#i cannot with the way she looks at him here

[pedgito]

𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐅𝐔𝐋 | Joel Miller x reader

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summary | Joel finds the perfect way to keep you quiet while he showers you with compliments.

author's note | i saw a text post ages ago that i cannot find that inspired this. here's a vaguely disguised new years themed fic and some pwp to celebrate. not to get sappy on a blowjob fic but i'm very thankful for this community and the ideas that have been shared, love you all <3

content warning | 18+ MDNI, jackson!joel, established dynamic, idiots in love, shy!reader, joel being a quiet lover in public but loud in private, this is a deeply emotional blowjob y'all buckle in, unprotected piv.

word count — 2k

“Am I gonna have to shut you up just so I can tell you how pretty you are?” Joel snarks, only half-joking.

You hated compliments.

Joel loved giving them.

It was a slow work in progress, trying to feel comfortable with the showering of words, the outward affection Joel showed in private. 

He appreciated that you weren’t big on public displays, enjoyed the idea of keeping you and this, all to himself.

But, he liked you—had for some time. It took months of courage before he could bring himself to admit it. It was after a long night of patrol, a grueling walk to your last stop. You had both collapsed in exhaustion on the dirtied couch in the lookout far west of Jackson, delirious with sleep when the words finally left his lips. 

Even then, as he spoke, your hands found their way over your face, the heat of embarrassment prickling your skin as you shied away from him.

He’s learned to do it in subtle ways—a smile, longing looks, a touch, learning that love could be translated in many ways, not just words.

Besides, he wasn’t all that good at words anyways.

You decided to drag him back to your house after the annual New Year's celebration in Jackson—Tommy insisted that it was something to celebrate.

Another year of survival, another year without detrimental loss. Every day was something to cherish, but the party was a way to take a weight off of everyone’s shoulders.

You and Joel had never nailed down exactly what you were doing—just that you enjoyed it, you liked him, and he fancied you. He said it all the time, even now as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

“You are so old-fashioned,” You snorted softly, helping him strip the thick winter coat down his shoulders, torn on one sleeve still from a fight with another small group. You had promised to stitch it up. You were good on your promises, he knows you’d get to it eventually. 

He separates from you briefly, placing it carefully over the barstool in your kitchen before he’s pushing you up against your couch, your ass pressing against the hard edge of the back, nearly tumbling as he presses his lips against yours again, your hands curving around the back of his neck as you kiss him back in earnest.

“Somethin’ wrong with that?” He teases, “I know an old man who’s real good at makin’ you scream.”

You giggle softly, “Hush,” You chastise him, allowing him to lead you blind until you both could land on the couch safely, straddling his lap as he worked at your jeans, fitting his hands underneath the denim and cotton of your underwear as he squeezed at your ass, cupping the flesh tight in his hands as you gasp, nudging your nose against his as you breath into his open mouth, “You and that mouth, I swear.”

Joel chuckles, eyes opening to yours closed, hiding your face away as you mouth at his neck, pressing gentle kisses into the skin as he squeezes at your ass harder, a moan slipping past your lips involuntarily.

“There she is,” He says with an air of wonder, like he’d just discovered something new, his overgrown curls tickling at your nose, “s’just me and you—don’t be shy.”

“I’m not—“ You argue, “you know I’m not.”

You widen your legs, grinding down against the growing length beneath the zipper of his jeans, leaning back as his eyes drag down your body, slipping his hands from your jeans to squeeze at your thighs, his bottom lip tucking between his teeth with your lazy rhythm.

“I know, baby,” Joel coos, “need me to fuck you? Don’t you?”

You nod fervently, “Please—Joel, please.”

Your lips part, perching forward to grip into the collar of his shirt as you lazy movements become more frantic, face contorting in pleasure as your tongue glides along your bottom lip, distinctly aware of Joel’s affectionate gaze.

“Fuck—never gonna get tired of that,” Joel speaks aloud, one hand rising to cradle your face as his thumb drags over you wet lip, “how pretty you look when you get needy—pretty all the damn time, but—“

You kiss him quick in an effort to silence him, his laughing blending into a groan as you bite down on his bottom lip, stripping your shirt over your head, tossing it aside before you’re reaching for his belt, loosening it while he licks into your mouth, the subtle taste of malt liquor on your breath.

It matched his own, sharing a drink with him earlier in the night as he hid away in the corner of the room, as he often did at parties, too eager to get his hands on you as he watched you work your magic, gracing your smile upon everyone that passed, keeping up small talk that Joel would rather not suffer through. 

“Got a request,” He tells you, speaking against your lips as you hum in question, “how much d’ya want me to beg to get those lips around my cock?”

You giggle softly, wordlessly you move toward the floor, working against his jeans before he’s helping you shove them down far enough that he can scoop his balls into his hand, rolling them against his fingers as he wraps his other hand around his cock, pushing his thumb over the head as he guides it into your waiting mouth.

It was always a stretch, even like this.

You apply a gentle kiss before your lips spread, the faintest taste of precum at the tip of your tongue before you’re guiding your mouth down his cock, the salty taste of the velvet skin around him, a musky but sweet taste to the opaque liquid gathered at the slit.

“Perfect, fucking perfect,” He breathes, running his finger through your hair as he pushes it back, his other hand hovering nearby, curling into a tight fist as you press your nose into the thick patch of curls at the base, “shoulda stuffed this mouth sooner, seems to do the trick.”

You gag against his forceful movement, burying the head of his cock into your throat so far his teeth clenched, leaving you effectively silenced.

“S’that what it took, a mouthfulla’ cock and you won’t stop me from complimentin’ you for once?”

Beggars can’t be choosers, he’d take it.

And such a pleaser you were, you had a job to do.

Usually he revels in the feeling, subdued and quiet while he watches you work, skilled hands and an exquisite mouth to match, he’d hit the jackpot somehow. 

“Come on, pretty girl,” He encourages, allowing you up for air for a brief moment as your spit slick mouth drools down his shaft, tears brimming your eyes, “fucking beautiful takin’ it all in like that—more?”

You nod, watching as he grips his shaft, tapping the mushroom shaped tip against your lips, teasing you as you slip your tongue along his shaft, guiding you back as you chase his movements.

“Work for it, baby,” He insists, “show me how bad you wan’ it.”

Impatience grows, you huff through your nose as you swat his hand away, wrapping your own hand around his cock instead, your mouth covering what your fingers couldn’t, your other hand cupping his balls, rubbing a single finger down the seam of his sack as you twirled your tongue around the dripping head, lapping up his cum at this slit.

“That’s right, lookin’ like a goddamn dream. Eyes on me, sweetheart,” He beckons, with you peeking through tear-stained eyes, silenced as your mouth is stuffed full of him.

Eventually, your tongue trails along the vein at the underside of his cock, reaching the seam of his sack before you’re rolling his balls along your tongue, sucking them between your lips with a wet noise that causes Joel to groan, his hand squeezing in your hair at the scalp.

“I would keep you like this for hours if you’d let me, wish you could see how fuckin’ amazing you look, gotta know how lucky I am to have you—I am, I’m so lucky, baby.”

In any other context, you would cry. 

It scared you, hearing the admission. The love Joel felt so immensely, the love that terrified you—because when things get too serious, they always go south. 

It was easier to keep things light—fun, simple. As much as you had found a home in Joel, nested in between his ribcage, around his heart—it was still constricting.

Physicality was easy to detach from.

Words, however, meant the world to you.

You couldn’t hear those words unless, in his heart, he truly meant them. Even then, it still terrified you. But, he had you now. Locked on his gaze, the words tumbling from his mouth like a dam finally breaking—you were done for.

“Stick your tongue out,” He orders gently, watching you move away to follow his order, rubbing the head of his cock over the wet, fleshy muscle, “always listenin’ so well, too,”

You feel the heat in your face return as you close your eyes to avoid his intense gaze, sucking him down eagerly as you shift from your haunches to your knees, hurrying your pace as he begins to fall apart, pathetic grunts of half pleasure and half plea filling the room.

Shamelessly, you swallowed him down again as he pressed against the back of your throat, holding yourself in place until he collapsed against the back of the couch, his hands tangled into your hair carelessly as you gagged, a distinct sound that brought Joel over the edge in an instant.

“Oh—oh, fuck. Darlin’, I fuckin’—“ His orgasm surges quickly to the surface, the warm of his cum spreading against your tongue as you swallow him down without hesitation, “God, I’m so in love with you,”

You can feel him shudder against your tongue, cock twitching as you remove him from your mouth, his chest releasing a sigh as he reaches blindly for your hand, silently begging you to come to him. You crawl slowly, careful as you position yourself over him again, his hand pushing your fallen hair away from your face as he pulls you in, breathing heavily into the lazy kiss he presses against your lips.

“Been tryin’ to tell you for so long,” Joel admits with a fond tone, “you’re always shuttin’ me down,”

“I’m sorry,” You admit softly, “S’just—words mean more to me than you think.”

“Oh baby—I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” Joel assures, “I’m not throwin’ that shit around lightly. I mean it—every fuckin’ bit.”

You let the conversation fall silent, eyes scanning over his relaxed expression.

“Is that what it took, though?” Joel teases, rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip, pressing against the plush skin, “Gotta shut you up with my cock to tell you all the nice things you deserve to hear?”

“It does help, doesn’t it?” You counter with amusement, his face cracking into a smile, the skin beside his eyes creasing with emotion as you laugh, his own mixing with yours.

“It does,” He agrees with a chuckle, pulling you forward gently to curl his hand around the back of your head and pull you into his chest, echoing a quieter, “It does.”

Still undressed at the waist, Joel nips at your skin, a tell-tale sign of his persistence.

“Slow down, cowboy,” You tease, “It’s almost midnight—can’t have you skippin’ out on our kiss.”

“Better yet, I can start it off inside ‘ya,” He bargains, a deal that seemed far too good to pass up.

Joel is eager in his attempts to get you undressed from the waist down, shrugging his shoes and jeans off completely before you straddle his lap, gripping his cock with a delicate hold, slipping it inside of you slowly, enjoying the contortion of Joel’s expression as your walls squeeze around him. 

You can hear the muffled celebration off in the distance as Joel whispers something unintelligible into your skin, nudging your shirt up high enough with his nose until he can get his mouth on your skin, aiding the slow bounce of your hips with his hands as he pants, “I love you too,” You admit, “f’that wasn’t already clear.”

“Crystal, darlin’—but it is nice to hear.”

There was no rush for now, enjoying the sensation of each other’s bodies in a way that consumed you both, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips as you spoke into his open mouth.

“Happy New Year,” You tell him, fighting through your own quiet giggle.

Joel nods in approval, humming, “S’right—Happy fuckin’ New Year.”

[kalmidnight]

(from The Book of Virtues, A Treasury of Great Moral Stories, an anthology by William Bennett)

The Magic Thread

Too often, people want what they want (or what they think they want, which is usually "happiness" in one form or another) right now. The irony of their impatience is that only by learning to wait, and by a willingness to accept the bad with the good, do we usually attain those things that are truly worthwhile. "He that can have patience, can have what he will," Benjamin Franklin told us, and this French tale bears him out.

Once there was a widow who had a son called Peter. He was a strong, able boy, but he did not enjoy going to school and he was forever daydreaming."

Peter, what are you dreaming about this time?" his teacher would say to him.

"I'm thinking about what I'll be when I grow up," Peter replied.

"Be patient. There's plenty of time for that. Being grown up isn't all fun, you know," his teacher said.

But Peter found it hard to enjoy whatever he was doing at the moment, and was always hankering after the next thing. In winter he longed for it to be summer again, and in summer he looked forward to the skating, sledging, and warm fires of winter. At school he would long for the day to be over so that he could go home, and on Sunday nights he would sigh, "If only the holidays would come." What he enjoyed most was playing with his friend Liese. She was as good a companion as any boy, and no matter how impatient Peter was, she never took offense. "When I grow up, I shall marry Liese," Peter said to himself.

Often he wandered through the forest, dreaming of the future. Sometimes he lay down on the soft forest floor in the warm sun, his hands behind his head, staring up at the sky through the distant treetops. One hot afternoon as he began to grow sleepy, he heard someone calling his name. He opened his eyes and sat up. Standing before him was an old woman. In her hand she held a silver ball, from which dangled a silken golden thread.

"See what I have got here, Peter," she said, offering the ball to him.

"What is it?" he asked curiously, touching the fine golden thread.

"This is your life thread," the old woman replied. "Do not touch it and time will pass normally. But if you wish time to pass more quickly, you have only to pull the thread a little way and an hour will pass like a second. But I warn you, once the thread has been pulled out, it cannot be pushed back in again. It will disappear like a puff of smoke. The ball is for you. But if you accept my gift you must tell no one, or on that very day you shall die. Now, say, do you want it?"

Peter seized the gift from her joyfully. It was just what he wanted. He examined the silver ball. It was light and solid, made of a single piece. The only flaw in it was the tiny hole from which the bright thread hung. He put the ball in his pocket and ran home. There, making sure that his mother was out, he examined it again. The thread seemed to be creeping very slowly out of the ball, so slowly that it was scarcely noticeable to the naked eye. He longed to give it a quick tug, but dared not do so. Not yet.

The following day at school, Peter sat daydreaming about what he would do with his magic thread. The teacher scolded him for not concentrating on his work. If only, he thought, it was time to go home. Then he felt the silver ball in his pocket. If he pulled out a tiny bit of thread, the day would be over. Very carefully he took hold of it and tugged. Suddenly the teacher was telling everyone to pack up their books and to leave the classroom in an orderly fashion. Peter was overjoyed. He ran all the way home. How easy life would be now! All his troubles were over. From that day forth he began to pull the thread, just a little, every day.

One day, however, it occurred to him that it was stupid to pull the thread just a little each day. If he gave it a harder tug, school would be over altogether. Then he could start learning a trade and marry Liese. So that night he gave the thread a hard tug, and in the morning he awoke to find himself apprenticed to a carpenter in town. He loved his new life, clambering about on roofs and scaffolding, lifting and hammering great beams into place that still smelled of the forest. But sometimes, when payday seemed too far off, he gave the thread a little tug and suddenly the week was drawing to a close and it was Friday night and he had money in his pocket.

Liese had also come to town and was living with her aunt, who taught her housekeeping. Peter began to grow impatient for the day when they would be married. It was hard to live so near and yet so far from her. He asked her when they could be married.

"In another year," she said. "Then I will have learned how to be a capable wife."

Peter fingered the silver ball in his pocket."Well, the time will pass quickly enough," he said, knowingly.

That night Peter could not sleep. He tossed and turned restlessly. He took the magic ball from under his pillow. For a moment he hesitated; then his impatience got the better of him, and he tugged at the golden thread. In the morning he awoke to find that the year was over and that Liese had at last agreed to marry him. Now Peter felt truly happy.

But before their wedding could take place, Peter received an official-looking letter. He opened it in trepidation and read that he was expected to report at the army barracks the following week for two years' military service. He showed the letter to Liese in despair. "Well," she said, "there is nothing for it, we shall just have to wait. But the time will pass quickly, you'll see. There are so many things to do in preparation for our life together." Peter smiled bravely, knowing that two years would seem a lifetime to him.

Once Peter had settled into life at the barracks, however, he began to feel that it wasn't so bad after all. He quite enjoyed being with all the other young men, and their duties were not very arduous at first. He remembered the old woman's warning to use the thread wisely and for a while refrained from pulling it. But in time he grew restless again. Army life bored him with its routine duties and harsh discipline. He began pulling the thread to make the week go faster so that it would be Sunday again, or to speed up the time until he was due for leave. And so the two years passed almost as if they had been a dream.

Back home, Peter determined not to pull the thread again until it was absolutely necessary. After all, this was the best time of his life, as everyone told him. He did not want it to be over too quickly. He did, however, give the thread one or two very small tugs, just to speed along the day of his marriage. He longed to tell Liese his secret, but he knew that if he did he would die.

On the day of his wedding, everyone, including Peter, was happy. He could hardly wait to show Liese the house he had built for her. At the wedding feast he glanced over at his mother. He noticed for the first time how gray her hair had grown recently. She seemed to be aging so quickly. Peter felt a pang of guilt that he had pulled the thread so often. Henceforward he would be much more sparing with it and only use it when it was strictly necessary.

A few months later Liese announced that she was going to have a child. Peter was overjoyed and could hardly wait. When the child was born, he felt that he could never want for anything again. But whenever the child was ill or cried through the sleepless night, he gave the thread a little tug, just so that the baby might be well and happy again.

Times were hard. Business was bad and a government had come to power that squeezed the people dry with taxes and would tolerate no opposition. Anyone who became known as a troublemaker was thrown into prison without trial and rumor was enough to condemn a man. Peter had always been known as one who spoke his mind, and very soon he was arrested and cast into jail. Luckily he had his magic ball with him and he tugged very hard at the thread. The prison walls dissolved before him and his enemies were scattered in the huge explosion that burst forth like thunder. It was the war that had been threatening, but it was over as quickly as a summer storm, leaving behind it an exhausted peace. Peter found himself back home with his family. But now he was a middle-aged man.

For a time things went well and Peter lived in relative contentment. One day he looked at his magic ball and saw to his surprise that the thread had turned from gold to silver. He looked in the mirror. His hair was starting to turn gray and his face was lined where before there had not been a wrinkle to be seen. He suddenly felt afraid and determined to use the thread even more carefully than before. Liese bore him more children and he seemed happy as the head of his growing household. His stately manner often made people think of him as some sort of benevolent ruler. He had an air of authority as if he held the fate of others in his hands. He kept his magic ball in a well-hidden place, safe from the curious eyes of his children, knowing that if anyone were to discover it, it would be fatal.

As the number of his children grew, so his house became more overcrowded. He would have to extend it, but for that he needed money. He had other worries too. His mother was looking older and more tired every day. It was of no use to pull the magic thread because that would only hasten her approaching death. All too soon she died, and as Peter stood at her graveside, he wondered how it was that life passed so quickly, even without pulling the magic thread.

One night as he lay in bed, kept awake by his worries, he thought how much easier life would be if all his children were grown up and launched upon their careers in life. He gave the thread a mighty tug, and the following day he awoke to find that his children had all left home for jobs in different parts of the country, and that he and his wife were alone. His hair was almost white now and often his back and limbs ached as he climbed the ladder or lifted a heavy beam into place. Liese too was getting old and she was often ill. He couldn't bear to see her suffer, so that more and more he resorted to pulling at the magic thread. But as soon as one trouble was solved, another seemed to grow in its place. Perhaps life would be easier if he retired, Peter thought. Then he would no longer have to clamber about on drafty, half-completed buildings and he could look after Liese when she was ill. The trouble was that he didn't have enough money to live on. He picked up his magic ball and looked at it. To his dismay he saw that the thread was no longer silver but gray and lusterless. He decided to go for a walk in the forest to think things over. It was a long time since he had been in that part of the forest. The small saplings had all grown into tall fir trees, and it was hard to find the path he had once known. Eventually he came to a bench in a clearing. He sat down to rest and fell into a light doze. He was woken by someone calling his name, "Peter! Peter!"

He looked up and saw the old woman he had met so many years ago when she had given him the magic silver ball with its golden thread. She looked just as she had on that day, not a day older. She smiled at him."So, Peter, have you had a good life?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," Peter said. "Your magic ball is a wonderful thing. I have never had to suffer or wait for anything in my life. And yet it has all passed so quickly. I feel that I have had no time to take in what has happened to me, neither the good things nor the bad. Now there is so little time left. I dare not pull the thread again for it will only bring me to my death. I do not think your gift has brought me luck."

