from the previous class and clearing up any misunderstandings that might've sprung from the text. by the time you leave, you feel slightly better, but you pause by the door, glancing over your shoulder. you find him watching you, as you so often do nowadays.

"s-since you don't do grade adjustments... do you accept extra credit work?"

sae's eyes flicker with something so akin to hunger it makes your stomach flip. then again, it might've just been curiosity or incredulity, caught beneath the slant-wise light of the small, windowless office.

"no."

"oh... you... you wouldn't even consider it?"

he's quiet for a bit longer this time. then, he drops his eyes to the stack of papers on his desk.

"i'll see you next week."

ta!sae who gets used to seeing you on tuesday nights, for the last 30 minutes of his office hours. who lets you stay five minutes over, and then ten. and then one day, he glances at the clock, and it's almost 6pm. he purses his lips, lets his eyes flicker over the shape of you, scribbling in your notebook, an array of pastel-colored highlighters scattered across his usually meticulously organized desk.

"are you hungry?"

you glance up, your fingers pausing over your notes.

"oh, uh --"

"there's a pizza place around the corner."

you stare at him for a few seconds before your stomach growls and heat washes into your cheeks. you scramble to cram your study materials into your bag, blushing something furious as you smooth a palm over your skirt and stand up.

"y-yeah -- sounds good."

ta!sae who's quiet, watching you dig into your hawaiian pizza, who doesn't question it when you order banana peppers on the side and snack of them like they're french fries, though he does make a face when you ask him if he wants actual french fries.

"not a fan?" you ask, grinning as you take another bite of pizza. his eyes linger on the grease-slicked shine of your lips longer than it ought, before he takes a much smaller, dainty bite of his own.

"no." he offers no explanation, and you don't ask for one.

the next week, he doesn't ask if you're hungry. only stands up and motions for the door.

ta!sae who finds himself a little lost the first time he hears you laugh, the sound of it so bright, ringing through him, reverberating against his bones till he can feel it in his teeth. and not for the first time, he wonders what it might feel like to kiss you, to lick the pizza grease off yours lips, and if your mouth would taste like canned pineapples.

truthfully, he doesn't think he'd mind.

ta!sae who, when he does finally give into the urge and kiss you, it's a barely controlled thing, all teeth and barely-restrained hunger, and it's so much more passionate than you might expect that you jerk back a second later, wide eyes flickering between his as if looking for some kind of hidden explanation. he offers none, only drags you forward by the collar of your dress to meld your lips again, groans against the feeling of your lips on his, licks into your mouth till you're melting against him, hoists you bodily into his lap so you're straddling him proper, his fingers digging into the plush of your hips, trailing down to tease at the skin of your thighs --

"i -- i thought -- you didn't accept extra credit --" you pant, rolling your hips down just to watch his lashes flutter (and they're stupidly gorgeous, aren't they? he's known for them -- itoshi sae, of the unnecessarily long, perfect lashes).

he sucks in a breath, his palms planted on your hips as you rock yourself against him.

"i never said anything -- about extra credit."

ta!sae who is annoyingly stoic, even as you're working yourself into a frenzy in his lap, soaking through your panties, his slacks, and if not for the threadiness in his breath or the way you can feel his cock pulsing inside his pants, you'd almost miss how debauched he actually is on the inside. who grips your waist so hard you're sure you'll find the pale blue ghosts of his fingertips there the following morning (not that you mind), the crescent moon kisses of his nails as he helps you ride his cock over the thin material of his slacks.

ta!sae who, after he's finally had enough of all this foreplay, presses you down over his desk, papers and all, flipping up the hem of your skirt to tug aside your panties, the soft click of his belt coming undone making your shiver, but when you try to turn your head, all you feel is a palm against the back of your neck, his fingers curling around the sides --

"keep still --"

you stop your squirming, but you can't help the way you keen when he feel his cockhead pushing at your sodden folds, or the way your hips jerk forward when he sheaths himself inside you, the stretch of it making your eyes flutter shut, a groan twisting its way from your throat.

"f-fuck --" you gasp, the first time he pulls back and rucks forward again. you hear him hiss out a long breath, feel the pressure of his hand leave your neck, feel him trail his hand down the length of your spine to pull at your arms, locking them behind your back as he starts to fuck into you proper.

ta!sae who does not tell you to keep quiet, because he knows that it's late enough, and his office is the last one at the end of the hallway --

"no one's here this late, usually --" his voice is more level than you'd like; you clench down around him just to hear his breath stutter. but then he's bending over you, pressing his chest to the whole length of your back, pinning you beneath him, his voice hot by your ear as he murmurs --

"c'mon then, let me hear you."

ta!sae who is rougher than you'd expect, fucking you hard enough for the edge of the table to dig into your hips, the tenderness only heightening the pleasure as he leans back, the new angle making your eyes roll back. who yanks you up by your arms, uncaring to the way they strain as he jackhammers into you from behind, groaning low in his throat as he finally reaches his climax, pulling out only to paint the length of your back, right over your blouse, careless of the way you whine -- both at the loss of him and also the thought of him messing up your shirt.

"t-that's gonna stain!" you snipe, pouting as you glance over your shoulder at him, not quite able to muster a full glare, but you hope that you dissatisfaction comes across all the same.

he's a bit breathless, his cheeks a bit redder than usual, but otherwise, he looks stupidly normal for having just fucked you over his desk. he fixes you with a look before letting go of your arms.

"you brought a jacket, didn't you?"

ta!sae who hoists you up onto the desk as soon as you turn around, despite your squeak of surprise, dropping to his knees to bury his face between your thighs. you barely have time to yelp before the sound morphs into a gasp of pleasure as he licks a long strip up your cunt and shoves three fingers into you, curling them up till your vision fizzes out at the sides.

"oh fuck --!"

you glance down to see him watching you, his sea-glass eyes fixed on your face even as you reach down to fist your fingers in his hair, uncertain if you want to push him away for pull him closer.

ta!sae who eats you out with the tactical precision of a surgeon, till you're shaking open above him, rolling your hips into his face, your ass almost falling off the edge of the desk, and when he finally pulls away, your slick shining down his chin, he only licks his lips and reaches into a drawer for a pack of tissues, offering you one while taking the other to wipe at his face.

"i'll see you next week," he says, tossing the tissue away, even as you wiggle your panties back into place.

you let out a soft puff of incredulous laughter. he cocks his head, waiting for you to say something. you fix him with a long look before grinning and rolling your eyes, smoothing down the hem of your dress and picking up your book bag.

"yeah. see you then.

ta!sae who doesn't even startle when two days later, you storm into his office, well outside of his office hours, waving the paper he'd passed back that morning in class.

"you gave me a c plus?"

sae is unfazed by your apparent agitation, shrugging before lowering his eyes back to his book.

"you missed some key parts of the reading. if you bring it by next tuesday, we can go over the specific --"

"i've got your cumstains on the back of one of my favorite blouses!"

for a beat, sae is silent, considering your words. then, he looks up, tugging his glasses off his nose bridge and folding them carefully on his desk.

"they come out with a bit of baking powder and white vinegar. and i believe i made myself very clear at the beginning of term --" he slowly rolls up the sleeves of his white button up before folding his hands delicately on the table, right behind his glasses.

"i don't accept extra credit or any... supplementary work."

you lick your lips at the inflection in his tone, your cheeks flaring with heat.

"however."

you perk up as he glances at the clock on the wall, leaning back to pop the first button of his shirt.

"i do have some time before my next lecture --"

you feel a thrill tingle up your spine as you watch him pop the second button on his shirt with a casual flick of his thumb.

"... and if you'd like to discuss the things you missed, i might make an exception."

you raise your eyebrows, reaching back to shut the door behind you. the click of the lock makes your mouth water.

"to what," you ask, dropping your bookbag by the chair and rounding the table, leaning against the edge as sae's eyes skate down the length of you, lingering on the imprint of your bra peaking through your blouse, "the extra credit thing or your office hours."

the shadow of a grin twitches at sae's lips as he tugs you down into his lap.

"either, both. i suppose... you'll have to wait to find out."

[criminalminds4eva]

secret polaroids - spencer reid

summary: secretly dating your coworker, when it all coomes to light due to a blurry polaroid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

“wait, whos in the picture behind your phonecase?!”

doctor spencer reid, the genius with an eidetic memory, one of the fbi’s brightest minds, your coworker. who you’ve been secretly going out with for the last couple of months

it all happend over spilled coffee, you had been rushing over to the office, holding cups of coffee for the team working on a case out of town. as a new member of the team you wanted to make a good impression, hell maybe suck up to them a little.

so when you walk in the precint and spill the coffee all over your clothes, the work of a small town cop running into you, spencer offers to drive you to the hotel, to change into clean clothes.

