#a noiseless noise

[monotropauniflora]

"Know you every tear In these woods. Know you every place of good and not good."

[centrespangle]

PJ Harvey has just released her 9th album and I'm digging it 3 tracks in.  The lyrics are adapted from Orlam, a novel in verse she published last year which is partly written in old Dorset dialect, Dorset being where she hails from and still lives. Terms like Ooser-rod translated as devil's penis and twiddick make for sonic adventures that may need more exploration.

[stillunusual]

PJ Harvey - A Noiseless Noise (2023)

[whoslaurapalmer]

we got new bedroom air cleaners (which was a necessary purchase -- we'd had our previous air cleaners for so long that when my mom went to order new filters she found out they don't MAKE the filters anymore) and of course it cleans the same as any air cleaner would but it makes. just a smidge less noise than the old ones and of course I have noticed bc it is not the sound i am Used To and it is very 😖😖

[horizontwinflames]

Horizon AU: Twin Flames - Isaac's final armor and weapons variations (Zero Dawn Act). Text transcription under the cut after the images!

REPOST, EDIT/USE OR FEED MY ART TO AI ISN'T ALLOWED

Edit: Updated some text on the Oseram and Banuk arts.

You can read Isaac's lore here: [LINK]

Will he use those variations in the story? Yes! :D hehe. Also, in this AU only Aloy wears Oseran armor while only Beta wears Carja armor, because Oseran's armor is too heavy and noisy for Beta's stealth strategies, while Carja's armor is too weak for Aloy's melee fighting style.

This AU has an ongoing fanfic! You can read on Ao3: [LINK]

Text transcription:

Ravager's cannon: It gives Isaac the ability to fire rapidly like a Ravager can, but with much more precision. It can also do charged-up shots for more heavy damage. This is the most noiseless ranged weapon from Isaac, allowing the charged shot to be used for sniping. Up to two coils can be equipped.

Stalker Blade Tail: The swiftest and lightest melee weapon from Isaac's arsenal. It's the best pick to fight against lightweight machines and stealth attacks. Its thin shape and ability to spin and move up and down (at an angle of about 120 degrees) can also be used for precision attacks (e.g., to take off machine components or stealth-stabbing humans).

Nora's stealth armor: The natural materials of this armor allow Isaac to camouflage better within the natural landscape. The lack of metal pieces also helps reduce noise while moving. This armor is resistant to shock and ice damage but weak against fire and corrosion damage. Up to three weaves can be equipped.

Thunderjaw’s Disk Launcher: Isaac can use the disks like a Thunderjaw can or launch them at a high speed. It’s not an easy weapon to use, as its recoil can destabilize Isaac if he’s in movement, and it has a very slow recharge, but it’s the heaviest damage dealer from the arsenal. Its firepower can make big explosions and great area damage. Up to two coils can be equipped.

Thunderjaw’s Tail: It is the second heaviest and slowest melee weapon Isaac has, but when used correctly, it can cause great damage to his targets, destroy some types of human constructions, stun machines, and even kill humans on the spot. Its shovel-like shape also allows Isaac to throw objects away (with very poor precision) or even yeet Aloy and Beta to help them reach places or to aid in some fight strategy.

Oseram's tank armor: Made of the best Oseram hard leather and steel, this armor greatly protects Isaac, making him much more resistant to various damage kinds. However, the materials weigh him and consequently slow him down, thus making him sink underwater, and he needs to use more energy for his leaps and high jumps. This armor is highly resistant to corrosion and fire damage but has some weak spots for ice and shock damage. Up to three weaves can be equipped.

Bellowback’ Snout: This weapon is an adapted version of the Bellowback’s ranged elemental weapon for Isaac. It gives him the ability to shoot fire or acid projectiles. It can also be used as a close-range defense weapon; hence, it can be used as a flamethrower or acid jet-like gun as well. Up to two coils can be equipped.

Stormbird’s Tail: Isaac can use this weapon like a Stormbird: an electric whip-like melee weapon, still keeping the shocking damage but in a much smaller range and potency. However, if not used cautiously, the whip can get stuck in places or be grabbed by bigger machines. This tail is also useful for Isaac to balance himself while climbing or walking in places such as metal columns in ruins. Isaac must have this tail equipped to be able to swim underwater correctly.

Carja’s speed armor: The sisters arranged the traditional Carja clothing adornments in a way that makes Isaac more aerodynamic, and the lightness of the materials also helps Isaac run faster, leap further, and jump higher than he normally could. Although pretty, the materials of this armor aren’t made for battle, leaving Isaac vulnerable to all kinds of damage - especially physical damage. Up to three weaves can be equipped.

Scorcher’s Mine Launcher: Aside from the normal mines a scorcher can use, this version of its weapon also has the option to use stick mines. Either version of ammos can be used on battle strategies of timed controlled explosions, as the mines won’t explode until they get hit. These mines have two versions: fire and electric explosions. Up to two coils can be equipped.

Frostclaw’s Front Paw: The closest Isaac will get to “grabby hands” so far. It’s the biggest physical damage dealer but the slowest melee weapon due to its heavy weight. Isaac can not just inflict heavy damage but also use the big hand to grab huge objects and machines way bigger than him. This weapon is so heavy that it may destabilize him during curves at high speed, compromise his balance while climbing, and increase the needed energy to sprint, jump, and leap.

Banuk Power Armor: The Sobecks learned with the Banuk crafting how to improve the energy flow and distribution on a machine. This armor increases Isaac's total stamina energy and reduces the needed charge to sprint, jump, or leap. The improved energy flow also helps increase the damage from Isaac’s melee and ranged weapons. However, the increase in the energy flow makes Isaac heat up way faster if not used correctly. Up to three weaves can be equipped.

[lesdupont]

Poor child during the great USA depression, from satan video #noise #noisette #noisey #noiserock #noisemusic #noisecancelling #noises #noisettes #noisenb #noisepop #noisemag #noiseengineering #noisemaker #noisecancellation #noisecore #noisecontrollers #noiseless #noisesoff #noisecomplaints #noiserevolt #NoisePollution #noisemakers #noiseart #Noisetrade #NoiseCancellingHeadphones #NoiseFree #noisefreediwali #noisesingapore #noisecanceling #noiseafood https://www.instagram.com/p/CmXOJOvLmKJ/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[joelscruff]

can i request another boyfriends dad fic where reader can't be quiet because it feels to good so joel puts his hand over her mouth and tells her to be a good girl for daddy 🥵

snack break (boyfriend's dad!joel x f!reader) 18+

anon you are so lucky i'm on my period rn. this is the same joel from quickie but both can be read as stand-alone.

summary: joel needs you to be quiet. (reader is of legal age) rating: 18+ explicit (minors, do not interact) warnings: daddy!kink, age difference, unprotected p in v sex, doggy, creampie, dirty talk, praise kink, this is filthy word count: about 800

"i'll be back in a second," you'd said, "getting some popcorn."

your boyfriend had given you a small grunt as a response, eyes glued to his gaming setup as he mashed the keys and furiously fingered the mouse better than he'd fingered you in your entire relationship. with an eyeroll you'd left his bedroom and walked across the hall to the kitchen.

the moment you'd shut the popcorn in the microwave and pressed the button, joel had come up behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle, kissed the back of your neck and told you to bend over the counter.

"be a good girl," he'd murmured, "don't make a sound."

it's hard not to make a sound when he's now fucking into you slow and deep, hips pressing firmly against your ass every time he buries his thick cock inside of you. your hands squeal against the kitchen counter for purchase, body loose and shaky as he takes what belongs to him.

"be quiet, babygirl," he murmurs, squeezing your breasts over the fabric of your oversized hoodie - your boyfriend's hoodie.

"i can't," you whimper, biting down hard on your lip when the head of his cock hits that firm and spongey place inside of you, making your legs shake, "it's too much, daddy, i can't."

"it's not too much," he replies softly, "you can take it, baby, i know you can."

you shake your head, feeling a guttural moan building in your throat when he pulls out again and pushes back in, brings one of his big hands down to press flat against your stomach, applying just the right amount of pressure.

"daddy," you groan, frantic and pitiful; it's louder than you'd expected and you both freeze, heads snapping toward the closed door of your boyfriend's bedroom.

after a few seconds you hear your boyfriend curse at someone in-game, still playing, completely unaware of what his father is doing to you across the hall. you both relax a bit, sighing in relief. joel places a tender kiss behind your ear and starts to fuck you again, slow and deep.

you can't help but start whimpering again and clearly joel has had enough of telling you to be quiet. instead he brings his hand up and places it firmly to your mouth, large and strong against your face. you whimper into it and are pleased to discover that the sound is barely audible.

"there you go," he murmurs in your ear, fucking you a bit harder now that he knows you can't make the same noises, "it's okay, babygirl, he can't hear you now."

you moan a bit louder as he picks up speed but your voice continues to stay muffled by the firm placement of his hand. he brings his other hand downward from your belly to rub your clit, eliciting a few more noiseless whimpers that vibrate against his skin. you're so overstimulated and full, a bit worried that when you come his hand won't be enough to mask the sound. but he doesn't seem to care.

"shhh, that's it," he coos in your ear, "such a good girl for daddy"

his words and the sensations are too much to bear; you clamp down tightly on his cock and make pathetic squealing noises into his hand, body trembling as he coaxes your orgasm out of you with soft whispers of praise and gentle kisses to your temple. he keeps rubbing your clit, fucking you hard and making your eyes roll back.

it's only a few seconds later that he finishes with a low groan in your ear, cock twitching within your walls as he paints your insides with his come. you tremble even more, unable to make sounds even if his hand wasn't in the way.