"How ungrateful you are!" the old woman said. "In what way would you have wished things to be different?"

"Perhaps if you had given me a different ball, one where I could have pushed the thread back in as well as pulling it out. Then I could have relived the things that went badly."

The old woman laughed. "You ask a great deal! Do you think that God allows us to live our lives twice over? But I can grant you one final wish, you foolish, demanding man."

"What is that?" Peter asked.

"Choose," the old woman said. Peter thought hard.

At length he said, "I should like to live my life again as if for the first time, but without your magic ball. Then I will experience the bad things as well as the good without cutting them short, and at least my life will not pass as swiftly and meaninglessly as a daydream."

"So be it," said the old woman. "Give me back my ball."

She stretched out her hand and Peter placed the silver ball in it. Then he sat back and closed his eyes with exhaustion.

When he awoke he was in his own bed. His youthful mother was bending over him, shaking him gently.

"Wake up, Peter. You will be late for school. You were sleeping like the dead!"

He looked up at her in surprise and relief.

"I've had a terrible dream, Mother. I dreamed that I was old and sick and that my life had passed like the blinking of an eye with nothing to show for it. Not even any memories."

His mother laughed and shook her head.

"That will never happen," she said. "Memories are the one thing we all have, even when we are old. Now hurry and get dressed. Liese is waiting for you and you will be late for school.

As Peter walked to school with Liese, he noticed what a bright summer morning it was, the kind of morning when it felt good to be alive. Soon he would see his friends and classmates, and even the prospect of lessons didn't seem so bad. In fact he could hardly wait.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 13

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, pregnancy, miscarriage, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: i have realized i dont link the polls to the fics. here's what won last time!! bask in your decisions <3 once again, the high valyrian might be wrong so roll with it and leave comments/reblogs ok!!! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!! | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Caraxes was never fond of being holed up in the pit, and yet, as King's Landing became apparent on the horizon, the dragon found himself beating his wings faster than normal. When the stench of the pit the creature's nostrils, he knew then, he was home.

Perhaps it was still because he was in his armor, but for Daemon, it was not until Viserys looked upon him, first warily then happily, and embraced him that he felt the realness of it all.

As the entirety of court watched the brothers' affectionate exchange, most thought the display touching... then there were the Hightowers. The only reason Alicent was here in the throne room to greet him was because she was queen and it was expected of her. And Otto did not want to look upon the dastardly prince's face, but he had to see what state he was in for the sake of his eldest daughter.

"My brother has returned!" the king announces, enticing cheers from the onlookers. Lord Hand promptly leaves after this, intent on going to you.

Otto asks the first servant he sees where you are, and is immediately directed to the garden. He is unsurprised to see that not one, but two of your wards are there, evidently on high alert. The moment they spot him, they freeze to greet him in unison, "Lord Hand."

"Does she know?"

The twins share a quick glance, and again, in unison, "everyone knows."

Otto releases a sigh. You know of your husband's return and yet you chose to remain in the gardens. He was about to ask the twins step aside, but then he hears the sound of giggles. He peers past the two, finding you laughing with your nephew in your arms. He rubs his forehead and clenches his jaw, "what did she say?"

Erryk and Arryk stare at Otto's distressed face. The former speaks, " 'he did not wish that I see him off, I should not see to his return'. "

Otto sighs deeply and wipes his face, "Seven save us."

Arryk almost pities your father for how worried he looked... but almost is not enough; he'll never forget the tears you shed because of him. No one in your family seemed to grant you grace.

"As it is," Lord Hightower raises his hands, "the prince is in good spirits, and I am sure he will not so soon look for her as he would the cups of wine he wishes to share with the king. Do not impose upon the prince if he does come around," Otto raises a finger, "but do not let his entitlement get into his head."

The Cargll twins not in sync, "my lord."

With that, Otto walks off.

Once he is gone, Erryk turns to his brother, "I would sooner fall on my sword than have her husband ruin the happiness she's so delicately built for herself."

Arryk gives him a look, "do not forget yourself."

"I do not," he snaps, "but perhaps you do."

Arryk does not take kindly to his accusatory tone.

"I cannot forget even if I wanted," Erryk looks off, "it my shift when she miscarried," he grits his teeth, "mine, when she tried to fling herself off the eastern tower."

"And it was mine when she locked herself in her bath," Arryk quips, "and when she threw herself at Caraxes, only to have the beast take her under his wing. Do not feel self-righteous in your suffering, for it is not yours," he points, "it's hers."

Erryk clenches his jaw so hard it's a wonder his teeth do not break. He spare his brother a glance.

Arryk turns forward and sighs deeply before repeating, "do not forget yourself."

"Do not forget yourself," he counters.

All three of them are wrong, Arryk, Erryk, and Otto. Otto was wrong to think that Daemon would not look for you before anything else. The prince notices is your absence the very moment he notices your sister. He asks Viserys, "where is my wife?"

Viserys looks over to his Alicent, who clutches her belly and finally approaches, "ah... she's probably with her boy."

Daemon pulls his head back.

"My prince," Alicent smiles half-heartedly to her good-brother, "I trust your travels home were smooth."

He completely ignores her, "her boy?"

Viserys thinks nothing of Daemon's words as he takes wife's hand, "where is your sister, dearest."

Dearest? Daemon's expression curls.

Alicent turns to the king, rubbing her swollen belly, "last I saw her, she was in the gardens with Aegon."

Aegon? Daemon's eyes narrow.

"Oh!" Viserys smiles, turning to Daemon, "you should go to the gardens and fetch them then. Your wife has brought forth new life to the Keep. I encouraged her to write about it to you, but she did not think you would find care to learn it through letters."

Daemon's face falls. New life? You brought forth new life? Without a word, he sprints off to the gardens.

Viserys is momentarily taken aback by this. Alicent is agitated by it, especially because she catches on to the ambiguity of his words. She she squeezes his arm, "do you think this is a good idea?"

"What?" he pulls his head back, "that he see his wife and nephew?"

"He might not take kindly to Aegon. You called him her boy."

Viserys chuckles, "but he is. She loves him so dearly."

"I know, but you made it sound like my sister had a babe."

The king pulls his head back and chuckles. When he realizes Alicent's worry was apparent on her features, he thinks about what he said and shakes his head, "I was talking about the flowers she planted in the garden."

"I know," Alicent repeats, "but does Daemon?"

"Don't be silly, Alicent," Viserys squeezes her hand, "Daemon is not that slow-witted. Besides, does your sister not write to him everyday?"

She clenches her jaw, "yes."

"So," he shrugs, "why would he be so sorely mistaken?"

Except he was; Viserys is also wrong. And as Daemon makes his way toward the gardens, it becomes apparent why Arryk and Erryk too are wrong. Both of them immediately forget themselves upon seeing the approaching prince. They block his path instinctively.

Daemon stops in his tracks, "out of the way."

Erryk stares blankly at him. Arryk shifts on his leg, "allow me a moment to announce your presence to the princess."

"Why would I need to be announced? She is my wife."

"She is with Prince Aegon," Arryk raises a hand and steps forward, "it is in her best interest that I ensure you are welcome while he is present."

Daemon is flabbergasted. He clenches his fists, "why wouldn't I be welcome around my own flesh and blood?!"

"My lady has only recen-"

"Do you deny it!?" Daemon snaps.

They do not reply.

"Do you deny the boy is my flesh and blood?"

The twins know the prince is riled up. If they persist, a fight will surely break out. Though they cared little for the consequences of quarrelling with the newly returned prince, they did care greatly for your peace of mind. This was why Erryk replied, "no, ser."

"Then get out of my fucking way," he snaps.

Arryk and Erryk stare at him. Eventually, they reluctantly step aside.

Daemon, in all his rage and pettiness, makes sure to knock into them as he passes. It was good he was still in his own armor, or else the collision against their steel shoulder pads would have hurt.

"Right, shall we go back now?"

The sound of your voice makes him stop in his tracks. How was it that he was so angry to be denied going to you just now, yet he now can't seem to move from his spot.

"No, my love, we do not pick roses so carelessly."

"Flower!"

Daemon's breath hitches at the sound of the boy's voice.

"You want the rose?" your voice is soft but audible, "you want to pick the rose for mummy?"

Mummy? Daemon slowly inches foward.

"Mummy?" the small voice repeats.

Daemon witnesses the moment the babe reaches for your curls. You brown hair is completely undone, spilling all the way down to your waist. A gentle breeze makes your tresses and skirt flow. His lips part at the beauty of you.

You chuckle when Aegon tries to eat your hair and pull it away before he manages to, "silly boy. Shall we ask Ser Arryk to pick the flower for us?"

"Flower for mummy!" he bounces in your arms.

You bounce him back, making him giggle as you repeat, "flower for mummy!" You flip your hair back, "Ser Arryk, could you-"

Your mouth goes dry when you see Daemon staring back at you. His hair is short and his eyes shine. You nearly choke on your breath, feeling your knees buckle as he slowly walks over. Your hold on Aegon tightens as he reaches out.

You step back. It takes him off-guard. It feels just like when an arrow was shot to his chest. Daemon moves towards the rose bush, picking out a flower, carefully removing its thorns.

"Flower!" Aegon coos and reaches out.

Daemon turns to him, handing the blushing bloom, "rūklon, ñuha tresy." Flower, my son.

You freeze. You freeze because you understand him.

Aegon gives a gummy smile; he shows all his teeth but he only has two at the bottom. He happily groans and grins at you when he has the flower in hand, "FLAWOW!"

You turn to the boy. His shining face instantly shatters the tension and unease you feel. You huff and brush his silver hair back. You freeze again when Daemon's hand comes upon yours.

You turn to him with wide eyes. His eyes are fixed on Aegon, "Rūklon, Aegon. Kostagon vestrā rūklon syt kepa?" Flower, Aegon. Can you say flower for father?

Daemon takes Aegon's chin, making him look to him, "rūklon, Aegon. Rūk-lon."

Your initially shocked expression melts into molten anger.

Aegon looks at his uncle, "rūklon."

Daemon is surprised but immediately pleased. He lets out a rich laugh as he turns to you, "he is good."

"Daor kirimvose naejot ao." you snap, pulling Aegon away from him. No thanks to you.

He pulls his chin back. He watches in shock as you turn to move the prince away. You glare as you do so, eyes beady and pink. His forehead wrinkles.

"Eman gūrēntan Valyrio Eglie sīr bona kostan bodmagho zirȳla. Emā daorun naejot jiōragon zirȳla." I have learned High Valyrian so that I can teach him. You have nothing to offer him.

Your frosty words make him pull his head back again. "daorun?" Nothing.

"Kessa," you nod, "daorun" Yes. Nothing.

His eye twitches as he shakes his head in disbelief, "iksan se valītsos kepa." I am the boy's father.

The severity of your laugher is haunting. His eyes widen and his skin pricks with goosebumps. You throw you head back, feeling a tear run down your face. You sigh and shake your head as you turn back to him, "you are completely devoid of both heart and mind, aren't you?"

Daemon too stunned to do anything but stare.

You turn. Daemon finally sees Aegon playing with the flower. You catch his attention by brushing his hair back, "my love," you start, "qilōni iksis aōha kepa?" who is your father?

Aegon looks up at you with little interest.

"Kepa, Aegon, kepa."

"Kepa?" he repeats.

"Kessa, skoros gaomas kepa gaomagon?" Yes, what does father do?

Aegon raises his rose, "dārys!"

King? Daemon's face falls.

You smile and bounce the child in your arms, "rōvēgrior!"

He tenses at the sound of the word. Rōvēgrior. Excellent. There was a time where you could not say that word at all. He taught that to you. And yet as you turn to him, your face destitute of any happiness that you had offered Aegon, it felt at though it was a memory he just conjured up.

"You are no more related to the boy than I am," you quip, "she is my sister's first born."

"Viserys said you brought for new life in the Keep," he mutters, as if he was afraid he heard wrong.

Your jaw feathers, but as the wind blows, you catch sight of the flowers, "he meant the roses," you turn to the said blooms. You laugh, bitterness pulling out a mocking smile from you, "how could you expect a son from me?"

Daemon shifts in his spot, ready to argue, but he quickly finds he had nothing to say to that. He thinks of all the seed he's spilled on your skin. He thinks of his persistence in leaving your womb empty. He thinks of the discipline he employed to ensure he would never finish in you. He clenches his jaw.

You turn to him; tears begin to fall from your eyes. Aegon notices and reaches for your cheeks; his flower falls to the floor, forgotten.

You and Daemon stare at each other. You feel your breath begin to shorten the longer you do.

Your expression falls when you hear Aegon begin to fuss. You immediately steel yourself away as you turn to your nephew; the boy looks like his on the brink of tears. You sniffle and shush him, "no, no, no-"

It's too late. He begins to cry.

You push past Daemon with little regard. Your wards turn to you upon hearing Aegon's cries. You say nothing to them, your full attention on Aegon as you rock him in your arms, "the fishes swim in seas of blue, and dragons breath fire so red..."

Arryk and Erryk follow after you.

Daemon is left alone in the middle of the garden.

He has no word to describe what he felt in that moment. He was stunned, hurt, saddened, torn. He was angry. How could you do this to him? You had begged him not to go, and now that he's returned, you treat him like... like you hated him.

He laughs dryly under his breath. Was this a game? Was this your way of getting back at him? He laughs louder as he walks off. He could hate you back better.

Daemon joins the luncheon the king throws in honor of his return. He does not waste his time and makes a show of himself.

It is easy for him to fall back into his old ways once he is in his princely garbs. He openly and unabashedly flirts with all the ladies he can set his eyes upon and eagerly annoys and offers backhanded compliments to all the lords present.

It gets so bad that Viserys has to intervene. Even Alicent and Rhaenyra, who had not spoken to each other since the king's wedding, find each other's company just to momentarily agree that Daemon is being completely callous and tactless.

The king pulls him by the shoulder and Daemon manages to snag a cup of wine as he is pried away from the offensive conversation he instigated.

"I understand that you are overjoyed to be home," Viserys leads him off, "but please, control yourself."

Daemon pouts, facetious, "kessa, kepa." Yes, father.

He bristles, "iksan issare dokimare. Emagon mirri iotāptenon syt aōha ābrazȳrys." I'm being serious. Have some respect for your wife.

Daemon immediately shoves Visersys's hand off him at the mention of you. He snaps, "gaomagon daor ȳdragon naejot nyke hen bona aspo!" Do not speak to me of that bitch!

The queen and princess, along with the rest of the people present, turn to the brothers upon hearing raised voices.

"Uncle!" Rhaenyra calls him out, offended by the conversation only she and they could understand.

Daemon turns to her, chucking his drink to the side before storming off.

Viserys rolls his eyes and sigh, "Daemon."

Alicent walks over to her husband.

"Daemon!" the king snaps.

"Leave it to me, father," Rhaenyra says, following after her uncle.

Daemon is back at the gardens. He snaps over his shoulder, "fuck off!"

Rhaenyra rolls her eyes, "what has gotten you so sour?"

"HER!" Daemon whips back around, eyes red and glassy, "THAT HIGHTOWER BITCH!"

Rhaenyra recoils and pulls her head back in shock. She carefully mutters, "you can't possibly mean Alicent, can you?"

"Her and the whole lot!" Daemon throws a hand out, "they can all drop dead for all I care."

The princess watches him pace around. Her brows knit, "I would say I am comforted that you share in my offence over my father and Alicent's union, but I cannot say I do. I know you have long hated Otto, and Gwayne, as he's bested you in tourneys—"

Daemon steps forward, "have you followed me to further spur-"

"But what has -"

"Don't you fucking speak her name to me!"

Rhaenyra is taken aback by this. The two stare at each other, and as Daemon heaves. Her face hardens, "what could you possibly be angry about?"

"She did not even greet me!" Daemon points to nowhere.

Rhaenyra laughs. It goes dry when she realizes he was being serious. Her face contorts, "Daemon."

He looks away.

Her lips curl, "she just got better"

His brows furrow.

"You do know that?" she tilts her head, "right?"

Have you been sick?

"Seven hells," Rhaenyra's face falls, "you don't know."

"..."

"She writes to you everyday," she motions vaguely, "I have not been in King's Landing for many moons, but even I know this."

"War makes time for-"

"Then why are you angry?!"

"..."

Rhaenyra raises her brows at him. Daemon remains unable to respond. She rolls her eyes, "welcome home, uncle."

Daemon is left alone in the garden for a second time. He goes back to his personal quarters.

You see him from across the hall just before he enters but he does not see you. Before you can take another step, Arryk and Erryk each take hold of your arms.

"Release me."

"Why should you be the one to go to him?" Arryk asks.

You turn to him, "you know why."

"If he does not want to go to you, do not waste your grace on him," Arryk says, just as you pull away to turn to them.

"He does nothing to understand you," Erryk adds, "and he will misunderstand you so long as it suits himself."

Your eyes immediately water, "why are you turning against me?"

"We are-"

"You think I want to live like this?"

Erryk speaks your name, "he is not ready to face you."

"It's been three years!" you chuckle dryly.

"Let him come to you," Arryk adds.

You scratch your eyes and shake your head, "the bodies of my babes remain unburied, wrapped and sealed in a crypt, because I insist that they be given but one respect due to them in the tradition of their house, and you would deny me-" your voice breaks. Tears run down your cheeks as you try to compose yourself. You clear your throat, "you would deny my son and daughter this?"

The twins do not speak.

You wipe your face roughly with your hands, "well? What say you?!"

Arryk lowers his head. Erryk cannot look at you, but he cannot keep his peace either, which is why he says, "I say they would not want their mother to suffer at the hand of their father."

"Damn you, Erryk!" you shove him back.

Erryk looks at you in shock.

"You dare presume to know my children when I-" gasp, "did not-" gasp, "even-" gasp.

Your guards reach out for you when you begin to topple. They keep you upright and you find yourself too stubborn to faint. You wrangle out of their grasp and lean on your knees as you struggle to catch your breath.

When you straighten up, you look and see Erryk's teary eyes. You feel terrible. It nearly makes you lose your breath again. You groan and sink your face into your hands, "I can never win, can I?"

"Princess," Erryk mutters, "forgive me, I-"

"Enough," you raise a hand to him, "I will not have my children be the cause of conflict."

Erryk nods and keeps his head bowed. Arryk turns to him before doing the same.

You sigh, belly churning with sadness and guilt, "come," you take their hands, "my twins waited this long for their father. They can wait a little longer."

Daemon, through in his adamant refusal to read your letters, kept every single one of them, even the ones he trampled on in his anger. Three sacks of letters, there were three sacks that contained all of the letters you sent him, one for every year he was gone. He empties them out on his bed. He walks to his trunk of clothing and grabs the only one he ever read and rereads it.

He walks back to his bed and sits a the floor. He flattens out the parchment beside him, then haphazardly reaches for another one.

𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔩. ℑ𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔶 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔡𝔞𝔶 𝔱𝔬𝔡𝔞𝔶. ℑ 𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔩 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔫𝔬 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔞𝔨 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔬𝔴 𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰. ℑ 𝔫𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔶. 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔪𝔞𝔡𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔰𝔬. ℑ 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲. ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔢 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔡𝔞𝔶 𝔠𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔟𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲. 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔚𝔦𝔣𝔢.