“that was so embarrasing god what an idiot” you said covering your flushed face as spencer drove to the hotel

“the cop ran into you, besides you were doomed from the start carrying 8 cups of coffee in the same hand, and statistically speaking, it's actually quite common to spill coffee, especially when multitasking or under stress, the brain can only process a limited amount of information at once, which leads to small errors in motor control.” spencer looked over at you and chuckled

"you know it amazes me how much information you have stored up in your brain, i mean i know about the phd´s and everything but still its so amazing" you said looking over at him as he parked in front of the hotel, you can see his cheeks start to form a little red to them and naturally yours do too

and after that, a couple of weeks later full of small glances, smiles and of derek telling him how painfully obvious it was that he likes you and liked him. he asked you out

"you know people who share common interests and engage in meaningful conversation tend to form stronger connections and, well, i really enjoy talking with you, so i was wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me sometime? i promise i won’t ramble about statistics the entire time" he said as he tried to hide the blush in his face so the rest of the team wouldnt know what the both of you were talking about in your desk

"spence, id love nothing more than to hear you ramble over dinner"

one dinner became two then three, then you found yourself kissing him goodnight as he dropped at the door to your apartment

he leans in slightly, hesitating for a brief moment, as if calculating the perfect timing and then gently kisses you

"i really enjoyed tonight" you said after the kiss "would you like to come in for a drink?"

he pauses for a moment, trying to think clearly then says "id love too"

after a while you both end up getting wine drunk in your apartment floor, which leads to the decision of your bringing out your polaroid camera

"come on spence smile for the camera" you laughed trying to get him to take his hands off his face but he wouldnt so you snap the picture anyway

"alright enough, your turn" he said taking the camera from your hands and taking a couple of pictures of you.

he wobbles a little setting his wine glass down in the counter, eyes half-focused but full of affection. "you know,ive been thinking, well, not just tonight, but, like a lot. you’re amazing and smart, and funny, and so beautiful and i think your definetly out of my league and if i were to kiss you then go to hell, i would. so then i could brag to the devils i saw heaven without entering" He fumbles over his words, blinking slowly, but his sincerity is clear. "maybe you could, um, be my girlfriend? statistically, we’re, uh, compatible, and I think we could you know be really happy together what do you say?" he offers a lopsided smile, clearly a bit nervous despite the alcohol.

his rambling takes you back "did you just quote shakespeare to me?" you chuckled as you leaned in to kiss him once more

"is that a yes i take it?" he said kissing you back

"yes doctor reid, i want to be your girlfriend" his eyes wide open to your response, and for a moment hes speechless, he laughs nervously rubbing the back of his neck and grabs the camera once more

"come on we are taking our first official dating picture" he smiles shyly but brightly taking a blurry polaroid of the two of you in front of the mirror

the two of you knew it was better to keep the relationship private, spencer's face flushed when you mentioned the thought of how derek would tease him, or how he wouldnt hear the end of it from garcia being all happy for the both of you. knowing they wouldnt do it to harm either of you but since this was quite new and being coworkers, you decided to keep it private but not a secret. the team knew spencer was seeing someone, emily said his face seemed brighter and suddenly he couldnt stay overtime to finish the files jj had sneeked him in his desk. and they knew you were seeing someone too since garcia said she caught you smiling while you were texting, they hoped you guys were seeing each other but since neither of you ever mentioned the date or maybe it was the fact that you really were able to mantain a professional front while working, they hadnt been able to fully catch on that you were dating spencer

that was until you decided to put the blurry polaroid of the night he asked you to be his girlfriend behind your phone case

"wait who's in the picture behind your phone case?" penelope squealed with exciment catching the attention of the rest of the team

"is that your boyfriend y/n, do i officially have no chance with you" chuckled derek leaning against your desk as you nervously took your phone from garcia

"oh come on now she will tell us when she wants too" emily approached then took your phone from your hands "besides you cant really tell who it is in the picture" as she looked at the picture trying to figure it out despite your efforts to take the phone from her hands.

derek stood beside her also looking at the picture "hey but doesnt it kind of look like.."

"morning what are we looking at" spencer appeared at your desk, his face blushing when he saw the picture emily and derek were looking at, they looked at spencer, then looked at you burying your face in your hands

"oh my god, no way really?!?" garcia said with a bright smile "doctor love oh my god i cant belive it" she said hugging spencer

"so i guess the cat is out of the bag huh?" you said looking at spencer

"you owe me 20 bucks i told you they were dating" emily said playfully punching derek in the shoulder

"wait you guys had bets on this" spencer said laughing nervously letting go of the hug with garcia

"well pretty boy we didnt actually think you would even ask her out how long has this been going on for" said morgan looking playfully hurt "baby girl let them breathe" he said pulling garcia from you

"a couple of months" you mentioned letting go of the hug with a cheesy smile

"alright, we have a case" said rossi joining the team by your desk. the team grins weider as they notice spencer blushing as he stands next to you "were really happy, for the both of you" said derek as they started to walk away. you get up from your desk following the team and squeeze your boyfriends hand, a signal that all was well

"did you really think we wouldnt figure it out?" rossi raised his eyebrows as he looked at spencer watching walk away while the team playfully teased you "im happy for you kid" rossi patted him on the back

spencer shakes his head with a half-laugh trying to hide the blush in his face as they joined everyone.

⋆｡°✩

a/n: feedback would be super appreciated, i hoped you enjoyed reading <33

[xosamioo]

Can you do a riki fic where the members give him and reader the talk but thay have already had sex

“𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤”

Idol bf! Riki x enha members x female Reader

WC: 700

Very unserious and chaotic.

“So… we need to talk about something important,” said Heeseung, sitting down on the long couch in the living room. The rest of the members and you sat in the other seats beside him. There was a serious and almost somber look on his face as he glanced towards Riki sitting right beside you. Riki glanced to the side before returning his gaze to the boy who sat before him on the couch. “Sure… what is it?” he asked, his expression and voice also becoming serious.

The rest of the boys either stared at him or you, none of them saying a word. It was as if they were waiting for one person in particular to speak up and start the conversation. Finally, Jake leaned forward on his seat, his hands clasped together. “We all need to talk to you about something serious. It's about you and y/n,” he said, his tone serious. Riki slowly nodded. “Okay, what is it?” he asked, confused about what this could be all about.

“It's just…” started Jay, pausing for a moment, “We have all noticed that you both have been extremely close with one another lately,” he said, his eyes looking deep into Riki's. Riki shifted his gaze to you, then back to the boys. “Yeah. So? She’s my girlfriend”

“That’s exactly what we need to talk about,” said Jay. “I think you know what we’re talking about.” the other members nodded along. Riki sat there, still confused for a moment before realization slowly hit him he began to connect the dots and realize what this conversation was all about and laughed out loud.

“Oh… oh, you’re talking about “that”?” he said, laughing again. The tension in the room was starting to loosen as Riki knew exactly what the boys were getting at. Heeseung sighed. “Yes... we are,” he said, rubbing his forehead.

“Seriously? We all need to have “that” talk?” Riki said, sitting back on the couch, leaning his head against the wall behind him. “Come on. We’re both adults, you guys don't need to give us ‘the talk.’” He said, using air quotes.

Jake shook his head. “adults or not you both are still teens” he said, his voice serious again.

Riki rolled his eyes, “Please... We’re 18. We know what we’re doing.”

“I don’t think you do.” said Heeseung, “That’s actually what all of this is about.” the rest of the members nodded in agreement.

Riki chuckled slightly “You think we haven’t already done “that”?” he asked, his tone nonchalant as ever looking over to you. “Riki you little-” you smacked his arm

The rest of the members either groaned or face palmed in a sort of disappointed but not surprised way “Bro for real?” asked Jungwon, looking over at him. Riki nodded. “Yup.” he said, casually leaning his arms on the back of the couch, “I told y’all there wasn’t a need for ‘the talk’.” Jungwon said shaking his head “Ight I’m out but use protection please don’t be more irresponsible than you already are”

Jay and Sunghoon got up out of their seats. “Ugh, I can’t believe you did-“ Jay said, putting his hands on his hips in a sort of “mom” like fashion, “Oh god-“ said Sunghoon, he buried his face into his hands as he turned and walked out of the room. The room was left with Sunoo, Jake, Heeseung, You, and Riki sunoo was just enjoying the show laughing with Jake, and Heeseung just looked traumatized.

“Jake sighed clapping his hands and standing up walking to his room “Well riks don’t forget to pull out”

“JAKE!” Heeseung yelled out plugging his ears and running away. “we didn’t need to know that!” Sunoo was leaning against the side of the couch laughing.

“You’re all useless man,” Riki said shaking his head, Sunoo was cackling at the other member's reactions. “god I hate you,” you said rolling your eyes at Riki

“Oh come on,” he said moving his arm down to wrap around your waist and pull you closer to him.

“You have no shame I swear” You shook your head looking at him.

“Never said I was sorry,” he said as he pulled you closer facing him and gently kissing your lips

You sighed and kissed back, Sunoo stopped laughing and fake gagged in the corner leaving to his room.

—————————————————————————

Author note: LOL I hope you guys enjoy this short one!! Thanks for 200+ followers 🫶

© xosamioo 2024 do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[prongsx]

who are your boyfriend?

Even though you talk a lot about your sweet boyfriend, people don't understand the sign.

Warnins: English is not my first language, there will probably be mistakes, I'm more grammatically correct in my language I swear lol, f!reader, just a silly idea I had.

You're a person who talks a lot about your boyfriend, not that it's your intention to show him off or look like you're obsessed with him (maybe a little), but still, it seems inevitable to quote Jason Todd in your social circles, especially in the work.

It's a good work environment, your colleagues are nice, and you like to be communicative. However, the new co-worker, Adam, seems to be a little too friendly, your colleagues have already noticed this, but you dont notice this, lost in your own thoughts about your boyfriend.

The thing is, Adam has concluded that your boyfriend is an idiot, he listens to you talking about him, and the only conclusion he can draw is that you're dating a stupid nerd who lives in his mother's basement. It started weeks ago when you arrived with a jar of colorful cookies, offering it to your colleagues with a silly smile and saying.