"that's it, that's my good girl," he murmurs in your ear, still emptying himself inside of you, filling you deep with his seed as his hand presses harder against your wet mouth, "just take it, take all of it."

the microwave dings and he pulls out, taking his hand off your mouth and bringing it down to thumb his spend back inside your swollen pussy.

"so messy," he murmurs, pushing as much as he can back inside before pulling your panties back up. you're still shaking, hunched over the kitchen counter as he hikes up your shorts and presses one final kiss to the back of your neck.

the microwave dings again, and you hear your boyfriend's voice call out from the other room, "take it out before it burns!"

you finally pull yourself off the counter, legs shaking like a baby deer as you reach over and pop the door open. the smell of popcorn wafts into the room.

"enjoy your snack." joel says with a smirk, then leaves the room as quickly as he'd entered.

[sugarlywhispers]

t.shouto + makes his gf squirt

☆—fem reader, NSFW, smut, squirting, praising.

☆—a.n; sooooooo, here it is! the last one, cuz i already squeezed everything i had for this theme from the very back of my brain, so sorry it's shorter than the others🙈 i hope yall still like it~♡

“Babe, I don’t think we should- mmf,” the whispered sentence was interrupted by your boyfriend's lips when they crashed against yours. His tongue exploring your mouth fiercely, like he couldn’t get enough. Like he needed that kiss as much as the air to live.

Next thing you know, you’re lying on the big, expensive couch in his living room, his body over yours in between your willingly open legs where you could feel his bulge grind against your covered core, fully hard against the front of his sweatpants. His kiss demanding and tongue sensually dancing with yours. If you were being honest, you couldn't–or wanted actually, to put any force against him. While demanding, his kisses always put you in a trance that made your mind float away to somewhere close to heaven.

As your arms surrounded his neck, one of his hands found its way inside your shorts and panties, caressing in soft, delicate circles over your clit. You whined as quietly as you could, the sound getting lost inside his mouth, when two of his fingers slipped over your wet pussy and thrusted inside, deep.

Your back arched, head turned back, feeling so full even with just two of his fingers.

“Shit, babe. You're so tight, even for my fingers,” he murmured against your ear, before nipping the skin right under it.

You were really trying to be as silent as possible, but Shouto wasn’t helping you succeed in it. Especially when his fingers kept thrusting in and out, going so deep, and sometimes curving inside and touching that little button that set you off so fucking deliciously. You lost track of time, only enjoying the pleasure he was giving you.

When... you felt it coming.

“Fuck! Shou-… Babe,” you moaned in a high-pitched tone, as noiseless as you could. Fuck, his two best friends, Bakugou and Midoriya, were in the house! You couldn’t make any noise. But it was so hard not to. Even more then, when you were feeling the same sensation you once felt when he made you squirt.

“What is it, baby? Gonna cum? Gonna squirt for me, Y/N?” You nodded, whining, his fingers working you closer to your high. His free hand slid under your head, fingers tangling on your hair and tugging it. His forehead rested over yours, heavy breathing interlacing between the two of you. “Do it. Squirt for me.” 

That was all you needed. Todoroki Shouto watched you with eyes full of lust and adoration as you let yourself go. Squeezing your eyes shut, losing every sense of time and place. Your body trembling under his, hands grabbing his shoulders strongly, feeling your nails even through the cloth of his t-shirt. Your walls tightening so hard around his fingers, it made him hiss with desire. And then, he felt that special wetness. His fingers kept thrusting, palm rubbing over your clit, feeling the little streams that came out and crushed against his palm that kept rubbing over your clit. 

He was going to make you go crazy.

But if you were on his mind for a second, you'll know that it's him who is completely crazy for you.

When it was over, your body was still spasming after cuming that hard, and he smiled cocky and proud of himself.

Yep, he was going to be the death of you.

But what a pleasant death...

[shesjustanothergeek]

The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Four: Before the Storm

|Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader|

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: Hello everyone! How are we doing after the last chapter? I went on a vacay and enjoyed some time with my family and dog, but now we're back to business. I wanted to say that I'm not a literary genius. Later in this chapter Helaena says some lines from a piece of work by Hélène Cixous called Love of the Wolf. I'm not taking credit for her work by any means, but I couldn't help myself not to add it. It was just too perfect. Well, anyways, thank you for reading!

Chapter Warnings: mentions of childhood SA and trauma related to it, sexism, bullying.

Birdsong accompanied you in your daily lessons with Septa Marlow, her parchment-thin flesh wrapped over her shaking bones as she pointed to the large map of what you assumed was Westeros. It wasn’t that you couldn’t identify the outline of your own country. You didn’t care. The tiny sparrow that decided to make its nest on the branch of an oak tree outside the tutor room window was far more interesting.

You could hear the sounds of swords clashing outside over the creature’s call, an added instrument into the melody of the Red Keep. There was no doubt your brothers and uncles were practicing their swordplay, Ser Criston teaching the pairs of children. How you longed to be out there with them, with your family, with your twin, learning of things much more exciting than what region of the country produced the most red wine.

You only wanted to see them and to be entertained. It wasn’t that you wanted to learn the sword, though you wouldn’t say no should someone ask.

But this resulted from the actions from the previous day when you disobeyed the Dragonkeeper’s commands. It surprised you when your mother failed to mention how your brothers and Aegon gave Aemond a pig, but you weren’t planning to go out of your way to tell on yourself and receive any more repercussions. You were already confined to the castle walls and forbidden from seeing your dragon for the next sennight. You couldn’t imagine what your mother would have done in response if she knew.

“Princess, pay attention,” the old crone’s wavering voice commanded, causing you to jolt.

You attempted to follow her instructions, rattling off the names of Houses and their most profitable exports, but metal clanging stole you from your duties once more. Why couldn’t you be with your brothers and uncles? You understood that today’s extra lessons were a punishment, but why couldn’t you join them? You and Jace were the same age, though you were a few moments older, and Luke was younger.

You could comprehend the importance of learning such knowledge, but your brothers were able to understand this and swordsmanship. Why could you not? Seeing as your mother had not learned it, you did not believe it was a skill you needed. This was the only thing that separated you from Jace, and you hated it.

Suddenly, everything went silent. The birds, the clang of steel, your mind halted into a noiseless silence, leaving the only sound of Septa Marlow’s droning, shaky voice. Screams you knew belonged to Aegon and the shrieks of your younger brother, Jace, briefly sounded, causing your feet to twitch in the direction of the sound. You knew your brother. That was not a noise of happiness but one of determination and fear, but once again, it plummeted into silence.

Then, it erupted. Shouts and thick, repeated thumps of what could only be skin on skin replaced the dull thudding of swords, only this time, it was of grown men.

Disregarding your Septa’s scolds of disobedience, you stood, rushing from the creaky wooden desk and chair with a soft wince from the pain between your legs. You ran to the window, face pressed against the glass, to see the situation unfold.

Ser Harwin kneeled over a man in polished armor you couldn’t see as he drove punch after punch into the man’s face. It was a member of the Kingsguard, judging by his attire as onlookers gathered around the two of them, attempting to remove Harwin from his victim.

Why would Ser Harwin be attacking a Kingsguard?

You pressed your face closer to the glass, fogging it with your breath. Soon, your mother’s protector was thrown off, revealing a bloodied, smug Ser Criston Cole, a proud smirk on his tan face as he spat viscous scarlet liquid. Ser Harwin spewed words of anger you couldn’t hear as you observed with wide eyes from above.

“Princess!” Marlow shouted, stomping her slippered foot in exasperation. “Return to your seat at once.”

“Ser Harwin is attacking Ser Criston!” you countered with a whine as you disregarded her demands. Without thinking of the consequences, you ran for the exit only to be met with the face of your sworn shield, halting you from seeing the commotion.

You were stuck. These were the repercussions of your actions, and now you had to sit in dull solitude with a Septa so old that your mother had her as wild possibilities ran through your head as to why Ser Harwin Strong attacked Ser Criston Cole.

Finding where your uncle Aemond spent most of his time was effortless. He was unlike the rest of you, who loved to be outside in the dirt, running about the gardens as you and your brothers played any game you could think of. Aegon and the trio of you teased Aemond for the fact that he was different in this way, your eldest uncle impressing the idea that his brother’s likes of science, math, history, and philosophy were weird for a child. You also enjoyed subjects similar to your uncle’s, thirsting for knowledge of everything related to herbs, flowers, and other plants, but you never brought it up. Aegon would undoubtedly tease you for it if he knew.

Aemond’s interests weren’t typical, but you didn’t see it as something to look down on him for. But since Aegon did, you had no choice but to agree.

The library in the Red Keep was a lonely and shadowy place, rarely visited by anyone, not even the servants. The absence of lit candles or a crackling fire contributed to the eerie atmosphere, creating a sensation of fear that seemed to grip your very core as you stepped inside, as though you were venturing into an endless void of darkness. Despite the unsettling ambiance, you summoned your bravery, clutching your cherished collection of fairy tales for comfort, and gained the strength to push open the library doors. The sound of metal clanging echoed in the silence.

Motes of dust swirled in the beams of light pouring through the windows as you combed through the towering wooden bookcases. Your search was targeted and honed on a particular individual who, besides Lord Lyonel Strong and the rest of the council members, was known to make regular visits to this room. It was just a matter of time before you laid eyes on him.

After the sixth tall hickory bookshelf, you found Aemond resting on a window seat filled with lush fabric cushions, the sunbeams casting him in a yellow glow. You took a step forward, hesitating as you thought about how your uncle would react to your goodwill gesture. Despite anticipating his initial skepticism and harsh words, you held onto hope that persistence and authenticity would eventually make him see you for who you are.

You wished for it to be true.

“Have you come to mock me again, niece?” Aemond asked, interrupting your indecision with his nose still in the pages.

You swallowed as your mouth became dry, stepping out to reveal yourself fully. “No, Aemond. I came to read,” you replied, taking a gasp of air and summoning courage, “with you.”