Daemon flattens the parchment, stacks it on the previous one, and grabs another letter.

𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔩. ℑ 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔡𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡 𝔪𝔶 𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰, 𝔶𝔢𝔱 ℑ 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔶𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔭 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤. 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔏𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔏𝔞𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔯 𝔙𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔬𝔫 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔩 𝔪𝔢 𝔰𝔬. ℌ𝔬𝔴 𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔶 ℑ 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔫 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔖𝔱𝔢𝔭𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔰 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔢, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔬𝔴 𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔩𝔶 𝔪𝔶 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔦𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔶𝔬𝔲. ℑ 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔶 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢, ��𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔡𝔞𝔶 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲. ℌ𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔶𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔯𝔶 𝔬𝔣𝔱, 𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔞𝔡𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔰. 𝔇𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔟𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔯𝔶 𝔞𝔱 𝔥𝔦𝔪; ℑ 𝔯𝔢𝔤𝔞𝔯𝔡 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔣𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔡. ℑ 𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔪𝔶 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔞𝔰 ℑ 𝔡𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲. 𝔖𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔩𝔶, 𝔏𝔞𝔡𝔶 ℌ𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯

He knits his brows, flattens the parchment, stacks it on the previous one, and grabs another letter.

𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔏𝔢𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔳𝔢 𝔤𝔬𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔞𝔫 𝔞𝔯𝔤𝔲𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔥𝔦𝔪. ℌ𝔢 𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔫𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔶 𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔬𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔫 𝔬𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔯𝔶 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔰. ℌ𝔢 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔡𝔩𝔶 𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔡. ℑ 𝔢𝔫𝔳𝔶 𝔥𝔦𝔪. ℑ 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔪𝔶 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔡. 𝔓𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔩𝔶.

His face falls at your sentiment. You think this? He wonders for a moment what he and Laenor argued over, but he cannot recall anything for the life of him. The next letter he opens makes him sit up straight.

ℑ'𝔪 𝔡𝔶𝔦𝔫𝔤. 𝔓𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔥𝔬𝔪𝔢.

This letter drives him mad, because it is the only one like it. He rips open more than a dozen letters, yet all of them are like all the rest. He reads some more about Laenor, some of Gwayne and Alicent, some of Otto, some of Arryk and Erryk, some of Viserys, but most of them are about the mundane things you busy yourself with. Mundane things you do to distract yourself from him.

He does not know what to make of it.

Then, he unfolds a piece of paper with hastily written script.

𝔖𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫, 𝔦𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔞 𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔱ℯ𝓇 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓅𝒾𝓇ℯ 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝓊𝓈𝒷𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉ℴ 𝓇ℯ𝒶𝒹, 𝓁ℯ𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝒷ℯ 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈. ℐ 𝒽𝒶𝓋ℯ 𝓃ℴ𝓉 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓃 𝒶𝒷ℴ𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷ℯ𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈ℯ ℐ 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝒻𝓇𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝓉ℴ, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒟𝒶ℯ𝓂ℴ𝓃, ℐ 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒹. ℐ 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒷𝒶𝓇ℯ𝓁𝓎 𝓈ℯℯ 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓅𝒶𝓅ℯ𝓇 𝒶𝓈 ℐ 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉ℯ 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 ℐ 𝒻ℯ𝒶𝓇 ℐ 𝓂𝒾ℊ𝒽𝓉 𝓃ℯℯ𝒹 𝓉ℴ 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃ℊℯ 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝒸𝒽𝓂ℯ𝓃𝓉 𝒶ℊ𝒶𝒾𝓃. 𝒞ℴ𝓂ℯ 𝒽ℴ𝓂ℯ. ℐ 𝒾𝓂𝓅𝓁ℴ𝓇ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊, ℐ 𝒷ℯ𝓈ℯℯ𝒸𝒽 𝓎ℴ𝓊— 𝒸ℴ𝓂ℯ 𝒽ℴ𝓂ℯ.

"I was with child?" Daemon repeats to himself.

He frantically grabs a bunch of letters and skims through them, desperate to learn more of this. He goes through 5, 10, 20, 50, 100 letters, but none of them ever mention such a thing ever again.

At some point, the letters become singular.

𝔐𝔶 𝔥𝔲𝔰𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔡, ℑ 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔢𝔞𝔱. ℑ 𝔭𝔥𝔶𝔰𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔶𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣 𝔱𝔬 𝔢𝔞𝔱 𝔬𝔯 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔡𝔬𝔴𝔫. ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔞 𝔡𝔢𝔠𝔞𝔶𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔭𝔰𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔞 𝔭𝔲𝔩𝔰𝔢. ℑ 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔪𝔶 𝔪𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥. 𝔖𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔢, 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔦𝔱. ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔱 𝔪𝔶 𝔱𝔬𝔪𝔟 𝔬𝔫𝔠𝔢. 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔚𝔦𝔣𝔢

They all speak of your apparently imminent demise.

𝔐𝔶 𝔥𝔲𝔰𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔡, ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤. 𝔄𝔩𝔩 𝔴𝔥𝔬 𝔰𝔢𝔢𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔴𝔦𝔰𝔢, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 ℑ 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔦𝔱. 𝔉𝔬𝔯𝔤𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔪𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔶 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔰𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰. ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲. 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔚𝔦𝔣𝔢

It goes on for far too long.

𝔐𝔶 𝔥𝔲𝔰𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔡, ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔫𝔲𝔪𝔟. ℑ 𝔫𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔫. ℑ 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔠𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔞 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔩𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔶 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔡. ℑ 𝔣𝔢𝔩𝔱 𝔫𝔬 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔱𝔥 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢. 𝔓𝔢𝔯𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔰 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔶 𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔶 𝔱𝔬 𝔡𝔦𝔢 𝔟𝔶 𝔡𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔬𝔫 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢. ℑ𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰. 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔚𝔦𝔣𝔢

Daemon's stomach rolls. He cannot bare to read any more, and yet his guilt urges him to drink up this pain, as if it would make it go away, as if it could make up for what he had done.

The moon begins to fade as the sun begins to rise. He reads hundreds of letters that speak nothing but your pain and desire for death. His face is wet with tears and bitterness linger in his mouth. He no longer is on the floor. He lies on his bed, surround by his wife's misery.

He wails. He can do nothing else as he takes in your words.

Then, for the final time, the tone changes.

𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔫𝔬 𝔭𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔶 𝔰𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯'𝔰 𝔰𝔬𝔫. ℌ𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔶 𝔡𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔰𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔴 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔣𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰. ℌ𝔢 𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔰 𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔥𝔦𝔪, 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔬𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔢𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔪. ℌ𝔦𝔰 𝔠𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔢. ℑ 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔯 𝔡𝔞𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔰𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔞 𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔫𝔬𝔦𝔰𝔢. 𝔏𝔞𝔡𝔶 ℌ𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯

... mine own son or daughter. Daemon wipes his face.

𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔄𝔢𝔤𝔬𝔫 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔶 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔢𝔯. ℑ 𝔡𝔢𝔱𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔰𝔬, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔩𝔶 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔰𝔲𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔰 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔬𝔴𝔫. ℑ𝔣 ℑ 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡, ℑ 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔟𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔴 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔰𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔣𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔧𝔬𝔶. ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔶𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔶 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡. ℑ 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔱𝔬𝔬. 𝔏𝔞𝔡𝔶 ℌ𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯

He knits his brows and sits up. All the remaining letters are about Aegon.

𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔗𝔬𝔡𝔞𝔶 𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔨𝔰 𝔞 𝔶𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔪𝔶 𝔟𝔢𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔡 𝔄𝔢𝔤𝔬𝔫 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔟𝔬𝔯𝔫. ℌ𝔢 𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔡𝔞𝔶. ℑ 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 ℑ 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 ℑ 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔦𝔪, 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔥𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔞𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡. ℑ𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔶 𝔪𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔣𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔶 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔬𝔬. 𝔙𝔦𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔰 𝔥𝔦𝔪𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔞𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰 𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔰; ℑ 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔠𝔞𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔰 ��𝔦𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔞𝔯 𝔪𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 ℜ𝔥𝔞𝔢𝔫𝔶𝔯𝔞. ℑ 𝔡𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔣𝔞𝔲𝔩𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔞𝔩𝔣 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯; 𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔩𝔩, 𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥 𝔡𝔞𝔶 ℑ 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔰���𝔢 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔤𝔱𝔥 𝔱𝔬 𝔬𝔭𝔢𝔫 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔦𝔪. ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔡𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔲𝔭𝔬𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫. 𝔏𝔞𝔡𝔶 ℌ𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯

You speak of nothing else save him. You do not mention your affliction, you do not mention your everyday life, you speak only of your affections for Aegon.

The sun rises.

Daemon did not realize he fell asleep until a voice of a servant wakes him. It did not feel like he slept at all; he is still exhausted.

He groans as he sits up. He sees a servant girl staring at the thousand pages scattered across the room. He comes to a stand and begins pick up the papers, "do not mind this. Prepare me a bath. I will break fast with my wife."

The servant watches the prince clean up after himself. She curtsies and does what is instructed.

Daemon had stacked the letters by date as he read them and now tiptoed around the room, gathering the papers in chronological order. He grabs his trunk and files the papers there. By the time he is finished, his trunk is stuffed and his bath water is barely warm.

Neither did the bath wake him fully, nor did it refresh him. What's worse was the scent of his soap broke forth dam of memories for it smelled like you. Resentment for his own folly began to choke him with tears.

His face scarcely resembled him. His angular features were softened with woe, namely his eyes. He cared little for the puffiness rendered him by his tears as he made his way over to your room.

Arryk and Erryk instantly spot him, both of them raising their brows and curling their lips at the look of the prince.

"Is my wife awake?" Daemon asks once he is before them, voice telling of how he had clearly been crying.

Neither of them find sympathy, only disgust and irritation. Erryk particularly despises how readily he refers to you as his wife; he was just a stranger, an evil-doer you had tragically married, "do you see that she's awake?"

Arryk's jaw tenses at his brother's response. He slowly turns to him with knit brows.

Daemon is numb to their hostility, too wrapped up in his self-loathing, "it is nearly noon. Doesn't she wake earlier than this?"

"Yes," Erryk instantly responds, "she did three years ago."

The prince stills. He now recognizes the twins' acrimony. He takes in a breath; he has no desire to start a fight, not when he's freshly just read about your affections for them and how they cared for you in his absence. Daemon wipes his face then raises a hand, "alright. Let me pass. I will wait for her to rouse."

The twins' shoulders hit each other as they block the prince's passage. Arryk tilts his head, "rest does not come easy to her. It would be best if she is not disturbed."

"I will not disturb her," Daemon quips, "I said I would wait for her to rouse."

Erryk raises a brow and motions, "of course, my prince. Feel free to wait for her out here with us."

Daemon stiffens. He grinds his teeth as he debates the truth of the sentiment. He stares at them.

They stare back.

He shakes his head and storms off.

Erryk scoffs in disgust, clutching his scabbard. Arryk scowls at the prince then his brother, "you dunce. This is what we want, for him to go to her."

"Yes," Erryk eyes Daemon hotly, willing his body be burned by his glare, "yet watch how easily he retreats. He wants only to go to her for his own sake, not because he wants to see her."

"Erryk," Arryk places a hand on his arm, "you overstep."

Erryk turns to his brother, "I step my foot is exactly where it should be." He looks forward, "if he really wants to see her, he would come back."

And he was right. Daemon really wanted to see you. Why then would he waste his time and patience in quarrelling with your wards when he could simply take the hidden entrance to your chambers? He knew the passages well, after all; this was his home.

Daemon's senses are flooded as he emerges from the darkness.

Your fragrance is nearly tangible to him. He walks towards your vanity and takes a vial of your body oil. He inhales deeply, feeling warmth cascade through his body. He smears a bit on his philtrum. He missed this.

He sets the vial down and brushes his fingers over your jewelry. He takes the robe hung on your vanity chair and smells it. His eyes begin to water. He hangs it back in its place and finally, finally, he turns to you, throat uncomfortably tight.

Your brown hair is fanned out behind you. Your skins glows with invitation to be caressed.

He kneels beside you the way you did before your beloved statue of the Mother. He scratches his eyes when his tears begin to fog his vision. He strokes the back of his hand down your cheek. He fixes the blanket around you.

He watches you intently. He so badly wants to bury his face into the crook of your neck, to feel you, to smell you, to kiss you, but even he knew it was selfish; even he could admit he was undeserving.

The memory of the very first time he had ever beheld your sleeping form plays in his mind as you act it out in real life. Your lips and forehead curl; you stir slightly in your spot. He sighs when the corner of your closed eyes begin to water.

Daemon wipes your tears away, speaking the same words he spoke you then, "amīvindigon sesīr isse ēdrugon." Tormented even in sleep. He strokes your cheek and hair, "mundagon riña." Miserable girl.

He cannot help himself any longer. He shifts on his knees and moves in to press a kiss upon your temple. He leans his forehead on you, closing his eyes to savor your presence.

All is still.

All is solemn.

That is, until you begin to fuss.

You mutter incoherences and begin to moan.

He squeezes your shoulder and kisses you again, "gīda ilagon, ñuha jorrāelagon." Calm down, my love.

You moan out in response.

He pulls his head back with and opens his eyes. You moan again and it becomes clear that you were moaning a name.

"Alyrie."

A line forms between his brows.

"Alaeric."

He feels his chest tighten. What?

You moan as your arms reach out, "stay."

Daemon pulls back, eyes burning with tears. You repeat those names and a pit forms in his stomach, deep and dark. You whine as you embrace your pillow. He watches you press your lips into your pillow. He hears you mutter, "love you."

His throat constricts and he clenches his jaw. He does not like this dream.

You speak those names again and he pulls back, deciding he's had enough. He repeats it, mutters under his breath what he thinks he heard you say, "Arryk and Erryk." After all, how would he know the names Alyrie and Alaeric when you couldn't bare to even think of them, let alone mention them?

And just as he did moments ago, he wastes no time.

Daemon storms away, grabbing a pitcher of water on his way. He is upon them the moment he throws the doors open.

Before either brother can react, one has a pitcher bashed to the back of his head, and the other is kicked from behind. Shrieks pierce the air; your incoming servants witness the brutal onslaught.

All that was not enough to wake you, nothing would.

You startle awake, terrified out of your mind. Not only did you wake from a melancholic slumber, you wake to the sound of screams and battery.

Daemon would have managed to knock out the brothers had they not worn helmets. Still, the blow to the back of Arryk's head left him in a daze and Erryk, who was kicked from behind and shot off to the parallel wall, was no better.

The prince focuses on the closer twin who managed to face him. He kicks Arryk on the chest, knocking him down. He quickly climbs upon his felled body and removes his helmet before splitting his knuckles on his face. He manages to land two punches before he is throttled to the ground by the other Cargyll.

Erryk did not mean to merely subdue him, he was eager to retaliate. He crushes his knee into the prince's back, squeezing the air out of him before flipping him over, intent on breaking his nose at the very least.

Erryk underestimated the raging sense of betrayal that fuels his opponent.

Daemon manages to grab Erryk's neck and squeezes it with all his might. The latter begins to choke but he thrusts his shin-guard into the prince's side, giving him little choice but to scream and loosen his hold due to the the pain.

Erryk finds the upper hand in no time. He pries Daemon's hands off him and launches a right hook. The prince shields his head, still, the knight manages to land some nasty punches.

"ERRYK!" Arryk shouts, prying his brother off. He drags his brother away, and in that moment, you emerge from your room, running barefoot in nothing but your shift.

You notice the twins first, for they were closer to your door. You release a horrified sound at the sight of them. They look at you with hard faces as you walk over, "what is the meaning of this?!"

Erryk shrugs his brother off and points an accusing finger, "the prince attacked us from behind!"

You turn to where he points.

Blood trickles down Daemon's face as he struggles to get on his knees. His lips are busted, nose ruptured, eye swollen. Your face falls at the sight of him. He looks horrendous, even worse than what Gwayne looked like when he fell from his horse during the tourney. A dozen horrible memories begin to flood you. You clutch your chest as you feel it tighten.

Erryk continues, "we would not let him disturb your sleep, but he managed to sneak into your bedroom-"

"What?" you turn to him.

"- then he attacked Arryk with a pitcher," Erryk points to the pitcher on the floor that laid beside a puddle of water, "then he kicked me on the back."

You turn to Arryk, finding his hair, neck, and armor wet. You whimper and wipe your face. You snap at Daemon, "what is wrong with you?!"

You watch your husband come to his feet.

He clutches his side and grunts out your name.

Goosebumps shroud you.

Daemon shudders as he walks over, "gaomagon ao jorrāelagon nyke?" Do you love me?

You instinctively step back where the Cargylls step forward. Your face curls in mortification. Your lips wobble and you shake your head in disbelief. You repeat, "what the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"Gaomagon..." Daemon lowers his head, "ao ēdrurys yno?" Do you dream of me?

You knit your brows tightly. You grit your teeth and clench you fists. You take a step towards him.

He lifts his gaze when you do.

A shiver runs down your spine as he speaks your name.

"Īlē mirre hen ēdrurys nyke mi—" You were alll of the dreams I ev-

You slap him before he can finish his words.

The blood from Daemon's nose sputters to the wall. The action hurts more than the act. He does not look back at you.

You are trembling, neither from your affliction or fear, but out of pure, blinding wrath. You do not tear your gaze from Daemon though you do not speak to him, "the both of you go to the maester's ward."

Arryk and Erryk nod and regard you, "princess."

"Drag him with you," you blurt, turning to your open door, "I will be there shortly after dressing."

[cosyvelvetorchid]

So, I had an idea for a fake dating au, as well as 2 people suggesting prompts for Clipboard Buck.

Lo and behold I’ve managed to come up with an idea that combines the two.

I’m not sure if it’ll be a long-ass oneshot or a chaptered fic yet (we’ll see how inspired I am as I write it), but here’s a little sneak peek of part of what I’ve written so far.

Enjoy!

🩶

**********

Buck opened the door to the last person he expected.

“T-Tommy.”

The man smiled. “Hey, Evan. Can I come in?”

“Uh, sure.” He stepped aside to let him through. “Is-is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” He said waving away Buck’s concerns. “I actually have a, uh, favour to ask.” He scratched the back of his head. Buck hadn’t know him long—a couple weeks at best—but he seemed.. nervous? Maybe not nervous but he definitely had a little less confidence in his demeanour than Buck had seen in him so far.

From the moment Tommy had met them at Harbour station weeks ago, he’d oozed confidence. His body language, the way he spoke, the way he did his job—Buck had watched in awe at the way his hands delicately glided over the controls as he flew the helicopter back after the cruise ship rescue. In the handful of times they’d met since then, Tommy always seemed to come across quite squared away.

“Uh, sure.” Buck walked over to the counter. “You want a coffee?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“So what’s the favour? Nothing illegal is it?” Buck joked.

“I- What if it was?” Tommy enquired with a curious look to his eyes.

“How illegal are we talking?.”

“Wait, so there’s some illegal activity you would be willing to engage in?” Tommy raised an eyebrow.

“Well, like murder? No. Breaking into a lab to rescue animals—I’d be down.” He answered placing Tommy’s coffee mug in front of him on the island.

“Thanks, and duly noted.” He chuckled. “Nah, it’s nothing like that. You remember last night I mentioned I had family coming to town?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s my aunt Clara who’s coming.” Tommy said.

“Is she not very nice?”

“No, she’s great. Practically raised me after my parents-“ He abruptly stopped himself from finishing the sentence. “She’s a great lady. The problem is that from the moment I came out to her a couple of years ago she has constantly been trying to set me up with men she knows. And, God love the woman, but her taste in men is awful.” Buck couldn’t help but laugh.