"Jaybean did, does anyone want it? It's his grandfather's recipe"

Adam laughed internally at that. It wasn't right, you were too pretty to date such a weird guy who was definitely supposed to be short, skinny and silly, what kind of man cooked colored cookies? Or even worse, let yourself be called a "jaybean"?

The next day, he overheard you talking to your friend, in a worried tone, about how your boyfriend was about having physically fought with his younger brother, which only added to the comical image Adam had of his boyfriend. Definitely the guy was a banana. What kind of guy would let his little brother hit him?

Around the football season, Adam decided to show you what a real man was and ask you out, showing you the tickets he got. He called you a doll, which you registered with a slight frown.

"um, thanks Adam, but my boyfriend doesn't like football very much. And this week we're going to an arts fair in New York."

Adam let out a stilted giggle that you didn't seem to notice, the thoughts of him again calling your boyfriend stupid. Seriously, art fair? Didn't like sports?

There were other, clearer signs of how pathetic your boyfriend was, according to Adam, like when you commented that he had sewn a blouse of yours. (you didn't say that Jaosn's talent with sewing came from the fact that he sewed his battle wounds himself). Or when you called him cute nicknames.

Adam wanted to show you what he really wanted to date a guy, a real man, who had muscuslos and knew how to beat someone to protect you.

The fuse for Adam was when he approached your desk and saw a book by Jane Austen and asked, avoiding making a face at such a syrupy book.

"Do you like classics, doll?"

You looked up from the computer where you typed, a slight smile on your lips as you stared at the book brevmenete.

"A little. My boyfriend likes it, so I promised I'd try to read it. I prefer fiction books"

Adam's face drooped, you were really dating a stupid guy, you deserved to meet a real man. He rested his hands on your desk and puffed out his chest.

"You know, doll, you can get more."

You blinked your eyes limply, confused.

"Excuse me?"

"There are men… for real."

There was an arrogant smile on Adam, which you didn't like, not at all. Your posture became tense, prepared to reject him, by hook or by crook. But a voice, hoarse and thick, woke you both from the uncomfortable exchange of looks.

"Am I getting in the way?"

Adam turned, his eyes narrowing at the sight. There was a tall guy, much taller than himself, who even in a leather jacket could see his muscles. The guy had messy black hair and scars that gave him a tough look, even his blue eyes seemed like a warning, a warning to stay away. Adam was about to ask what he was doing there when your voice came out loud and contented.

"Jaybird!"

Adam stood still, his mouth wide open as that intimidating man gave you a soft smile and squeezed your waist, a chaste kiss on the forehead. By no means was that guy stupid of your boyfriend.

"That's adam," you said, a half-annoyed expression on my face, which softened when she turned her eyes to Jason.

Jason just gave Adam a suspicious look, not bothering to spend time with him before grabbing your bag and giving you another kiss on the cheek, whispering.

"Ready to go, honey?"

You nodded, smiling. Saying goodbye with a slight nod to Adam, as you told for your sweet, gentle boyfriend about your day, whose acts were what really drew you in.

Just a silly thing I thought about while analyzing the things that betrayed me about Jason. Adam is just one of those guys who think women are attracted to things that – they – think should attract them. Jason is just a grandpa's little boy who has learned how to be a gentleman right under that rough surface.

[psychemochanight]

✨Incorrect quotes✨

(Except they are real conversations that I or my friends had).

Wally: I'm going to kill myself.

Dick: Same.

Wally: ... Figuratively speaking, right?

Dick: Literally.

Wally: I'm calling your therapist.

Dick: You don't know my therapist.

Wally: Well, I'm gonna find them and then call them!

Dick: What's life without a little of risk?

Donna: A longer life.

Dick: ...

Dick: Who needs to live so long?

Random Socialite: You are just like your dad (Bruce). His genes must be strong.

Literally any of the Wayne kids (minus Damian): I'm adopted.

Tim, after going back to drinking natural fruit juice instead of five cans of Monster: I feel nutritious.

Bruce, after being told how handsome Dick is by like five people; completely confident and proud: Yeah, he got it from me.

Dick: I'm literally adopted.

Dick: The only thing I got from you is an addiction to using expensive sheets.

Tim, listening to loud music, knowing Jason was there and wanting to annoy him:

Jason, completely fed up with the world: TURN OFF YOUR MUSIC IT'S TOO HOT OUTSIDE.

Tim:

Tim: And what the hell does that have to do with it??? *proceeds to turn up the volume*

Annoying math teacher: Okay, students, do your math...

Dick: Do we do it mentally or can we use the calculator?

Teacher: Do it mentally with the calculator.

Dick, and probably the rest of the class: ???

Tim: I slept for 14 hours and I'm still sleepy.

Jason: Wtf. And I thought that sleeping 10 hours was a lot.

Damian: I don't know how you sleep more than 8 hours, you are lazy.

Steph: Let them enjoy their sleep. I can't even sleep 6 hours because of college.

Cass: 4 hours. Take it or leave it.

Bruce: At least you sleep more than 2 hours.

Dick: What the fuck did sleep mean?

Tim: I failed the natural sciences exam.

Dick: How? You said it was one of the easiest subjects.

Tim: It is!

Dick: So?

Tim: ...

Tim: I put "solar ecosystem" on the exam.

Steph: When I was little, we had to sweep the classroom at school, and since I hated sweeping, I pretended I didn't know how to do it.

Steph: Then, a classmate who always wanted to be superior, made fun of me, grabbed the broom and started sweeping for me.

Steph: She stayed sweeping the whole recess and I was able to go out and play without doing anything.

Dick: I'm so fucking proud of you.

Duke: What are you doing on the floor?

Dick, overstimulated because there is too much shit going: Floor time.

Barbara: You're autistic.

Barbara: Artist, I mean. Sorry, the phone's autocorrect.

Dick: We are having a face-to-face conversation.

(This is a bit lost in English, but in Spanish the words are "artista" and "autista", and they sound and are written in a similar way.)

Tim: Can we go to the sun if we go at night?

Duke: I swear they told me you were smart.

Damian: Who lied to you that way?

Steph: Which Hogwarts house would you be?

Dick: According to the test, I'm a Hufflepuff.

Steph: I've seen you angry.

Dick: Have you ever seen an angry honey badger?

Steph: ... Good point.

Dick: I take pills, everyday, so that I don't kill myself. 🎶

Roy: I'm dragging you to the psychologist right now.

Dick: We need an adult.

Garth: We are adults.

Dick: Responsible adults.

Roy: Normally you are the responsible adult.

Dick:

Dick: How the fuck are we still alive?

[celandeline]

The Throne Was Meant For Us, My Dear

Aemond x Targaryen!Reader, mostly canon compliant (yes, people are still dying/getting maimed), heavy on the smut, incest (they are targaryens, obv), a little angst

9.5k words (buckle up)

You were born at the end of a long summer’s day, just as the last sliver of sun was sinking below the waves of the bay. Your sister was born on the same day, just after the sun had completely disappeared below the horizon. Twin Targaryen girls, Helaena and Jaenara, the second and third of Alicent Hightower’s children. 

The summer has always held a special place in your heart - not only because of your nameday, but because of the way the heat of the day lingers in the air long after the sun has set. The sound of a warm breeze as it rustles through the courtyard flowers, spreading the lovely floral scent. The feeling of the sun on your skin - the taste of fresh fruit grown outside the city. You’ve always loved the summer. You love it especially now, the only thing making this godforsaken funeral bearable. 

Next to you, Aegon snags two more glasses of wine from a passing serving girl, handing one to you with a limp wrist and a sigh. He downs half his glass in one long draught. “I don’t understand why Helaena.” He grumbles, gesturing to where she sits on the ground with his glass, the wine sloshing inside. “If I must marry at all, why not you?”

You take a long sip from your own glass, leaning back against the store railing overlooking the sea. Driftmark, while much more drab than the Red Keep, has one thing going for it - the pleasant smell of salt in the air, and the sound of the waves against the shore. “Our mother thinks that if we were to be wed, I would enable you.” You say. 

Aegon snorts, finishing off his drink. “As if Helaena will do anything to stop me from my hedonistic desires.” He jokes, quoting Alicent. “If it’s not to do with grasshoppers, it’s not to do with her.”

You neglect to snicker along with him, simply pressing your lips to the rim of your glass as you watch your dear sister pass a spider back and forth between her hands, muttering under her breath. She’s always been something of a dreamer, your Helaena, something the rest of your family doesn’t seem to notice. But you, always in tune to your sister from the moment you were born, know. Threads of omniscience run through her mutterings, though deciphering them sometimes is beyond you. 

“Some could say the same about you, with wine and whores.” You say, glancing knowingly at Aegon. “We all have our compulsions - some worse than others.”

“I only jest.” Aegon says, defensive. You can tell he’s getting drunker, his movements becoming more loose, his words louder. 

“Hm.” You finish your glass, setting the empty cup on the railing beside you. “Is it truly in jest if you are the only one laughing?”

“Perhaps it is better that I marry Helaena instead of you.” Aegon says, leaning close enough that you can smell the wine on his breath. “You do have a way of inciting my annoyance, Jaenara. No, I do not think you would make a good wife.”

You lean even closer, all too ready to play Aegon’s game. Your teeth scrape over his ear as you retort, “No, you’ve always liked the ones who won’t fight back, haven’t you?”