Your uncle’s attempt to mask his surprise was unsuccessful as his eyes widened in astonishment. He quickly glanced at you and returned to his book, hoping to conceal his reaction.

His usual scowl deepened, pulling down at his freckled cheeks as he interrogated. “Why?”

A lopsided grin scrunched your plump cheeks upwards to crinkle your eyes as you shrugged. “Because I want to.”

Aemond flipped onto the next page with a skeptical face, yet his violet orbs never moved from the same spot. You had his attention. Hiding a victorious grin, you stepped towards him before he could protest, plopping onto the pillows beside Aemond. He quickly recoiled in exaggerated disgust, as if you were no more than an annoying fly that landed on his arm as he slammed the tome shut and briskly left.

This was an expected outcome, and you hurriedly chased after him, your shorter legs struggling to keep up with your uncle’s pace as he fled around a corner from your attempted act of bonding. You understood this was not a simple task and already built the mental stamina to outlast Aemond’s antics as he jumped down the stone steps of the Keep two at a time.

Eventually, he managed to escape you, his notable mane of blonde hair disappearing before a crowd of courtiers in the courtyard.

You huffed a sigh as you observed the sea of people, sweat stinging your privy part, but you ignored it, standing on the tips of your toes to peer over the wall of the pale redstone landing above the yard.

Suddenly, you spotted him at the far end as he caught your gaze, violet eyes widening in horror as if he saw one of the monsters from your stories. He turned away. His confident walk soon turned to a worried jog as you ran as fast as your limbs could carry you, shoving your way through the throng of people. You were used to playing chase with your brothers. Doing it with your uncle was the same, if not more manageable, with the help of his iconic hair and green garbs.

As you reached the area where you spotted your uncle, he was nowhere to be found, and you turned, looking across the vast meadow of the court that ebbed and flowed like the swaying of a wheat field, focused on their afternoon destinations. None of them paid any attention to the two dragon royals, both more than a head shorter and too self-absorbed to care.

With a sharp yelp, you fell to the ground, soiling your gown and dropping your book on the packed dirt as you caught yourself with your palms. They ached at the impact, tiny rocks embedding into your soft skin as you swiftly turned to the person who shoved you and saw no other than your uncle Aemond staring over you with rose-dusted cheeks. His arms securely bound his book to his chest as he looked down upon you with his nose, catching his breath and taking three paces back before you righted yourself.

“Why are you following me?” your uncle shouted down at you as he attempted to make his voice sound like a grown man.

You huffed as you swiped the dirt from your turquoise dress, gritting your teeth to control your frustration. This was one of your nice ones! Of course, Aemond would ruin it. Your mother would surely scold you when she found out.

“I told you I only wanted to read!” you screeched with a stomp of your foot as your arms flew into the air, flailing wildly. “And now you’ve ruined my favorite collection! The spine is loose and the pages are dirty!”

Aemond said nothing as you studied the now-tattered book before you. Every night, Ser Harwin or your father read a short story from this as you sat atop their laps, drifting off into a restful sleep filled with dreams of nymphs playing in a forest creek. Your book, too, was ruined—another consequence of wanting to be kind to your uncle.

“What’s it about?” he suddenly asked, prompting your watery eyes to move to him. The blush that covered Aemond’s face deepened, now traveling to his ears and throat as he dug his nails into the leatherback of his tome. He looked almost pained to inquire about anything that had to do with you.

Your first instinct was to bite with sharpened fangs of hurt, but you stopped, remembering your goal as you batted your watery lashes in disregard. “It was a volume of different stories,” you sighed with disappointment, afraid that if you showed any other emotions, you would revert to your old ways.

“I see.”

You stared at Aemond expectantly, waiting longer than what was proper for him to continue any sentence or explanation. Still, he did not, only observing you with a calculating expression. The low murmur of bustling court members filled the long silence, the occasional gust of wind and rattling metal low in the background. When your uncle refused to proceed with the conversation, you opened your mouth to do it for him, but much to your chagrin, he turned away before you could, not speaking a word as he kicked pebbles with his boots.

You scoffed in response, stunned and appalled by his actions. For a brief moment, one that didn’t last longer than a blink, Aemond showed kindness to you. You felt like an idiot for believing in that small part that thought last night changed your standing with Aemond, yet a ray of hope still lingered in your chest like the flame of a burnt wick on a dwindling candle.

You sighed in frustration as you looked over the worn and tattered pages of the stories. The determination you once had dwindled, and you couldn’t shake off the feeling that you deserved this. Memories of mocking Aemond’s odd behavior of the pig and making fun of him with your brothers and Aegon weighed heavily on you, intensifying the shame. A soft sigh of defeat escaped your lips as you reflected on your actions.

Ser Harwin was leaving you. After his fight with Ser Criston in the training yard, he was stripped of his title as Commander of the City Watch and was sent back to Harrenhal the next day. You were devastated, fat tears running down your hot cheeks as he said farewell to you, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey before sleep.

Harwin had been with you since before you were born. He was there to help sort out quarrels between you and your brothers whenever one stole toys and refused to share. Harwin accompanied you to your lessons when your brothers were learning the art of swords or hunting. He taught you how to ride a horse when your father was out at sea with your grandfather Corlys and dried your tears whenever Aegon and Aemond were harsh. Ser Harwin was family as far as you were concerned, and returning to the Riverlands was akin to losing a member because Ser Criston claimed he cared too much about you and your brothers only to be a sworn protector.

You weren’t blind to the rumors surrounding your parentage and the resemblance to the Commander of the City Watch. It was all your uncles could do not to bring it up each moment they laid their Valyrian eyes on you. The word bastard haunted the now four of you wherever you went, a cloak of shame that threatened to devour your girlish body whole.

Jace often raised concerns about who your birth father was, but he was never brave enough to ask your mother about it. It was an open question of uncertainty that never seemed to find the correct answer, yet, no matter what, you knew that even if you were not of Laenor Velaryon’s blood, they could never deny that you were your mother’s. You were a Targaryen, just like your aunt and uncles, and that was something that could never change.

“Be good to your mother. I’ll visit when I can,” Ser Harwin said tenderly, kneeling before you, Jace, and Luke as your mother cradled Joffrey. He stood with a grunt as he observed the four of you, a misty look in his eyes that you could mistake for tears. “But that may be some time.”

Sobs stained the white cotton sleeves of your nightgown gray, sniffling as you wiped away more snot and salty water. You would miss Ser Harwin terribly, and he knew that, but that did not make this any less painful as you clung to Jace’s side and he, your mother.

“I will return. I promise,” Harwin expressed with a gravelly voice as he tenderly brushed loose strands of your hair that hid your wet eyes. You listened to the same voice as you sat on his lap, resting your head upon his chest as he read you and your brother’s fairy tales before bed.

Harwin would tell no more stories in that deep, rumbling tone that soothed your soul beyond measure, and you felt your heart crack more at the thought.

Harwin moved to say his final farewell to Joffrey and your mother, kissing the babe’s forehead as you buried your face in your brother’s neck. “You will be a stranger when we meet again,” he said to the bundle of fabric that cooed in your mother’s arms.

And that was true, not just for Joffrey, but for all of you.

Ser Harwin bid goodbye to your mother with a simple “princess” as they shared a long, meaningful glance with layers of emotion and scores of history behind them. He said no more and gathered his sword, swinging it over his shoulder as you released a cry, running to the comforting embrace of your mother’s bed. You could no longer watch Harwin as he left your life, a new wave of sobs taking over as you shoved your face into her feather pillows. It smelled of her, home, and happiness—fresh lavender and sage on expensive cotton sheets.

Despite your mother’s reassurance that you would see Ser Harwin again someday, you could not help but feel like this was a death sentence. As if you stood in front of his coffin and buried him beneath the dirt and worms yourself. He would no longer be the sworn shield he was when he left at this very moment, as you heard the sound of hurried footfalls exiting the room.

Luke followed you to the wide bed, tucking himself into your side and resting his temple on your chest as you both cried in an agonizing yet loving embrace. You could hear Jace talking to your mother outside the doorway, little Joffrey babbling as she softly bounced him in her arms. Whether it was to comfort your babe brother or her, you did not know.

“Is Harwin Strong my father? Am I a bastard?” you heard Jace ask. His fierce and unwavering inquiry only made you sadder. On instinct, you covered Luke’s ears as he hiccuped into your chest. He did not need to have doubt burrow into his mind at such a young age.

Your mother was silent. The only sounds coming were from you, the soft crackles of the fire in the hearth, and your little brother’s heaving breaths as you struggled to cope with the loss.

“You are a Targaryen. That is all that matters,” she finally answered, tone strong. Her words were rehearsed and practiced, and they did not quell the thirst for the truth in either you or Jace.

Your barely younger brother returned to the room. His thin lips downturned, and his head hung low as he sat on one of the plush settees littering the area. You could tell he was unsatisfied with your mother’s response, as were you, but he understood he would get the same reply should he push the matter. Your mother followed in soon after, observing the three of you with tired yet loving eyes.

The same question was on your lips, threatening to break free at any moment, lilac orbs landing on your brown ones as she stared at you with your newest brother still in her arms. She was not inclined to answer, and yet you knew. It was written plainly in the fine lines of her face, the slope of her nose, and how tears lined her lashes as your mother inhaled a fierce, shuddering breath. Much like her, you refused to say the words aloud, electing to bask in the grief-stricken sadness that enveloped your family.

The hour of the owl was upon you before you finally went to your chambers, unable to find rest in your kin’s arms. Your brothers choose to stay with your mother inside hers as their tiny bodies pressed against each other after the tears have long dried.

