#it was 2 days after I was born that they even had my name picked out lmfao

[fourcornerstar]

I’ve asked so many times

super curious today about how people feel toward the names they might have been given. apparently i used to ask my mom about my “boy name” several times a week and get really sad i couldn’t have both my given name and that name. being trans this is hilarious to me now so wondering

also curious how this intersects with being trans!! i feel like my fixation with it definitely had a lot to do with that, so idk add in tags? if you feel like being trans makes you more/less curious about it

[bunnys-kisses]

lust is a loaded hand gun

max verstappen

cw: smut/pwp, ferrari!reader, baby fever, seduction, cowgirl position, alcohol/drinking, breeding, the reader wants to have a baby and chooses to have it with max, max is not aware

this bunny runs on comments & reblogs! feed the rabbit!

part 2: love is a kick to the stomach

this sounded stupid. but you wanted a baby. and while that was an easy task for most women, you knew that there was something impersonal about picking from a catalogue. reading profiles felt weird, like you were looking for a used car rather than the biological other half of your child. even if you'd raise them without a father, you'd rather have a night of passion than an awkward doctor's visit.

charles leaned back in his seat and asked, "why don't you and i just make one." he shrugged his shoulders. he considered himself close to you. you had been teammates for a little over two seasons and prior to that you knew each other. he didn't mind being the one to help you bring a child into the world, "i can be his uncle and he'd never know."

but, as close as you were to your teammate. you had other drivers in mind.

you made a face, "no offense, charles. but it would feel like doing it with my brother." being teammates meant you two knew too much about one another. you worked well as teammates and rivals because you were more like siblings. while you appreciated the offer, you felt it was weird.

charles asked, relaxed in his seat, "why are you doing this anyway? isn't there a million ways for you to have a child."

you shrugged, "i want to be a mom, i don't know. leave my seat behind to another woman and let her make all the history. i'm honestly tired. i've reached the peak and now." you sighed, "i want something else. i've got enough money to retire and let my future child retire before they're born." you crossed your arms, "i don't want to be doing this shit until i'm forty and just degrade in the skills department. end on a high note." while it was not an insult to other driver's on the grid. you felt bad that they never got to really be parents due to the schedules.

"so you need to seduce a driver to make that happen."

you nodded, out of the corner of your eye you spotted the driver you had your eye on. while you eyed the man crossing your path, your voice got softer, "and i think i know just the driver."

charles looked over to the direction you were looking at. he noticed who was walking by and he looked back to you, shoulders dropped, "max. you're going to seduce and have a child with max?"

you looked back to charles and shrugged, "why not? what's not to like?" max wasn't a perfect man, sometimes you wondered about the mechanics of his brain. but, you knew your child with him would lay waste to the track in the future.

"i can name a few. do you want them alphabetically or severity of it?" charles asked.

you gave him a look, "it wouldn't be hard to get him to sleep with me. you, me and the rest of the garage has seen how he looks at me. i mean who else do i have to choose from? either they're too old, they're rookies, or they have girlfriends. and i'm not getting a heel in the eye because i'm trying to have a baby."

charles rubbed the bridge of his nose, "i think you just like him."

you tensed up for a moment, "no. this is all just simple. scheming... nothing more. i don't expect to trap him with a child. he is free to live his life after i'm done with him."

charles found it hard to believe. not on your end, but max's. he had heard at sickeningly lengths about how max felt for you. it was probably the most eloquent the driver had ever been. if you got pregnant by him, he'd be getting a ring the next day. he sighed once more, "then have fun with the wold champion. i'd say to be safe, but i think being unsafe is the whole point of this."

you gave the once over of max in the near distance and smiled, "don't worry charles, you'll get all the details in the morning." which earned a groan from your teammate.

-

it started over a bottle of wine and ended in the motor home of red bull. you and max had gotten frisky over the evening. you wondered if anyone was selling the photos of you two in the back of the restaurant to tmz or some other trashy outlet. you had shared two bottles of wine over dinner. the benefit of being as wealthy as you were, you could throw the cash onto the table and giggle as you stumble out of your place.

you knew someone had a photo of max kissing you at the table to 'taste' the sauce that came with your meal. as if he couldn't take some from the plate.

but back in the motor home, you had dropped your purse by the door. in the dark of the place, you two were starting to get undressed. heels kicked to the wall, your bracelets set on the coffee table. your dress was on the floor by the bed, your bra over the lamp by the bed and your panties on the bed.

"i'm on top." you said as you kissed max's lips. he tasted like wine and fine dining. he tasted and smelled expensive. in all fairness he could be worth more than a micro nation. he was not an easy man to buy, but the currency of sex was in high demand. max wanted you, and you knew that because he got on his back without much argument.

you were both naked on the bed. the faint lights gleamed through the large windows as you rubbed up against max with no other lighting. you could see his face against the shadows of the night. his blue eyes were like gems and they pulled you in. whoever he ended up with would be very lucky.

but tonight you needed him. he was an important piece in your plan. you rubbed against him and with a little help, you sank down onto his cock. while cowgirl wasn't the best position to try and get pregnant, but it ensured that your plan would work. any position is a working one.

"you're beautiful."

"i know." you said as you rubbed yourself against him. you braced your hands on his strong chest. he was a handsome man, he was good at what he did and he was a winner. you knew anyone would be lucky to have him, but tonight was the perfect partner. you knew a child with him would be perfect.

you continued to rub up against him. the roll of your hips were methodical. this wasn't the first time you slept with a man. you moaned when max groped your breasts, massaged the flesh between those bear paws he called hands. soon you sank on his cock and shuddered, feeling the heat raise in your belly.

this was a mission, no time to get attached. you were both tipsy from the alcohol and the driver under you were more handsy than ever. you try not to feel the emotions that came with it. the feeling of being attached to someone you were having sex with. you batted charles' assumptions about your feelings for max out of your mind as you rode the dutch driver.

you were determined to get pregnant tonight. you measured it all down to a t, all you needed was for max not to get whiskey dick. you curved your back to get closer to him, your lips met his as you moved up and down. his cock was snug in your, but it went in almost perfect. the blunt head hit against the furthest parts of you. your heart hammered in your chest as you moved your hips.

you pushed hair out of your face before your braced your hands on his chest once more. he was very toned, you almost wanted to joke about what happened to his slightly kinder chocolate addiction. but that was neither here nor there.

"you feel so good." he grunted, "why haven't we done this before? fuck." he panted, he could feel the heat in his cheeks as you rode him. he had been with others before but being under you was a pleasure no money could buy. you were really good at it, knowing exactly how to make him feel good.

"good things take time." you panted, part of you wondered what would happen if you covered his mouth. you didn't need the dirty talk, this was a mission. if you wanted a casual friends with benefits, you'd try something online or another in the paddock. fucking max was a certainly that you'd get pregnant. it didn't have to be intimate or soft. it was a means to an end, and you'd get there no matter what.

the sounds of your fucking filled the room as you continued to move against him. you raked your nails down his chest, catching his nipples which made him moan. he was cute on his back, letting you take over. you wondered how deep his affection for you went.

you didn't want the emotional baggage of it all. tonight you were both drunk and having sex in the motor homes. it would be a one night stand before you two finished out the season. you could feel the heat across your back as you stared at him.

his eyes were closed and his mouth slightly open as he panted heavily. there was heat in his face and you felt something tug in your chest. he was beautiful, you hated to admit it. but max verstappen was a pretty boy.

he was already blissed out, his noises forced you by the movement of your hips. you licked your lips and without thinking, you left a mark on his collarbone. it was stupid, but it excited your further.

you continued to move against him. your breasts bounced with each move of your hips. you felt moans in the back of your throat and a hum in your soul. pleasure was close and it wasn't long before you really worked yourself onto his cock and finished.

the tightness around his cock made max's back arch a little bit. he could feel the heat in the back of his head. his heart pounded as he watched you continue to ride his cock. he panted heavily and soon climaxed as well. you made sure to get everything you could out. you kissed him once more before you stopped. when you pulled away you got off of his waist and laid down on the bed.