The tension breaks as Aegon laughs, tossing his head back as he steps away, putting a respectable amount of distance between you again. You chuckle as well, until another voice - softer, younger - cuts through your chortling. Aemond.

“What’s funny?”

Aegon, not subtle at all, rolls his eyes. “Nothing.”

“We were just discussing Aegon’s betrothal.” You say, shifting so that Aemond can lean against the railing beside you. You’ve never understood Aegon’s disdain for your baby brother - something your nephews seem to share. “Or rather,” You cast a joking look to Aegon. “Aegon was complaining about it.”

“‘Tis your duty.” Aemond says, ever so serious. 

Aegon rolls his eyes again, gesturing widely at Helaena. “Look at her.”

“Aegon-” You start.

“I would do my duty, if only mother had betrothed us.” Aemond retorts. 

Aegon flaps a hand. “The both of you.” He dismisses, eyes scanning through the thin crowd. “I’m going to get more wine.” And with that, he’s gone, sliding between chatting relatives in the wake of a serving girl, chasing after the wine she carries. 

You place a hand atop Aemond’s head with a sigh, gently carding it through the silky silver hair there. “He can be such an ass, our brother.”

Aemond looks up at you with a thin smile. “Mm.”

The blood on your hands is not yours, but your brothers, smeared across your forearms from when you’d clutched his face in your hands, holding closed the gash across his eye with your thumbs as the maester stitched the wound back together. Now, he smears tears and snot across the bodice of your gown, the good side of his face pressed against the thin fabric of your nightclothes as he clutches you with shaking hands. 

Your mother is screaming. Aegon is huddled against the wall of the room, no doubt already suffering a hangover from how much he drank. Helaena stands to your left, her eyes fixed on the wall behind the scene before her, gaze absent. You watch in horror as your mother wields a knife against Rhaenyra, spitting insults like venom. Ser Cole is pressed almost chest to chest with Daemon. Your little nephew, Lucerys’ face is bloodied. 

You have no idea what happened. But Aemond is missing an eye. And Vhagar is now his dragon, instead of Laena’s daughters. You knew - known, now - that his lack of a dragon had always been a sore spot for Aemond, but you never would have guessed that he would go to such drastic measures to claim a beast of his own. And Vhagar, no less. 

You expect him to cry, to whimper in pain, to react, but he just holds onto the gauzy fabric of your nightdress and keeps the unmarred side of his face pressed close to your chest. Hiding, almost. 

You soothe a hand down his back, pressing him closer. “It’ll be alright.” You say, your voice lost amongst the carrying on. It won’t be. He’ll be scarred forever, he’ll have to re-learn how to walk, how to write, how to do anything that requires vision. It’ll take him years to recover fully. 

“I know.” He says, voice soft. Level. Even. 

And it’s his calm reassurance that makes you believe your own words. It will be alright, one way or another. 

Hand in hand, you walk your brother through the halls of the Red Keep, towards the training yards, for his swordsmanship lessons. Servants and nobles alike avert their eyes as you pass, some out of respect, some out of disgust. It’s true - the scar across Aemond’s face is nothing delightful to look at, a motley of yellow and purple swollen skin, the scabs leaking pus. But you do not look away. He is your brother, and he receives enough torment from Aegon already. 

He clutches your hand tightly, holding it like a bannister as he puts one foot in front of the other, his good eye steadfastly looking ahead. Sometimes his balance sways (especially around turns or on the steps) but he’s getting better. “You’ll be able to come and go as you please again soon.” You say, not bothering to hide the pride in your tone. 

He scoffs. “I can’t stay a cripple forever.”

Aemond was never sweet. But the loss of his eye has only soured him more. You roll your eyes, teasing, “You’d do well to save your bitterness for someone who’s not capable of causing you to fall down the stairs at a moment's notice.”

It’s supposed to be a joke, but he doesn’t laugh. “Apologies, sister.” He mumbles.

You sigh. “I only joke, Aemond.” Aegon has ruined him, picking at all of his insecurities without remorse until he bristles at the slightest hint of humor, thinking an insult is coming. 

His good eye shifts away from the hall in front of him for a moment to cast you a sidelong glance. 

“Not all of us are Aegon.” You insist, rounding the corner with him to step outside into the afternoon sunlight. Ser Cole is already waiting, whirling his sword from hand to hand idly as Aegon straps himself into his practice armor. Aemond lets go of your hand as soon as he sees Aegon, taking shaky steps onto the field proper, alone. 

Aegon pays him no mind, his gaze falling on you. “Jaenara. Come help me.”

“Your lack of manners is appalling.” You say, walking over to him anyway, taking the leather straps of his breastplate from him and tightening them over his shoulders. “What would mother say?”

Aegon just grins. “Meet me tonight.” He says, his voice dropping into a more conspiratorial register. He doesn’t have to say where - you’ve snuck out with him before. You know the route. “A traveling troupe has arrived in Flea Bottom, supposedly.”

“Sunset?” You ask, dropping your hands from the straps on his shoulders to the ones near his waist. 

“Mm.” He watches you work, still grinning. 

“Alright.” You say, stepping back. 

His grin widens into a smile as he twirls his sword. “What fun we’ll have.”

The sun has begun to light the sky when you stumble back into the Red Keep with Aegon, giggling under your hoods as you sneak past the white cloaks back to your chambers. Really, it can barely be called sneaking anymore - you know they see you return, you know they saw you leave. The only reason they don’t trail you through the streets of the city is because Alicent doesn’t know, and hasn’t ordered them to, so why do the extra work? 

You sway into Aegon’s shoulder as you walk, all the wine that you drank making your head spin. Taking you by the arm, he only makes it worse as he begins to waltz you down the hall, jauntily humming the same tune you’d been dancing to in a tavern earlier. Laughing like a fool, you tip your head back and let him dance you about, until he deposits you against the wall by your bedroom door, caging you in against the stone. 

You know he’s going to kiss you - he always does, at the end of the night. Gently, he presses his lips to yours, and you smile into it. He doesn’t kiss you like he kisses his whores - nor do you kiss him as you do yours. It’s a chaste thing, only a moment before you’re both pulling back to look at each other. 

“As sweet as wine.” He whispers.

“Mm.” You bite your lip in a grin. “Goodnight, Aegon.”

“Good morning.” He giggles, pushing away from the wall to stumble back to his own bed. 

You slip into your own room, dropping your cloak and dress from your shoulders, one after the other, as soon as you are inside. Just in your shift, you turn to flop into the soft comfort of your bed, only to see a lump under the covers that wasn’t there when you left. Slowly, you peel back the sheets to reveal Aemond, face pressed into your pillow, soundly asleep. 

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips as you climb into bed beside him, doing your best not to disturb his slumber. He stirs anyway though, good eye cracking open with a jolt, softening when he realizes it’s you. Extending an arm, you make space for him to curl up against your chest, and he does, tucking his face under your chin.

“You were with Aegon.” It’s mildly accusatory, but mostly sleepy.

“Mm.” You don’t deny it, stroking a hand through Aemond’s hair. “And you were here. In my bed.” You press your nose to the top of his head. “What troubles you, Aemond?”

“My eye.” He says. “The pain. It’s more than just the skin, it… it stabs me through the skull, sometimes. Makes it hard to fall asleep.”

“We will see the maesters in the morning.” You say, still gently stroking. “Perhaps they will be able to come up with some tincture to soothe you.”

He lets out a sleepy little hum, and settles more against you. Your own eyes flutter shut, and your stroking hand moves to wrap around his shoulders instead. It’s quiet, for a while, and for a moment you think he’s drifted off, but then,

“Will you take me with you, once?”

“To Flea Bottom?”

“Mm.”

You pause for a moment. “If you wish. Perhaps when you’re a bit older.”

“How old?”

“At least as old as I was when Aegon first took me with him.”

“And how old was that?”

You smile into his hair. “Give it a year.”

“Mm. Alright.”

The quality of Aemond’s eye improves drastically over the course of a year, so that by the time he dons his own cloak and takes to the streets of King’s Landing with you and Aegon, it almost blends into his face. The scar is a long pale thing that trails down his cheek, and the only part of the injury that escapes the eyepatch. Under the shadow of his hood, it’s barely noticeable. 

He trails a half-step after you and Aegon, clearly unsure. You don’t blame him, it’s quite a change from within the walls of the Red Keep, but an exhilarating one at that. Arm in arm, you and Aegon lead the way, moving smoothly through the crowds to one of your favorite haunts, a little brothel tucked away near the edge of the city. 

You can hear the sounds of pleasure emanating from within before you even step foot in the building, and the area around the door is crowded with hangers-on, men who can’t pay their whores dues. Aegon pushes through them all easily, and you glance back to make sure Aemond isn’t lost before following him inside. 

The place reeks of incense, barely covering the smells of sweat and sex, but it’s familiar to you. On instinct, your eyes scan the crowd of the main chamber, searching for your favorite whore, a beauty named Falyse with long lashes and plump lips. You can feel Aemond pull closer to you in the presence of such debauchery, and you glance down at him again, to find him already looking at you. 

“This is a brothel.” He says.

“Aye.” You grin, glancing at Aegon. 

Aegon smiles wide, clapping Aemond on the shoulder. “Tonight is the night that you become a man, brother! Your first taste of the best pleasure the world can offer.”

Catching sight of a familiar shock of black hair, you turn, meeting Falyse’s eyes through the throngs of men. “I must take my leave.” You say, petting Aemond’s head. “But you are in good hands with Aegon. And I won't be far.”