“Are you wanting me to set you up with someone? ‘Cause, I’m sorry but I don’t think I know any single gay men.”

“Oh, no, that’s not- That wasn’t the favour.”

“Oh?”

“I’m actually not looking to date anybody, which she cannot seem to accept. But, when she wouldn’t let it go on the phone last week, I kinda, sorta lied and told her I already had a boyfriend.” He admitted.

“And now she’s coming to visit..”

“She’s expecting me to introduce her to him.”

“Oh.” Buck responded.

“So-“ He elongated the word. “I was wondering if you would consider.. pretending to be my boyfriend for a day?”

“Oh.” Buck said again. He had zero idea of what the fovour was going to be but he never would have guess that.

“She’s only on town for 1 night and it would just be a couple of hours for dinner.” Tommy added.

“Why me?” Buck asked, truly confused as to why Tommy would pick him of all people. Tommy was effortlessly cool and accomplished—Buck was a dork.

“Honestly, I don’t have anybody else to ask. She met Chimney a couple of times back when I was at the 118 and knows he’s straight, that leaves Bobby, which, absolutely not, or Eddie and no offence to him but he screams straight guy—no way he could pull off queer.”

Buck laughed at the true statement. “But you think I could?”

“God, I hope so.” Tommy said. “Plus, you’re closer to my type anyway so it’s more likely that Clara would believe it.”

Tommy’s face was kind of adorable, really. Buck wasn’t sure if he was deliberately putting on those puppy dog eyes, but they were working, regardless.

“What would I need to do?”

“Just have dinner with us.”

“That’s it?” Buck asked.

“You are expecting more? I’m not sure that would be appropriate at the dinner table, Evan.” Tommy winked and Buck’s cheeks immediately pinked up.

“That’s not what I meant!” He protested to Tommy’s amusement. “I just meant like, would I have to hold your hand, have my arm around you etc?”

“You wouldn’t have to. Not if that would make you feel uncomfortable.” He explained.

“I-I don’t mind. When is the dinner?”

“Friday night.”

“Okay. That gives us 3 days to plan.” Buck said unlocking his phone and opening the notes app.

“I’m sorry.. plan?” Tommy said confused.

“Well, yeah! If we’re going to make this believable we need to make sure we get our stories straight.”

“She’s my aunt not the Spanish Inquisition, Evan.”

“And what happens if-if.. Say I order you a drink and it’s one you hate and she knows that you hate it.. wouldn’t that be weird? Or-or if she asks how we met and we give different answers.”

“I think you’re overthinking this a little.” Tommy said gently.

“I think you’re under thinking this a lot.” Buck countered.

Tommy looked at Buck for a few seconds and sighed resolutely. “I’m not going to win this am I?”

“Nope.” Buck replied with a grin.

Little did Tommy know that he’d just met Clipboard Buck.

**********

(Btw—I will give credit to those who sent the prompts once the fic is done 👍)

[httpvomitello]

Cold Heart *⁠.⁠✧ (part 4)

cregan stark x targ!reader

WARNING: angst, not a happy ending (?)

(part 3)

Cregan Stark had never been a man of impulsive decisions. The North had taught him patience and calculation, but the weight of your absence gnawed at him like a frostbite that would not heal. Days turned into weeks, and yet the void left in Winterfell remained as vast as the snow-covered fields beyond its walls.

The letter he had written to you sat untouched in his study, a silent witness to his regret. But one night, as he stared at its folded edges, the memory of your face—tear-streaked and full of anguish—became too much to bear.

The next morning, Cregan prepared for a journey south. He left Winterfell in the capable hands of his bannermen and took only a small retinue, determined to face you and your family alone.

The ride to Dragonstone was grueling. The North’s bitter cold gave way to the damp chill of the Narrow Sea, and by the time the island fortress came into view, Cregan was weary but resolute.

The gates of Dragonstone opened to him reluctantly, its guards regarding him with suspicion. A raven must have flown ahead, for he was escorted immediately to the grand hall where Rhaenyra awaited him.

The Queen sat upon her makeshift throne, her presence as commanding as the dragons that roamed her skies. Beside her stood Daemon, his hand resting lightly on Dark Sister’s hilt. The air in the hall crackled with tension as Cregan approached, his steps echoing against the stone floor.

“Lord Stark,” Rhaenyra said, her tone icy. “To what do we owe the honor of your presence?”

Cregan inclined his head respectfully. “I have come to speak with your daughter, Your Grace.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes narrowed. “You mean the daughter you cast aside like a broken sword? The daughter who returned to me in tears, bearing the scars of your indifference?”

Daemon smirked, though his grip on Dark Sister tightened. “You’re lucky we didn’t send Caraxes to greet you instead.”

Cregan held his ground, his gaze steady. “I will not defend my actions, for they were indefensible. But I am here to make amends, if she will allow me the chance.”

“You should have thought of that before you broke her heart,” Rhaenyra snapped, rising from her seat.

“I know,” Cregan said, his voice heavy with regret. “But I cannot leave without seeing her.”

Rhaenyra regarded him for a long moment before gesturing to a guard. “Fetch her. If she agrees to speak with him, so be it. If not, you’ll leave Dragonstone today.”

You entered the hall minutes later, your expression guarded. The sight of Cregan standing in the center of the room made your stomach twist. He looked worn, the proud Lord of Winterfell reduced to a man carrying the weight of his mistakes.

“Why are you here?” you asked, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within you.

“I came to see you,” he replied, taking a step closer. “To tell you what I should have said long ago.”

Rhaenyra and Daemon remained silent, watching.

You crossed your arms, your chin tilting up defiantly. “Say what you came to say, then.”

Cregan drew a deep breath, his grey eyes locking onto yours. “I was a fool,” he began. “I let my grief blind me to what I had in front of me—a woman stronger and more loyal than I ever deserved. I pushed you away, not because I didn’t see your worth, but because I was too afraid to let go of the past.”

Your throat tightened, but you refused to let him see the tears welling in your eyes. “And now? Why now?”

“Because losing you made me realize the depth of my mistake,” he admitted. “Winterfell is colder without you. Rickon asks for you every day, and I have no answer for him. I miss you, Y/N, more than I thought possible.”

You shook your head, stepping back. “You miss me now, but where was this when I was begging for you to see me? I gave you everything, Cregan, and you gave me nothing in return.”

He flinched at your words, but he didn’t look away. “I can’t undo the pain I caused, but I want to try. I want to be the man you deserve, if you’ll let me.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Rhaenyra watched you carefully, her expression unreadable, while Daemon’s hand hovered near his sword. He wouldn't mind going to war with the northern people to defend his daughter.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I even want to.”

Cregan’s shoulders sagged, but he nodded. “I understand. And if your answer is no, I will leave and never trouble you again. But I had to come, had to tell you the truth.”

You turned away, your mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The love you had once felt for him had been buried beneath layers of hurt and resentment, but the faintest ember still burned.

“Give me time,” you said at last, your back to him. “I can’t decide now.”

He bowed his head. “Take all the time you need.”

Without another word, you left the hall, leaving Cregan with the weight of his confession and the choice that lay ahead.

[sleepymim]

Ok so this is going to be my attempt to put all of my thoughts about Silco and Vander and their relationship and how they might achieve reconciliation into one coherent post because I cannot! stop! thinking about them!

As we see in s2e7, reconciliation between them is definitely possible. However, I think it definitely wasn't easy, and it wasn't motivated by a single event like Silco finding Vander's letter or Vi dying. I think a million little things needed to perfectly align for them to find back to one another. As others have already said, and I agree with this, I think the "happy" timeline is a statistical anomaly for them.

So what was needed for them to find back to each other? And like, disclaimer that this is obviously only my own interpretation of events.

First of all, I think one of the prerequisites for reconciliation is that Silco doesn't start working with Singed and doesn't get into Shimmer, which is supported by his eye having healed normally in the alternate timeline.

I also think that Vander's letter could only ever be a starting point for their reconciliation, something that would get them in the same room to talk again. After that, I think they'd still need a long, long time to get back to how things were.

Vi's death imo has absolutely nothing to do with whether they reconcile or not, because in the alternate timeline she dies during what would be Act 1. Silco is already past the point of no retunr here, he doesn't give a shit about Vi or the other kids, he's deep into his Shimmer business. He's literally planning to kill all the kids in episode 3. He would not give a fuck if Vi died in that explosion. If Silco and Vander are to reconcile, it needs to happen pretty soon after the betrayal.

But I think the most important aspects for their reconciliation are violence and ideology.

Obviously the actual betrayal is horrifically violent and traumatizing. Vander actively chose to drown Silco which is just like, such a brutal way to die. He does this because he puts the blame for the bridge fight escalating on Silco. This is unjustified, and the show wants us to know that Vander was in the wrong here. Vander himself admits in s1e3 that he has regretted what he did to Silco since it happened. In general episode 3 in my opinion very clearly communicates that Vander overreacted and that what Siclo did (throwing the first molotov) does not justify Vander's reaction (violent murder).

However! Vander also clearly still thinks Silco is dangerous and despite regretting how he reacted still puts some form of blame on Silco.

In the apology letter, he says the blood is on both their hands. The letter in general is shit considering the weight of what Vander did, and what it shows is that even though Vander feels bad about what he did, he does still put the blame for the bridge fight on Silco.

In act 1, Vander also says there are worse things than enforcers in the Undercity while looking at his brace that covers the scar Silco gave him while escaping. This is, presumably, before he knows Siloc has been funding Shimmer development and getting into human experimentation. He thinks Silco is worse than enforcers based on whatever happened between them in past. With s2, this is explicitly Silco's escalation on the bridge.

So obviously despite the time that has passed and the fact that Vander can admit what he did was unjustified, he does still believe Silco is dangerous based on their differing ideology. Benzo, too, obviously still holds a grudge against Silco for what happened.

So really the crux is that even though Vander feels sorry, he does not change his stance on non-violence being the right way forward for the people of Zaun, and thus he can never truly forgive Silco for what he did on the bridge - he still believes that Silco is responsible and that his own way is the right way.

I think as long as Vander keeps his ideological stance, reconciliation between them isn't possible. From both sides, because Vander thinks Silco's ideals are dangerous, and from Silco's side because he thinks Vander is a coward and a sellout.

Then let's look at Silco's side of things a little bit.

I think there's two aspects to his forgiveness/reconciliation with Vander: the violence and the ideology.

Canon pretty much tells us that Silco is willing and able to forgive the violence Vander inflicted on him. We see this not only in the alternate timeline, where they're obviously close again, but I think s1e3 tells us the same. Silco kidnaps Vander, but still offers him the chance to join him in the fight against Piltover again. I don't want to talk here about Silco's methods at this point in time, but he's obviously willing to put the murder attempt behind them IF Vander is willing to switch to his side again. He even says that his hatred for Vander passed with time. I think this implies that, somehow, eventually, with time, in a nicer timeline Silco could really forgive Vander for trying to kill him.

However, and I think this is the much bigger issue for them, there's still the matter of ideology. Vander betraying their shared goals, turning towards a pacifist, more passive approach to revolution and ultimately striking a deal with Grayson is what really drives the wedge between them.

This is what Silco despises Vander for: For turning his back on violence. Silco encourages Vander's violent tendencies, he wants him to become the person he used to be again, wants him to embrace that part of himself again. I think this supports the assumption that Silco would forgive the violence inflicted against him much easier than Vander abandoning their shared dream. Until the end, he wants Vander to embrace that violence again.

And a Vander who is committed to non-violence is a Vander who stands in the way of Silco's goal of a free Zaun. So as long as Vander stays firm on his ideological stance, Silco is always eventually going to get rid of him. There is no way for them to find back to one another if they remain on opposite sides of the struggle they used to fight together.

This is, I think, the crux of my interpretation of them:

Reconciliation doesn't only depend on Silco coming back to Vander and forgiving him for the violence Vander inflicted upon him. It also depends on Vander coming back to Silco, internalizing that the bridge figth was not Silco's fault, and being willing to compromise his non-violent ideology and take action again for their shared dream.

It's about the two of them coming back to each other.

[little-miss-fandom-freak]

Jayce Talis x Goth!Reader

Here's the 2nd Goth!Reader story as promised, Dr. Phosphorus' is on the way!

The two of you met while he was in the Undercity buying parts for his newest project.

You were a regular in Benzo's shop, selling anything you found while you were out scavenging. You were in the back, looking for something in particular for a project of your own. When you came from the back, Jayce digging through a box of power converters.

"Whos this guy?" You asked as you walked behind the counter.

Ekko shrugged. "Some topsider."

When he finally found the one he needed, Jayce dropped it in his box and slammed it on the counter.

"How much for all this?" He asked.

Ekko looked at you, then back at him. "Um... let me look."

As Ekko looked through the box, the Jayce's gaze drifted to you. You were too busy going through Benzo's knick-knack box to notice, but he was completely infatuated with you. So infatuated, he didn't even hear Ekko tell him the accurate price. When Jayce didn't respond, Ekko took advantage and doubled the price. Jumping out of his thoughts, Jayce quickly paid, and as Ekko happily scurried away, Jayce kept his eyes on you.

Feeling his gaze, you looked up at him through your lashes. "Can I help you?"

He looked almost startled when you acknowledged him. "Oh-um. I was... um... I-I was just... uh, I wa-wanted to say you... you-you look... nice."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his flustered self. "Thanks. Not so bad yourself, Topsider."

"To-Topsider? How-How'd you- I mean, what? Me, top-topsider no! No I'm not..." He realized he wasn't convincing you at all.

You laughed once again. "You're funny. I like that."

"You-You do?" He couldn't believe his luck right now. Grabbing you supplies, you walked around the counter with a pen in your hand. You pulled his hand twords you and wrote down your information on it and without another word, you left.

♡ Your first date with Jayce was to the History of Piltovian Technology Muesum. He felt a little embarrassed by it at first but was thrilled to find out how much you loved it.

♡ He doesn't quiet understand Goth culture (He's the type of person to call anyone wearing a lot of black Goth), but he tries

♡ He builds you little robot creatures and gifts them to you randomly (holiday or not)

♡ Your dynamic is literally the "He asked for no pickles" meme

♡ Let's you practice new makeup styles on him. It sounds since until you realized he cannot sit still at all.

♡ You're basically known around the university pretty early on as Jayce's scary girlfriend.

♡ People think Jayce is haunted after the one time you spent the day on campus with him and Viktor. Several students reported a ghost sighting that day.

♡ Speaking of Viktor, the two of you got along like a house on fire

♡ Being that you both grew up in the Undercity, you both had a similar thought process.

♡ Despite the chaoticness of the two of you, he loved seeing his best friend and lover get along.

♡ He also introduced you to his mom not even a week into dating (even she felt like it was a little early, but she welcomed you with open arms)

♡ Kinda thinks your a witch because of all the "potions" he finds you making (theyre just medicines and face creams)

♡ If you don't live with him, he will visit you almost every single day.

♡ But if you do live with him, or at least stay at his place the most, he will let you have full control over decorating. He's a scientist, not an interior decorator. The most "fun" thing in his apartment was a dead plant on the kitchen windowsill.

♡ Loves wearing your jewelry.

♡ If you're missing a certain ring or bracelet, there's a 99% chance Jayce took it before when left that morning. (He says wearing it feels like having you there spiritually)

♡ One day, he had you meet the Kiraman's. And you were a nervous wreck.

♡ Not only were they Jayce's sponsors, but they were close friends with him, and you didn't want to ruin it.

♡ When Jayce caught you dumbing down you outfit to one thst was more casual, he FREAKED out.

♡ He hated that you felt the need to change yourself. "If they can't see past the makeup, then they're sad for just assuming who you are without even getting to know you." (He made you cry, thank God you didn't have any makeup on)

♡ Caitlyn was a little scared of you, but eased up when she saw the look of pure love in Jayce's eyes everytime he looked at you.

♡ He bases a lot of his designs around you. This lead to many if the Hex-Tech machinery having Gothic-like designs.

♡ He tries so hard to get involved in your intrests, but he doesn't understand it.

♡ Pre-Time jump Jayce gets very sick when it comes to any level if gore, so horror movies were out. He didn't quiet understand the appeal of Goth music, but he loved seeing the way your face lit up when you would explain the song or the band to him

♡ When Jayce left with Himerdinger and Ekko to investigate the Hex Core, he ran into you. He tried his best to explain everything, and he knew you didn't understand but just being able to air it all out calmed him down.

♡ You were already late for work or else you would've went with, so instead you have him your black cuff. It was his favorite because he had a matching pair that was his house colors.

♡ And good thing you gave it to him, it was the only thing that kept him mildly sane when he was in the other timeline.timeliness. He would spend hours just staring at it, trying to hold on to the memory of you

♡ When he got back, the first thing he did was try and find you. When he did, he couldn't help but kiss you until your black lipsticks rubbed off of you and onto him.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

I hope you enjoyed this and if you have anything you would like me to personally respond to, message me or put it in my ask box because as of right now, Tumblr won't let me respond to comments :)

[beefrobeefcal]

Beefro's Annual Report 2024

I have been tagged countless times regarding a recap and/or what I was thankful for by so many wonderful friendos - but I'll give credit to @jolapeno for kicking us off.

This time last year, there were only 400 of you following me while I wrote my silly little stories. I had no idea how the year would go, from coming close to deleting everything to finding a community of people and friends who I now count as irl besties. I changed up the content I write and have explored all sorts of new things with the love and support of all you.

I love you all so very much. Here's to keeping one another afloat and warm in 2025,

Beefro👌🥩💜

Below are the fics, posters and things that I am very proud of from 2024 (masterlist can be found here).

One Shots:

Purpose: I know, I know... I have hooted and tooted about this fic before, but I really loved this so much. The fact that @perotovar loved it also makes this extra sweet. I know I am not known for seriousness and such, but I loved the experience.

like a cigar: I love this one for many reasons but chief among them is the brainstorming with @noxturnalnymph and @strang3lov3 that brought it to life. That evening will stay with me from now until the day I yeet from this mortal coil and I love you both so very much.

what the hell is wrong with tim: A vanity project that sat in my wips for 5 months. I started it because I wanted @pedroscouts badges for 'Sex Pollen' and 'Tim Rockford'. Then all hell broke loose and in to the wip bin Tim went. I finally dug him out and plugged away at it and the end result is one I am proud of. I worked hard for Tim... and all he got was pussy-fluid induced conjunctivitis and an eyepatch.

Shorties:

For the Stars: This one was brought about for my beloved Deedle @bitchesuntitled - she has worked hard on her sobriety, then wisely and bravely chose to celebrate it with her community. I was honored to get to take part in this celebration.

Ezra Goes to Church: @toxicanonymity knew what we needed during the summer and brought about the Manspread Olympics. This shortie, sitting at 350 words, has brought me so much joy. A titan's girth in so few words.

Series:

There are Other Fish in the Sea: This one came from a deep place of ouch. I had found a community on here who enjoyed the same things I did and it blew up in my face bc some people cannot play nice in the sand box. I still remember sending this idea to a beloved moot and their response was "I'm sorry, what are you going to do to Frankie & Mouse???" It was cathartic and a blow out way to change direction and I love Ezra.

the BEEF: I know there is only one fic in this anthology series so far, but I love the concept for it so much (thanks to @covetyou). The grumpy old neighbour Joel that kicked it off really allowed me to be as unhinged and horny as I wanted and my love for him is eternal.