The halls and corridors of the Red Keep were noiseless as you trekked through them with keen eyes. The portraits of your ancestors you passed daily seemed to follow you with their purple gazes, their accusing stares boring shame into your soul and setting your hair alight.

Alicent’s warning rang through your head as the squeak of a rat sounded, her rich voice echoing inside until it was all you could hear. The end could not come fast enough as you shut the large wooden doors to your, Jace’s, and Luke’s shared quarters, swiftly hiding under your blue bed sheets, heart hammering in your chest.

Your bed was cold and safe, and your pulse calmed steadily. Now, more than ever, the uncertainty behind your birth was thrust before you.

It was always easier to deny the fact that you were most likely a bastard than it was to accept it. Those who accused you did not understand that they weren’t only saying your blood was not Laenor Velaryon but that you and your brothers were a sin, your very existence an insult to House Velaryon, the king, and to all those who dutifully suffered unkind marriages.

Bastards were not heirs. They were creations purely out of selfish lust and desire.

It called into question all four of your legitimacy of inheritance. None of you had claims to the thrones or titles you were set to receive upon the death of your parents, and no prospects would want to wed a bastard should you accept it.

You understood why your mother did not admit the words allowed in the confidence of the now four of you. If you spoke them into existence, it would only make them real. It left you no choice but to deny, deny, deny until your tongue withered and lips fell off. Living a life of refusal of admittance would be difficult. Still, it was the only way to ensure you and your brother’s places would be secured until the Stranger decided to take another companion.

The empty well of tears soon filled once more as you sighed deeply in surrender to the turbulent path ahead, tucking your hand underneath your pillow for the relief of rest, but unfortunately, it did not find you.

Your vanity mirror shined like a beacon in the darkness, reminding you of that night. You still needed to move it back to its original place and give your maids the excuse that you wanted to see what it would look like there. It was a lie.

The idea that Aegon knew of a passage into your rooms haunted you when you set foot into the space. You were scared, anxious, no… terrified that your eldest uncle would waltz into your bed chamber at any moment. The unknown was what frightened you—of what he would do. The notion that he could enter pushed you to rise from bed, planting the soles of your feet onto a maroon Myrish rug as you grabbed the legs of the vanity and pulled it back into place. You would have to think of another lie to tell your maids.

“Why is Uncle Aemond unkind to us?” a timid voice rang out into the once private space.

Nearly jumping out of your skin, you turned to see Luke with a wooden toy dragon curled into his tiny fist. It looked as if he had just awoken from sleep minutes ago, which you assumed was the case judging by his messy hair and crusted eyes. As you caught your breath, clutching the skirt of your pale gray nightgown, you disregarded any questions about why he was here instead of your mother’s room.

“I’m sure he doesn’t mean to be,” you answered as your racing heart calmed. “Why do you ask?”

“I saw him push you over in the courtyard,” he ardently explained, his dark brows rising against his pale skin. It reminded you of your father when he tried to speak earnestly with the three of you, yet Luke’s boyish voice had no similarities to his.

You sighed, recalling the now ruined book you hid in your trunk alongside your tattered dress. “He was angry.”

You did not want to tell Luke about Aemond’s rejection, as the embarrassment was still fresh. He would no doubt try to tell you how you were wrong for attempting to befriend him after the mean things he’d said to you all your life.

“He’s always angry, but we haven’t done anything,” Luke countered with a frown on his small lips, fiddling with his fingers at his sides.

You paused for a long moment, unsure of what to say. The three of you were not nearly as cruel to Aemond as Aegon was. Your mother raised you to be kind to your uncles and aunt no matter what they did to you, and while you were not perfect, any jokes or rude remarks were not made with the intent to hurt him. With a great sigh, you lead Luke in front of the gated fireplace, where a collection of your toys rests in the orange glow. He picked up a polished wooden horse, running his tiny thumbs over the varnish as you spoke.

“I think he believes we don’t belong here,” you said. The explanation was vague, and it irked you beyond measure. The truth of your words threatened to surface like an apple thrown into a barrel full of water.

“We live here. This is our family,” he replied in confusion, dark eyes so wide you could see the entire white. He wasn’t wrong, yet the truth of the matter clawed at your throat to become free.

“We don’t look like Targaryens. You must have noticed.” You could not stop the words from being said. You were such a good liar. Why was it impossible to lie about this?

“You mean our hair?” Luke questioned with a tilt of his head, scratching his scalp in confusion with one of the wooden toys.

You didn’t want to tell him and put the burden of knowledge onto your younger brother that you and Jace were cursed with, but it was something you understood would follow the now four of you for the rest of your lives.

Luke was still younger than you, yet his simple statement of your hair tested your last bit of resolve. “Our hair, eyes, and everything!” you exclaimed exasperated.

“But I have a crooked little finger like Mama,” he reasoned with the raise of his hand, showing his small digit. You deflated, sighing a drawn-out breath to calm your temper as you picked up one of your rag dolls from the pile.

“A crooked little finger isn’t enough,” you decided to say as you stroked the button eyes on your toy. Why couldn’t he comprehend that no matter how many similarities you had to your mother, the fact of who your father was remained uncertain?

“Well, if we aren’t Targaryens, where did we come from?” The sap inside the fire popped, startling you and your brother as you stared into the flames.

You were Targaryens. That much was obvious. You cannot fake exiting your mother’s womb. It was the matter of your father that sparked rumors, but you did not want to give Luke any more thoughts over the subject, coming to accept that he was not old enough to understand what your uncle was being mean about.

“We were born here. Mama is our mother, but there’s something else and Aemond knows it,” you answered obscurely, clutching your dolly into your chest as the night air howled outside the glass windows.

It felt like the Keep was listening to your conversation, the walls groaning in response to your words. The very castle you lived in understood the truth, and the pressure of it weighed heavily on your soul. Just like the paintings of your ancestors, the Red Keep knew of your shame.

“I do not wish to be different,” Luke confessed with dejection, too sad for your liking, as he stopped playing with the toys.

You didn’t want to cause anyone’s sadness, let alone your brother’s, and you frowned, taking Luke’s hand in yours and scooting across the floor to hug his side.

You loved your family more than words could describe as you held your younger brother closer. Jace, Luke, and now Joffrey did not deserve the torment they would face for the rest of their lives at the hands of your uncles and the court. As the eldest, it was your responsibility to protect them from things your parents could not, to take care of them and dry their tears, not to burden your mother or father, but this was something you understood you could not fix, yet it did not deter you from trying.

“Nor do I,” you finally spoke, holding Luke close to your heart and kissing him on his cherubic cheek. “So let us be good children and please those who love us so they may forget what we lack. Come. It’s time for bed.” Your mother would say that as you took your brother by the hand and led him to your bed.

If you couldn’t change what people said, you could at least change the contents they discussed.

You would excel in your place as the unspoken heir and accept your duties no matter what with your shoulders back and your chin held high. You would learn the history of your ancestors, the politics of your country, and whatever else you believed was dutiful to prepare yourself for the responsibility you would inherit after your mother. Not feeling the same fear you did earlier, now with your younger brother at your side, you pulled the covers over both of you as Luke snuggled into your side’s comforting embrace.

Aemond felt he lacked something compared to his siblings, niece, and nephews. Some of him believed that if a dragon hatched from his egg, or he claimed a living one, things would be different from how they were now. He would not be the subject of people’s taunts nor feel the prominent sensation of inadequacy that weighed on his soul, but it seemed as if Aemond was destined to suffer within the shadows of his family’s success no matter how hard he tried to step out of it.

His older brother possessed the skills of conversation and humor he didn’t have and constantly teased him for it, though Aegon was not without faults. His brother would tell him to stop being a “twat,” to get his nose out of books, and that he was dull, sullen, and far too severe for his age.

Because of this, Aegon preferred to spend time with Jace, Luke, and his niece, but it didn’t help that they were much easier company. His half-sister’s children seemed to have a bond closer than his siblings, each with dragons, which was the one thing he didn’t possess. Aemond would never admit he was jealous of his niece and nephews, for that would mean that he saw them as equals of comparison, which was something they weren’t. They were beings of lesser standing, though they thought themselves on par, as they had been raised with the same extravagance he was.

Aemond knew you would be looking for him the next day as he watched you skip to the library the following morning, your smile so bright on your face that it made him sick. Seeing how the joy fell from your face when you saw he was not there gave him a deep sense of satisfaction.

Did you think him stupid?

He could see the telltale signs of tears welling in your eyes as you realized your hidden plans of ridicule were foiled: the scrunch of your dark brows, rapid blinking to get the droplets at bay, and then the pursing of your lips. This time, you held firm and refused to let your emotions guide you. At least, that was what Aemond believed as he observed you exiting the library deep in thought.

He knew you would not give up so easily, and instead of taking solace in his usual places of inhabitant and risking you finding him, he chose to watch you. You could not see him if he was three steps ahead. Aemond was glad that you weren’t nearly as bright as you believed, and as long as he stayed out of sight, he could be sure you wouldn’t bother him. The irony of the situation that he would now be following you to avoid you didn’t matter, and he certainly wasn’t concerned about your well-being after what Aegon did, either.

You were as foreign to one another as Old Valyria; there was no reason for him to care. Aemond would do this every day for the rest of his life if it meant he would never have to spend a moment with you again.

“Brother, what are you doing?”

Helaena’s voice drifted through the halls like summer wind through tree leaves, startling Aemond as he watched his niece’s dark head disappear around a corner. Her fair blonde locks, a copy of her brother’s, were braided around the crown of her head, a tiny metal cage in her lithe fingers, and a curious expression on her visage directed towards him.

“You’re avoiding her,” Helaena declared with a resolute lilt to her tone, taking the insect out of its confines. “After what has been stolen.”

Aemond stared at his sister with perplexed eyes, quickly looking to ensure you had not heard the conversation and came to investigate.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Aemond said distractedly, wringing his hands at the pit of unease in his stomach.