“Alright.” Aemond says. He’s still unsure, clearly, but there’s no time for hesitation once Aegon’s swept Aemond up in his frenzy. You slip away, weaving through the writhing bodies until you reach the other side of the room, where Falyse is pouring a glass of wine for another patron. She’s barely clothed, so you can feel the goosebumps that rise when you snake an arm around her middle and rest your chin on her shoulder. 

“Princess.” She greets you with a sultry purr. 

“My lady.” You return, laying your lips in the junction of her neck. “I’ve missed you so.” 

She’s quick to pull you away from the main room, behind a thick curtain to an empty bed. It’s a familiar dance that you do - she makes a show of ridding you of your clothes, running her soft hands up and down your body until you’re dripping. Then she lays her mouth on you - her wonderful mouth that could pull honey from even the most stalwart of noble women. She never lets you rest with only one peak, no she delights in working as many from you as she can, until you’re pushing her away. Then it’s your turn to return the favor, licking at her until her sweet moans fill the air and you can feel her clenching around your tongue. You’ve earned her devotion in that way - on more than one occasion, she’s confessed that no man has ever thought of her pleasure, on their own. 

“Well, I am no man.” You’d responded. 

It’s an exhausting affair, this dance, so it often ends with you curled around her on the bed, listening to her share the latest gossip of the smallfolk whilst you twist her hair into intricate braids, the kind only Targaryens wear, a sign she’s been with royalty. You’ve just finished your handiwork, laughing along to a story about the smallest cock she’s ever seen, when the curtains part, and Aemond slips into the room, clearly close to tears. 

Immediately you sit up, paying no mind to the fact that you’re completely bare. “What’s wrong?”

Holding back tears, he hesitates for a moment before climbing into your lap, pressing his face between your breasts with a shaky sigh. You clutch him to you, guilt and regret sinking into your heart. Too young. He’s always been more sensitive than you, or Aegon, you should have waited to include him in your revelry. Too young, too young. 

Falyse sits up as well, raising a questioning brow. You shake your head, and run your fingers down your brother’s back. For a while, the room is silent as Aemond’s breathing calms, and then he pulls his face away, sliding out of your lap to sit next to you instead. Looking down, he hides behind long curtains of hair, but not before you catch a glimpse of his expression. Shame.

Gently, you break the silence. “Aemond, this is my friend, Falyse. Falyse, my dear brother.”

Falyse smiles warmly, peering underneath Aemond’s hair. “A pleasure to meet you, my prince.”

“You must tell him what you were telling me.” You say. “Oh, it’s hilarious, Aemond, you must listen.”

He perks up slightly, as Falyse starts her story again - and she does get him to laugh, but the hurt doesn’t leave his eyes, and the guilt begins to pool in your stomach. 

The sapphire is weighty in the pocket of your gown, and bounces heavy against your leg as you rise from the dinner table, dipping your head towards your father before you take your leave, following your siblings out of the hall. Aemond’s nameday feast was a small affair, per request of the prince, and he only received books from both of your parents - leatherbound histories of Valyria that look entirely too large in his little arms as he carries them back to his bedroom. 

“Aemond.”

He turns at the sound of your voice, and you pluck one of the books from his hold, tucking it under your arm. With your other hand, you pull the sapphire from your pocket, and hold your closed fist out to him. “Here.”

Looking at you curiously, he holds out a hand, and you drop the sapphire into it. “A sapphire.” He says. 

“For your eye.” You explain. “I had the masons fashion it so that you can slide it into the socket. I thought it might suit you.” Jokingly, you add, “And perhaps improve your standing with the court ladies.”

He huffs out a little laugh, examining the gemstone with a careful eye. “Thank you Jaenara.”

You smile, reveling in the first laugh you’ve won from him in a very long time.

Ser Cole and Aemond behind you, you lead them through the streets of Flea Bottom in the early morning light. It feels like a bit of a betrayal, showing them all of Aegon’s usual haunts, but the situation is dire, and your brother needs to be found. Your father is dead, and it was his dying wish, your mother said, for Aegon to be king. 

The brothel looks different in the daylight, drab and empty. Gathering your skirts in one hand, you bound up the steps to the door and bang the heavy knocker twice on the wood. With any luck, you can get a hold of Falyse - if Aegon was here last night, she will let you know, free of charge. 

It is not Falyse that answers the door, but the brothel Madame, Sylvi. A familiar face to you, albeit one that you have not had the pleasure of knowing under more intimate circumstances. Her eyes scan over your face, and then Aemond and Cole behind you. Stooping into a short curtsy, she asks. “And what can I do for you, my lady?”

“I am looking for my brother.” You say. 

“He seems to be behind you-”

“My other brother. Aegon.” You clarify. “Was he here last night?”

“I’m afraid not.” She says. 

You turn back to face your companions. Cole sighs, glancing around the streets like he might spot Aegon passed out in the mud. Aemond’s eye is on the Madame, a mixture of contempt and something else stirring in his gaze. 

“Where else, then?” Cole asks. 

“I don’t know.” You wrack your mind, tracing through all of the taverns and brothels you frequent with your brother, all places that you’ve stopped before arriving here, all with the same result. “This was the last place I could think of.”

Cole swears under his breath. 

Aemond breezes back down the steps, his mouth set in a determined line. “He must be somewhere. Come, we will try the fighting pits next.”

You murmur your thanks to the Madame before following after Aemond and Cole, worry sinking into your gut. Leave it to Aegon to get swallowed up by the city when the realm needs him most. 

Meleys’ breath washes over you as you stare down the dragon’s maw, expecting to see the glow of fire any moment, signaling your end. There is no time for action - in the few seconds you would have before flame reached you, there is no way you could reach your own dragon, Vermithor, to have any hope of combatting Rhaenys. Instead, you grasp Helaena’s arm and try to ignore how your hands shake. 

Aemond steps in front of the both of you, obscuring your view of Rhaenys atop her dragon with one hand on his sword. As if something as feeble as that will do anything against a dragon. 

You wait, feeling your sister with whom you shared your mother’s womb tremble underneath your grasp. 

You wait, watching Aemond’s shoulders rise and fall with each breath in front of you.

You wait, watching as your mother steps in front of Aegon, one hand wrapped around his wrist like a vice. 

A tidal wave of relief floods through you as Rhaenys pulls at the reins, and Meleys backs off, slipping through the doors of the dragonpit just before they swing closed, casting the room into semi-darkness. Alive. You’re alive - as is Helaena, and Aemond and Aegon. All of you, alive. You watch your mother almost fall to her knees as the relief washes through her, and then you are wrapped up in Helaena’s arms as she crushes herself to your chest. You return the hug with vigor, your eyes finding Aemond’s over her shoulder. 

Alive. Alive. Alive.

Something is happening. They’ve been locked in the small council chamber even since Aemond returned from Storm’s End. It’s been hours since your brother dismounted Vhagar, soaked to the bone and looking more shaken than you’ve ever seen him. You have no idea what happened, or what’s being discussed. Now, more than ever, you curse not being born a man. 

Still, there is nothing to do but wait. 

So you do, steeping in the burning hot waters of Aemond’s bathtub, idly flipping with damp fingers through a series of poems you’d found in your great-grandfather Jaehaerys’s saddlebag when you’d claimed his dragon. Some of them you recognize as things he’d copied from other poets, some are his own musings about his wife, Alysanne. He wasn’t half bad, in your opinion. 

You snap the booklet closed as the door to the bathroom opens, and Aemond slips inside, still dressed in his soaked riding leathers. He stills when he lays eyes on you, obviously not expecting anyone to have been waiting for him. But you just smile, and set your book aside. 

“I had them draw a bath.” You say. “I figured you would want a soak, after flying in the rain. Scalding, of course.”

He smiles, and starts on the buttons of his overcoats, the fabric falling to the floor with a wet slap. His trousers are next, and then his eyepatch, set on top of your book before he slides into the bath behind you with a sigh, his head falling back against the edge of the tub. 

“Very thoughtful of you, sister.” He says, eye fluttering shut. 

“Mm.” You turn around in the tub, collecting a rag that you’d draped over the side and dipping it into the hot water, beginning to run it over his skin that isn’t submerged. For a moment, the only sounds are the echoes of droplets falling back into the tub as you wash him, until you speak again. “What business kept you in council so long?”

A tension settles in his jaw. “Lucerys Velaryon was also at Storm’s End.”

“You failed to win their allegiance?” You ask, surprised. 

“No. Lord Borros was easily won when I promised myself to one of his daughters.” You brother opens his eye. “But Lucerys is dead, at my hand.”

You set the rag aside, your mind spinning. Lucerys, dead. As if things weren’t already pointing towards all out war after your father changed his mind about the succession. “How?”

Something in his expression shifts and for a moment, he looks like he’s about to burst into tears. “Vhagar.” He says, his voice cracking slightly. “I only meant to scare him, but she knows my anger… I cannot pretend that I did not fantasize about killing him. I did not think that she would…” He swallows, collecting himself. “Our mother is less than pleased with me.”

“Our mother could never understand the bond between dragon and rider.” You say, consoling. You lay a hand gently on his face, over his scar, and run your thumb under the sapphire that sits in his eye. “You cannot be blamed for your anger at the boy who maimed you. Vhagar cannot be blamed for sharing that sentiment.” You pause. “It is a regrettable accident. And I am sorry for Rhaenyra and her children.”