Posters:

This year, I took up making posters for my wips and fics to boost my moral in writing. It helped! Below are the ones that have really made me fluff my feather in my cap (some are still wips).

Things:

Monthly Prompt Challenge: In a bid to share my ideas and thots, I started this in September. So far, no one has told me to stop and I very much enjoy do this!

beef Art: This year, I had Canva introduced to me and I have never looked back. You can see some of the horrible things I have created here.

Community: I have been most fortunate to have been welcomed and held by some extremely fabulous folks on here. There are so many of you, from the casual reblogger to the routine ask dropper (@deathsholywaterr, looking at you 💋) to the beta fish (@weregirlbyknight) to the shy nonnies... and to my beloveds who's usernames/pics made my heart warm, all of you keep this beef smiling. Thank you.

tagging bc you're a repeat offender in my heart:

@strang3lov3 @noxturnalnymph @weregirlbyknight @whocaresstillthelouvre @bitchesuntitled

@goodwithcheese @jolapeno @secretelephanttattoo @perotovar @sp00kymulderr

@rebel-held @romanarose @endlessthxxghts @wintrwinchestr @xdaddysprincessxx

@toxicanonymity @pedrit0-pascalit0 @yopossum @hellfire-state-of-mind

@tinytinymenace @jennaispunk @crowandmousewritingco @yallhearsm @missredherring

@kedsandtubesocks @slutsoutgutsout @magpiepills @sr-lrn @maggiemayhemnj

@mothandpidgeon @schnarfer @mando-abs @timelordfreya @artsy-girl-76

@wordywarriorwrites @ace-turned-confused @studioghibelli @bluecookies-and-ink @evolnoomym

@covetyou

[tuesdaykiss]

“touching toes”

rafe cameron social media au

“he’s over more and more, had to give him a whole drawer. to be honest, kinda like seeing his trainers by the door.” — olivia dean, ‘touching toes’.

synopsis: after finishing her fashion studies at college in nyc, y/n moves to outerbanks to live with her grandparents. she worries about the loneliness that comes with being in a new place, knowing only her cousin topper and other relatives… that is until she is acquainted with a certain cameron.

part — 14 | 15 | 16

masterlist

sarah had fallen asleep. eye mask on, ear plugs in; she couldn’t be woken, she was deep in slumber.

“you’ve been ignoring me,” rafe spoke up, finally addressing the unspoken words that built up between you both.

“i could say the same to you.”

“touché,” he nodded, a smirking creeping up on his lips, “but i had my reasons, you left my celebrations after all.”

“i had a headache, i told you that.”

“and yet you could still hang out with pope?” he teased, though you could tell he was serious in what he was saying, “i’m hurt.”

“i’m not going over this again, rafe,” you sighed, “you know pope is with cleo.”

thinking, rafe chewed on his bottom lip: not knowing where to go with the conversation, an argument seeming to be around every corner.

there was a pause, before he admitted, “i really haven’t fucked sofia, by the way.”

you nodded, pursing your lips, “okay.”

“you believe me, right?”

“mhm.”

his palm placed itself upon your knee, the warmth of his skin feeling both familiar and foreign at the same time. rubbing his thumb in circular motions, he caressed your soft skin before smiling, “friends?”

there it was again… friends.

your smile faltered, though not enough for him to see. letting out a deep breath you bit your lip, before agreeing with him, “friends.”

rafe brought his hand to your hair, messily rustling with it as you let out a laugh, swatting his arm away.

his story

your story

yourusername

liked by rafecam, sarahcameron and 4,536 others

yourusername we made it to la!!! @/sarahcameron

view comments

rafecam um, i’m here too 😔

yourusername unfortunately!

rafecam wow i thought we had fun on the plane?

yourusername you just prevented me from watching ladybird!

user he sat with you?

user2 i mean they probably all sat together

ilovesarah what kind of ‘fun’!?

itscleo have fun my queens!

yourusername missing you already ❤️

sarahfan101 omg sarah, rafe and y/n????

sarahupdates sarah looks so pretty in that photo

a/n: thank you 100 followers! i appreciate all the support on this smau <3

just written the next few chapters… CANNOT WAIT to share them with you all!

this is giving very much slow burn, but then i also feel like it’s going too fast… it’s an endless cycle — anyways more links to the song will be coming eventually i promise i promise i promise!

taglist: @my-name-is-baby @yesshewrites1 @urbrunettebombshell @leather-n-velvet @fruitcakerafe @littlefreak-liz @wdwbts101 @akobx @lossfairy @marleymarleymarleymarley @jjmaybankmylovee @mbella607 @scream4mami @mrsdrewstarkeyy @honeyluvsatj

[smelliemelly]

Things JJK characters find attractive!

Gojo - Gojo absolutely loves confidence<3 Walk with confidence, talk with confidence, so on so forth. He finds it super attractive.

Geto - Geto would love someone who is caring, humble, and can agree with his morals. Someone who looks out for him, and also supports him at the same time.

Fushiguro - Intelligence. He finds this very attractive. He can't help but be flustered if you're able to teach him about something he had no idea of even though he'll pretend like he doesn't care. Being smart will catch his attention.

Itadori - Optimistic people! If you keep a good chunk of hope, and have that "half glass full" mindset, he finds it cute and attractive. He really likes when someone is able to look on the bright side! Bonus points if you're able to look on the bright side and also keep a realistic mindset at the same time

Nobara - Strength 🫶 Physical strength 🫶 Determination 🫶 Independence 🫶 All of those make you strong and she's all here for it. Also slight sarcasm. She loves it 🫶

Nanami - Kind and super sweet like a marshmallow. I mean SWEEEETTTT. Sweet enough to give you cavities. He loves gentle people, it catches his eyes, and honestly as much as it captures his heart he'll pretend not to care. Like that bakery girl?

Mahito(😿) - ... I don't like Mahito ☹️ but I'll still write for him 🫶 I feel like Mahito would like someone who can sometimes match his energy but in a unique way.. does that make sense? Like match his craziness but keep him on his toes. Make it so he cannot predict you. It'll attract him like crazy.

Choso - Family oriented people. Surprise surprise. Oh Also loyalty!!! It's so important to him. He loves a true person, honest, loyal, family oriented. Very very important and attractive.

Sukuna - .. Honestly? I feel like someone who is able to be strong and also being able to keep up with him all while being respectful towards him. Loyalty too, very important to him.

Toji - Erm tbh Idk. I feel like he'd totally find the body more attractive than anything but if it really came down to him seeing a personality that he loves more than the body would probably be someone who can be kind and sweet but also knows how to stand up for themself. Like a person who is nice and all but if you show them a bad side they'll show you an even worse bad side. It's someone he could probably get along with and have fun with a lot and by having fun I mean teasing you to get a reaction .

Uraume (I use they/them for Uraume) - They'd love someone who is sweet, kind, gentle, and humble. Of course they'd also want someone who can respect Sukuna as well, but honestly? Out of all of those traits being humble would totally make Uraume fall head over heels for someone. It's just so attractive to them.

Dude Choso is so cutesy <33

[stvrnioloslvt]

❛❛ ⛸️ + 🏒 ❞

The first time hockeyplayer!matt and figureskater!reader spoke…kinda

silence and peace reigned in baby’s dorm room, the orange light of the sunrise filtering through the windows. a couple birds chirped happily outside, and the chatter of fellow college residents could be heard from outside. 

you tossed in your bed, slowly waking up. you smiled at the smell of fresh coffee and pastries coming from the cafeteria under your room, the savoury smells helping you wake up in a good mood.

you turned around, glancing to the other side of the room: your roommate’s bed was intact, everything in place just like she left it the morning before. knowing your friend, she probably spent the night over her “friend”’s place… you never really understood why the girl had a problem with admitting that she had a fuck buddy, but it wasn’t really your problem so you didn’t care about it too much.

you got up from the bed, slipping into your slippers and an oversized tee over your tank top and short shorts that you slept in, grabbing your basket with toiletries and bathrobe before exiting the room, headed towards the showers of the floor. 

as you turned the key inside the lock, you heard voices coming from your left. your head whipped up at a familiar laugh, seeing the triplets walking towards you. chris spotted you first, lifting his hand up and in the air and greeting you cheerfully: “hi baby! what’you doin’ here?”

you bit back a laugh, replying with a sarcastic “i’d like to remind you that i live here. what are you doing here?” 

you retracted the key from the lock, leaning on the door frame. an amused expression planted on your face, watching as your friend skipped happily towards you. 

“nick’s friend is moving in and he invited us to his room, said he wants to show us how he put everything together. and why are you - whoa, are you just casually walking around naked?” 

behind his brother, nick snorted at the same time as you did, shaking his head at the remark. 

“hi baby, long time no see. chris - where exactly do you see nakedness?”

chris shrugged, eyeing you one last time slowly before saying “her legs, i guess. why on earth are you walking around with no shorts on?”

“no shorts- are you seri- chris,” you pulled the hem of the tee up, revealing the fabric of the black shorts you were wearing under, “these are shorts.”

“oh c’mon they cannot be considered shorts, they don’t cover anything. am i right, matt?”

your heart dropped in your stomach at the name: matt. shit, you had forgotten he was even there. you glanced behind chris, spotting the third brother. he had stayed silent during the whole conversation, so silent that you had completely forgotten that he was there to begin with. his dark hair fell in front of his eyes, acting like a shield between him and the outside world. you wondered if they were as soft as they looked, what would it be like to stretch your arm and dip you hand in his hair, tugging and- no. no, you couldn’t think like that. 

you observed as matt checked you out, his eyes boring into your legs. suddenly, you really felt naked just like chris said, holding the bathrobe in front of you to hide yourself as much as possible. matt noticed you subtle attempt at covering up, forcing a fake cough to hide the fact that he also didn’t intend to stare as much as he actually did, flustered at his own lack of control.

“matt?”

“she’s fine, mind your business.”

chris’ and nick’s eyes shot up in surprise. they glanced between each other and their brother before excusing themself with a quick “well, see you around, baby. ‘t was nice to see you.” and as fast as they came, they also left, leaving you alone in an empty hall with matt.

“uhm… i-i’ll go now.,” he murmured, the tip of his ears turning a deep shade of red. “it was nice seeing you baby, see you soon.”

“see you soon,” you whispered back, not missing the way matt quickly glanced up at the number beside your door before following his brothers. 

you watched his back walk away, hands in his pockets and head low. you turned the other way, noticing only in that moment that you had started shaking during the little interaction with the silent brother.

oh, you were fucked.

© stvrnioloslvt

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃/𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊. 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓

❃ a.n.: nice and short fic just to wish you all a happy new year full of happiness, opportunities and luck! 🩷✨️🫂

❃ and as always, spam my inbox with questions, prompts or whatever else <3

love you all, bree ☾

icy taglist: @shadowthesim @sturnioloszn @sofieeeeex 🧊

(find other resources regarding hockeyplayer!matt au in my masterlist)

[dragonologist-phd]

Secret St Waidwen Gift Fic!

Happy Secret St Waidwen reveal day! My recipient for the @secret-st-waidwen-exchange is @veronaluna / @spacepigfanclub!

I hope you enjoy your gift!

Fic: Steadfast Characters: Adaryc Cendamyr, Watcher Maraia Ships: Adaryc/Watcher Rating: G Summary: An unconventional first meeting leads to a unique connection, and Adaryc finds himself entranced with someone wholly unexpected.

Adaryc wonders, at times, whether he made the right decision in coming here.

All Commanders must have such thoughts, he supposes. With so many lives in his hands, people like him cannot afford to make decisions that are wrong. When someone like him takes the soldiers he is responsible for and marches them to seize a frozen fortress in a hostile land full of hostile people…he’d better have a good reason.

The thought turns to a sigh, and the sigh almost turns to a yawn. Exhaustion has not yet taken hold, however, and he manages to focus his mind and fight it off; he’s had plenty of practice at that. Sleep is a tempting siren, as it always is, but Adaryc knows better. He knows what sleep will bring.

Even now, if he closes his eyes for too long, he can see the visions: armies and destruction, falling like a hammer on his already-battered homeland.

The memory shakes all thoughts of sleep from Adaryc’s mind, and with renewed vigor he returns his attention to the maps and plans laid out before him. If he wants to stop the vision from becoming a reality, he has a lot of work to do. It may not be pretty, and it certainly won’t be easy- but it must be done.

Later on, he won’t be able to say whether his absorption in his work or the approaching grip of sleep is what causes him to miss the sounds of a trespasser approaching. Perhaps, he’ll consider with some chagrin, he simply let his guard down; why would he be on alert for intruders, here in the middle of an army camp with guards on patrol?

Whatever the reason, the result is that Adaryc does not notice his company until they’ve already slipped into his tent, and he looks up to find himself face-to-face with a stranger. He leaps to his feet immediately, a shout of alarm already on his lips.

The next few moments happen so fast, he barely has time to take in the sight of the strange woman standing before him- just a flash of brown hair, the wind-blown ripple of a long purple scarf, the green of her eyes staring boldly into his.

It’s when their eyes meet that it happens: a sudden, breathless snap, the sensation of falling, a flood of visions and memories and scenes from another life whipping by too quickly to decipher.

And somehow, Adaryc knows that this stranger is feeling the exact same thing.

The feeling is over as soon as it begins, though the breathless sensation lingers. The strange woman is staring at Adaryc, not breaking her green-eyed gaze even as soldiers finally rush into the tent. Adarys holds up a hand to halt them, though even then he doesn’t dare look away from her.

He has no idea what feelings his own face may be betraying, but hers are easy enough to read- wonder, excitement, understanding. The words leave their lips at the same time.

“You’re a Watcher.”

Her name is Maraia.

She is a traveler, currently residing in the Dyrwood, where she has been proclaimed the Lady of Caed Nua. Or perhaps ‘proclaimed herself’ is a better manner of phrase- as Adaryc understands it, there is some dispute over the title, though she is quick to laugh off the conflict. Such is her way, Adaryc soon learns.

She is also a Watcher, just as he is.

The two spend a fair amount of time together after their first hectic meeting. Adaryc’s soldiers are wary of this newcomer and her odd assortment of companions, and for good reason. There are no strong arguments to be made for trusting her and the fantastical stories she brings, save for one: she has shared her own visions with Adaryc, and he knows her to be telling the truth.

It seems impossible. Not only the tales she tells, but the very notion that for all his conviction- the very conviction which drove him to bring his army here, to make these plans, to bind his very soul to his sword as proof of his commitment to Readceras- that despite all this, he may still be wrong.  

But then, Adaryc has had his own share of impossible experiences. And when Maraia opens her mind to him, he knows the truth of her intentions.

With nothing else to do, he agrees that they should work together against whatever true threat resides in these mountains. And despite her strangeness, Adaryc finds himself glad for this new ally. There’s a certain comfort in knowing another Watcher is out there.

She must feel that, too, for it doesn’t take long for them to end up sitting together late one night, when neither can reach the realm of sleep.

Like everything else that’s happened here, their nighttime meeting is an accident. Adaryc is merely taking a walk through the camp, hoping the biting night air will clear his mind, when he rounds a corner and finds her standing there, staring up into the dark, starlit sky. She carries a distant look in her eyes; not a Watcher vision, Adaryc thinks, but distant all the same.

Then she catches sight of Adaryc standing there, staring. Her face brightens, and she flashes him a smile, and suddenly Adaryc is at a loss for words.

“Oh,” he finally manages. “Hello.”

“Hello, yourself,” she replies, leveling a knowing look in his direction. “What brings you out so late? Wait, let me guess- weird dreams?”

“You could say that.” Although distressing is a far more apt descriptor, in this case. The visions which drove him here, those images of invasion and bloodshed…they still haven’t stopped.

“Same here,” Maraia groans, running a hand through her hair as she shakes her head in aggravation. She glances back up at the moon overhead with narrowed eyes. “Wish I could get visions about something nice for once, instead of getting a front-row seat to all the gods’ drama.”

A reluctant smile tugs at Adaryc’s lips, though he does his best to keep his composure. “Careful. You never know when they may be listening.”

“Let them. They know how I feel,” she says with a shrug. Irreverent though she is, her confidence must be admired. “Either way, we’ll settle this soon.”

“I hope so.” He stands there a moment longer, suddenly uncertain of himself as Maraia watches him with those curious green eyes of hers. Even now, her mouth rests at a half-smile, as if tonight’s nightmares and tomorrow’s battle are nothing but a trifle. Adaryc likes her smile…but something about it also makes him nervous in a manner which he is reluctant to place.

“We should both be rested,” he says, intending to make his leave even though he has no intentions of sleep, but Maraia speaks up before he can slink away.

“You want to meet someone?”

Whatever Adaryc had expected- and he’d truly had no idea what to expect when Maraia led him to the small circle of tents her companions have set up on the edge of his camp- he never would have guessed she was taking him to meet a pig.

Not just any pig- no, nothing is ever so simple with Maria. The creature she introduces Adaryc to is a spectral being in the form of a pig, and at this point Adaryc decides not to probe with further questions.

“His name is Cosmo,” Maraia says fondly, scratching between his ears. At her encouragement, Adaryc lifts his hand for the pig to sniff. After a long, slightly awkward moment, Cosmo make a snuffling noise and licks at Adaryc’s fingers.

“He likes you,” Maraia declares.

“Does he?”

“Yeah.” Maraia studies him a moment, that half-smile still on her lips, a glint of mischief sparkling in her eyes. “He says you’re a little brooding, but he can tell you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. A good heart, too.”

Adaryc’s face grows warm, and he drops his eyes from Maraia’s, focusing only on the pig as he struggles for a response. “Tell him…I appreciate the sentiment. And I’m glad he somehow found his way into my camp.”

They chat a little longer after that, though the night is finally starting to weigh on both of them. Still, Adaryc can sense Maraia’s reluctance to return to her tent, even as exhaustion creeps into her voice. Perhaps, he muses, the burdens of a Watcher affect her more than her cheerful disposition would imply.

But they both must eventually get some rest, and when it can be denied no longer Adaryc bids both Maraia and her strange pig goodbye with a small, respectful bow.

“Good luck with your coming missions, Cosmo,” he says, and the pig snuffles happily once more. Adaryc glances at Maraia, and he realizes there is much he still wants to say to her. She is the only other Watcher he has ever met, and she understands his perspective in subtle ways that no other kith possibly could.

And he realizes in that moment that even were he to ignore the obvious connection borne from their mutual powers…he also simply enjoys her company.

“Good luck to both of you,” he says softly. “And stay safe.”

“Luck’s got nothing to do with it,” Maraia says breezily. Then she smiles again, a full smile, and there’s something warmer in it this time. She places a hand on his shoulder, a light yet comforting touch. “But thanks.”

Maraia handles her mission at the fortress with ease, and she returns safe and successful. She handles the next mission just as deftly, and the next. Tales of those missions grow ever more grand- vengeful gods, ancient grudges, secrets lost to time- but Maraia handles them all. Adaryc is beginning to believe she can handle anything.

His admiration is obvious, he fears. Whenever Maraia visits, Adaryc finds himself standing a little taller. When their eyes meet, he becomes oddly flustered. When she smiles…well, there are simply no words for that.

Adaryc tells himself these reactions are merely due to their connection as fellow Watchers. That this closeness he feels is merely that of comrades who share a rare place in society.

But the relief he feels every time Maraia returns to camp, safe and flush with victory, is something different, and he knows it.