"wow." he said out of breath.

you didn't want to talk. instead you turned your head to kiss him on the lips to keep him quiet. there was no time for mushy romantic bedroom talk. you needed him to fall asleep before you could leave.

you tried to count down the seconds, placing kisses across his heated face. you reminded yourself that there would be some lucky enough to keep him for life.

when you pulled away from his lips after one last kiss, he curled up beside you and right then fell asleep. you stayed awake, when the heat cooled in your body. you hoped your mission was a success. the lust and the alcohol still made its rounds in your body. but you were lucid enough to find your clothes in the dark and slip out of the motor home before morning.

you'd never bring up the event to max, only briefly mentioning it to charles. you'd drive harder after that, in the end you'd secure a world championship. as you kissed the trophy and your country's national anthem played, you were already pregnant with your child.

-

your retirement was a shock to max. you could've easily decorated your home with many trophies over the next few years. but at the end of the 2024 season, you bowed out. you thanked fans and told them that it was a new chapter in your life. and then like that you fell off the face of the earth over the off-season.

max tried to find ways to contact you. where did you go? what happened? why leave at the height of it all? the more he thought about it, the more questions were raised in his head. he asked around the paddock, even going as far as to ask charles where you went. the other drive shrugged and told him that you moved back to your home country with a "little extra luggage". there were no social media posts. nothing. it nagged in the back of his brain for what felt like a lifetime. what happened to ferrari's princess?

it wasn't until almost three years later, max had claimed another world championship. it felt like these days he was riding high. he was still the best. but as he walked into the paddock to train for the upcoming season, he stopped in his tracks. he felt like he was splashed with cold water.

there you were, three years older with a glow to you. you were laughing with charles and lewis, you looked different but in a good way. you were in overalls and a ferrari shirt underneath. you were more curvy than you were when you were driving. and while you were still beautiful like the sun, pulling max in. what made his stomach drop was who was in your arms.

a young boy, with big curious eyes and round cheeks. he held onto you tightly, his small fists in the fabric of your shirt. he seemed curious about the track, but not scared of how big it all felt. while max would've assumed that you got married and had a child as a lot of people did. but that's not what had happened.

max knew right away at the first glance of your son. looking at him was like looking at max's childhood photos. even in features that matched your own, your son carried a lot of max in him. the itch in his brain after you fell off the earth all those years ago came back, this was where you went. the boy looked like him and if he was right about the boy's age then dates lined up. there was no question. max verstappen was your son's father. and when you noticed him staring. you simply smiled and gave him a wink, shifting the boy in your arms and pointing at the me. when your son smiled, max felt something in his gut. looking at you, holding your (his) son, made max feel like he was home. and all those feelings he had been carrying poured back into his head and heart. the same emotions that allowed you to bed him. <3

sequel: love is a kick to the stomach

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Part 3 of butcher!Simon I've got two lovely anons in my inbox and seeing people liking butcher!Simon really made me want to put more of my thoughts about him into words. Thank you two! I hope this doesn't suck too bad. < Part 2 | COD Masterlist | Part 4 >

It’s Friday. That fact is the only thing that keeps Simon from turning himself into minced meat. Friday means you’ll come and get your ugly mutt meat. That means he’ll get to see you and hear your pretty voice and if he’s really lucky and plays his cards right, maybe he can make you laugh again.

So when some Karen complains that his meat went bad after she left it on the porch for a week (Jesus what did he do to deserve customers like that) he swiftly throws her out of the shop and tells her to get her meat elsewhere if the quality isn’t satisfying, instead of getting into an actual fight (Would you be proud of him for that? Call him a good boy?).

He doesn’t want to be occupied with some silly argument when you come in. You deserve his full attention.

When he sees you through the window he feels like a wife that has been waiting for years to see her husband come back from war (hah, the irony of that thought), and immediately straightens up brushing his apron down and adjusting the mask.

This time you only hesitate a second before you open the door and step in with your dog. Simon grins a bit behind his mask. He’s so proud of you for doing what makes you more comfortable that he almost murmurs “good little lovie” under his breath but he manages to bite it back. Thanking god for the self-control to hold that in because that would have weirded you out for sure.

You smile brightly at him and he wants to steal you away and chain you up in his home so no one else but him gets to see that.

When did he turn into such a fucking creep? He shakes his head to rid himself of those thoughts. Seeing you smile like that makes tension he didn’t even know he had bleed out of his shoulders.

“Hi, Simon.”

He almost shudders, hearing his name being said by you again. And instead of greeting you back, like a normal fucking human, he is so flustered by your smile that he only manages a vague grunt as hello.

He’s reverted back to cavemen days, it seems. He’s already made a fool of himself and you’ve been in the shop for barely a few seconds.

You step up to the counter, looking at the meat while your dog eyes Simon. At least he doesn’t seem to hate him which he counts as a big achievement.

Simon nearly groans again when he sees the adorable way you purse your lips and furrow your eyebrows in concentration. Yeah, Fridays and Tuesdays are his favorite days of the week for sure.

He watches you pick out your meat and carefully bags it for you, making sure that you have the best pieces.

“Not the usual?”, he questions and watches you nearly jump from suddenly hearing his voice.

Why is he so bad when it comes to making you feel at ease? You shake your head.

“Want to give my boy options so I know which ones are his favorites.”, you explain and pet your dogs back who promptly begins to wag his tail.

Damn, Simon would wag his tail for you too if you deigned him worthy of getting to feel your hands.  He could swear your dog is grinning at him victoriously when you stop petting him to pay and get the meat from Simon’s hold.

The mutt gets all nosy with the bag and slyly tries to take it from you. You turn your full attention to the dog.

“Down, boy.”, your voice is stern and immediately the dog settles, looking up at you with big innocent eyes. “That's my good little pup.”

Simon grabs onto the counter, blood rushing to his face and other places. God he really wishes he was born a dog.

[lunaraindrop]

We Are Not the Kissing Space Twins (part 2)

Fic by lunaraindrop

Well, you asked for it! Let's find out about Steve's secret twin!

The red numbers mocked her as her digital clock blinked over to 4:27 pm.

Robin's nerves were frazzled like the feather on her band uniform.

Tonight was supposed to be a fun night! Vickie had asked her last week if she wanted to come over to her house and have a movie marathon...and a sleepover. Of course she jumped at the chance! (Steve had said, excitedly and with way too many winks that Vickie was putting the moves on her.)

Robin had not known if it was a "friend movie marathon" or a "i-like-you-makeout movie marathon", but she had prepared for both.

But then Vickie called her earlier that afternoon to postpone. Apparently, her entire family got a stomach bug, and their house was a cesspool for germs.

Bummed, Robin tried to think of something else to do.

Hanging with Steve was out. His parents decided to grace him with their *lovely* presence after four months away on "business." They insisted on having a "family dinner." Steve always gets ultra stressed when he has to do the staunchy dinners in The Harrington Dining Room with the real silver, cloth napkins, and the Fine China that cost probably as much as his car. Telling him that her "maybe date" was off was just going to disappoint him too.

Eddie wasn't going to be any fun, either. All Eddie would do would be pine over Steve, try to sneak in a smoke, and eat whipped cream out of a can.

Nancy was spending the day with Jonathan. The kids made sure they all had things to do because Steve couldn't take them anywhere.

Then she had what she thought was a great idea. She could get her learner's permit! She had studied the written test bookelett front to back, as well as gone over all the driving rules and tricks with Steve and Eddie.

She wasn't working that day, and she was completely free. Perfect timing! All she had to do was get her birth certificate.

Which...proved to be harder than she thought.

Robin paced her bedroom, probably wearing a path in the carpet.

She never caught on that her parents were reluctant to give her her birth certificate. When she would suggest getting her permit or license, they would talk about how they couldn't afford to have her driving. A car and insurance cost a lot of money. Then they would guilt trip her into not driving at all with fears of her getting into an accident. She never knew her name, but that was how she was told her bio mom died.

She would always let it go when they talked about the "angel that gave them their precious baby girl."