There was no possibility that she knew what occurred during the night. Aegon would never willingly admit something like this, and you would undoubtedly keep what happened a secret, seeing as you refused to tell your mother in fear of punishment.

Helaena was silent as she observed the olive-and-brown grasshopper in her palm, petting it with her index finger before it tried to jump away. She held the open metal cage in the bug’s intended direction, and it landed inside, swiftly flicking the door shut before it could attempt to escape again.

“Tis our fate, I think, to crave what is given to another. If one possesses a thing, the other will take it away,” Helaena declared with the furrow of her blonde eyebrows, the insect thumping against the metal bars as she looked at her younger brother.

Her words were cryptic, and Aemond felt a bead of sweat run down his spine as he observed his older sister. He didn’t understand what she meant. She intensely focused on it, so he assumed it was about the grasshopper. Aemond wordlessly shrugged, disregarding his older sister’s vague observation as he peered anxiously at where he last spotted you.

“Tis not difficult for the ewe to love the lamb. But for the wolf?” Helaena began again, standing beside her brother with a soft swish of her satin skirt. “The wolf’s love for the lamb is such a renunciation, it’s the wolf’s sacrifice—it’s a love that could never be requited. This wolf that sacrifices its very definition for the lamb, this wolf that doesn’t eat the lamb, is it a wolf? Is it still a wolf?”

Aemond paid no attention to her now as Helaena spouted what he felt was nonsense and decided to push forward in search of you, ensuring with noiseless strides you would not see him once he got close.

Helaena was someone he felt was misunderstood like him, but now was not the time to go on with poetry and riddles.

“But sometimes it’s the wolf that falls into the jaws of the lamb. Out of love, the wolf falls backward into the circle of fire. It goes around fast. It so happens that the lamb catches the wolf,” Helaena continued, her voice soft like morning spring rain as she followed her vexed younger brother. She was inside her world, purposely or ignorant of her brother’s frustration.

“There is no greater love than the love the wolf feels for the lamb it doesn’t eat.”

Aemond groaned, losing his temper, which he rarely did in the presence of his sister. His niece had irked him, causing his heartbeat to quicken and his lungs pant.

“Helaena, will you please stop with this nonsense? I have important matters to tend to,” Aemond barked hushedly as a servant passed by, blocking the sun from the windows.

Any other day, he would allow his sister to speak for however long and about whatever she wanted, but this was not one of those times. You could happen upon him at any moment, and the prince did not want to risk the chance of a repeat encounter.

Helaena refused to listen to him as her musings became louder and sharper as if she was trying to convey a point without the proper words, no doubt alerting you and everyone else in the Keep to where he was. Aemond felt the blanket of defeat shroud his figure as the sound of light hurried footfalls sounded in the hall.

“The lamb loves its wolf. The wolf turns white and starts quivering out of love for the lamb. The lamb loves the wolf’s fragility, and the wolf loves the frail one’s force. The wolf is now the lamb’s lamb and the lamb has tamed the wolf,” his sister concluded, violet-eyed with an understanding she attempted to impart onto Aemond with the harsh squeeze of her digits on his arm.

He gasped, his brows arched in pain from Helaena’s sharp nails piercing through his tunic, and tried to wretch his arm free with a panicked grunt, but to no avail. Before he could blink, your pitched voice pierced Aemond’s ears, and he felt like they would burst.

“Uncle! There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” The loose strands of your neatly styled hair bounced with every step as you approached Aemond with a broad grin on your lips. “I was hoping we could read today. I chose a book I think you would like. I know you don’t enjoy fairytales.”

“Love blackens the lamb, leaving fire and blood to light their way,” Helaena whispered, her violet gaze directed towards the tall window as a bird flew past. She released Aemond’s arm as if she suddenly realized she still had it. She looked back to her grasshopper, wordlessly displaying it for you to see.

“Oh, is that a new one Helaena?” you asked with a bright curiosity in your tone. Aemond didn’t believe you truly cared about his sister and her bugs, curling his lip in disgust at what he thought were false niceties. “Where did you find it? We’ll have to go there sometime to see if there are more!”

You didn’t care about Helaena and her hobbies. You were more like Aegon and made fun of her for the bugs she collected. At least, that was what he had in his mind. Aemond felt conflicted as he watched his sister nod in agreement, asking when your punishment was over so you could spend time together again.

When he noticed Helaena’s faint smile as she left, grasshopper in tow, a warmth blossomed inside his heart. His sister only showed happiness when she truly felt it, not to be polite like most, and it caused Aemond to turn to you, his face pale. You were his annoying, spoiled, bastard niece who got anything she wanted, so why were you not acting like it?

It felt like butterflies were inside your stomach as you took another step toward Aemond, a book clutched to your chest like before. Aemond watched as his sister left the two of you alone without a word, like she was in a world of her own. He wanted to reach out to her to be not alone with his dreadful niece, but Helaena was gone as quickly as she emerged, leaving her younger brother with the girl he hated most in the world.

“I have a book I think we both would like today, uncle. It’s one about the warrior Queen Nymeria and her journey to Dorne,” you announced, a slight sway in your step as you tried to quell your anxiety.

Aemond huffed as he looked for a way out of this and sighed in defeat when he found none, clenching his thumbs inside his palms to control the ire that swelled in response. Your uncle didn’t want your pity or your friendship. He knew you were only spending time with him since you didn’t wish to Aegon and could not be with your brothers because they were in their lessons. You would have never done this if his eldest brother could control his impulses. It made him feel like a second choice, another painful reminder that he was always second to his kin, yet not good enough to be a spare.

Walking away in surrender, he led you back to the library, where no one would see the pair of you, and the sun provided the only light. He knew Aegon would tease him beyond what he could take if he saw you together, and after that night, Aemond did not want to see him anyway.

You set the book of Queen Nymeria’s adventures on a dusty wooden table and giggled as you fanned the air. Aemond was not amused, sulking in the chair beside you as he opened the leather back of the book. You sat next to him, shoulders touching, ignoring his reaction. He mockingly covered his mouth as if he smelled something terrible when he inhaled the citrus scent on your skin. This made you feel a bit upset, but you tried to hide it by tugging at your dark hair and avoiding his gaze.

You read the first page together silently. It stated how the queen looked, how beautiful she was with long, flowing, swarthy hair cascading down her waist with sturdy hips, her skin a smooth, youthful complexion with brown eyes to match. Yet still, she was a fierce warrior with an indomitable spirit who led her men into battle and took no cowards. You imagined you would be like her when you grew up, a beautiful warrior queen who ruled her kingdom with an unwavering though gentle and cunning fist, who people loved and respected her rule.

“Can I turn it?” Aemond asked dispassionately, cutting through the silence. You hadn’t realized you had been so lost in your daydreams that you had not retained a single word written on the page, but to not make your uncle perceive you lower than he already did, you nodded.

You leaned closer to the pages before you decorated them in elaborate colors of blue and red, studying the new page and picture. Aemond glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, unnoticed by you as you were lost in the vast expanse of your mind, your cheek right next to his.

He was surprised at how different you were, apart from the apparent fact of age and sex. His eyelashes were almost white and translucent, while yours were black, long, surrounding dark eyes that glistened with natural wetness that threatened to suck him into their depths if he stared for too long. Aemond’s skin was pale and dusted with sun kisses, yet yours was plain, flushed, and full of life, your lips more defined and moist than his. You possessed a pug nose matching that of your brothers rather than his aquiline one, a softer, more plump face than his, as Aemond’s was more defined even for his age. His hair, the color of Targaryen’s, the white you didn’t have a hint of and mocked you for, was visible proof of who your father was.

Though Aemond immensely enjoyed pointing out the idea that you were a bastard, he reluctantly realized that you weren’t unattractive, at least by Westerosie standards.

“I will be like Nymeria when I am queen,” you announced to Aemond, breaking the silence. He gave you a sidelong glance and sighed. It wouldn’t hurt if there were some conversation between you. It didn’t seem like you would be mean to him, and he supposed you were indebted to him after all.

At your hopeful expression, your uncle didn’t have the heart to tell you that neither you nor your mother would rule the Seven Kingdoms. Women were not fit to rule and carry such a burden. They were too gentle of creatures to make the harsh decisions that ruling required.

“Are you certain you’ll be a good ruler? You can barely get your brothers to listen to you. What makes you think the Lords of the realm will?” Aemond questioned with a trace of bitterness you couldn’t understand the cause of.

Turning to him with a face painted with a serious expression, your brows scrunched together and lips tight in a severe line as you took his hand. “Just as Nymeria burned her ships to prevent any cowardly men from fleeing, I will burn all those who try to hurt my family and oppose my reign.”

You stated the words with such a decisive coldness that it caused Aemond to shiver. He was shocked and in awe at your declaration, stunned into silence filled with momentary admiration. Aemond never imagined that would come out of your mouth. He always pictured you as soft-hearted when it came to violence, having seen you cower when Aegon would hit your brothers too hard when training.

“What would you do if they didn’t allow your mother to be queen? You wouldn’t have the power to do that,” your uncle reasoned, giving you a devoted attention he never gave before. It made you pause.

“Perhaps I was a bit rash,” you reasoned with the gentle tug of your hair, letting go of Aemond’s hand in nervousness. He swiftly snatched it back before you could think, a surge of excitement rolling in the pit of your stomach with the action. “It wouldn’t only be me, though. I would have Jace, Luke, and Joffrey when he becomes a rider. We would help our mother if anyone tried to prevent her, and I would have my husband, too. He would be my Mors Martell and help me conquer all of Dorne!”

You looked at Aemond with uncertain eyes as your gaze flicked from him to the open book the two of you barely read.