For all of that, however, Adaryc also knows there is no chance of pursuing these feelings down whatever road they may lead. His path may have crossed with Maraia’s here and now, but soon he must carry on back to Readceras. To his people. To his duty. She, meanwhile, has urgent business in the Dyrwood which cannot be denied.

Those are the roads they each must take. There is little chance of future intersection.

And yet…

Their bond cannot be denied. They are two Watchers who have glimpsed each other’s souls, unlikely allies who have worked to create peace out of conflict. They could be something more, Adaryc thinks, whenever Maraia flashes those green eyes at him. Whenever she gives him that damned smile.

The thought is unwise. Adaryc and his army cannot linger here. But he wants to leave something of himself with her, just to let her know that he sees her just as well as she sees him.

In the end, he decides to leave her with his sword.

Maraia regards the gift with some confusion at first- then her mouth falls open in surprise as she realizes what it is, and Adaryc feels a small thrill of pride at having, for once, been the one to leave her speechless.

“This,” she says, shaking her head, “this is your soulbound blade.”

“It’s name is Steadfast. I did the binding as a testament to my belief in my original mission. Considering my initial error in judgment, and your effort in setting it all right…it seemed appropriate that you should be its keeper now.” Adaryc waits to see if he has overstepped, if she will refuse the gift. But after a moment she nods, and her hands close around the hilt.

“…Thank you.”

It seems a rather poetic end to their time together, and Adaryc thinks that will be that. But Maraia pauses one last time before taking her leave.

“You’ll keep in touch, won’t you?” It’s something less than a demand, something more than a request. Her green eyes are piercing as she waits for an answer. “I do want to see you again. Promise me you’ll write, at least.”

And though Adaryc had intended for this to be a grand, final farewell…what else can he do, when she looks at him like that?

“I promise.”

[morphean42]

Falsettos unpopular opinions because two people asked for this and honestly I don’t give a fuck anymore. I want to state this isn’t in response to anyone in particular, though, and if you get offended by any of these think about why. For a good reason? Please tell me and I’d love to debate it, truly. For a petty reason? You’re simply part of the problem.

1. They are Jewish. End of story. If I see anything related to Christianity or Christmas or whatever the fuck with them… shut up. Yes Whizzer is half-Jewish, yes in the revival Cordelia isn’t Jewish (WHICH BRINGS ME TO ANOTHER POINT ILL GET INTO LATER), yes they are most likely secular as evidenced by Mendel’s “religions just a trap” and ‘Days Like This’, no this does not give you the right to ignore their ETHNICITY AND CULTURE.

2. It’s okay to like the revival more. It’s not okay to ignore the original just because you get blinded by conventionally attractive men. Going to my Cordelia point, she’s Jewish in the original, her line ‘Shiksa caterer’ is ‘Kosher caterer’. Again it’s fine if your headcanons and fanfics and fanarts are based on the revival, I love it too, but stop acting like it’s the only version.

3. Whizzer’s entire personality does not revolve around being gay. He’s not a sassy twink. He’s a full grown man with issues that need to be addressed. Again, I reiterate, he is not a twink. Stop. Drawing. Him. Skinny. And. Hairless. I don’t care if ‘ oh but but that’s just my art style!’ Shut up.

4. Correlated to the above point, here are things Whizzer is not: a prostitute, a drug addict, relying on Marvin for everything, a twink (saying that again to get it through peoples fucking skulls), innocent. I’m 100% positive if the people who had these headcanons watched the OBC version of the show they’d never continue to advocate for them… once more I’m begging you guys to look past Andy Randy’s beautiful face and actually use critical thinking skills when it comes to Whizzer.

5. Short but (not) sweet: don’t claim to understand Marvin if you haven’t watched In Trousers. Just don’t.

6. If you flat out hate any character in the show, you’re wrong. Yes I’m still mad about the Mendel thing; if you think any one character is worse than the rest and isn’t just a fully human person with flaws and nuance, you don’t understand the musical as well as you claim.

7. It’s not the ‘gay’ musical. If you like falsettos for Whizzvin and nothing else, please, just… I don’t even know. There’s so much more to it than ‘ooo boys kissing.’ Please grow up, this leads into a whole other point but fetishisation is never okay, no matter who does it.

8. So many people treat Trina as either a perfect angel or just the side character in the way of the gay people. She’s an entire person, an entire character with flaws and hardship and terrible actions done by her and to her. Treat my homophobic queen with the respect she deserves, and acknowledge her faults too. It’s more misogynistic to treat her as perfect when she has issues too than just saying ‘she’s never done anything wrong’.

9. Stop making AIDS jokes.

10. This next one is probably the most iffy on the list. I will never be one to police fandom and creation, you can engage with material in any fucking way you like it literally doesn’t matter to me… but I dislike AUs. Now, I’ll always enjoy a little fun, adding in a twist like lesbian Whizzvin, or enjoying a feel good college AU. But. Especially for Falsettos the canon events are so fucking important and cannot be disregarded as casually as some do. AIDS is an extremely important part of the story, as well as the fact that both Marvin and Whizzer are men. I’m trans myself, but I dislike making them so simply because everything about their characters, all the characters, are so highly specific and important to take these aspects away is to disrespect the message of the musical.

11. It’s very important Mendel is straight. I see some people headcanon him as bisexual or trans or so on, and this just feels so wrong to me. Trina and Mendel are straight and that’s why their acceptance and love for the others in the Tight Knit Family is so important, especially Trina struggles with moving away from the idea that these ‘homosexual tendencies’ are wrong. They are straight but they love Whizzvin and the lesbians just as much as anyone else.

12. This one is so petty and I accept that, but… HIS NAME IS NOT MARVIN GARDENS. GARDEN IS A JOKE CHRISTIAN BORLE MADE BASED ON MONOPOLY. Jesus guys please just stop it it’s so stupid, William Finn didn’t have a last name for Marvin on purpose, and though I can’t do more than theorise what that purpose was, Gardens is so stupid. It’s not even funny. Same goes for Cohen, which just is odd. The only name I could begin to accept is Falsetto, and even then… just work around the last name in your fics.

12 1/2. SIDE TANGENT Jason would never take Weisenbachfeld as his last name. As a child of divorce… no. He’ll never view Mendel as a true father over his own dad, especially after Falsettoland, and he wouldn’t take that name. Hell, I’d known my ex step-father since I was two and I’d never have taken his last name. So, please, I never want to see Jason Weisenbachfeld again. That’s just not how it works.

At the end of the day this is just me alone in my room bitching… I just hope these points resonate with others.

[vanfleeter]

Whiskey & Cherries

Summary: When love at first sight actually happens.

Characters: Jake Kiszka x OC Word count: 7.9k Warnings: 18+ || Language. Adult themes. Angst. Body insecurities. Self doubt. Tension. Smut. Sex. Unprotected penetrative sex (never be risky, always wrap it). Oral sex (f & m receiving). Fingering. Allusions to sex. Fluff. Jake with his words of affirmation. Jake and flowers. Just all around fluffy Jake. (pretty sure I may have missed something so please let me know so i can add it)

Dropping his guitar case on the floor in front of his bed, he slips out of his shoes and walks along the carpeted bedroom of the hotel suite until he reaches the balcony doors. He swings them open and breathes in the fresh air. The sun was shining high in the sky and he smiled. Being back in France felt so wonderful. He wasn’t cooped up in his home back in Nashville. At least here, not many cared who he was unless he wanted them to.

Hearing someone knocking on the door of his suite, he leaves the bedroom to go answer it. Seeing Josh through the peephole, he grumbles under his breath his annoyance before opening the door. “Twelve hours on a plane with you wasn’t enough quality time?” He says.

“I would say yes, but my dearest brother, we have rehearsal for the show tonight. The car is waiting for us downstairs.”

“Give me two minutes,” Jake says before closing the door again and going back to retrieve his shoes and his guitar.

Stepping out of the elevator, he follows Josh out of the hotel. Stepping into the revolving door, his eyes lock with the eyes of a brunette as she moves in the opposite direction. “Woah! Pay attention!” Josh yells as he pulls Jake from the revolving doors. “You almost squashed yourself.”

Jake looks behind him again to see the woman through the blurry glass as she approaches the check in counter.

“Jake!” Josh snaps, once again grabbing hold of his arm and pulling him to the car. “We cannot be staring at women right now. We have to get to rehearsal.”

All through rehearsal, Jake couldn’t get the image of the woman’s face out of his mind. Though he never missed a single note or beat while they rehearsed, his mind was still elsewhere. He obviously had no idea who she was, but he wanted to know who she was. But he knew he wouldn’t see her for a long time. He had a show to get through tonight and who knew what tomorrow would bring.

Jogging down the few steps of the side of the stage, Jake hands off his guitar to the tech and heads back to the dressing room. He pours himself a small glass of whiskey and knocks it back in one gulp before pouring himself another.

“We’ve still got hours before the show and you’re already getting drunk,” He hears Josh snicker behind him.

“I’m not drunk yet,” Jake says as he turns to face his twin.

“After tonight, we have a couple days free here in Paris before we move on to Rome. Have any plans for what you want to do?”

Jake shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe relax in the hotel, work on some songs.”

Josh scoffs, shaking his head. He grabs the whiskey bottle from Jake and takes a swig, causing Jake to raise his eyebrows in surprise. “What? I don’t just drink tequila brother.” Josh says before taking one more drink of the liquor and handing it back to Jake. “We are in Paris, Jake. France, for god sake. Do not hide away in your room for two days. You should come hang with us! I think we’re going to go exploring.”

“What more could we explore?” Jake says. “We’ve been here so much already, what do we do?”

Josh shrugs his shoulders. “I’m sure we can figure something out. There’s always something to do.”

Jake rolls his eyes and takes another drink. “I’ll think of something to do.”

“Or who..” Josh smirks. “I saw the way you were looking at her.”

Jake shakes his head. “I have not slept with a single woman this entire tour, I plan to keep it that way.”

“Bullshit.. I bet before we even leave Paris, that dumb vow you made will be broken.”

“And if you win, what do you want?”

“Teasing rights,” Josh smirks.

“Teasing? Really?”

“Or I get to drive your Porsche for a week.”

“Teasing it is,” Jake says.

“Afraid to let me drive your precious Porsche?”

“Actually yes,” Jake twists the cap back on the bottle and puts it away. “I don’t want to sleep with anyone,” He continues. “I have no need for it.”

“Jacob, there is always a need. You just choose not to act on it.” Josh sits on the arm of the couch and straightens up enough to see himself in the mirror and begins fluffing his hair. “I’m sure jacking off just isn't cutting it.” He throws a smirk over to Jake who just simply crosses his arms over his chest.

“You are stupid,” Jake says.

“You know I’m right,” Josh stands back on his feet and heads for the door. “We’re all going out for an early dinner, if you’d like to join.”

“Yeah sure, I’ll meet you outside.”

After dinner finished, and meeting a few fans, Jake finds himself back at the venue and getting ready for the show. He looked at himself in the mirror and saw just how tired he looked. Did he look like this the whole day? Maybe a day or two of relaxation and sleep isn’t such a bad idea.

Finally arriving at the hotel after the show, Jake thanks the driver before climbing out of the car and making his way inside. He turned down going out with the guys for an aftershow bar hang out. All he really wanted to do was sleep and that’s what he tried to do when he got back to the hotel. He laid there in bed for what felt like hours but sleep never came over him.

Getting out of bed, he walks over to the balcony doors and swings them open before stepping out inside the still warm air. Maybe a little fresh air could help. Falling into one of the balcony chairs, he rests his feet on the railing and leans his head back as he closes his eyes and takes in the sounds of Paris. It was somewhat quiet at this hour, a few cars driving by, maybe a couple talking every now and then.

“Beds exist for a reason.”

Peeling his eyes open, he turns to look behind him when he sees her. She was standing on the balcony that’s beside his, leaning against the railing. Seeing her this time, she was only wearing a thin, silk robe over a pair of shorts and tank top that showed more cleavage that was respectable to look at. Though he can’t say much, he’s only in his boxer shorts.

“Oh uh, couldn't sleep.” He says as he stands up from the chair.

“Time change?” She asks. “That’s my excuse.”

He shakes his head. “Sort of.. Also had a show and the adrenaline hasn’t quite worn off yet.”

“A show? Like a play?”

Jake chuckles and shakes his head. “No, I don’t act,” He says. “I play guitar.”

“Oh,” She says, nodding her head. “A band. Have I heard of it?”

“Obviously not if you have to ask.” He says as he walks over to the side of his balcony. “I’m Jake.”

“Nice to meet you, Jake. I’m Val.”

“Short for Valerie?” He asks.

Val shakes her head. “Valentine,” She says. “My mom gave us unique names when we were born.”

“Unique name for a unique person.” He says, only to immediately regret the words he just uttered. “I’m sorry,” He sighs. “That was pathetic.”

Val giggles and leans against the railing once more. “You’re cute when you blush,” She says. “So you said you play the guitar?”

Jake feels relief when she finally changes the subject. “Yeah, I do.”

“Care to show me?”

“I don’t think anyone wants to hear it at four in the morning.”

Val hums to herself before stepping backwards to peer into her room before coming back to the railing of her balcony. Slipping off her robe, she tosses it to Jake. It smelt sweet like cherries or something like it.

“Wait, what are you doing?” He says when he sees her swing a leg over the railing.

“Coming over,” She says, swinging her other leg over.

“Are you crazy?” He says. “You could fall.” He rushes over the railing, dropping her robe, and reaching out to grab hold of her. She leaps over to the edge of his balcony and he helps her over the railing.

“Not the first time I’ve jumped balconies,” She says, bending over to pick up her robe. She slips it on, not bothering to tie it and steps through the doors and into his room. “Must be a well known band if you can afford a room like this,” She says as she looks around.

“I don’t look familiar to you at all?” He asks.

“Should you?”

“Maybe?”

She flops down onto his bed and props herself up on her elbow. “What’s your band’s name?”

“Greta Van Fleet,” He doesn't hesitate to tell her.

“Ahhhh okay,” She says. “Still haven't heard of you.”

He scoffs and walks over to the bed, grabbing his guitar off the floor in the process. Sitting on the bed, he tunes the guitar just a little before beginning to strum a few chords. He hadn't noticed Val crawling across the bed as he played, his mind completely focused on the guitar. She sat perched at his side as she listened and watched him play. It came so easily for him as his fingers glided up and down the fretboard while the others plucked the right strings. The guitar seemed to meld with him, as if it were an extension of his body and he just knew how to use it perfectly.

The thought alone made her eyes wander over the rest of him. The focus on his face drew out the intensity and passion he has for what he does. His forehead wrinkled and moved whenever he played a different chord or note. His jaw clenches and relaxes and his lips just stay the same. They glistened whenever he licked his tongue over them. They looked soft. She wonders if they feel the same way too.

Val then moves down his body, watching as the muscles flex in his arms as he moves. His skin was slightly tanned, must have gotten some sun before coming here to Paris. Her eyes moved further down his body and towards his chest and torso. He wasn’t quite sturdy, has a little bit of a stomach but still he looks beautiful. He wasn’t sporting a six pack but that didn't matter. She still found him beautifully just the way he was.

His legs came into view and she found them to be a little hairy but not too much. The tan followed all the way down to his feet, which tapped to the beat, keeping him on track with what he was playing.

Her hands were itching to reach out and touch him. She could still feel his hands on her waist as he pulled her over to his balcony. She didn't pay attention to how his skin felt at the moment but now she wants to. She wants to feel every part of him.

Stop it, Val. You don't even know him.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asks, drawing her out of her mind. She bashfully shakes her head, looking away. He chuckles and moves to set his guitar on the floor. “Did you like what you heard?” He asks.

“If you’re this good on an acoustic, I can only imagine what you must be like with this band.”

Jake smiles and turns himself on the bed to face her. “A simple youtube search would confirm that for you.”

“I’ll have to look it all up later.”

“Why not now?” He asks, finding himself leaning a little closer to her.

“Because I’m a little distracted.”

“Really? By what?”

“More like who..” She breathes.

He chuckles, his warm breath breezing over her lips before he presses into her. Her lips tasted just as her robe smelled. Cherries. Her lips were soft that he was thinking they would be. He pulls away, his lips lingering a little longer to savor the taste of her. Taking the initiative again, he leans back again and kisses her. Taking his hand, he wraps it around the back of her neck and uses his thumb to tilt her chin upwards.

He feels her poking her tongue against his teeth and he chuckles before granting her access. Without breaking apart, she moves her body closer and starts to wrap her legs around his waist until she’s seated on his lap. His hands drop to her waist, holding her in place as they continue their makeout.

His eyes peel open when she pulls away, only to start kissing down his neck. Usually it would be the other way around, but he isn’t complaining, he’s enjoying the feeling of her lips on his skin. He leans back on his hand, tilting his head back and closing his eyes again as he savors this moment. A moan escapes his mouth before he can even stop it and he can feel her smiling against his neck.

Giving in further to the moment, he lays down on his back on the bed, allowing her to have full control. If he leaves Paris, having broken his streak of not sleeping with anyone, so be it. He was hers and he didn’t care at all. The feeling she was giving him was euphoric and he wasn't going to deny it.

Feeling her hand trace the curve of his semi erection over the top of his boxers, he opens his eyes once again and looks down at her. She has those doey eyes that he can’t ever resist. He nods his head and she pulls down his boxers enough to release him. Another moan falls from his mouth when she takes him in hers. His hands snake down his body and tangles in her hair.

This can’t be real.

It has to be a dream.

His body tensed as he felt himself approaching his release. He can’t stop himself from spilling inside of her mouth, but he’s pleasantly surprised when she takes it all and swallows. Pulling away from him, she sits back up and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

“How was that?” She asks.

“Amazing.” He says breathlessly.

She pulls his boxers back up and climbs up to straddle his waist. She places her hand against his chest and smiles. “Your heart is racing.” He chuckles and pulls her down for a kiss.

“Can I taste you?” He asks before kissing her again.

“I think it’s only fair.” She says before sliding off her robe.

Jake glides his hands along her shoulders, following the robe as it falls down her arms and pools around her hips. His eyes canvas every curve of her body, every minuscule scar. She didn’t have the supermodel body, but he didn’t care, he still found her beautiful. Just like him, she had a little meat to her body, it was perfectly toned or sculpted but it was a body that has been lived in. Worn over the years but still beautiful. He gently traced his thumbs over to the strips on her hips and looked up into her eyes.

He could see the timid look in her eyes as she watched him, wondering if at any second he would change his mind and not want her like she was wanting him. His lips curved upwards as a smile graced his sun kissed face. His brown eyes single handedly reassured her that he was in complete awe of her.

He didn't even know her besides her name. None of that mattered in the moment as he still took the time to admire her body.

Slowly he let his hands run over the fuzzy elastic band over her shorts and tugged on them, pulling the fabric away from her body and letting go, watching it snap back against her skin. He giggles lightly to himself. He dips his thumb beneath the elastic and looks up at her.

“May I?” He asks. Val nods her head and he proceeds to go further down inside of her shorts. He feels her hands grip loosely to his hips, her own instinctively bucking against his thumb. He gently rubs over her clit making her gasp.

With graceful movements, he’s sitting up and laying her on her back between his legs. Removing his hand from her shorts, he takes them off and licks his lips at the sight of her laying bare in front of him. Leaning over, he licks his tongue through her folds earning another gasp from Val. She didn't taste like cherries but she did taste sweet.