But she knew now that they were hiding something from her!

When she pressed until they gave in, she saw what on her birth certificate. She felt so betrayed! How could they lie to her like that?

The taunting clock on her nightstand changed to 4:30. The DMV was now closed. Not that it even mattered!

She couldn't take it anymore! Robin picked up the phone.

"Hey, Nancy? I hate to ask, but could you and Jonathan come pick me up? I really need a friend right now."

---

In the Byers-Hopper living room, Nancy blinked up at Robin. "So, you are actually a year *older* than you thought you were?"

Robin threw her hand in the air. "Yes! And they didn't tell me! Evidently, it wasn't just that I took longer than the rest of the babies to walk! Oh no, I was in the NICU for *months*! I was so far behind in my milestones that my parents decided to just tell me I was a year younger and enroll me in school a year later than everyone else!"

Jonathan dodged a flailing arm and handed Robin a cup of tea. "Here, sit down and drink this. It's my mom's chamomile. I think you need it."

Taking a breath, Robin nodded her thanks and took a sip. Then made a face. "This tastes like laundry detergent and bourbon."

Jonathan shrugged with a small smirk. "I said it's my mom's."

Nancy went into investigation mode. "Okay, so your parents adopted you three days after you were born. Closed adoption. Your biological mother died, and no information about your biological fatherm. Instead of 1968, you were adopted in 1967."

Carefully putting the mug down on a magazine on the table, Robin ran her fingers through her hair. "Me being adopted is old news, Nancy. I've known I was my parents 'miracle baby' since I was able to walk...which I don't know when that is now! Was it *actually* six months after most kids, or *a year and six months* after most kids?!?"

Nancy waved her hand to cut Robin off. "Robin! I understand. I'm just trying to understand how nobody knew this information."

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "About Robin being adopted?"

Nancy sighed. "No, about how Robin could go through the whole school system and sign government NDA's without getting flagged that her birthday was wrong. I'm wondering if her adoption records say something else."

She got up to grab a notepad and started scribbling. "The information given to the Buckley's, if they can believed- sorry Robin- is that the adoption was a closed adoption. Having records sealed makes sense, but not a closed adoption. There was no father, according to Robin's parents. Just her biological mother. Who died in a car accident. So...who made sure it was a closed adoption? Who isn't supposed to be contacted? Does that have anything to do with the year change?"

Jonathan got up and pulled out his wallet. "Robin, you've never had a physical ID, right?" He showed off his own driver's license with his awful bowl cut hair picture.

"No. I haven't even had a permit yet. At nineteen! I'm so far behind!"

Jonathan nodded and looked to Nancy to continue. When she nodded back, he handed Robin his license. "If you've never had an ID, the only time you would see your birthday written anywhere would either be at school or by your parents." He turned to Nancy. "If her school records say she was born in 1967, then they knew she was a year older, but didn’t say anything... If they filled out her forms saying 1968, then they lied to the Roane County Board of Education, and they didn't check her birth certificate."

Nancy pointed a pencil at Robin. "You might have accidentally uncovered a hidden adoption scheme in Hawkins."

Robin flexed her fingers. "That's nice, you guys. Really nice. I may be a part of some big adoption conspiracy. But the fact remains, I'm a year older than I ever thought I was, and my parents lied to me about it."

Nancy and Jonathan both flinched.

Right. Comfort Robin now, investigate later.

Nancy walked over and stilitingly pat Robin’s shoulder. She wracked her brain for something to cheer the woman up.

"Well, you and Steve can actually pretend to be twins, now! Your birthdays are now only three days apart!

Part 1 here:

[yunholuvrr]

muse

summary: Your friend Hongjoong just held a show for his new fashion line and invited you to photograph the event, but one model catches your eye more than any of the clothes on the runway.

pairing: yunho x fem!reader

word count: 4.1k

genre: smut, model!yunho, fashion designer!hongjoong, photographer!reader

warnings: explicit smut minors dni, petnames (baby, love, princess), big dick yunho, semi-public sex???? pretty tame i think, lmk if i should add anything

note: taking a break from we all need love to indulge in my feelings for cosmopolitan yunho oh my GAWD he's so fine.... & i did not proofread sorry for any typos

You've worn many hats since you graduated. Interning at various clothing companies, freelance photography picking up gigs from friends and classmates, and a brief stunt as a journalist. It only makes sense that all your jobs have led to you standing in front of a glowing runway, camera propped and ready for the first model to walk out, people rushing by as they settle into their front row seats.

Not every classmate of yours was doing well in the fashion industry, but one in particular was making waves, if this event was anything to go by. Kim Hongjoong, the designer that came out of nowhere.

You chuckle at the marketing of your old friend. Anyone who knew him would know he was born to design clothes, hell, if you didn't know him you'd only have to take one look at his closet. But in the grand scheme of things, a man's gender inclusive line going viral after only 2 years in the industry is pretty unheard of.

The lights dim and you focus on your camera's digital screen, quadruple checking all your settings. Hongjoong was your biggest client during your freelancing days, and your gig tonight was to capture his show for press. Usually you'd just be doing personal events like weddings or birthdays, but these would be seen be anyone and everyone in the industry. To say you were nervous would be an understatement.

One model after another appears on stage, making their rounds in all types of bold, complex outfits. His work wasn't really your style, you preferred to keep it simple and comfortable, but it's hard to deny its appeal. The models he invited showed the pieces off amazingly, too. They worked on all body types and proportions, which you made sure to capture in every photo.

One man in particular stood out to you as you took every shot you could. He looked more like a traditional model, tall and thin, lean and muscular in all the right places. He could get a job anywhere he tried. The charisma oozing from his face was infectious. A few dark strands of hair fell in front of his rhinestone speckled eyes, which seemed to make eye contact with every single person in the room. His cupid's bow was sharp, and the smirk he sent to your lens in particular had you nearly forgetting to press the shutter release.

"That's a wrap!" A man calls from behind you. The stage lights finally fade and the crowd dissipates, leaving you and a handful of other staff to pack up. You sit on a nearby stool, squinting at the small screen and clicking through your photos. Before you can get very far through your collection, someone taps you on the shoulder.

"After party in an hour babes," Hongjoong chirps next to you, "you're invited. Thanks for the excellent photos tonight."

"You haven't even seen them yet," you chuckle and finish packing up, resolving to get ready for the party despite the exhaustion you feel at the back of your mind.

He smacks your arm playfully before insisting that every photo you've ever taken has been perfect. "By the way, did any of the models catch your eye?"

"Is there a correct answer or do you want my honest thoughts?" You pierce right through your friend's shenanigans. Hongjoong has always been quite the matchmaker among your friends, although you wouldn't call it his most successful hobby. It's almost like he just picks two names out of a hat and decides they would look good together.

He only shakes his head, "I really wanna know! They're all really nice."

You only squint before responding, "Tall guy, dark hair. He was towards the end but he really walked his ass off."

His face lights up immediately and you know you chose the right answer, "Yunho!"

"Yunho," you repeat, "yeah he's nice to look at. I suppose that's his job."

"He's the newest model I've worked with," Hongjoong looks at the runway fondly, "I didn't know if he'd bring anything special to the table at first, but he's truly irresistible."

"And you invited him to the after party and you want us to meet because we'd be such a perfect couple," you stand up, eye to eye with him now, and giggle at the little game he's playing.

"Maybe so... but listen!" You both start walking towards the exit, "I don't want you to fuck him on the first night or anything. Just get to know him, at the very least you'll get a new client. His portfolio is bare bones."

You don't even have time to process what he said before he's slipping away backstage with a quick goodbye. If you were being honest, this Yunho guy probably wouldn't be a bad hookup. You weren't really looking for anything, but he's pretty. And you can't deny good work connections.

You arrive 20 minutes after Hongjoong told you to, fashionably late. You planned to have a drink or two and stick close to him since the small buds of exhaustion have already bloomed into a fullblown headache. No one should have any questions for a random photographer anyway.