He takes a shaky breath before wrapping his arms around your middle, and pressing his face into your shoulder, holding you to him as tightly as possible. Already wet from the bath, the few tears he sheds onto your skin make no difference. You say nothing, but pick up a comb from the short table beside the tub and begin to work it through his hair. 

You wake up to a sharp pain in the side of your neck, like the skin has been sliced open. One hand flies to the wound, and the other slips under your mattress, pulling the long dagger you keep there free of its sheath in a smooth motion. You sit up, the knife brandished before you, only to find your bedroom empty, the only motion being that of the curtains fluttering from the breeze of your open window. 

You pull your other hand away from your neck, expecting to see blood. Your palm is blank, the skin unmarred. In the reflection of your blade, you inspect your neck, only to find nothing. A phantom wound, perhaps from a dream. Anyone else would have simply gone back to sleep. But this is not the first time you and your sister have shared each other’s injuries. 

You rise quickly, knife still in hand as you dart from your chambers, heading down the hall at a quick clip. It’s eerily empty - not a white cloak in sight. Something is wrong, you’re sure of it, the echo of your footsteps on the stone only serving to further put you on edge as you approach the nursery. The door stands ajar, flickering candlelight seeping out into the hall from within. 

Slowly, carefully, you peer around the door. The room is empty - silent. The door creaks as you edge your way inside, turning to glance at the children’s beds. It is then that you see it - the headless body of your nephew, blood still seeping out of the stump of his neck into his bedsheets. Your blood runs ice cold, and then burning hot as rage fills you. Your gaze drops to the blood spatters on the floor, little droplets lead out into the hall. 

Readjusting your grip on your dagger, you break into a sprint, following the trail. 

Your bare feet slap in harsh rhythm against the stone, your eyes flicking back and forth from the floor to the hall in front of you as you follow the blood splatters. It is too late now. Jaehaerys is dead already, but you have to do something, you must. You can see candles being lit as you whip past door after door, the Keep slowly waking as the horror sets in, but you do not stop. 

You do not stop even when you turn an ankle as you round a corner, because there he is, a tall man in a hooded cloak, a burlap sack tightly clutched in his hand, blood dripping through the fibers. Stumbling, you push yourself back up with your hands, and with a mighty scream, leap at the mans back, knocking him forward. 

The bag tumbles to the ground, and Jaehaerys’ head rolls out, jaw slack and eyes wide. 

“The fuck-” The man growls, knocking you from his back. You fall to the ground, but force yourself to your feet again, diving forward, your dagger poised to strike. Bigger and stronger than you, he grabs your wrist, bending the bone until it snaps. Tears flood your vision as the pain washes over you, but you do not stop. Gritting your teeth, you drive your dagger into the soft skin of his side, between where his ribs end and his hips begin. 

He groans, releasing your wrist, and you leap at him again, clawing at his face as you sink your teeth into the side of his neck, biting as hard as you can. You can feel the blows he’s raining on you, but you hold on, savoring the taste of his blood as it floods your mouth, coppery and strong. His hands wrap around your broken wrist, and you wail again, your voice muffled by his skin in your mouth. 

But then there are hands around your waist, and the clank of armor fills your ears. Two white cloaks tackle the man to the ground as Aemond pulls you from his grasp, pressing your back to his chest. 

“Kill him!” You shout, eyes locked on the man as the guards beat him into submission before hauling him up to his feet. “Kill him!”

“Jaenara.” Aemond’s voice is low in your ear. “The maesters…”

You try to shake him off, but your brother doesn’t relent, gently steering you away from the guards and little Jaehaerys’ head on the floor, back into the relative calm of the halls. As the adrenaline fades, pain begins to wrack your body in waves, and you find yourself leaning against Aemond as tears fill your vision. 

“Helaena,” You gasp, chest heaving as sobs build up in your throat.

“With Cole, and our mother. Jaehaera, as well.” Aemond assures you. 

“They,” You say, working around the lump in your throat. “Put a knife. To her throat.” You bring your fingers up to the side of your neck, where the pain had awoken you. “Here.”

“I’m sure she’s being tended to.” He says. Gently, he pulls your arm up, inspecting your wrist, bent at an odd angle and already starting to swell. “We must tend to you too.”

Too exhausted to insist that there are more important things to be dealt with, you let him steer you along. 

You watch little Jaehaerys’ body bounce with the movement of the carriage in front of you, slightly obscured by the mourning veil you wear. Helaena sits beside you, pressed between you and your mother, eyes firmly pointed up at the sky. She’s empty, you can feel the echo of it in your own body, as you’re sure she can feel a hint of the festering anger you yourself are harboring. 

It will only be a matter of time now, before you don your armor and mount Vermithor for battle. You pity the fool who will fly to meet you. 

The wails of the smallfolk fill the city streets as you pass, petals filling the air as they toss handfuls at the carriages, shouting their grief in harmony. The news of Jaehaerys death had swept through the city like fire, just as your grandsire had suggested it would. Now, more than ever, the smallfolk hated Rhaenyra - there would be no public protest of the war that was brewing. 

But you cannot help but feel angered by the whole thing as your little nephew’s body shakes with the movement of the carriage in front of you. To be reduced to a martyr, at such a young age. And knowingly, by his own kin. It is an ugly, ugly thing. 

Helaena’s eyes finally drop from the sky, and your mother shifts, extending a hand to touch her arm. Helaena shrinks away instinctually, leaning further into you, and you shift, allowing her to press herself against your side, her head falling into the crook of your neck.

You do not need to speak to know what she is thinking. You rest a hand on the back of her head, and let her curl into you, feeling her heartbeat against your own. 

“Cole and I will cut them off entirely.” Aemond says, laying another marker on the map, over Rook’s Rest. “And with Rhaenyra confined to Dragonstone, it should be simple enough to take Harrenhal without interruption.”

You let your gaze sweep over the map, stopping at each marker Aemond had put down. “A clever plan.” You agree. “And Aegon also approves?”

Aemond scoffs at that, leaning back in his chair, the light from the fireplace dancing over his face. “What does it matter?”

“He is the king.” You say simply, lifting your gaze to look at your brother. “It is his war that we fight.”

“He is a figurehead.” Aemond says, rising from his seat to circle around the table, coming to stand behind you. “At the hands of our mother and grandsire. His only purpose is to lend them free reign.”

“He is our brother, and liege lord.” You say, standing from your own seat and turning to face him. “You speak treason, Aemond.”

“Mm.” Aemond hums, eye drifting over your face. “I forget, sometimes, that you are partial to him.”

“He is my brother.” You repeat. “And my Helaena is his wife.”

Silence permeates the room, and for a moment, the only sound is that of the crackling fire. But Aemond’s soft voice breaks through again. “Did you ever let him fuck you?”

The question takes you aback, and you laugh. “What?”

“In all your whoring together, did you ever let him fuck you?” He asks again, unwavering. 

“No.” You say. “I have no taste for his particular flavor of depravity.” Not that Aegon ever tried, either. That wasn’t - isn’t - the nature of your friendship. 

“Hm.” Aemond hums, turning back to the map sprawled across the table. “Vermithor will be needed to secure the Riverlands.” He continues, like the discussion never strayed from battle in the first place. He leans over the map, tracing a long finger over the stretch of the reach. 

“Of course.” You agree, confused. 

It’s been too long since you last did this. 

Wine flowing through your veins, you walk arm in arm with Aegon, leading the way to the old brothel, his friends and squire - the reason for the night - behind you. The crowd parts as you step through the brothel doors, a hush falling over the gathered patrons. The quiet only lasts for a moment before whispers take its place, hushed words about the king himself being a patron tonight. 

Aegon, of course, pays these whispers no mind, dropping your arm in favor of grasping his squire by the shoulders, speaking grandly about the pleasures of manhood. It makes you think of a similar night many years ago, when you’d brought Aemond to this very brothel. Guilt floods you for a moment, but is quickly quelled when soft hands wind over your shoulders, and a sultry voice whispers in your ears. 

“Princess.”

You turn, delighted to see Falyse - delighted enough, that with the wine already in you, you plant a wet kiss to her lips before resting your forehead against hers. “My sweet lady, my own heart.” You croon. “It has been far too long.”

She laughs, raspy and seductive, her eyes crinkling at the edges with her smile. “I did not know that all three of you would be joining us tonight.” She says, winding her arms about your shoulders. “Just like when you were younger.”

“Mm.” You find yourself agreeing before her words really register. “Wait, three? Is Aemond-?”

But it’s too late, you know it is as soon as Aegon’s raucous laughter booms through the room. You turn away from Falyse, finding your brother amidst the crowd, having abandoned his squire in favor of sinking next to Aemond on a bed, a wide grin crawling over his face. 

You can’t make out what he’s saying, but you can see Aemond shrinking in on himself, curling away from the Madame, who he’d been laying with. Winding Falyse’s hands away from your shoulders, you bring her knuckles to your lips, pressing a kiss there. “Another time, my lady.”

“Of course.” She says, understanding flashing across her gaze. 

You push through the gathered patrons towards your brothers, but Aemond meets you halfway, stalking through the crowd naked as the day he was born, clearly fuming. He pauses when his eye falls on you, clearly not having expected you to be here as well, and you watch his lip tremble ever so slightly. But he does not cry. 

“Aemond.” You say, unsure how to broach the subject. 

“Jaenara.” He returns, icy.