“You mean Aegon. Someone with a dragon,” he countered snidely, turning his flushed cheeks away from you.

“No,” you snapped quicker than you could have imagined. “I don’t want Aegon to be my husband.”

Aemond needn’t ask why.

You hadn’t heard your eldest uncle’s name since that night, and hearing it made something within you break. You despised Aegon for his actions. Did he feel entitled to mistreat you because of the betrothal plan? It filled you with blackened fury. You took a quick breath to calm yourself and looked to Aemond, who appeared remorseful.

“You don’t need a dragon to be powerful,” you explained with a gentle tone, but Aemond only scoffed.

“That’s easy for you to say when you have one,” he bit, causing the tips of his ears to grow pink in anger.

You attempted to hide your huff of annoyance at his sulking but failed, rolling your dark eyes as you answered him honestly. “I do believe you’ll have a dragon one day. There are too many around for you not to. You just need to find the right one, but even if you don’t, there are other ways to have power. You could ride with me and Gaeli, too, if you like? If you never claimed one.”

It was an offering of peace, of goodwill, telling your uncle without the words that you were sorry for having played all the jokes you did on him for not having a mount. You wanted him to know he was welcomed into the world of dragons without one, that you would still see him as an equal, if not better than you in some aspects. He was already showing prospects of being a fine warrior.

“Really?” Aemond perked, violet eyes setting alight with happiness you had never seen him show. He felt childish, but he couldn't help it. You offered for him to ride a dragon!

You giggled, unable to hold your joy back as you bobbed eagerly. “Of course, Aemond! As soon as Gaelithox is large enough to ride you will be with me. We can learn together for when you finally mount one!”

It was the first time you saw your uncle smile with genuine, untainted mirth, displaying a set of dimples you didn’t know he had. The pair of you fell into a deep conversation long into the late evening, causing your mother to pace with nerves until you returned, discussing thoughts of the future, of what dragons Aemond could claim, and how, if he never bonded with one, you would make him feel as if he was a dragon rider like the rest of your family.

The following days, Aemond rose with the sun, a sensation he had never felt before in the pit of his stomach as his servant dressed him in traditional green garbs.

Excitement.

He was filled with eager anticipation for the days ahead now that he had something positive to look forward to. It was something only he had now. In a way, though Aemond would never admit it, for it was such a horrendous thought that brought him great shame, he was glad that Aegon raped his niece. If he hadn’t, Aemond would never have gained one of the two things Aegon had that he didn’t.

First, he took the companionship of the only person who steadfastly supported his old brother. Next, all Aemond had to do was acquire a dragon, and finally, he would be equal to Aegon, if not better.

As Aemond traveled the halls, understanding full well that he could read within the privacy of his chamber, he went to the library to read ever since he and his niece shared words of the future. He met you in the same place in the library after your lessons, whether to read, chat, or enjoy the peace of the other’s company.

Though Aemond was proud that he took something from Aegon, he was afraid that his brother would see you together one day, but Aegon never ventured into the noiselessness of the library. The eldest son had never been much of a student.

You typically sparked conversations, and Aemond would answer back in kind. It made him feel better about himself—more of a man to have someone solely seek his attention and knowledge in a way no one else had before. Aemond always ended the day with a pleasant flutter in his heart and tingling in his fingers for what tomorrow would bring.

One night, as Aemond lay fast asleep with visions of the sun blinding his eyes, green scales, and a head of dark hair that flew in the wind, he woke with a start to the sound of his chamber doors opening. He feared it was Aegon and his nephews who were once again trying to make a mockery of him.

He rose within the lush emerald bedsheets, terrified, as the torchlight shone from the hallway, outlining the figure in the door frame. The person stepped forward with a loud creak of the metal hinges.

“Aemond?”

He heard the quiet mumble, the voice softer than that of the feather pillows he lay his head on at night. Aemond could barely see your silhouette in the darkness, squinting with sleep-clouded eyes to ensure it was you. He could hear your soft sniffles and quick breaths as concern hastened his heart.

“Can I sleep with you?”

You could hear your uncle shift on his bed, mind still reeling from being woken up from a deep slumber. The silence stretched long between you and Aemond, and you feared he might refuse your plea for comfort.

“What? Why?” he hissed with venom. There was no privacy from Aegon here. At any moment, his older brother could walk into his room and see you conversing. He didn’t need another excuse to be ridiculed. You had to leave now.

Your hiccups were loud at his rejection as you wiped at your tears, unable to form coherent sentences as sobs racked your lungs. “I…I had a dream. Ae-gon came… back. He hurt me again, and I… I couldn’t…” You cried, palms scratching at your scalp as you tried to speak.

“Go sleep with Jace,” he retorted, ready to return to bed. Spending time together privately was one thing, but this was invading his space, his place of solitude without siblings or nieces.

“I can’t! He and Luke have been sleeping with Mama since Ser Harwin left,” you babbled in despair, glancing over your shoulder as if the monster called Aegon would emerge from the shadows and devour you whole.

Your desperation stung Aemond's heart, and sympathy clouded his sense that the fear you felt was something he, too, experienced. After a long pause, your uncle shifted to the side, noiselessly lifting his sheets and making room beside him.

Breathing a loud sigh of relief that reminded him of a fish gasping for air, you closed the door, running to Aemond’s bed and immediately clinging to his side. He knew you to be affectionate, but he still carried concern in his mind. Yet how you trembled like a frightened fawn, told him this was not a rouse. You were sincerely terrified that your eldest uncle would return and no one would stop him this time.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know you don’t like me,” you sobbed into your uncle’s green nightshirt, gripping the fabric so tight that Aemond worried it would rip. “Please, please, please don’t let him hurt me again, uncle. I can still feel it between my legs.”

Aemond froze at the sudden burst of intimacy, slowly wrapping his arms around your quivering body. Despite the context of the situation, having you so close sent a pleasant tingling down the base of his spine. He tried to focus on your breathing, waiting for it to calm down before he spoke again.

Though he was beginning to tolerate your presence, having you within his bed chambers was not something he wanted.

Aemond recalled the last time you experienced panic like this, a type too intense for your body to manage, ripping your hair straight from the root in response. He hated to realize he didn’t want you to suffer like that again, and unconsciously, he began to stroke the crown of your head.

It felt good to be needed, so desperately wanted by someone that they tried to crawl inside him, seeking protection, and Aemond felt an overwhelming urge to protect you how a wolf does its pup. He would shelter you from all monsters and people that sought you harm so long as you returned to him with the same wet eyes and arms full of love.

When you finally relaxed, no longer shaking like a leaf in the autumn wind, he spoke, praying that your exhausted mind would forget his confession in the morning.

“When I have a dragon he will not hurt you so long as you’re with me.”

Masterlist of Series

Spotify Playlist

Oh, sweet prophetic girl. You know so much yet can do so little. Cursed with the knowledge of what will come and what has yet to be. Let's all pour one out for Helaena, besties.

I hope this chapter makes up for how sad the last one was. I love writing for angsty young Aemond. As always, thank you for reading!

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp , @britt-mf , @marvelescvpe , @haikyuusboringassmanager , @discofairysworld , @lottiemsgf , @nessjo , @fiction-fanfic-reader , @qvnthesia , @hotvillianapologist

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

You will not headcanon Charlie as wearing tap dancing shoes by default- yes I will

Fine. you are not imagining Vaggie the dancer being light on her feet and almost soundless when she prowls around in her flats- yes I am

The hotel guests are NOT being simultaneously tormented by the constant clicking of Charlie being heard clear across the hotel, and on the flips side, the constant jump scares of suddenly finding a glowering woman with a spear coming up noiselessly behind them-Yeasss the are~

Ok. so what does a hotel menaced by tap step charlie and soundless step vaggie LOOK like???

Alastor's the best at hiding how freaked out or annoyed he is, but not enough to keep HIMSELF from noticing how he clutches his microphone in a death grip whenever Vaggie suddenly slips silently past him spear first- Charlie's tapping is worse tho, hours later he'll be up in his BLESSEDLY sound proof radio tower and somehow STILL hear that INFERNAL tapping again anyway, and then he looks down, and it's own hand tapping on his sound board, and for the one millionth time he wonders if this is all really worth slowly losing his sanity over

Niffty times her kills to the sound of Charlie's distant tapping and when she gleefully tells Charlie about this at some point Charlie almost starts crying over the dead bugs. A few times Niffty's caught sight of completely noiseless Vaggie out of the corner of her eye (heh) and the two ended up crossing spear / needle point on reflex. It becomes a kind of friendly greeting for them after a while. Sometimes they even fence each other for a bit while parkouring / scuttling over the furniture. Charlie caught them doing this once and was Not Pleased (but it's for FRIENDSHIP so...)