"Speak of the devil, there's my right hand woman now!" Your thoughts were immediately proven wrong when you walk in and a small group of models you recognize from the runway stare fondly in your direction. Yunho is one of them, of course, but you try not to think about the words spoken about him just an hour earlier.

"Hi! I'm y/n, we went to school together," you manage a convincing smile as Hongjoong passes you a drink.

"I can't wait to see your photos," one lady gushed, "Hongjoong showed us some of your work and your style is just lovely."

You a manage a small thanks before taking a small sip. The conversation flows into a new topic with ease and you're left in the background to quietly enjoy the party. That is, until you feel a light tap on your shoulder.

"Excuse me," a shy, deep voice floats above you, "you don't seem like you're in a talkative mood, but I had a question for you?"

You look up and Yunho smiles down at you. He looks nothing like he did on stage before; his piercing eyes have morphed into soft, welcoming ones and his charming smirk is replaced by a nervous grin. You nod and take another sip, letting him continue.

"Hongjoong has just mentioned you so much I thought I'd ask if you could take some headshots for me?" He fiddles with his fingers and when your eyes widen he looks away.

"What has he said about me?" You try not to sound accusatory, but it doesn't come across as nicely as you'd like.

"Oh nothing bad! Nothing bad at all," Yunho chuckles, and it might be the nicest sound you've heard at this party so far, "he just wouldn't stop talking about how great you are. I figured I'd take the hint and ask."

You shift from one foot to the other, considering his request before deciding it wouldn't hurt to get to know him more. "Is this your first modeling gig?"

"Just about," there's that chuckle again, and it's contagious, "I've done a few small things here and there, but this was the biggest scale by far."

"You know I won't lower my rates just because you're new," you tease, "or because Hongjoong wants me to."

He just shakes his head profusely, "oh absolutely not! If anything I was gonna offer you more..." you see Yunho think through his sentence as he says it, trailing off after realizing what exactly he said.

"You flatter me, but I'm not in the mood to talk business right now," you swear a slight pout comes across his face before you even get to finish.

He doesn't skip a beat, pulling his phone out of his back pocket and offering it to you, "then why don't we talk later?"

You can only mutter a "smooth" while tapping your number into his contacts. You hand it back to him and watch him type something before feeling a buzz in your own pocket.

"I'll send you some info when I have a moment this week," you try not to stare at his now mischievous smirk, continuing to sip from your empty cup.

"I'll be waiting," he bends down to your height, and his voice lowers to barely above a whisper, "talk to you soon."

He's gone before you know it, disappearing into the crowd, and the brief proximity makes your insides turn in ways you don't want to admit. You have to find Hongjoong.

His bright blue hair stands out near the food bar and you quickly make your way over. The words fly out of your mouth before you even get to him, "what exactly did you say to Yunho?"

He gives you a small huh, clearly tipsier than you are, before a look of recognition washes over his face. "Oh hi love! I didn't say anything, why?"

"He said you kept mentioning me to him?" You would laugh at the state of your friend if it weren't for the sudden desire to know everything Yunho thinks of you already.

"Hm, I only said you're a great at taking photos!" He clings onto your shoulder and laughs, "and that he stood out to you on the runway tonight! He smiled ear to ear when I said that, isn't he so cute?"

"Hongjoong you did not," you grab both of his shoulders and shake him a bit, "does he think I like him or something?"

"Do you?" When you don't respond he just laughs again, "I guess my job is already done."

"I don't even know him!" You wish you could sincerely be mad at the man in front of you, but he's been correct all night so far.

"Don't you want to though?"

"I hate you, seriously," you glare at him, but he only laughs again before returning to his previous conversation. You don't know what he's gotten you into, but you don't think you mind it.

Your workdays have been packed ever since the night of the show. Being Hongjoong's right hand photographer had its perks, like the dozens of offers you've received since the articles went out, but that doesn't mean it isn't the most stressed you've been in weeks. You all but collapse by the time your lunch break rolls around.

Forget about me already?

The light buzz of your phone disrupts your thoughts about scheduling. No one usually texts you, at least not during the day. No one except Yunho.

Sorry! I've been swamped. Let me send you the form my other clients are using to schedule with me.

Aw, no special treatment for your favorite model?

You make a mental note to beat the shit outta Hongjoong for doing this the next time you see him.

Maybe if you give me a good enough offer I'll put you at the top of my list

Not even 10 minutes later, a scheduling request dings on your phone and you see the payment is three times your normal rate for headshots. You mentally curse Joong for putting you in this situation, but you're willing to play the game if it means good dick and good pay.

Am I at the top of your list now? I can't wait to see you

You can't help the way your thighs squeeze together for a moment, now eager to fit him in your schedule (and elsewhere). You wrap up your short lunch with a newfound motivation to get through your emails, making sure to leave a 2 hour slot open for him. You wonder how long you can hold off on getting back to him before he starts begging you. That would have to be a game you play another time.

The studio is empty when you show up, allowing you to quietly set up just the way you want to. Your movements are quick and practiced, dozens of headshot appointments under your belt at this point. These were supposed to be simple and straightforward, so you didn't have much to prepare besides rolling down the white backdrop and setting up your lights. There were a few other props on the side if he wanted to take more shots. You asked a couple people to help out with equipment during the shoot, but you came in early just to have some peace and quiet. Your coworkers arrive a few minutes after you do, exchanging pleasantries before finishing the job you started.

Then he walks in. You're double checking your camera settings when you hear the front door open and his honey-like voice greeting the other staff. You feel his attention shift to you, and when you turn around a playful smirk is plastered on his face. His makeup isn't as dark as it was on the runway, but he looks clean and undoubtedly handsome. His styled hair falls just past his eyes, moving with his lashes every time he blinks. He's pretty, there's no way around it, a type of face that you can't help but stare at.

"Why don't you take a photo, it lasts longer," he snickers, snapping you out of whatever daze he put you in.

"That's my job after all," you motion to a stool in front of the camera, "do you want any props? We can do more than simple headshots if you'd like."

He nods and sits down, long legs crossing each other at the ankle. "I'd love that, miss photographer."

You narrow your eyes at the comment before signaling to the crew you're ready to go. One lady is on standby near the lights, another guy has a handful of reflectors ready. You try to ignore the tension between your model and focus on your craft.

"Can we try the gold?" You call out to your team, closely monitoring Yunho's face in the warmer light. After a moment of thought, you ask him to tilt his head. He's well behaved in front of the camera, following your every suggestion. You wonder if the crew can feel the heavy energy between you two.

After a half hour of posing, shooting, monitoring, retouching, and shooting again, you call for a break and everyone agrees. The couch in the corner of the studio looks so inviting you nearly run to sit down, oblivious to the way Yunho follows.

"You're really good at this," you jump at his voice next to you.

"I went to school for it so I would hope so," you mumble, getting comfortable. You open your phone, hoping to mindlessly scroll before you all come back, but he just plops down next to you.

"Have you ever gotten your own headshots taken?" You shake your head, trying to ignore the way his leg is pressed against yours. "You're so pretty behind that camera, maybe we can switch one day."

You almost bump into his face from how quickly you look up at him, "I'd never let you touch my equipment."

He hums in disapproval before pulling out his own phone and leaning back into the cushions. "Fine, maybe not me. But I don't see why Joong's never put you on the runway. You're stunning."

He expects a reaction from you, but you control yourself, leaning forward to get as much distance as you can. The two of you sit in innocent silence for a while, but the tension only grows thicker. There's five minutes before you shoot for at least another half hour, and when your job is to stare at his face you're not sure you can go much longer.

"What exactly did Hongjoong tell you about me?" You sit up straight, taking a leap of faith.

"About how in love you are with me, why?" You swiftly kick his leg next to you and he chuckles, "he just said I caught your eye. He wasn't lying was he?"

"No, definitely not," you sigh, "but what I don't understand is why you like me?"

"Who said I like you? You just happen to be very pretty and talented and fun to tease."

"So you do like me," you huff in disbelief. Something in you stirs with every word he says and you have to cross your legs for some relief from the building pressure.