A pause stretches between you, and Aemond turns to leave, but you grab his arm, stopping him. “Come back home with me.” You say. 

You think he’ll spurn you, hiss some insult that’s more for Aegon than for you, but he sighs, “Fine.”

He does not speak to you until you stand at his bedroom door. You feel as though you should say something, apologize on Aegon’s behalf in some way, but you don’t get the chance before Aemond is beckoning you into his chambers with a quiet, “Come.”

You do, not realizing what he wants until the door is shut behind you and you’re pressed against it, your brother's lips pressing insistently into yours. You only hesitate for a moment before kissing him back, giving him what he wants. He melts into it, softening as he realizes that you won’t reject him, cradling you into his arms. 

When he pulls back, his voice is breathy. “I’m going to kill him.”

It sends a spike of fear through you, thinking of one brother killing the other, but the look in Aemond’s eye leaves no room for doubt. “I’m sure you will.”

Apparently the correct answer, Aemond resumes kissing you with a fervor, steering you away from the door and towards his bed. “I’ll kill him,” He says, rushed between kisses. “And without an heir, I’ll take his place.” His hair tickles the side of your face as he presses his nose into your neck. “Make you my queen, as he had Helaena.” He nips at the thin skin, making you hiss in pain, pulling at his hair. 

He lifts his head as he pushes you down onto his bed, crawling over you. “You’re betrothed to another.” You say as he begins to pull at the laces of your dress. 

“As are you.” He responds. You bat his hands away from the laces as soon as you hear fabric rip, and begin undoing them yourself. “Both empty promises made by our grandsire for armies.”

You shimmy out of your overdress, and kick it off the edge of the bed, left in your shift. Aemond strips himself of his shirt before tugging at the hem of your slip, urging you to take it off as well. Before long, you’re both naked, and he’s hovering over you again, trailing his nose along the swell of your breast. You take the opportunity to free him of his eyepatch, enjoying the glitter of the sapphire you gave him. 

His eye finds yours as he quietly asks, “Will you let me?”

As if you really even have a choice in the matter. “Yes.”

That’s all the permission he needs to lift your hips with one hand and slide his cock into you with the other. You wrinkle your nose as the sting of the stretch as he works himself into you, his eye fluttering shut. With a deep groan, he begins rocking himself in and out, grinding into you slowly. It’s not the most pleasure you’ve ever felt (no, he would be hard-pressed to compete with Falyse), but it isn’t unpleasant. 

You relax into the bed as he begins to fuck into you in earnest, whimpering to himself as he takes a breast in his mouth, lost in your body. You suppose you should have expected something like this, eventually. It was odd, that he’d asked if Aegon had ever fucked you, but you hadn’t thought that he himself wanted to. Now, his intentions in asking seem obvious.

He releases your breast with a pop before tucking his face against your neck, words trickling directly from his lips to your ear. “My Jaenara…” He moans. “Always so good to me. So kind, so sweet, so fierce. Hm.” He pants heavy, his hips knocking against yours frantically. “Seeing you covered in that mans blood, the chunk you ripped out of his neck with your teeth… my dragon.” He croons. 

You wind a hand into his hair, wincing as your wrist twinges in pain. It’s gotten better under the maester’s care, but it still complains when you move it in certain ways. The pain vanishes quickly though, and you begin to stroke Aemond’s hair just how he likes, pressing your lips to his temple. 

He whimpers again, almost like he’s in pain. “I will put us on the Iron Throne.” He swears, voice breathy. “Our dragons will burn Rhaenyra and her armies alive, and it will be our line that continues the tradition of our ancestors.” He all but growls it, snapping his hips with such force that you have to stop yourself from slamming into the headboard. “I swear it to you.”

“Aemond.” You gasp, overwhelmed with the vigor of his thrusts. The last thing you would have expected was for Aemond to get you to peak, but you can feel yourself getting closer, the combination of his rough fucking and devoted words stirring your insides. 

“Tell me that you are mine.” He says, demanding and begging at the same time. You can feel him losing his rhythm, pleasure no doubt creeping up on him the same as it is for you. 

“I’m yours.” You swear. “I’m yours, Aemond.”

He whimpers, and it’s the whining sound that sends you over the edge, your body tensing in his hold as you clench around him. With a loud gasp, you come, and Aemond’s thrusts reach breakneck speed. 

“You’re mine.” He whispers in your ear. “Mine, mine-” He comes with a rough groan, pressing his hips to yours and holding them there. He sinks into you immediately, collapsing onto your chest, his breath coming in pants against your skin. 

You bask in the quiet of his room as his cock softens within you, mind spinning as you take in what just happened. “Did you mean it? All that you said?” You ask softly, stroking his hair again. 

“Mm.” He affirms, sleep heavy in his voice. 

You say no more as he drifts off to sleep on your chest, cock still inside you. He intends to make you his queen. To kill Aegon and take his place. 

You love Aegon, you do. He is your brother, and one of your closest friends. But you would be lying if you said he was a good king. Perhaps it would not be so bad, if Aemond were to take his place, especially with you at his side. 

But does Aegon really deserve to die?

Aemond is insatiable now that he knows you won’t spurn his advances. You can’t say that you mind too much. 

Your elbows resting on the table before you, he takes you from behind as you both pore over a map of Westeros, markers indicating where your forces lay. A letter from Ser Cole sits open on the table beside you, informing Aemond of his most recent conquest as he nears Rook’s Rest. You run your fingers against the wood of the table, moving pieces along the map like chess, the sounds of Aemond’s breathy groans and the rustle of your skirts shifting as he takes you the only sounds in the room. 

“You will have to - ah - take flight on Vhagar soon then, if you are to meet Cole at Rook’s Rest.” You say. 

“Hm.” Aemond’s hips smack into yours as he leans over your back, moving the piece that symbolizes Vhagar to the edge of the crownlands. “The conquest should not take more than a day. Any longer and I would send Aegon in my stead - I would be loathe to leave you.” He jokes, pressing his nose against your neck. 

“Mm.” You hum, letting him stretch you further across the table and angle your hips to better receive his thrusts. Planting his hands on your hips, he pulls you back to meet each snap of his hips, the map forgotten as he pleasures himself with your body. There’s something intoxicating about his unwavering devotion, something rewarding. It feels like all the time you spent comforting him as a child is paying off; after all, he intends to put you on the throne. You wind a hand behind you to caress his cheek. 

He melts into the touch, extending his body over your back, pressing himself to you completely. It’s intoxicating, the power you have over him. The simplest of touches, the softest of words, and the most fearsome dragon rider in the world bends completely to your will. 

“You must tell Aegon of your plans.” You say, laying your head down on the table to peer at the man behind you. 

“He will no doubt find out on his own.” Aemond says. “Either way, they don’t involve him. Rook’s Rest is nothing Cole and I cannot take on our own.”

“And if someone were to show you the same insolence if you were the king?” You retort, biting back a gasp as his thrusts increase pace. 

“When.” He corrects, almost growling. “When I am the king. And I would exile them for such an insult.”

“Yet- mm, Aemond, ah - you do not fear such retribution from Aegon.” You say. You know he’s getting close, his soft pants turning into longer whines, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. You clench as tightly as you can, reveling in the breathy moan you pull from him as he stills, hips still pressed against yours, spent. 

You feel him make himself comfortable against your back, not bothering to pull away just yet. “Our brother is a fool, not fit for the duties of the crown. How can one be expected to respect such an undeserving monarch? No,” He says, pressing open-mouthed kisses onto any patch of your skin he can reach. “We will be much greater.”

It’s treason, even just entertaining thoughts of taking the throne from the rightful king, but the more Aemond speaks of it, the more you find yourself indulging in the fantasy. Never before did you truly consider what it would be to be queen, but after truly thinking about it, you find yourself enchanted with the idea. With anyone else, you have no doubt that you would have been subjected to the life your mother lived, but as Aemond’s queen, you would have more power than any woman before you. 

“You sound so sure already.” You tease, pushing yourself up on your elbows as he slips away, tucking himself back into his trousers and pulls your skirts back down over your legs. 

“That is because I am.”

Aegon presses his face into his hands, groaning. While he’s not looking, you slide the wine decanter away from him. Full when you sat down, it’s almost empty now, most of the contents having been poured down the kings throat. He’s been drinking more, in the aftermath of little Jaehaerys’ death. You can’t blame him, of course, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t concerning. 

“They plot behind my back.” He says, his face still hidden in his hands, his elbows resting on the table. “Aemond. My own hand - and our mother, she…” He trails off. “They mock me. Think me an idiot. I cannot…” He reaches for the decanter, only to find it missing, and lifts his head out of his hands. “My wine.”

“Perhaps you’ve had enough.” You say, doing your best to be firm. 

He looks at you blankly before gesturing for the decanter again. With a sigh, you fold, sliding the container across the table to him. Let him drink himself to death if he wishes - it would be a better end than whatever Aemond is planning. 

It’s hard to look at Aegon, knowing that your other brother is plotting his demise. He doesn’t deserve to die, not after all he’s been through. Sometimes, you think you know Aegon better than yourself. You’ve seen him at his drunkest, in the streets of Flea Bottom, at his most desperate before his coronation, at his lowest, after the death of his son. He never asked for any of this. He never asked to be king. He doesn’t deserve to die because of a crown he never desired. 

But one cannot simply resign from the throne. 