Within a couple minutes he had her releasing on his tongue and he licked up every drop. He pulls her back up and kisses her, tracing her lips with his tongue as he pulls apart from her.

“Being a rockstar, you must have a lot of women when you want to.”

He scoffs with a smile. “I could, but I’ve chosen not to,” He says. “Sure I could live the drugs, sex, and rock ‘n roll lifestyle easily, but I like the calm paced life. Play a lot on stage, flirt with the fans during the set, and then just relax afterwards.”

“When was the last time you slept with someone?”

“It’s been a couple years..” He says. “I used to just have meaningless sex. None of it meant anything. I brought a woman home after a night out at the bar, we’d slept together, and then she was gone by the time I opened a bottle of whiskey.”

“So what am I?” Val asks. “It’s almost five in the morning–in Paris–and you have me in your bed.”

Jake brings his hand up to her face and brushes her hair behind her ear. “I don’t know.. There’s just something about you that I like–as if I was meant to meet you. You’re not like the others..”

“What if tonight was our only night? Then what?”

Jake shakes his head. “I don’t believe it to be our only night,” He says.

“How can you be so sure?” She asks.

“I feel something with you–something that I have never felt before. And if we only spend tonight together, I won’t ever forget you. Who knows,” He says, tracing his thumb over her cheek. “We may see each other again and if we do, then we will know we were meant for each other.”

“Already falling in love, are we?” Val teases.

“Well we are in the city of love,” Jake playfully responds. “No.. But when I saw you for the first time yesterday, I was hooked. I thought about you all day and having you here now feels like a dream that I never want to wake up from.” He kisses her lips and then down to her neck before stopping just above her cleavage. “Let me love you tonight and then prove to you later that you are to be mine, and I yours.”

“Spoken like a prince.”

“I like to think I was in another life.”

Val giggles and kisses him. “If you treat me just like the others, I will never forgive you.”

“Only if you promise not to leave after I open a bottle of whiskey.”

Val shakes her head, “Never. You are stuck with me until the sun comes up.”

He smiles. “Good.”

As the sun begins to rise, the light filling the room, Val wakes up to the feeling of Jake running fingers ever so gently over the surface of her back. She flips her head to the other side and looks up at him. “Good morning,” He says. His breath still smelled like whiskey.

“Good morning,” She responds before flipping over onto her back.

“Do you have any plans today?” He asks, walking his fingers up the expanse of her stomach.

“My friends and I were just going to relax on the beach, but I can cancel.”

“I don’t want you to cancel your plans,” He says.

“We have a whole week here, I can miss one day.”

“And what would they think about you spending a whole day with some guy you just met?”

“You’re not just some guy,” Val says as she reaches her up to push his hair back away from his face. “Not anymore.”

“What if we spent the whole day in bed?” He asks. “We can order room service and just be together..”

“You don't want to go out?” She asks. “Do some exploring?”

“I have explored Paris countless times,” He says. “But I have yet to explore you,” He says as he rolls over top of her.

“You have too,” Val giggles as she tries to roll away from him. “You have seen every inch of my body.”

“Ahh, but that was with my eyes,” He says. “I meant with my lips.” He says as he starts kissing her neck. She giggles at the tickling sensation he gives her as he works his way down her neck and to her collarbone. “You are so beautiful.” He says.

“You keep saying that and yet I have a hard time believing you.”

“I only speak the truth,” He says. “I would never lie to you.”

His fingers glide over her stretch marks again as he kisses her breasts. “I just can’t wrap my head around why a rockstar like you would ever love someone who looks like me? Last night was beautiful and I just thought you were saying those words.”

“I meant every word, why are you doubting me now?” He says.

“I guess I’m just getting deep inside my head..” She says. “I have always had trouble loving my body and yet a man like you still sees me as beautiful–even with my stretch marks and my hips.”

“Your hips are beautiful and so are your stretch marks,” Jake says as he traces the marks on her hips. “You don’t need a perfect body for me to be attracted to you. Your eyes alone have already done that for you.”

“And what about my legs? My thighs–”

He covers her mouth lightly with the palm of his hand. “You are beautiful,” He says. “With every mark on your body, your hips, your thighs. Every inch of you is beautiful. I do not need a super model’s body pressed against mine, I just want yours in all its flawed beauty.”

He sees a tear start to slide down the side of her face and he wipes it away with the pad of his thumb. “You are beautiful, don’t ever think otherwise.”

“How can you say such things about a woman you have only met just four hours ago?”

Jake shrugs his shoulders. “A woman deserves to know when she is beautiful.” He leans his head down and kisses her.

“I should probably tell my friends where I am before they think I was kid–napped..” She moans when she feels him slip back inside of her.

“At least your kidnapper is sexy,” He teases before thrusting back inside of her.

Within minutes they were both coming down as he gave her sloppy kisses.

Against his begging, she slips on her clothes again and heads for the door. “Ten minutes and then I’ll be back.” She says as she pulls herself away from his arms.

“Jake Kiszka?! You slept with him?!”

“Shhh!” Val says, clamping her hand over her friend’s mouth.

“How did that even happen? When?”

“Last night,” Val says as she steps away from her friend and heads over to her suitcase to grab clothes. “I saw him out on his balcony and he brought me into his room. He played me a song on his guitar and then… We slept together.”

“And you’re going back over there?” Val nods her head. “I just can't believe this is happening,” Her friend continues. “So you’re spending the day with him?” Val slides her shoes on and slips in a sweater over top of her shirt. “He leaves in like a day, while you’ll still be here.”

“I know..”

“So then what happens after that?”

“I’m not sure,” Val says as she fixes her hair. “I can’t go with him, but maybe we’ll meet again sometime.”

“Are you in love with him?”

Val shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t know if I’d call it love just yet, but I do feel something. He’s so sweet, Jayge, and so kind. He’s not at all like the typical rockstar you would assume.”

“How can you be so sure about that?” Jayge questions. “What if.. What if he only thinks of you as just some women he fucked in Paris and he never thinks of you again?”

“Wow, way to be such a downer.”

“I’m not a downer,” Jayge says as she sits down in the bed. “I’m being logical here. Val, he’s a rockstar, currently on tour for the next four months and after this week in Paris, you’re going back to Dallas.”

“Then I will savor whatever this is while it lasts and then.. Well.. I’ll deal with the fact that I may never see him again.”

“Val, I’m sorry.. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up that this means anything. Of course, by all means, have sex and just have fun, but don’t let yourself get caught up on what could happen.”

Noticing Val was oddly quiet all of sudden, and not paying much attention, Jake pulls away from her, cocking his head slightly as he studies her face. “Hey,” He says, cupping her face in his hands. “Is everything okay?” He asks.

“Hmm?” Her eyes flicker up to his.

“You seem a little..distant.”

Val shakes her head. “No, no.. I’m okay..” She says.

“Are you sure?” He asks.

Val nods her head, forcing a smile on her face. “Yeah, I’m sure.” She says as she brushes her hand up along his arm.

Jake exhales a breath and drops his hand from her face. “Something’s bothering you,” He says. “Come on, talk to me.. What happened while you were back in your room?”

“Jake, it’s stupid.. Really..” Jake cocks his head, still not believing a word she’s telling him. Realizing that he won’t let it go, Val sits up on the bed and crosses her leg in front of her. “My friend.. She thinks that after you leave to finish your tour and I go back home, you’ll forget about me.. And that this was all just a simple fuck..”

Jake’s hands drop to his lap as he lowers his head. “That’s what she thinks of me?” He says.

“Jake..”

“Is that what you think of me?” He asks, looking back up at her. “I was honest with you.. I’m not like that anymore..”

“I know,” Val says. “But is she right about what happens when we go our separate ways? Jake.. We’re from two different worlds. You have this whole career and I’m just some girl from Texas.”

“You're not just some girl,” He says. “This isn’t just a simple fuck either.” He reaches for her hand and rubs his thumb over her knuckles. “I know this isn’t ideal and we do have separate for the time being, but I just know this isn’t over when I leave.”

“I don’t want her to be right,” Val says. “I don’t want to be just another girl.”

“You are not just another girl,” Jake says. “I want to explore more of this with you. Don’t let what your friend said make you think differently.”

Climbing off the bed, Jake grabs his button up shirt and slips it on before moving onto his shorts. “Come on, I think we need to get out of the room,” He says as he hands her her clothes.

Jake enjoyed seeing the smile on her face as she talked animatedly with the florist. Knowing he couldn't commit to memory, he took out his phone and snapped a photo as he continued watching the conversation play out. The smile she bore, he’d never want to forget that. Suddenly the florist was pointing towards him and Val looks over, still wearing a smile, and nods her head. The florist nods her head as if understanding whatever Val had told her before waving him over. As he approached the table, the florist handed him a small bouquet of wildflowers and motions for him to give them to Val.

“Oh okay,” He says, his cheeks growing a light shade of pink. He hands Val the flowers and leans over to kiss her cheek. “May our love grow wild and free like these flowers,” He whispers into her ear. He feels her skin grow warm and he chuckles. “Am I making you flustered?”

“Just a little..” She whispers.

“Good,” He says. “Just wait until we get back to the room. Your cheeks won’t be the only thing that will be red..” He says, keeping his voice low, before pulling away. He goes to retrieve his wallet from his pocket when the florist hurriedly stops him. “I have to pay you,” He says.

“No, no!” The florist exclaims. “It’s a gift.”

“Are you sure?” Jake asks.

“I am sure,” She says. “Love comes without a price.”

“Thank you,” Val says. “I hope you have a wonderful day.”

As they walked away from the stand, Val picked out one of the purple flowers. Jake tries to stop her but she already has the flower tucked safely behind his ear. “Beautiful.” She says.

“Val, men do not–”

“Men do,” She cuts him off. “And I think you look good with it.” She reaches up and kisses his cheek. “Keep it there.” He did keep there the whole time they ventured around the street market.

He snuck even more candid photos of her, not realizing she was doing the same. As he goes to put it away, he feels it vibrate and he lifts it back up to see a text from Josh.

‘Whatever you are doing, forget about it for a little while and come get lunch with us!’

Jake looks up at Val who’s distracted, smelling different candles. “Are you hungry?” He asks, walking up to her.

“A little, why?” She says as she straightens back up.

“The others are getting lunch, do you want to go?” Val lifts up a candle for him to smell. He scrunches up his face when he smells the god awful scent. “Ew..”

Val giggles and sets the candle back down on the table. “Are you sure?” She asks. “They won’t think–”

“Doesn't matter what they think,” He says as he pulls her into his arms. “But they will love you.”

“Ummm.. Sure, why not?” She says, shrugging her shoulders.

“Well well well, you must be the woman who’s captivated my brother,” Josh says as he embraces Val in a hug. “It’s nice to finally get to meet you.”

Val giggles and hugs him back, “It’s nice to meet you too…..”

Josh laughs, slapping his hand against Jake’s shoulder. “I see my brother has not told you about us,” He says. “I’m Josh, his twin.”

“Twin?” Val questions as she looks between the two.

“We don’t look so much alike now but we used to growing up.”

“Oh, and this is Sam, our younger brother,” Josh continues. Sam waves at her with a wide grin. “And then there’s Daniel, our childhood friend and badass drummer.” Danny waves as well before taking a drink of his beer. “Come sit and join us!” Josh says as he pulls her to their table.

All through dinner, they got to know each other, more so they wanted to know everything about Val. Jake also couldn't keep his eyes off of Val, watching her as she held conversations with his brothers and allowed them to ask her whatever they pleased.

“Do you ride at all?” Josh asks. “Horses, I mean..” He adds, glancing over at Jake.

Jake’s smile fades and he kicks Josh’s leg underneath the table. Josh winks at him and sips on his drink.

“I was taught how to ride from a young age,” Val says. “Still do.”

“Jake, I believe you found yourself a cowgirl.” Danny chuckles.

Jake smiles and reaches over to kiss Val’s cheek. “I don’t know, did I?” He whispers. He chuckles feeling her cheeks warm slightly and he squeezes her thigh.

They were barely inside the door of his hotel room before they’re tearing off each other’s clothes. Jake kicks the door closed behind him, the lock latching immediately behind him. As he picks her up, she wraps her legs around his waist and he carries her into the bedroom. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, with her still wrapped around him, he feels his way around her hips and pushes down her pants. Having left his jeans by the door already, she ground down against his groin, her clothed center rubbing against his semi hard dick.

Pulling away from him, long enough to take off his boxers, she then lays him back on the bed and starts to kiss down his body. He hisses, grabbing a fist full of her hair when she nips his skin above his hips. “Did you just bite me?” He questions, titling her his chin downwards so he can see her.

She winks up at him before continuing down the rest of his body until she reaches his length. He can’t help the moan that escapes him when he feels her envelope him with her mouth. She licks and strokes him a few times before making him release her hair. She rises to her feet and slides off her underwear before climbing on top of him.

He moves further up the bed, carrying her with him, until he’s comfortably lying in the middle of the bed. He squeezed her hips as she sinks down on him, taking him as deep as he can go. “You’re so sexy from this angle,” He says, looking up at her. He moans again, his head falling against the pillows as she starts to lift herself and stop in a steady pattern.

Val rests her hands on his shoulder, keeping the pace, rising and falling repeatedly, bringing herself closer to her climax. Jake grips her hips tighter and pushes his hips upwards, meeting her thighs as they collide with his.

“Jake…” She moans, squeezing her eyes shut as her mouth falls open.

“Yeah baby, let go for me.” He says. “Come on..”

They both meet their ends and she collapses against his chest. He rubs her back and kisses her forehead. He slowly sits them both up and brushes her hair out from in front of her face. “I’m going to miss this,” He says.

“Gee, I hope you don’t only want me for sex,” Val jokes.

He lightly taps her ass as he laughs. “I want you for more than just sex,” He says. “I want to take you on romantic dates, fun adventures. I want to hold your hand and cuddle with you in bed. I want to have a life with you.”

“Boy you are falling quickly,” She jokes again, earning yet another smack to her ass, making her laugh. “All of that sounds wonderful,” She says. “Maybe I can teach you how to ride a horse.”

“Oh I know how to ride a horse,” Jake says.

“Yes but do you know how to ride a horse?” She says. “Full speed through an open space, the wind blowing through your hair,” She runs her fingers through his semi sweaty locks. “The adrenaline coursing through your veins and the feeling of being as free as the wind.”

“You make it sound like an adventure.”

“It can be,” She says. “It’s my favorite thing to do when I need to clear my head–or just to have fun.”

“How often do you go riding?”

Val shrugs her shoulders. “Whenever I decide to,” She says as Jake starts to kiss down her neck and over her shoulders. “I think you’d enjoy it.”

“I think I’d enjoy anything with you,” He says, continuing to kiss her body. He makes his way to her chest and sucks gently on one of her nipples. He can feel her heart beating in her chest. He releases her nipple and turns his head to press his ear to her chest. “I could listen to this all the time,” He says.

He sighs, realizing by the morning time he’ll be on a plane and flying to Rome…without Val. How was he supposed to leave her behind while he continues with this tour? He knows he can’t just cancel the rest of the tour. Missing someone you love wasn’t a big enough reason to cancel everything.

As if they were thinking the same thing, Val speaks up as she runs her hand through his hair. “You promise nothing will change when you leave?” She asks.

Jake lifts his head and tilts it backwards to look at her. “Nothing will change,” He says. “I promise..” He caresses her cheek and presses his lips to hers. “As soon as I get back home, I’m coming to you.”

The morning came sooner than either of them wanted and as Val still slept, Jake quietly made his way around the room collecting his things and packing them into his suitcase. Once everything was zipped and ready to go, he carries them out of the room to set by the hotel door. He quietly goes back to the bedroom and sits on the edge of the bed before gently waking up Val.

“Hey, it’s time for me to leave..” He says.

“Already?”

Jake nods his head. “Yeah..”

“Can I come with you to the airport?” She asks.

“Of course,” Jake says as he stands up from the bed.

The two of them stand in the middle of the crowded airport, not wanting to let each other go. Val was the first to finally pull apart, regretting looking up at Jake. His eyes were glossy with tears as they flickered between hers. “I wish you could come with me,” He says. “You’d love Italy.”

“I’m sure I would,” Val says as she reaches up to wipe away an escaped tear slipping down his cheek.

“Goddamn it,” He huffs, wiping his own hands over his cheeks. “I’m not supposed to cry… I’m so pathetic..”

Val giggles, shaking her head. “Only four more months,” She says, wrapping her arms around his neck. “And then it’s you and me and the open field.”

He smiles and leans down to kiss Val. “I’m looking forward to it.” He kisses her again, savoring the taste of her chapstick. “Cherries..” He hums. “Definitely going to miss that.”

“Jake,” Josh says as he walks up to the two of them. “We have to go.”

“Yeah, okay..” Jake says as he takes in a deep breath.

“I’ll see you soon,” Val says as she kisses him one last time before pulling away and heading off back through the airport. Jake wipes his face again and slips on his sunglasses, covering how red his eyes must look, and heads off to catch up with the others.

-4 months later-

Four months away from Jake proved to be harder than she had originally thought it would be. Sporadic texts here and there, last night phone calls when he was available. She was depressed the first few weeks, moping over what they had in Paris. Part of her didn't believe this would move forward, based on the tone of his texts. His voice when he spoke only sounded like he wasn't at all interested anymore.

But then they stopped all together. It has been at least a month now since she last spoke to Jake. He hadn't responded to any of her texts so eventually she stopped sending them. Maybe Jayge was right. Maybe Paris was only what it was at the moment. Even the words he spoke held no meaning anymore.

She needed to get her mind off of him and she knew of the only way to do so.

Riding.

She started out at a slow pace, taking in the colors of the wildflowers as they swayed in the wind, the clear blue sky with not a single cloud to be seen, the sounds of the birds singing from the trees. Then the slow trot turned into a full on sprint, as fast as the horse could go. The wind ripped through her hair as the tears stung her eyes.

She really was just some girl to him. At least that’s what it felt like. He gave her no reason to think otherwise, never reassured her that she was more than that. She felt just like the others that he talked about. Except this time, it wasn’t her leaving him by the time he opened a whiskey bottle, but it was him leaving the memories of her behind in Paris. Those memories would never leave Paris.

Eventually the horse started to grow tired, so she led him down to a nearby river to rest and drink. Her phone started to ring in her pocket and she pulled it out to see Jake’s name on the screen. She simply stared at it, not making a move to answer it, letting it disappear and go to voicemail. His name pops back up, another incoming call.

Rolling her eyes, she taps the answer button and presses her phone to ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey, are you busy?”

“Just riding..”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine..” She says, tilting her head down and fidgeting with the reins in her hand. “I haven't heard from you for a while…”

He sighs. “Yeah.. I know.. I’m sorry..”

“You know, if you don't want me anymore, you could just tell me..”

“What? No.. Val, of course I still want you. I meant every word I told you back in Paris.”

“Somehow I’m finding it hard to believe that anymore.. You’ve talked to me like you have no interest and even when you do talk to me, it’s so few and far in between.. I’m struggling to believe that you do mean what you told me.”

“Val, I swear, I meant it all. I’m sorry for acting that way, I have no other excuse except that I’m tired.. But the tour is finally over and I want to continue where we left off.”

“Jake, I have to go.”

“No, Val, please don’t-”

She doesn't let him finish as she ends the call. Letting the horse rest a little more, after a few more minutes she climbs back up onto the saddle and rides away from the river, keeping her phone on Do Not Disturb for the time being. This time on the way back to the ranch, she doesn't haul ass back through the fields, instead she decides to take her time riding back.