"If wanting to take you right now in the middle of your studio means I like you, then sure," his slender fingers trace the back of your shoulders, wrapping a secure arm around you.

"We still have all the props to play with," you scan the studio, but your team is nowhere to be found during the break.

"What if I want to play with you instead?" His breath softly blows across your ear now, voice just barely above a whisper. It takes everything in you to not kiss him right then and there.

"You're the one paying for this timeblock," you pull up your crew group chat on your phone, already making a decision.

"If we could wrap up here that'd be lovely, miss photographer," there goes that stupid nickname again.

"You can't call me anything else?"

"Would you prefer baby? Maybe princess? Or do you like meaner things?" His hand moves again to rest between your shoulder blades as he watches you type out a quick message.

"I would prefer if you shut up honestly," you press send. As far as your team knows, the client is satisfied and wants to end the shoot here for today. No one complains, you're still being paid for two hours thanks to Yunho's generous payment.

"Will you make me?" He traces a small circle with his thumb on your back, and the comment sounds more inviting than teasing. Your body reacts before your mind does, practically throwing yourself onto him out of annoyance and need. His lips are warm and soft and mold perfectly to yours.

He takes a sharp inhale as your tongue swipes past his bottom lip, his hand travelling up to hold the back of your neck. The other abandons his phone to take purchase on your hip, pulling you further on top of him. Yunho groans at the contact, resisting the urge to buck his hips up into you already. His flirting was almost as hard on him as it was on you.

"So needy," you mumble, propping yourself up on his chest to take in the view. His eyes are already blown out from lust, raking your body and letting his hands follow. His long fingers brush over your hardening nipples and you can't help the sigh that escapes.

He chuckles, "you're one to talk." He rolls his hips ever so slightly and you whine, head falling into his shoulder. He feels bigger than average below you and you wonder what you've gotten yourself into. You slowly rock your hips above him with his hands guiding you, whimpering into his skin.

"Can I taste you?" You freeze, head shooting up to stare at him in confusion. He wraps two fingers around your belt loops and tugs you forward again. "Please baby?" You nod and he sighs with relief as if his life depended on eating you out. Maybe it does.

He lays you on your back on a couch far too small for both of you like this, but you don't care. His lips are back on yours, warm and tender, as you feel both your jeans and panties slide down your legs. The cold air makes you flinch.

"Did I make you this wet while I was on the runway, love?" You feel one slender finger slide through your folds, but it's not enough. "Staring at me behind that camera all day must be so hard. I'll make it up to you," is the last thing he says before tucks his head snugly between your thighs.

Whatever snarky reply you came up escapes you with a moan just a bit too loud, his tongue flattening up against your slit. He wastes no time, too desperate to hear you above him. One hand holding you down just below your stomach, another teasing your entrance while his mouth makes quick work of your clit. You hope to the universe none of your crew left anything in the studio because your whines and wetness echoed through the room.

Before you know it he pushes one, then two, fingers into you, filling you up deliciously, and you buck your hips into him. His pace is slow and deep, opening you up to his liking. Some combination of his tongue and fingers nearly makes you scream, hands shooting straight to pull his hair. He groans into your flesh, vibrations sending sparks straight to your core, before looking up at you. His chin is glossy and a line of spit still connects you both and you nearly come at the sight alone.

"You're fucking delicious, darling," he pumps into you one last time before taking them in his mouth, sucking with a pop, "next time you should ride my face for me."

"Next time?" You watch as he unzips his own pants, shoving them down far enough for his dick to escape. It rebounds off his stomach, bigger than anything you've taken before.

"By the way you're staring," he grips himself at the base, "I think you want a next time." The way you lick your lips is involuntary.

He chuckles, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it on the floor nearby. You continue to stare shamelessly, boosting his ego as you etch his large, toned body into your mind. "Like what you see?"

"If you don't come here and fuck me right now Yunho I swear to god," and you swear you can see his dick twitch, but he simply tuts a finger at you.

"Ah ah ah, safety first princess," he slides a condom out of his pant pocket, ripping it open and handing it to you. You tilt your head and take it reluctantly, but he only smirks, "I know you want to touch me."

"Fuck you," you roll your eyes, sitting up and coming face to face (face to tip?) with his member. You never thought you'd see a dick that you'd describe as pretty, but his is long and thick and flushed a pretty shade of pink. You wrap your free hand around the base and pump a few times to tease him.

"Not now, love," you hear a shaky breath above you and you smirk. He pulls your other hand up and you comply, unravelling the condom smoothly down him. As soon as you're done he pushes you back down, not risking the chance of you testing him again.

"Let me know if it's too much for you baby," he whispers before finally pushing in. The stretch only stings for a second before turning into delight as he fills you up completely.

You sigh out in relief, mumbling a soft "keep going" and wrapping your hands around his neck. He listens immediately, pulling back almost all the way before thrusting back in. He keeps his slow pace until he's completely sure you're comfortable.

He looks down at where you connect before finally losing his composure. "You take me so fucking well," he moans, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, leaving sloppy open mouthed kisses all over you. His pace quickens relentlessly, the sound of skin on skin filling the studio.

You scream at one particularly rough snap of his hips, but he only barely slows down. "You okay, princess?"

"So fucking good," you pant above him, his mouth still ravishing your neck. He groans at your response, fucking you harder than before. You didn't even know it was possible. You snake a hand down to your throbbing clit, so close to coming undone.

"Please come on my dick baby," he all but growls, and the way his hips falter tells you he's close too. His words, on top of everything else, are enough to finally unravel you. You shutter and jerk up into him, moaning some string of fuck's and Yunho's until your mind goes completely blank. He comes shortly after, pumping into you sporadically until he finally flops down on top of you.

You both take a few moments to come back to your senses, nothing but a mess of sweaty limbs on this cramped couch. "Next time I'll take you home so I'll have room to cuddle you after," he chuckles, picking himself up.

"I would like that," you smile softly, legs aching too much to even attempt sitting up. He cleans you both up quietly before plopping back down, letting you stretch your legs across his lap.

"So," his hand traces up your frame to cup your cheek, "can I take you out to dinner sometime, miss photographer?"

[lyraoftheevergreens]

The Realms Enchantress

Chapter 2

NSFW, minors do not engage

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Reader!Niece, Daemon Targaryen x Niece!Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen x Female!OC,

Summary: For years Daemon never had a care in the world just, sex, wine and a good battle. With the exception of his favorite niece. His little dragon he called her. He swore to be there for her and he got himself exiled when she needed him the most. Now, he returns from war at the step stones and is determined to get her back. No matter the cost.

Warnings: Targaryen Inscest, mentions of sex, oral female and male receiving, talk of nudity, mentions of death and blood, mother murdered, dead babies, depression, periods, vulgar language.

Authors Note: Welp, if you haven’t figured it out by now, I might as well tell you. I’m a complete whore for Daemon and that truly shows through this. I hope you all enjoy my slutty little works.

This is edited to a degree, I apologize for any errors in advanced. I tried my best.

Word Count: 5,542; sorry, got a little carried away

Tag List: Open

Chapter 1

2 years and some moons went by after y/n’s name day now 8 and 10 years of age a tourney is called in celebration of the babe in her mother’s womb. Celebration of the kings heir that has yet to been born. Your father swears it will be a boy. So hopeful that he is celebrating his arrival before your mother’s labors have even begun.

Your father gives his thanks and speech to commence the start of the tourney and alerts the people that your mother’s labors have begun. You sat with your family in the viewing area next to Rhaenyra and Alicent when Daemon approaches the viewing box, “Princess’ lady Hightower. Here to watch me win?” He said with his usual smug expression.

“We will see how true your words remain.” Y/n speaks first.

“You shall see then.”