Pentious likes Charlie's tapping and clickedy clicking. He hums and bobs his head along to it while working on his next totally not a destructive weapon machine, sometimes while the egg boiz do a little dancing the background between handing him things. Vaggie's silent patrols left him literally scared stiff at first but then they started to feel reassuring and by the end he's reaction to getting jump scared by her is to snap into a crisp salute and stay like that until she moves on

Angel Dust pretends to like Charlie's tapping just to annoy Husk. Husk knows it's bullshit but is usually too run down from his current hangover to really argue effectively, and for all that yelling at his dumbass crush hurts his head it at least downs out the damned tapping- which is what Angel was aiming for anyway. Neither of them EVER get used to Vaggie haunting the hotel like a silent spear carrying ghost. Swearing or shrieking are how they handle Vaggie encounters when alone- mutual clinging and terrified hugging is what happens if she spooks them when they're in glomping distance of each other. Vaggie will never let them see how she smirks as she slips away afterwards. Vaggie might be hunting them specifically, on purpose, just to trigger more vaguely romantic haunted house huskerdust moments. it's solidarity. probably. partly, anyway

Charlie does get jump scared by Vaggie sometimes (re: ep 1) but the switch from "heart pounding due to shock" and "heart pounding bc she looking at her gf <3" is very smooth and Charlie kinda loves the happy adrenaline rush of sudden girlfriend appearances, which is why Vaggie never tied noise makers or bells to herself, which she offered to do once after spooking Charlie but no, Charlie thinks being gf haunted is cool and FUN

Vaggie loves that Charlie's shoes make the tapping sounds. She loves being able to stop whenever she wants and listen and either know exactly where Charlie is in the hotel and her current mood (stiff anxious pacing / happy skipping / thoughtful foot tapping / actual excited dancing / literal giddy tap dancing), or, if things are too quiet, that's Vaggie cue to pause what she's doing and go check on her suspiciously silent gf (just in case charlie is Sad)

Cherri Bomb's reaction to all this is explosive. as in, she mistakes charlie's tapping for the ticking of one of her bombs and runs around trying to find it while it seemingly also runs around the hotel just head of her, usually ending in Cherri throwing a bomb in frustration (she was just trying to make a short cut she SWEARS), or Vaggie surprises her at just the wrong time while she's working on a bomb in the hotel lobby (it's a communal area ok she should be allowed to do her hobbies there as long as she cleans up afterwards- plus there's more room in case of a blast radius) and yes, if Vaggie startles her, there usually IS. A blast. Radius. along with quite a bit less lobby left over afterwards

[takenbypeter]

Hii! I just saw Wonka for the first time and I loved it, everything was soo good I’d love to request something. Could I request something with Wonka x fem!(or gn)reader in which reader comforts him after everything goes wrong with his shop? He was so sad and it broke my heart when he said that his mum didn’t show up and everything was just a stupid dream, I wanted to give him a hug so bad. Feel free to ignore this if it doesn’t inspire you ofc, have a great day 💞

I Believe In You

Willy Wonka x reader

Words: 658

Love love love this request💖sorry I suck at angst but I hope you still like it 

None of you could’ve ever predicted what just took place. 

Melted chocolate and burned candies surrounded all around as you stood there in disbelief. 

The crowd that quickly grew to love Wonka’s chocolates turned on them just as quickly. All because of something that wasn’t even his fault. 

You, along with the few others who helped, stood, unsure where to go from here. Noodle ran to Wonka trying her best to motivate him, but Abacus gently encouraged her to give him some time before he left. Then Piper left, and one by one the others followed. 

You stuck close to them, about to take your own departure and leave the chocolatier to his own thinkings, but you stopped in your tracks giving it another thought. You couldn’t just leave him there. It wouldn’t be right. 

So back you walked and you parked yourself beside him. 

You sat there noiseless, as you were unconfident of your next words. What do you say to a man who’s lost so much. 

“Willy this is just a minor setback,” you start. 

“No it’s not. This all is just some stupid dream and it didn’t even work. She didn’t even show up.”

Your brows furrowed together, the crease between them deepening. You know grief is difficult and different for everyone, no one reacts the same way and you knew Willy truly believed his mother would appear. Although you didn’t know Willys mother personally it broke your heart to see him like this. 

“She wouldn’t break a promise,” he whispered more to himself with his eyes downcast. 

You made a little, hm, noise pondering on your next words, “…maybe this wasn’t the time.”

Willy’s eyes finally raise, meeting yours and although they still hold emptiness in them you can spot the tiniest glint of curiosity. 

“Think about it. Things went wrong, horribly wrong. I mean it could not have gone any more wrong,” you said getting louder with every sentence and Willy couldn’t help but spit out a single self deprecating laugh at how true your words were. 

“So maybe this wasn’t the time…we try again and when things are right it will happen,” you say sounding more positive than you expected yourself to be, “she will be there. Maybe not in the way you think, but she’ll be there.”

“And what if she’s not.”

“And what if she is.” You said raising your brow in questioning. He seems to mull your comments over. 

“If not for yourself, do it for Abacus. Do it for Piper; Chucklesworth, Lottie, Noodle…do it for me. You have touched all of our hearts. You make us believe in our own dreams because you’re so passionate about yours. Even if you have to start everything all over again we will be right there starting over with you. So just…don’t give up. Please.”

Willy peers up at you, his expression still disheartened. He knew you meant well and he appreciated you for that. It did help to know he had a group of capable people following behind him. 

Willy loved making chocolate, that is a fact that would never change. The way his chocolate affects people is beyond all imagination. But to start over, especially after he disappointed you all. He wasn’t entirely sure if he could do that again.

You wait patiently as he sits there in thought. “Willy,” your hand rests on his giving it an assuring squeeze. “I will be right here with you.”

Willy finally expresses an appreciative smile while he turns his hand in yours, squeezing it back. 

With his cheeks a bit rosy from either the embarrassment he felt or the warmth of encouragement you gave him, he says, “it’ll take some time.”

You nod, “then it’ll take some time, that’s fine. Whatever you need.”

Willy didn’t know exactly how it would all workout but he could tell you truly believed it to be true and because of that…he started to believe it too. 

~

Feel free to request more Wonka pics I love this man!!!!!

[yok00k]

coming down

pairing: non-idoloc! x idol!jk

genre: angst

“i always want you when i’m coming down”

sypnosis: although you sleep next to jungkook every single night, it feels like you’re million miles away from him.

wordcount: around 1,000

warning: in 1st pov, it’s a little sad (for me), open ended ending, one sided love, allusion of cheating, oc’s world revolves around jk (don’t be like her)(lowkey im her), toxic relationship, lack of communication

author’s note: this did not go as I initially planned help-_- i was gonna make light jealousy oc/jk drabble idk how I ended up with this. i hope yall sob w/ me or lmk ur thoughts

an absolute ideal.

his performance. the concept. the way he sang his new released songs flawlessly. how smooth his dancing movements were. how the stage composition and development were so sumptuous.

and most importantly, how romantic the live performance was, given the fact that there was an actress involved in the show.

calling Jungkook an amazing artist would be an understatement. He’s creative, unique, and original in his masterpieces. Everything he does, no matter what, is just mesmerizing and astounding. He’s indeed a true performer.

Jungkook dedicated several months to work on his solo album. The time and effort he had put to his work is just admirable. On most days, he stays up late, trying to come up with so many possible ideas and options he can add on his album.

and I was there by his side. I chose to be.

I was there, waiting for him to come home every single night, or usually midnight, in our noiseless living room, wrapped with a thick blanket and loneliness. He would arrive home, but as night by night goes, I was accompanied by nothing but solitude. it feels like it’s taking over me.

I was there, in bad days where Jungkook is focusing on the negatives and having doubts in himself. Days where his standards for himself weren’t being met. both of my shoulders were closely next to him if he needed something to lean into. Reminding him that it’s okay and he’s doing wonderful.

I was there, even in times when he didn't want or need me to be there. times where he just wanted to be by his own with no distraction. but here I am, continuously showing him my undying love and support for him.

I chose to stay there. on nights where he stopped saying “i love you” back before going to dreamland. I hugged him closer as I convinced myself to believe that he just didn’t feel like saying those three words at those moment because of all the stress he undergoes through day to day.

I gave all of myself, I’ve done my part as his other half. Just like how Jungkook produces his works, I poured all my love and time to him, leaving not a thing for myself. It sounds foolish, but that’s just how I love

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

we’re both lying on the massive bed, only inches apart from one another’s body yet it feels like he’s millions of miles away from me as I stare at his cold, broad back that’s facing me.

I’ve got to used to this upsetting scenario at this point but that doesn’t mean it hurt less.

The whole bedroom feels chilly. I’m freezing, solely due to the fact that his warm arms weren’t wrapped around me like they used to be. as i’m not hearing his snores, I know that he’s still awake

“Do you still love me?” I manage to ask out loud and clear, immediately regretting the words that came out of my mouth even though it’s simply an inquiry.

a question that’s been going around my head for quite some time now. a question that i’m afraid to know the answer to because his response might be the response my heart doesn’t wish to hear or else it will shatter into millions of pieces.

my hope for an answer rapidly decreased as seconds went by filled with silence. The absence of noise that surrounded me was deafening; abundantly mocked the emotions I was feeling at the moment, screaming at me that my feelings didn't matter.

It's alright.

I did nothing but wipe the single tear that uncontrollably rolled down my cheek.

it’s stupid. I should’ve just kept it to myself. maybe that would be less embarrassing. less problematic. less painful than I was feeling minutes ago.

I turned my back against his as I accepted my defeat. maybe I’m just tired. maybe drifting to sleep will make me feel okay although I know deep inside that I won’t take the pain away. this is not some type of feeling i’m unfamiliar with to begin with.

I shut my eyes, as I try to put myself to sleep. but in that process, i felt his body moving, turning around, and finally snakes his warm arms around me. a pair of arms, the same ones I longed for so many nights.

“____, why would you ask that?” he giggly asked, sounding like he just heard a silly question. as if i was just being clingy and wanted some piece of his attention.

‘because i don’t feel like you love me anymore’

the man waited for a response, waiting to see if I was just fooling around or that was really genuine. the noiselessness, just like all times, answers the question we both interrogate to each other.

the heavy feelings just got worse, if not heavier. even so when he talks more. “i won’t be laying next to you if i wasn’t.” as if that makes me feel better.

indeed, he’s physically here by my side yet distant. Jungkook is so far off that I’ve lost him. numbness was all I felt as I heard his words. I couldn’t be more content now that I have my answers.

his indirect answer to a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question is enough for me to know where we stand.

I can’t help but to turn my body to face him, just to stare at his doe eyes that I easily get lost in due to the fact that they hold thousands of stars, if not a whole world in them.

regretfully, my eyes should’ve just maintained contact with doe-like eyelids. but rather, they drop their focus on the side of his neck, detecting a foreign lipstick shade that he might have forgotten to wipe off. a shade that will be tattooed in my brain and will forever hate.