After an hour, she finally reaches the ranch. Climbing down off the horse, she walks him to the stables but stops when she sees Jake leaning against the stable door. He was dressed appropriately in jeans and cowboy boots, though his button down shirt was open to the last two buttons, revealing his still tanned chest. When he sees her, he pushes off the door and walks up to her.

“Please, can we talk?” He asks.

“Jake, I get it, okay?” Val says as she leads the horse into the stable. “I fell for your stupid trap. You got what you wanted.”

“No, I didn’t,” He says, following after her. “Val, I meant everything I told you. I was stupid for not following through, but I swear I’m not treating you like the others. You mean so much to me, Val.”

“Sure didn't sound like it the few times we’ve talked.”

“I’m sorry.. I-I don’t know what else you want me to do.”

“There is nothing you can do Jake.” She says as she turns to face him, after locking the horse inside the stable. “We were crazy to think this would ever move forward from Paris. We live in two different states and we have different lives. I can’t just drop everything to move to Nashville o-or to follow you on tour, and you sure as hell can’t move here because of the band. Just admit it, Jake, this is not going to work.”

“No!” He exclaims, following her out of the stables. “I am not going to admit it because I know we can make this work.” He grabs her hand and pulls her back to him. “I’m not asking you to follow me on tour, I won't make you do that. I’ve seen what happens if you do. I can’t ask you to give up your life for that, but I am asking for you to not give up on us. If I have to move to goddamn Texas, then I will. My bands will survive.”

“Jake, don’t move here.”

“Why not? You’re here.”

“You’d hate it.”

“I can deal with it, if I still have you. Come on, I know you’ve imagined turning this rockstar into a cowboy.”

Val can't help but laugh. “Cowboy by day, rockstar by night?”

“I could do it,” He says. “I know how to ride a horse.”

“You really want to move forward with us?” Val asks.

“You already know my answer,” He says as he pushes their bodies together, lifting up her chin and kissing. “I will do whatever it takes to keep loving you.”

“You’ll do whatever?” She asks, looking up at him. He nods his head and she smiles. “The house is empty,” She says, nodding her head to the white farmhouse behind her. “The boys are out wrangling the herd, could be a couple hours.”

Jake smirks before grabbing her hand and running for the house. Within minutes he had her naked and in her bed, kissing every inch of her body, making up for the lost time. When he reaches her legs, she pulls him back up and kisses him.

“I need you,” She says. “Please.”

He nods his head and adjusts himself between herself, careful to take it slow as he pushes himself inside. She hisses slightly and he pauses, looking at her. He slowly eases further in until he’s completely bottomed out. He stays like that, allowing her time to readjust to him. When she was ready, he began at a snail pace, taking his time until she was comfortable enough to let him go faster. In no time she was begging him to and he obliged, picking up the pace until the headboard began hitting the wall.

Her lips still tasted like cherries when he kissed her, the taste being enough to intoxicate him. He didn't stop until he was struggling to keep himself at bay but he couldn't. He couldn’t stop himself from hitting his climax and spilling inside of her. She followed not too long after him.

They laid there in bed, completely spent and covered in sweat but still cuddling each other. Jake traces the curves of her hip with his fingertips and kisses her forehead.

“Valentine!” A man calls from downstairs.

Val sits up in bed, holding the blankets up to cover her chest. “Who is that?” Jake asks.

“My dad,” Val says as she scrambles out of the bed. “Get dressed, hurry–and button up your shirt.”

“I have to meet your dad so soon?” Jake asks as he climbs out of the bed and starts picking up his clothes to put back on.

“Better to get it out of the way now rather than later.” Val says as she zips up her pants.

“Oh fantastic,” Jake mutters before following Val out of her bedroom.

@losfacedevil @writingcold @edgingthedarkness @i-love-gvf @katuschka @josh-iamyour-mama @sammysstolenbirks @asendingtothestarsasone @hollyco @musicislove3389 @its-interesting-van-kleep @katiegvf @tinydancer40 @gretavangroupie @lizzys-sunflower @fleetingjake @takenbythemadness @godly-sinsx @psychedelectable @dancingcarbon @cheersdannyx2 @piratejtk @katuschka @musicislove3389 @takenbythemadness @wildbluesorbit

[trinlovessoobin]

╰┈➤ speed drive

{san x fem!reader y/n}

quick description: san is a street racer and so are you aka y/n he has a big ego and so do you but he also finds you very attractive and makes a bet if we wins the race against you…

word count 2.5k

[warning of content]. unprotected sex(use protection yall), cum on stomach, use of pet names (baby, sweetie), winning kink, ego kink, (lmk if I forgot one it’s been a million years since i’ve posted on here)

you’ve heard san’s name many times he’s one of the best speed racers in the male league and you were one of the best in the female league but the this new race you entered was unlike your other races it’s all genders, you knew you were going to see him in fact you hoped you would not only did you hear about how good he is but you’ve also heard about how cocky he is. you wanted so badly to meet him and beat him in a race and this was your chance. you went by your racer name in case you ever got caught no one would know your real name. angel was your cover name. you wondered if san’s name was actually san.

you began to get ready putting your hair into a slick back pony tail this way your hair wouldn’t get in your face during the race. when you arrived at the road where it was taking place it was a straight shot for most of the road but then turns onto a slimmer road. it was surrounded by fields completely secluded where no one would hear their loud engines. your car was your baby, you had completed remodeled the inside putting in your own engine, it was a 2020 chevrolet corvette with a hot pink wrap and pink leather seats. you had replaced the engine with a toyota 2JZ-GTE, you loved the way the car would purr once it started up. when you pulled up to the spot people instantly started to crowd you. not to flex or anything but you were fairly popular amongst the street racing community when another car pulled up beside you. a matt black honda NSX. you couldn’t help but admire the car she was beautiful, when a man just as beautiful stepped out “It’s san!! he’s so hot” you hear girls say behind oh. so this is san

you walk up to him to introduce yourself but it seems like he already knows you “angel” he says with a smirk

“I cannot wait to race you, truly, it’ll be an honor to beat you”

“how are you so sure you’re gonna win? you’ve never seen me race don’t be so cocky. it’ll make you look like a fool once you lose”

you give him a sarcastic smile then walk over to the person who will be judging the race just to get the basics of rout.

once everyone is settled in the races begin a few lesser known racers begin to race each other each time the man one but this didn’t worry you since every single girl racer you’ve beat with flying colors. the last race is going on before yours and san’s when sam walks over to you.

“getting nervous yet?”

“I was just about to ask you the same question”

“I have a bet, would you be willing to partake?”

you look at him a little surprised.

“what’s the bet?”

“If I win, you sleep with me. and I get to know your real name”

“are you serious?”

“dead, I mean we don’t have to make this bet if you really think you’ll lose”

“no, but i have to get something if i win”

“I guess it’s only fair. what do you want IF you win”

you pause to think, what does he have that you want.

“you know i looked you up before the race. the prize money for this race is only $500. and while i was looking i saw you’ve got a lot of money don’t you? how about if i win you give me $15k. that’ll help me pay off my new engine don’t you think?”

“you looked me up i’m flattered. now I really hope I win but not for the money loss id get if I lose but i want to hear you scream my name while I fuck you”

you’re left speechless by his confidence you can’t help but be a little turned on by it but you cannot let him win for your own dignity. the last race finished with the man winning again.

you both get into your cars and line them up at the starting like engines purring you both in sync look at each other then look at flag girl who stood in the middle of both cars she’s wearing short shorts and a little crop top with a little white flag she hold it in the air looks at you then looks at san and waves it down you both take off dashing leaving tire marks behind. he starts off in the lead but you are close behind little does he know this is the tactic you aren’t going your full speed until just before the sharp turn you speed up ahead of him and take the turn cutting him off forcing him to slow down now your in the lead and not just by a little he catches up to you but you still hold your lead. just a month ago you installed a booster into your engine. you didn’t want to just beat san you wanted to demolish him and he was too close for comfort so you hit your booster flying head of him now he’s a full cars length behind and you fly past the finish line and make a donut before hopping out and getting swarmed with the watchers.

san gets out of his car and just stares at you with his arms crossed. he’s wearing a compression shirt and you notice his muscles and defined jawline it wouldn’t have been THAT bad to lose. he walks over to you and extends his hand.

“congratulations. you really threw me for a loop with that turn. you’re good” then he leans in and whispers into your ear.

“y’know i’m better in bed then i am on the road”

this sends shivers down your spine.

“but you lost” you say while shrugging. “pay up” you say with a smile.

“well i don’t have the money right now give me your number. i’ll meet with you tonight with the money.”

———————————————————————

you took a hot shower once you were home. races always get you tensed up and you quickly dry your hair and put on jeans and a silk tank top and throw a cardigan over it to go meet san. he sent you the location of some steak house not too far from your apartment. once you get there you saw him waiting outside in a black button up and black dress pants his hair was neatly combed back. he looked hot, and he smirks once he noticed you.

“what’s the meaning of this why are we at a steak house?”

“I wanted to treat you to a nice dinner to congratulate you on your winnings”

you look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“no funny business” you say

“i can’t promise anything” he says leading you into the restaurant.

you decide to take advantage of the situation and order the most expensive meal and an expensive drink. and another. and another. he stops you at the forth drink.

“are you trying to get drunk? i mean i don’t have a problem with driving you home but i think you would have a problem with that.”

“im not drunk” you say slurring your words together. normally you can handle your alcohol but you didn’t actually know what was in the drink you were ordering you just wanted san to spend a bunch of money and ended up shitfaced.

“look i’m going to be honest with you angel I took you here to convince you to sleep with me, there’s a hotel above this place and I booked a room but i’m not going to take advantage of a drunk girl. i’m getting the bill and taking you home.”

once he payed he walked you outside to his car but drunk you refused to give him your address.

“listen angel-“ san starts to speak but you cut him off

“don’t call me that”

“but that’s all i know you by sweetie”

“y/n is my name don’t call me angel”

san can’t help but smile now that he knows your name.

“look y/n i’m going to take you up to the hotel room and ill get another room for myself if you don’t give me your address”

“okay” you say just looking down at the floor

“okay, fine up to the hotel room i guess you better not hate me for this i swear”

he takes you up to the room and places you onto the bed he helps you with your shoes then gets up to leave but you stop him and grab his wrist.

“can you sleep in here. it’s a big bed and, and i know that i’m drunk i just don’t like being alone while drunk i feel all funny and get nervous, could you just stay here please”

san sighs before nodding his head and turning off the lights he’s lays down beside you and you both fall asleep.

the next morning you wake up with the worst headache and you hear noise at the door. but it’s not your door it’s a hotel room door? and wait san is at the door??? he comes back to the bed with a plate of food in his hand room service??

“oh, good morning sleepyhead”

san looked surprising cute in the morning his smile was softer and his dimples showed.

“what the fuck” is all you can seem to say though.

san can’t help but giggle a little.

“we didn’t do anything don’t worry y/n, i don’t take advantage of drunk girls. i was going to leave but YOU wanted me to stay. basically pleaded i offered to take you home but you refused to give me your address” he leaned in a little and smiled

“but y am ou did give me your name”

“i’m sorry. this is so fucking embarrassing” you say then notice the platter of fruit he brought and take a slice of cantaloupe.

“i’ve never gotten drunk like this what was even in that drink i normally know my limit, guess i got carried away. but you stayed” your eyes fall to his chest. san wasn’t wearing a shirt, you couldn’t help but stare at his toned abs he caught you staring.

“like what you see?”

you snapped out of it a glared at him.

“oh come on don’t give me that look you did this to yourself baby”

your body had a reaction to that pet name he could turn you on so easily but you couldn’t let him win. san could also tell how easily he got to you that’s why he was so persistent he knew he could break you eventually.

you shook it off “i’m just going to eat then go home. thank you for taking care of me in my embarrassing state i can promise you it will never happen again”

san looked down at you. you were still sat on the bed looking up at him his large frame you knew of he were to kiss you right now you would kiss him back he would win. he felt it too because he grinned and bit his lower lip he picked up the plate of food and put it on the night stand all you could do was stare at him in silence this constant battle between you two on the winner you may have won the race but he won you.

he crawled on the bed laying you down and pinning you between his thick arms.

“I dont want to push you into this baby, i know I’ve been pushy but i would never force you to do anything you dont want to do”

you put your hands up to his neck and strokes his Jaw with your thumb.

“as much as this hurts my pride… you win”

san leans down slowly basically doing a push-up into your lips it was soft, softer than expected just a kiss just you desperately wanting more, you put your fingers in his hair giving it a tug to pull him closer.

he pulls away and smiles down at you.

“so eager for me baby, I wanna take my time and savor this moment”

he kisses you again this time he slides his tongue into your mouth. it’s not sloppy though it’s passionate it’s hard to think of anything other than him. you could kiss him like this forever. he pulls away again to catch his breath and starts leaving a trail of kisses on your jaw, down your neck, onto your collar bone he sits up his legs still on either side of you he pulls off your shirt revealing your laced black bra. you stare up at him while you unclasp the back of your bra and throw it to the side. you grab his neck and pull him back into a kiss, getting more and more eager you start to grind against his member and pulling at his hair while your tongues dance, he groans into the kiss from the sudden friction between you two. he starts kissing down till he gets to your jeans that you slept in he unbuttons them and pulls them off, your black laced underwear that matched your bra. he takes the underwear waistband with his teeth and pulls them off leaving them on the floor completing the matching set of your undergarments.

“baby you’re so beautiful. i’m a lucky loser”

he spreads your legs leaving kisses on your inner thigh.

“so wet, just for me”

you accidentally let out a small whine while he teases you.

“awe baby, getting so eager”

you roll your eyes and sit up and begin unbuttoning his pants.

“yes, you’re taking too long”

he finishes taking off his pants and boxers revealing his large member. you take his shoulders and and maneuver him onto his back. and straddle him just hovering over him.

“what’s this y/n? taking the lead are we?”

“yes”

you then align your hole with his tip and sit down, you begin to bounce up and down at this angle you are taking him fully. his hand his gripped around your waist while the other is on your ass. you begin to bounce a little faster he groans and cocks his head back.

“baby you’re taking me so well”

he places two fingers on the top of your clit making circling motions, you moan from the sensation and you pick up your pace bouncing a little faster.

“y/n, you look so tired let me take the”

the bouncing was straining your legs so he flips you over onto your back in once swift motion still in you and begins to pump into you fast and hard, he nestles his face into your neck breathing heavily kissing your neck in between breaths. you’re constant moaning keeps him going.

“sannie, i’m gonna cum”

the nick name only got him more exited.

“cum for me cum all over my dick”

after a few more pumps you cum all over him, your walls clenching around his dick he rides out your high. shortly after he quickly pulls out and cums on your stomach.

he leans down and kisses you on the forehead before getting up.

“you did so well, let me get you cleaned up”

he walks over to the bathroom and gets one of the hotel hand towels wetting it a little with warm water before walking back over to you and cleaning you up.

putting on his boxers while you both change back into your clothes. “would you consider going out with me”

you giggle and look at him while putting on your shirt, you don’t quite answer yet to keep him on his toes. once you both were fully dressed you walk over to him and drape your arms around his neck and give him a small kiss.

you huff and finally give in

“i’ll go out with you”

thank you guys for reading sorry if it’s shit 😜

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

Okay so my ADHD butt has stumbled upon your blog and became hyper fixated on the Warlords AU. Now it had me thinking, how would the monkeys would react to a neurodivergent reader (ADHD, ASD… etc.) with sensory issues. 

[Possible useful context.]

Sensory issues can lead to restricted diets (which can be unhealthy with lacking nutrition) and various other restrictions like clothing. For instance I physically cannot eat fruit because it feels slimy or it feels like I’m eating fabric, it gives me a sensory overload, but the way I get around that is making smoothies.

(I may not be using the right terminology sorry.)

Alright so if the warlords fall in love with someone with ADHD and sensory issues? Well they’ll find out during the first part of the journey of course. Aka when they are cursed and can’t do anything.

They’ll see how Spirit finds a way to make Reader eat something. Spirit makes sure Reader is able to eat and finds exactly what she is able to eat. If Reader tells her that she can only eat mashed/blended fruit then Spirit would take the time to make her smoothies so she has something to eat.

So when they inevitably courtnap their love they know what you will and will not eat. At least what they were able to see you eat. They will do whatever it takes to get you to eat a good and healthy diet. So to be honest they will give you what you like to eat for the most part. And if you can’t eat something they wont force you to eat it.

Basically whatever Reader has a sensory to the warlord duo will do everything in their power to make it so that she can eat and they will work around these things. They want you to love and depend on them and don’t want you to feel like they are lacking in anything. They will give you whatever you want/need to feel comfortable.

If Reader has an aversion to clothing? Well simple they’ll get you what you want to wear. They’ll hand make you any type of clothing that you want (Or have one of their troop make you something)

>>>

“I can’t eat that,” You muttered softly staring at the bowl of fruit sitting in front of you.

Both of the monkey cubs looked at you with confusion while Spirit nodded. She had known it was a long shot to get you to try something like this again.

“I’ll mash it up for you. Watch the cubs for a moment,” She smiled knowing that you felt bad for not being able to eat it as it was, but she didn’t mind at all.

“Thank you,” You smiled as you gave Peaches a few scratches which he fell into easily.

Plum butted his head against your arm to get your attention as he looked up at you with an adorable tilted head. Your eyes widened before a grin spread across your face.

“You are the cutest!” You gush which resulted in an offended sound from Peaches, clearly disliking the fact that HE wasn’t the cutest. You giggled as Plums chirped in your arms when you scooped him up.

“Here you go,” Spirit said as she placed the bowl of newly mashed fruit on the table in front of you. The only thing around was fruit so it was what you had to settle for.

“Thank you, I hate to be a bother but I am grateful that you are willing to mash the food I can’t eat,” You said with a smile not explaining what your friend already knew. Plum looked over as you set him down, he slowly pieced together what you meant as you continued your journey.

>>>

“I already told you, my wife needs her fruit mashed. You can’t chop it, or slice it. It needs to be mashed,” Wukong stressed out while gritting his teeth, he did his best not to yell that his troop but the monkey demon just didn’t understand.

“It’s just fruit, surely she can-,” He was cut off by the king.

“I SAID MASH IT,” Wukong growled before leaving the room in a huff.

He and Macaque had just gotten you back and he would NOT have his troop not serving you properly. He wanted you to be able to eat, to be able to feel comfortable in your new home.

Walking up to the garden area where you had decided to ‘hide’ he sighed when he saw Macaque sitting at a wooden table. His tail was moving in slow, gentle movements to show that he meant you not threat even as you hid behind a tree glaring at him.

“She still won’t come out?” Wukong asks with a frown.

“Give her time. It’s not every day that THE Sun Wukong and Six Eared Macaque take a human home,” Macaque replied calmly.

Wukong was grumpy and wanted to argue, but you had already thrown a rock at his head. It was better to let you calm down before anything else. That’s why he got you food… he left it in the kitchen FUCK!

“I’ll be right back,” He muttered storming back out of the room, not telling Macaque that he forgot the food that he went to go get.

>>>

So to put it simply the duo will do anything in their power to make you feel comfortable in any way that they can. They love you even with any sensory overloads that you may get.

Hope you enjoyed your answer!