He goes on to pick his opponent, Gwayne Hightower, Alicents older brother. She becomes visibly nervous when Daemon picks him. It is when Daemon un horses him that you think she is going to burst out crying in fear for her brother. Daemon then makes his way back to you,” Lady Alicent, I am all but certain I can win these games but having your favor shall ensure it.” He says to her holding out his jousting stick. You and Rhaenyra were in shock, you hurt more so. Every tourney he asked for your favor now he ask for hers. When you took your seat you noticed the maester approaching your father. You sat the tourney for as long as you could but once the murder began you decided to take your leave. You went to snack tables and grabbed an apple where you were met with your uncle. “You’re leaving my tourney?” He spoke first.

“No, taking a break from the murder. Besides it’s not your tourney, it’s for the babe in my mother’s womb.”

“Unless that babe is born with a cock, I remain heir. Besides, It’s not murder when it’s in the name of the tourney.”

“My apologies, I refuse to watch.”

“Well I hope you return to watch your favorite uncle once more.”

“Perhaps I will.” With that you went your separate ways. Your uncle to the tourney field and you to the viewing. A few moments go past, your uncle is unhorsed and on the floor, “PRINCE DAEMON TARGARYEN WISHES TO CONTINUE IN A CONTEST OF ARMS.” Shouts the announcer. It’s then that you take your leave not wishing to see what happens next.

You made your way to the red keep and once in the halls of the keep all that could be heard were your mother’s screams, you made your way to the room this was coming from. The guards stood at the door would not let you in. You pleaded with them,” please, I wish to comfort my mother through her labors as I have done so through the previous ones.” Unbeknownst to the guards this birth would not be like the previous ones.

Once you entered through the large heavy wooden door your mother’s screams flooded your ears, your father and the hand maids holding your mother down like cattle, the maesters hands inside her womb. Blood everywhere. You stood there in silent shock. It wasn’t until one of the hand maidens alerted your father of your presence that you felt hands grab at your arms and pull you from the room. Your brain unable to process your father yelling at you to leave and for the guards to remove you from the room. “Remove your hands from her!” Yelled Ser Errol, he took you from the guards that had dragged you out the room, you looked up at him with tears streaming from your eyes. He could feel how limp you were. He carried you to your chambers and sat you on your bed. It was then your uncle came in,” You left. I suppose it’s fine due the fact I turned my back on my opponent and lost.” He said with an annoyed tone in his voice. He still wore his armor, he placed his helmet on your clothing chest. It was then that all could be heard was the shouts from the tourney. Your mother’s screams had stoped. You turned your head towards your uncle, tear stained face and shaky voice,”she is dead.”

“Who is dead?” He replied.

“My mother. He killed her.”

“Who killed her!” He shouted with his hand gripping dark sister at his side.

“My father.” Daemon let go of the sword and sat at the chair. “Tell me, what did my brother do.”

“He had the maesters cut the babe from her womb. His hands were inside her. My mother held down like cattle for slaughter. Like some birthing animal. He killed his wife. My mother! MY MOTHER!” It was the that you began yelling and crying hysterically. Daemon rose from his seat and pulled you into him. Your face on the metal on his chest. You began slamming the sides of your fist on it, beating his armored chest. He stood there and took your anger. Rhaenyra entered,” what has happened, is mother alright?” You looked up at Daemon and whispered a silent no. He understood. You walked to Rhaenyra and locked the door to your chambers. You turned to her and began to speak,” I’m so sorry Nyra, mother has passed.” Rhaenyra stood there silently and let her the shock of your words absorb into her. Daemon began to remove his armor and watched the two sisters. “She is dead.”

“Yes.” With that the tears slowly fell from her eyes. And then she broke out into a hysterical sob. You held her close to you, the two of you falling to the floor. You sat and held your sister as she sobbed into you. It was then that your uncle left. Unbeknownst to you at the time that he went in search of his brother. Eventually you and Rhaenyra made your way to the bed and fell asleep in each other’s arms. You both woke in the morning, she left to her chambers and you remained in yours, the maids helped you bathe and dress. You walked with Rhaenyra to Rhaenys is hill. Syrax atop the hill. You both stood in front of the two pyres. Not realizing how long the two of you were stood there till daemon approached Rhaenyra, “they are waiting for you.” He told her in a hushed tone.

“Nyke pendagon lo, during lī dorolvie hours issa lēkia glaesagon, ñuhon kepa finally found biarves”

(I wonder if, during those few hours my brother lived, my father finally found happiness)

“Aōha kepa jorrāelagon ao, tolī than ziry mirre emagon. Se both hen ao”

(Your father needs you, more than he ever has. The both of you)

“Nyke jāhor dōrī sagon nykeā tresy”

(We will never be sons) with that Rhaenyra stepped forward to your father she tried to speak but her voice broke. She looked next to her at her grieving father staring upon his dead wife and son. Her mother and brother. She quickly turned her head.

“Dracarys.” With that, Syrax made his way down the hill and set the pyres aflame. Daemon held you to his chest while you both watched your mother and brother burn.

“Nyke jorrāelagon ao kepus, sir tolī than mirre.”

(I need you kepus, now more than ever)

“Nyke’m kesīr.”

(I’m here) he spoke as he held you close.

Everyone retreated to the castle once the ceremony was over. Rhaenyra to her room while you and your father thanked people for coming and encouraged them to feast. You sat with your uncle while he drank his wine. Once it was all over Daemon turned to you,” Nyke līs sir jikagon byka zaldrīzes. Se oktion urnēbagon jorrāelagon issa.” (I must now go little dragon. The city watch needs me.)

“Nyke shifang. Geron issa naejot issa chambers kostilus”

(I understand. Walk me to my chambers please)

“Hen rhinka.”

(Of course)

Daemon offered you his arm. You took it and he escorted you to your chambers. You both entered. Stood there in the center of the room. He held you against his chest. His fingers ran through your hair.

“I must go now.”

“Stay with me.”

“I have a duty to the realm. Keep the streets safe, for the kingdom. For you.”

“I understand, but selfishly I want you to stay.”

“If I could you know I would.”

“I understand. Go, leave.” With this he kissed your forehead and left. Your handmaids undressed you and you changed into your night shift and made your way to Rhaenyras chambers. You entered without knocking and climbed into bed with her. She turned and placed her head on your chest. She cried into you until she fell back asleep. You woke the next morning in Rhaenyras’ bed. You turned to face what you assumed was her but were met with your uncle asleep next to you. You put your head on his chest and he spoke. ”good morning sweet girl.”

“Morning.” You mumbled to him. “Where is Nyra.”

“She is on Syrax. I saw her earlier leaving to the dragon pit. I asked where you were and she informed me you were asleep in her bed.”

“Mmm.” You grumbled. He laid there stroking your hair as you laid with your head on his chest. “Are you going to leave the bed today.” He asked, he spoke gently, with care. “No.” You answered. Your head and body ached with grief. Your eyes burned from all the tears. He left the bed first then proceeded to rip the covers off you. You shoved your face into the pillows, “Daemon.” You grumbled. He wasn’t having any of it as he picked you up into his arms and walked out the doors of Rhaenyras’ room into the halls of the red keep. Your arms around his neck. “Where are we going?” You questioned him. “Hush, don’t worry yourself about it.”

You held onto him, hiding your face in his neck. You heard him bark orders of getting a carriage ready but you didn’t see to whom these orders were being told to. He stood holding you for longer than you thought possible but he never faltered. In time he was notified of a carriage is arrival. He took you out to the carriage and you left his arms to enter the carriage he sat next to you and you held onto his arm resting your head on his shoulder. Soon you arrived at what you realize to be the dragon pit when the driver opens the door to the carriage. Daemon exists while you remain seated.

“No.” Is all you say as he stands waiting for you to follow him.

“That beast of yours misses you.”

“He is fine, take me back to the Keep Daemon.”

“If that were true why is he causing so much trouble for the dragon keepers.”

“Because it is a false belief that we control the dragons.”

“Then go. Set him free.”

“Daemon. Please.” You were practically crying at this point as tears began to form in your eyes.

“dōnus riñītsos, come with me.”

You stayed silent as you got out from the carriage. He held out his hand to help you down when you realized you wore nothing but your night shift and to make matters worse, you were barefoot.

“ I’m not dressed. And my feet are bare.”