Inhale. Exhale. I chose to shrug it off, bringing my attention back to his worn out face.

“I love you” truthfully and whole-heartedly confessed to him once more just like I always do. although this was a little bit different because I don’t expect him to say it back anymore.

and with that in mind, this was also the last night that I will to express my love for him.

[oneshotnewbie]

Emily Prentiss saving reader from an unsub and reader just falls into her arms, sobbing in relief?

ᕚ---���

In a darkened warehouse in a remote industrial area, the gloomy silence oppressed the air, which was already hard to breathe in due to the thick dust. Emily Prentiss, a supervisory special agent from the Behavioral Analysis Unit, scurried gingerly through the shadowy hallways. Her heartbeat pulsed in her neck vein in harmony with the tension in every fiber of her body. But she had no choice, she was looking for you, a young woman who was the next victim of a notorious serial killer and had potentially been trafficked here.

The dim illumination of the flashlight beneath her drawn weapon bathed the surroundings in a dim light as she lurked and looked around every corner, her weapon tightly gripped in her clammy hands. She had gotten to the middle of the large building when she suddenly heard a faint noise. A stifled whimper under tape or fabric that seemed to come from near an old storage room.

Determined to free you, the black-haired woman moved towards the storage room, her steps deliberate and noiseless. When she reached the door, which was half hanging off its hinges and squeaked gently from the fine blast of air, she listened for a moment before carefully opening it a crack with the barrel of her weapon and shortly afterwards sticking her head through.

Emily's eyes widened in horror and anger as she discovered you tied up and helpless in a dark corner of the room while the suspect, a massive young man with a dark and scowl in his eyes, menacingly approached your powerless body. "FBI! Raise your hands above your head where I can see them!" she shouted with a strong authority in her gravelly voice, her gun unlocked and aimed squarely at the back of the man's head.

The suspect abruptly turned away from you and towards her, a devilish grin on his thin lips, only now did she noticed the shiny silver in his hands. "Agent Prentiss. You're too late to save this pretty thing. She'll be my next trophy and you'll get to watch so it eats you up inside that you couldn't save her in time."

Emily, however, remained calm, her eyes sparkling with determination to free you from the clutches of this monster and get you to safety. “Put the knife down and slowly step away from the woman,” the man in front of her just laughed scornfully and looked back at you for a second. You tried to squeeze yourself deeper into the corner, the look in his eyes deadly. You were panicking. You were afraid for your life. "You won't get in my way, Prentiss. Last time you interfered with my plans and the woman got away. But not this time,"

With a quick movement, he tightened the knife in his hand and rushed towards her, ready to attack and hurt her. But the agent reacted quickly and, as she had learned, ducked skillfully to the side and fired three shots, which, due to her sway in her balance, hit the ground just next to the attacker. The man flinched and frightened for a moment, but his resolve to stop her from saving you seemed undiminished.

In an all-too-quick turn of events, he leapt forward from his crouched position towards her, knife raised high, forcing Emily into an intense hand-to-hand combat. She couldn't use her pistol from such close range. The risk was too high, even for an experienced shooter like her, to hit you and injure or even kill you with one shot. However, her hand-to-hand combat training and experience gave her the advantage over him, but the man was a fierce opponent who would not let go of her until he got what he wanted.

A quick slash of the knife cut the skin above the collarbone, but the agent gritted her teeth and withstood him, her determination to save you unwavering. In a strong counterattack, she cleverly turned to face her, took advantage of the man's open attack area and brought him down, along with herself. She overpowered him and now sat on his thighs, forcing him to drop the knife by grabbing his upper arm and hitting it multiple times on the cold concrete floor before she secured him with handcuffs.

Emily was breathing heavily, the pain in her shoulder was throbbing and the blood was flowing down her dark blue blouse, but her eyes quickly darted to you, who was still cowering in fear in the corner. She quickly freed you from the restraints, pulled the tape from your mouth and hugged you protectively while you fell into her strong arms, sobbing in relief. She was desperately trying to calm you down with gentle words. "It's over, sweetie. You're safe."

More police sirens and their team approached their position in the warehouse as Emily, continuing to ignore her sore shoulder, carefully led you out of the darkness. You shivered uncontrollably in her arms as the cold night air enveloped you, but you also felt a soothing warmth as you clung to your rescuer.

The emotions that overwhelmed you and dragged every fiber of your body into a deep quagmire left you struggling to breathe, and tears began to stream inexorably down your cheeks. Emily pulled you closer to her, feeling the tremble on the side of her body and your pulse beating wildly in your arms as she held you gently. "It's over. You're safe and nothing can happen to you anymore."

Her words were a distant echo in your head as you sobbed desperately, the weight of fear and agony of the last day released in an overwhelming torrent of tears. Your legs felt weak, like you couldn't take another step, but Emily supported you gently, her presence like an anchor in the middle of a violent storm at sea.

The environment around you seemed to fade and you were unsure of your voice, however a few words came out quietly between the sobs, barely audible but full of gratitude and deep relief that Emily had saved you. "Thank you, Agent Prentiss. Thank you for helping me. I thought I would never get out of there alive again."

"That's my job, sweetie. I loved doing it," Emily hugged you gently again, her own heart heavy with compassion. She stroked your back soothingly while a gentle kiss touched your hair. "You've been brave and now you're here and I'm with you. It's over."

The minutes passed as you slowly came out of shock and regained your composure. Your breaths became deeper and slower, your heart calmed and its pulse rate normalized. Emily continued to hold you gently in her arms by the ambulance steps, supporting you until your tears stopped and you were assessed by the paramedics. “Can I go home please?” You murmured in a shaky voice, looking up at her, your eyes red and tired.

The agent nodded gently and stood, lending you a hand to hold you before leading you to her car that was parked nearby. You felt exhausted but also relieved as you sank into the passenger seat of the car, Emily standing by your side.

The drive to your home was filled with a calming silence as Emily made sure to bring you cheerfully back to your family. Only when she sat down on the top steps of your family home and convinced herself that you were safe from now on and were being looked after by trustworthy hands did she leave the house. But not without giving you her private number first so you could call her when you needed someone to talk to.

[sincerelycetacea]

“White Noise.”

“But If you listen closely I swear, to God I swear, you can hear the ocean if you hold it up to your ear.”

Noiseless version:

All the references below! :D

[sashiavi]

Noo bc it'd be so hot-

Goat Harvey being like "wait waitwait-" with just the tip in, only for you to fully sink down on him

He'd grip your hips as tightly as he could, tensing up and would let out the loudest bleat as he throws his head back

Yessss! Oh Goat!Harvey how I love you </3 bit of a messy ramble/drabble ahead hehe

I adore writing him being so embarrassed about the noises he makes, it's not like he can help it! You're just too good.

InsecureGoatHybrid!Harvey (what a mouthful) who tries his very best to train his throat to sound 'normal' - He's not like other Hybrids he's seen in those naughty videos online, they don't make silly little noises.

He warbles and chitters, bleats sweet 'Baahs' and 'Maahs', trills soft and wobbly noises in his throat- oh how embarrassing.

It's especially bad when he finally has the pretty farmer in his lap, teasing your sweet and drippy cunt on his weepy tip, all flushed and throbby. He has to bite his tongue, to stifle any and all noises- Yoba, lest you tease him about it.

"Ready..?" You say to him, hand firmly planted on his hairy chest, fine brush of hairs stuck to his skin from nervous sweat. He tries to hum in agreeance, a simple and easy "Mmhm", but no, it just wasn't that simple- His throat warbles, the sound laced in a stuttery muffled bleat hidden behind his bitten tongue.

"A-Ah, wait- Farmer-!" He tries, wanting to get ahold of the stupid sound in his throat but Yoba, it's too late.

Your pretty pussy had already engulfed the sweet and pudgy tip of his cock, threatening to sink further down the tan shaft of his length. His hands fly to your waist and hips, blunt nails digging little crescent moons into your skin, thumbs moving in a stammered caress of apology.

"Wanna stop..?" Your lovely voice was just so kind, warm and wet cunt wrapped snug on his cock- it's a miracle he hadn't bleated out-

"N-No just- I.. Ha-a-ahh-" He stutters, throat closing around the syllables he tries to speak. "M'okay..?" He sucks in a breath, holding it in his lungs for safe keeping.

You experimentally wriggle your hips, his throbby head squishing against your walls. He whines a noiseless sound, more air than voice, trying his very best to keep that choppy noise down. His lips purse behind his moustache, in a little pout, eyebrows pitched upward in concentration, eyes fluttered shut.

Ohh it's when you sink, down, down, down on his thick, tanned shaft, his throbby veins pulsing under the sweet squeeze of your cunt. A heavy rush of blood gushes up to his tip, making him tilt his head, makes his tongue want to lull, throat crackling around something.

"H-ahh- Wait! Waitwaitwaitwa-a-ait~ Hmnbaahhh..!" His head throws back, a chittery bleat right on the tip of his tongue when you finally bottom out, your body feeling perfect in his lap. He tries to soothe himself, deep breath in, wobbly warbles stuttering on his uvula out. It's a keening noise, high pitched whimper chopped up into a series of bleats- oh how his whole body flushes beet red.

There's a giggle on your breath, and he's almost ready to apologize, embarrassed tears welling up over his waterline.

"Feels good, Harvey..?" Your hips rock instead, urging out more and more of those sounds up from his lungs. He can only nod, tongue nervously licking into the hairs of his moustache. "Lemme' hear how good.. Please?" Your voice was so soft, so doting, easing up the yucky embarrassing feeling in his gut.

Maybe the wobbly chitters in his throat weren't so bad after all..