You watch as Aegon empties the rest of the decanter into his glass, and then misses the table as he sets the pitcher down, shards shattering across the tiled floor. He stares down at the floor, eyes blank. “Ah.”

“Aegon.” You groan. 

He flaps his hand. “Someone will clean it up. Someone always does.”

“Perhaps it is behavior such as this that deters Cole and Aemond from sharing their plans with you.” You say, utterly annoyed at your brother’s actions. 

Aegon scoffs. “As if you weren’t also kept in the dark.” His eyes lazily slide to yours, and you don’t look away quickly enough, it seems, because he catches it in your gaze. “They told you? And not me, their king?”

“I cannot help that our brother seeks my opinion on such matters.” You say. 

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Aegon demands, angrily rising from his seat to level an accusatory finger at you. “You are supposed to be my closest confidant, I expect you to be on my side-!” He cuts himself off. “But no. Of course not. As soon as Aemond gets his claws into you you’re just like the rest of them.”

“Aegon,” You try, placating. “I meant no offense. In fact, I urged Aemond to tell you himself-”

“No, no, you cannot fool me again! I am not as stupid as you think me to be, I am not.” He shouts, harshly backing away from the table as you rise from your seat. There’s an anger in his eyes that you’ve never seen directed at you before, and it gives you pause, guilt and shame sinking into the pit of your stomach. What were you thinking, going behind his back like this? He is your brother, one of your closest friends, your king. Curse Aemond and all his sickly sweet words. 

“Aegon-”

A loose hand thrown up in the air, he silences you with a harsh glance before stalking out of the room, leaving you alone with the shattered pieces of the decanter for company. 

Aegon returns to you on a litter, melted into his armor by dragonfire, barely conscious. The smell of charred flesh and dragon blood fills the hall as the kingsguard rush him to the maesters, and you press yourself as far into the wall as you can to let them pass. There is no rage in you, only shock and despair. You had not thought it would be so soon, that Aemond had his revenge. 

“Jaenara.”

You turn at the sound of his voice, and he stops in front of you, pulling off his riding gloves and tucking them into the pocket of his leathers. There’s an energy about him that you haven’t seen before. Leftover adrenaline crackles over his skin, the pupil of his good eye blown wide, almost lustful. 

“What have you done?” You demand, cringing at the frightened quality of your voice. 

“What I planned to do.” He says, taking you by the arm. “Are you not delighted? Aegon is indisposed, he will be crippled for the rest of his life - however many short years he has left, in this state. None will stand in our way.”

“I…” You aren’t sure how you feel. Aegon isn’t dead, but he will be in incredible pain for the rest of his life. Likely, he won’t be able to walk on his own, or ever ride his dragon again. It is an awful fate for someone you love. But you cannot pretend a part of you - the same part seduced by Aemond’s ambition - isn’t elated at the downfall of the king. 

“Come.” Aemond says, tugging you away from your palace pressed against the rough hewn stone of the Keep walls. You fall into pace beside him, stumbling over your own feet as you process how reality is shifting around you at this very moment. Aemond and the council will have to speak on Aegon’s behalf, puppeteering him even more so than before. You are one step closer to ascending the throne. Your brother is half-alive, melted into the armor of his namesake. 

You don’t realize where you are until Aemond is pushing you down onto his bed with one hand and rucking your skirts up around your waist with the other. He does not wait for you to react before he scoops your hips up to insert himself into you, groaning in relief as he slides home. “My queen.” He gasps throatily, pillowing his face in the crook of your neck. “Have I pleased you?”

“Mm.” You hum, unable to say the words ‘yes, of course’. It proves to be enough though, for Aemond sighs again, slowly beginning to grind his hips against yours. It’s more fervent than his usual fucking, spurred on by the bloody battle he’s just come from. You can smell the smoke in his hair from where it lays across your face. 

“It will not be long now,” He says, breathy and rough. “Soon, you and I will sit the throne. Have our own heirs - will you give me an heir?” He asks. “Will you give me more than one?”

“As many as you’d like.” You choke out. There isn’t another option for you now, not with Aemond so intent on having you by his side when he takes his place as king. As you’re sure he will. 

“We will put Jaehaerys and Alysanne to shame.” He declares, placing his hands under the small of your back, causing you to arch against him. Holding the tops of your hips, he fucks you against him feverishly. It does not take long for him to finish, already keyed up on the high of his plans coming to fruition. 

He collapses against your chest with a heavy sigh, and instinctually, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, carding your fingers through his hair. 

“I love you.” He whispers against your skin. 

It’s the first time he’s said the words aloud, though you’ve known it for a very long time. Of course Aemond loves you. 

“As I, you.” You return. 

What you can’t decide, is if you feel the same.

[norrisainz33]

home for the holidays || ls18

☆ summary: lance and his partner start a new chapter now that the season is over and take their relationship to the next level

☆ pairing: lance stroll x nonfamous!reader

☆ fc & warnings: none

☆ requested: nope! just a short one bc i don’t see enough lance fics so wanted to write one!!

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

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ynuser: and just like that - the 2024 season has come to an end. this was a tough one but no matter what i am proud of the team and proud of lance. see all you beautiful people again in march 🤍

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astonmartinf1: see you soon y/n/n! we love you ❤️

ynuser: 🤍 you more admin

user1: you are so real for posting the vegas pics of lance

lance_stroll: i love you 😘

ynuser: and i love you 🥹

user4: mama y papa

user2: i’m going to miss this silly season and seeing you practically every weekend smh

francisca.cgomes: see you sooner than march please😭

ynuser: you know i can’t go more than a couple weeks without you 😔

user44: can lance fight?

scottyjames1: no

user44: SCREMING

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user1: most canadian thing i’ve ever seen

lance_stroll: missed this and missed you darling

ynuser: i missed you more lance. i’m overjoyed to be back 🤍

yourbff: i’m so glad you and lancey are finally home

ynuser: me too! this season was a long one 😩

yourbff: you both are stronger than i

ynuser: i’m not sure how we made it honestly! but it’s time for new beginnings and rest 🫶🏻

user2: time for some much deserved relaxation

user6: just saw the f1 secret santa and can’t stop thinking about how good of gift giver lance is and how he probably got you the best gifts ever

fernandoalo_official: happy holidays mi amiga

ynuser: gracias nando! i hope you have the best break with all of those you love most 🤍

user3: i hope you have the best break y/n

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yourbff: i can’t wait to visit you in your new home!!!

ynuser: i can’t wait for you to visit!! one of the spare bedrooms has your name on it bestie

user11: ahhh congrats y/n!!!

carmenmundt: congrats on your and lances new home!! looking forward to visiting 😘

ynuser: thank you carmen! i miss you sm already. please come visit soon 🤍

user14: so so happy for you and lance. end game fr

lance_stroll: remind me why i thought moving right after the season ended was a good idea

ynuser: you said, and i quote, “i want to be home for the holidays and host all the people i love in our home.”

lance_stroll: well when you put it like that….

cholestroll: yayyayayay!!!!! can’t wait to see it in a few days

ynuser: can’t wait to see you and scotty and the lovely little bug soon. it’s been too long

astonmartinf1: cheers to new beginnings ✨

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chloestroll: the tree is so cuteeeeee oh i love it

lance_stroll: it is ! y/n is very excited for the holidays

chloestroll: as she should be!! do you have everything set?

lance_stroll: everything should be set up according to plan! im beyond nervous though

chloestroll: don’t be!! it’s going to alllll be ok

user3: y/n is so cute

scottyjames31: glad she’s getting you into the holiday spirit

lance_stroll: between y/n and chloe there’s more than enough holiday spirit! we’ve got hanukah and christmas covered over here

user4: pookie christmas lets goooo

ynuser: i am having the most fun decorating our new house 🫶🏻

lance_stroll: me too my love. building this life with you is everything i could ask for and more ❤️

user5: i’m glad you’re getting the time to relax lancey. you deserve it after this season

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user2: holy crap this is beautiful?????? and she managed this right after you two moved in???? get this girl an award

fernandoalo_official: looks beautiful! can’t wait to hear about how your evening goes

lance_stroll: you’ll be one of the first to know ❤️

user6: this called me broke in about 800 different languages

pierregasly: WOW! can i hire y/n to decorate my house?

lance_stroll: for a hefty price 😉

user9: you better marry this girl i s2g

ynuser: thank you 🥹 🤍😘🎄

lance_stroll: no thank YOU gorgeous! i am so thankful to have you help me host the holidays ❤️

ynuser: 😭 i love being a part of your family lance

lance_stroll: we all love you so very much ❤️

ynuser: you’re going to make me cry 🥹

chloestroll: eeeeek!!!!!! today is THE day 🤍🤍🤍🤍

lance_stroll: she doesn’t suspect a thing 😍

user12: her outfit is everything ??? literal angel

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ynuser: tonight may have been the best night of my life. wishing you the happiest of holidays from the future mr and mrs stroll ❤️

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user18: this is so important to me you have no idea

chloestroll: welcome to the family sis 😘

ynuser: sis 😭 oh i love you chloe

georgerussell63: 🥹 congrats! you two make the perfect couple

ynuser: thank you georgie ❤️

fernandoalo_official: felicidades mis amigos

ynuser: gracias por todo nando 🫶🏻

user32: my mom and dad are getting married im overjoyed

lance_stroll: i can’t wait to make you my wife

ynuser: and i can’t wait for you to be my husband 😘

user23: you look so good in white

astonmartinf1: best news we’ve seen all day

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a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated.

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

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