“Then I shall continue to carry you.” He states matter of factly. You wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist as he carries you like a child. His hands under your bottom holding you up.

He has the dragon keepers bring out Dyrax. He held on to you as they bring out your dragon.

“Gods has he always been so huge. He’s going to be to large for the pit.” You turn your head to look at your dragon “the beast” Daemon likes to call him, he had grown so large in the year since Daemon had last seen him. Dyrax saw Daemon holding you and could probably smell the sadness that over took you. He let out an ear bleeding screech. He was ready to set the whole pit on fire at the sight of his rider in someone’s arms. You asked Daemon to put you down and he refused, walking you to Dyrax.

You put your hand to the dragons face.

“It’s okay my love, Nyke’m okay issa jorrāelagon, nyke’m ȳgha. Ziry’s lentor.”

(I’m okay my love, I’m safe. He’s family)

“Put your hand on him.” You tell Daemon and he does, with one arm holding you to him and the other on the dragon.

“Aōha olvie nykeā magnificent dyni, nyke kostagon ūndegon skoro syt issa niece iksos sīr attached naejot ao.” (You’re quite a magnificent beast, I can see why my niece is so attached to you) Daemon says to the dragon. “Go on, climb in to the saddle.” He tells you and you wrap your arms and legs around him tighter. “No, I refuse. Take me back to bed.” You tell him. “Fine. Hold on tight.” He says and then begins to start his climb up Dyrax. “Daemon! I’ll climb.” You shout, letting go of him and begin to get into the saddle.

“Where are we even going?” You ask. As he begins to take his seat infront of you

“Dragonstone.”

“No. I won’t be able to stay awake for that long of a flight, I’m not well. I just want to sleep please take me back to the castle.”

“I’m taking you to a castle. You’ll be fine.” He says and then shouts to the dragon keepers, “Tepagon issa se fabric ties.” (Give me the fabric ties) they toss it up to him and he catches it.

“I am not an infant.” You speak sternly.

“Then why must you act like one.” He remarks beginning to tie you to him. “If you fall asleep while you are tied to me then I won’t have to worry about you falling to your death, if you die your father will have my head if this beast we are on doesn’t kill me first.”

“Fine.” You say helping him tie you to him.

“Sōvegon Dyrax. Obey issa.” (Fly Dyrax. Obey me.) Daemon spoke to him, but yet your stubborn beast refused to move.

“Rȳbagon naejot zirȳla. Gūrogon īlva naejot zaldrīzes dōron Dyrax.” You told the dragon. And with that he let out a screech and started his accent to the sky.

(Listen to him. Take us to Dragonstone Dyrax)

“Stubborn bastard.” Daemon mumbled making you laugh. You kept your arms wrapped around Daemon and rested your head on his back under his shoulder.

“Why Dragonstone?” You asked him.

“Why no? You are Princess of Dragonstone after all.”

“Nyra needs me.”

“She has the Hightower girl and Syrax, she will be fine.”

“What if it is I who needs her.”

“You have me.”

“For how long?”

“We will see zaldrītsos, I can promise you four days. Possibly more.”

(Little dragon)

“And your precious gold cloakes?”

“I’ve put Ser Harwin in charge while I attend to you.”

“Does anyone know I’ve left with you? Nyra, Ser Errol, my father?”

“I informed Rhaenyra of my plans when I saw her leave her room. Ser Errol is aware and as for your father do you believe he would let me have you to myself?”

“No. Besides he doesn’t leave his chambers so I suppose he wouldn’t notice my absence.” The two of you talked for sometime then eventually you drifted to sleep. After a long nap you woke to the sound of Daemon yelling commands to Dyrax.

“Tegon Dyrax. Naejot se ripo. Listen you stubborn bastard. Jikagon naejot se ripo.” (Land Dyrax. To the pit. Listen you stubborn bastard. Go to the pit.)

“Rybās Dyrax.” You spoke up. (Obey Dyrax.) with that he started to descend to the pit.

“He was almost listening to me.” Daemon mumbled. You kissed his cheek,” oh yes, very close.” You laughed. Once landed the dragon keepers of the island took Dyrax.

“Ziry jorrāelagon naejot ipradagon.” Daemon told the keepers to feed Dyrax, that he had a long flight, as he climbed down the dragon with you still tied on his back.

“Daemon, are you going to untie me.”

“No, I quite enjoy you back here.” He said holding your legs that are wrapped around his waist. The hour was late you noticed as the sun had set.

“What is the hour?” You asked as he walked to the doors of the castle.

“Hour of the eel I believe.”

“Oh quite late. Daemon, if I’m going to tire again I should walk.

“Okay but hold on.” You wrap your arms around his neck as he begins to untie you. Once untied from him you begin to fall to the floor. With an uumph from your lips.

“Thank you. Do you suppose the water is warm?”

“It’s too late to go in, I’ll take you on the morrow.”

“Fine. Your age is getting to you uncle Daemon.” You jest with him.

“Tis not.”

“Tis is.” You say walking away from him.

“Could an old man do this!” He shouts and begins to run towards you. You laugh as he chases you on the sand. He’s much faster than you are and eventually catches you. You scream and laugh, the two of you falling to the sandy floor. “Are you alright?” You ask him in between fits of laughter. “I’m just fine.” He lays there laughing and catching his breath. You sit up and smile down at him.

“I always forget how much I love it here. No politics, no ‘duty to the realm,’ it’s quite lovely. The dark sea.”

“Would you leave Kings Landing? Leave Rhaenyra?”

“Rhaenyra would come with me. But yes, I would.” You said and laid down next to him. Your head on his shoulder. You both laid there looking up at the stars.

“Qēlos.” You whispered. (Star)

“What’s the matter?” Daemon questioned.

“I wish there was a nicer word for star, the Valyrian word for star wouldn’t make a very nice name.”

“A name for whom? A dragon? It’s would fit a dragon quite nicely.”

“No. A girl. A babe. Mine, eventually. Hopefully.”

“I’m sure you will think of something beautiful.”

“I suppose so.”

“You still wish to have children after what you witnessed with your mother?”

“I watched my mother have still born babes and yet I still want many children, a husband who loves me. Our many children will be evidence of the love we have for another. My father let her die. If I wed the proper man, he won’t allow me to die.”

“I wouldn’t let you die.” Daemon whispers to you.

“You’re married.”

“My bronze bitch. Our marriage is unconsummated, it can be annulled.” He said.

You stayed quite laid in the sand when someone came walking down with a torch. Maester Gerold.

“Your graces, I was notified of your arrival. All is well?”

“All is well as can be.” Answered Daemon as he got up, helping you to your feet next.

“You’re in your night clothes princess?” The maester questioned.

“Oh yes. I apologize for my appearance.”

“Not necessary princess. If you will follow me, we have prepared your rooms. Do you wish to bathe?”

“The princess does, prepare it in her chambers.” Daemon ordered the maester as the three of you walked to the castles doors. Once inside the Maester ordered a bath to be prepared for you in your chambers. Dameon then ordered the maids to move his belongings to your chambers.

“I brought you here so it seems only right I keep you company.”

“Very well then.”

You sat on the bed and watched as the bath was prepared and Daemons belongings were brought to the room. The handmaidens stood to the side waiting for you to undress and enter the bath so they could bathe you. When Daemon spoke up and ordered them to leave.

“She can bathe herself.” He barked at them. They all hurried out of the room. “Good. Even better I don’t have that bleeding Ser Errol around either.”

“You don’t like him?”

“No. He treats me as though I’m to steal your virtue.”

“Are you not?” You questioned him.

“Only if you wish me too.”

“That’s alright. I will inform you when the moment arrives.” You say and drop your night shift off your shoulders and it puddles to the ground at your feet. No small clothes underneath. You stand there naked infront of him.

“No small clothes? Very naughty princess.”

You turn and walk away from him and get into the bath. Enjoying the hot water relax your tired body. As you rest in the basin eyes closed Daemon comes and sits next to you on the floor, with the back of a single finger he caresses your cheek. “Gevīe.” He whispers.

You knew you were beautiful, you were named the realms enchantress for a reason. Your beauty paralyses men and women. You could start wars with the look of an eye. Yet when Daemon called you beautiful with a look of want in his eyes you were ready to leap from the bath onto him.

He then glides his finger down from your cheek, to your neck to a single breast stoping right above the bud of your breast. You look into his eyes with yours. He removes his hand and retrieves the sponge and begins to bathe you. He wets your hair and cleans your body. His arm going under the water to wash between your legs. You close your eyes and hold back a moan. It took every ounce of strength for him not to take you out of the bath and have his way with you. But he kept his restraint. Finished bathing you and helped you out. Gave you your robe and had you sit on the chair infront of the mirror and brushed your hair. It was then you began to cry.

“Did I hurt you rinitsos?” He said looking at your face from the mirror. You looked up at his face and managed to get out a no in between your soft cries. You stood and looked up at him, “take me to bed.” You whispered as tears flowed down your cheeks. He lifted you and took you to bed, the blankets already pulled back. He lays you down and tries to get in next to you but you stop him.

“No. Undress. I’m bare, it’s only fair you are too.”

“You wear a robe.” With that you stood and untied it and let it fall to the floor.

“I’m not now.” You said getting back into bed. With that he began to undo the buckles of his doublet, removing his boots and breaches. Last his small clothes and tunic. He stood there naked before you. His member hanging there yet still quite large. It didn’t matter to you as you kept eye contact with his face. You patted the empty side of the bed as a gesture for him to join you. He entered the bed and pulled you into him.

“My mother will never brush my hair again.”

“I’m sorry my sweet girl.”

“What age were you when your mother passed?”

“4. I don’t remember her much unfortunately.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t-.”

“It’s alright, don’t fret.” He interrupted the start of a ramble. He stroked your wet hair and eventually tracing his fingers up and down your spine. You looked up at him and he felt your movement and looked down at you. Your hand moved up his chest to his cheek. Leaving your hand gently there you spoke, “Daemon, kiss me.” He laid there silently staring at you. Your hand moved into his hair. “Please.” That one little please was all it took and he was on his side pressing his lips to yours. You followed his movements and when his tongue entered your mouth you weren’t sure what to do so you allowed him to lead the kiss, you laid there having never been kissed but the need for Daemon was to strong to ignore. After a while you pulled away to breathe and just stared into his eyes. Nothing but the candles illuminating the room.

His hand moved to the back of your head and pulled you into him, his lips connecting with yours. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you on top of him. You could feel his hard length under you as you hovered your hips over him. You pulled away to speak. “Does it hurt?”

“Does what hurt my sweet girl.” “Your.” You spoke, a blush coming to your cheeks as you pointed down. “Your uhm.” “My cock, no.” Your blushing ferociously now. He glides a finger over your wet center and over your pearl, a soft moan escapes your lips. “Does that hurt you?” He ask.

“No, it feels good.”

“As do I.” With that he flips you both over so he is on top. His cock between your folds rubbing over your pearl. Your head falls back as you moan. He puts a head over your mouth.

“Shh, you don’t want the servants reporting back to your father.” You pull his hand from your mouth.

“Perhaps I do.”

“As you pointed out earlier I am married zaldritsos.”

“Uhg, don’t speak of her.”

“My bronzed bitch.” He leans down bring his lips to your ear. “I spoke the truth to you earlier. I’ve never laid with her, not how I am with you right now.”

“She’s truly never had you?”

“No.” He continues to thrust his cock between your folds never entering you. His lips connect with yours. Your tongues dance. You lay there in absolute bliss. After a long time he gets off of you and begins to fist his cock, you lay there and watch for a moment. The act so arousing. You get up behind him and placed your hand over his. He turns his head to look at you.

“Can I?” You speak up.

“No darling, lay down. I’ll be done soon.”

“I want to. I want to make you feel good.” You whisper hesitantly.

“These are whores tricks, you are my sweet girl. Not some whore.” He says. You begin to kiss down his neck.

“Please. Teach me.” That was all it took and he gave into you.

“Okay.” He released his hand and placed yours on his hard length. So much bigger than when you had seen it earlier. His hand covered yours as he had you pump him.

“Get on your knees infront of me.” You did as he said climb off the bed and getting on your knees for him.

“Use both your hands.” You did as he said, “oh yes. Good girl. Now lick the head.” You lick it once.

“No sweet girl. Keep licking, keep moving your tongue over it.” You did as he said pumping his length in your hands and giving the head the attention it craved. Daemon sat with his head back breathing heavy.

“You wanna swallow my seed? Hmm?” He asked you.

You let out a, “mhmm” with your lips.

“Okay, give me your hand.” You did as he said, he put two of your fingers in his mouth and began to suck up and down on them. You began to grow wetter.

“You’re going to do that on my cock. It’s okay not all fits your mouth, you can still use your hands.” You did as he said and released one of your hands and began to suck up and down on his length. “Breathe through your nose darling. Thats it. Good girl. My good girl.” You kept going and quickened your pace.

“It’s here sweet girl, get ready to swallow all of it okay.” He spoke in between his heavy breathing. You kept up your movements and eventually your mouth filled with a warm liquid. Some of it began to come out the sides of your mouth “try and swallow it, try.” And you did, you tried but it was all so overwhelming you removed your mouth from him and his seed went on to your face. The sight of his seed on your face made him release a bit more. He used his thumb to wipe off some of it and bringing it to your mouth. You swallowed what was on his fingers. He got up and grabbed a towel the maids had left behind. Cleaning your face first and then his cock. You both climbed into bed you laid there head on his chest. Your eyes widened and you sat up. “Am I with child?”

“Why do you think that sweet girl?”

“Your seed is my stomach. Babes grow in the stomach.”

“No, they grow in the womb.”

“The womb is in the belly.”

“Did your mother not tell you how she came to be with child all those times?”

“No.” You blushed and were about to cry, you had so much to learn and no mother to teach it. Daemon brushed away a small tear.

“It’s okay, I’ll teach you.”

“How babes are made?”

“You have your monthly bleeds correct? You’ve seen your mother push out babes?”

“Yes I bleed, but when my mother begins her labors I’m always by her head.”

“You bleed from your cunt. When a man inserts his cock inside you, and releases his seed in there you will grow a babe in your womb.”

“Oh. I understand. So, the marital act?”

“Yes?”

“Is it that?”

“Yes it is.”

“Does it hurt?”

“At first, but fucking can be a pleasure. Like how you brought me pleasure with your hands and mouth.”

“I understand.”

“Let’s sleep, we can discuss this further after sunrise.” You laid with your head on his chest tucked into his side. You couldn’t fight the needy feeling you felt between your legs. How wet you were. You tried to sleep but it was impossible. You looked up at Daemon who was sound asleep. Lips parted as he gently breathed. The sight of him so relaxed didn’t help what was between your legs.

“Daemon wake up.” You shook him awake.

“What’s wrong?” He mumbled.

“I can’t sleep.” You remarked.

“Such a shame. It’s quite nice.” He responds his eyes still closed.

“I feel funny.” You tell him.

“Funny how? We’ve slept in the same bed plenty of times. Oh no, I knew I shouldn’t have let you-“

“Im still wet from earlier.” You cut him off.

“Oh?” He opens one eye and looks at you.

“You need kepus to help you?” He remarks.

“Yes.”

“Let me think. I can’t take your maiden head.”

“Why not?”

“Because rinitsos, If you marry a cruel lord and you do not bleed for him on your wedding night, he may hurt you. I can’t have anyone hurting you. I think I know what might work.” He says filling the blankets of your bodies. “Open your legs.” He demands. He lowers himself. Eye level with your cunt. “7 hells you are wet. My poor girl, I was gonna make you go to sleep with all this between your legs. Not a very good Kepus of me.”

“Nope, bad Kepus.” He gives swift smack to your core at your remark. You gasp.

“Don’t start being bad, bad girls don’t get what I’m about to do for you.”

“I’ll be good.” You beg. With that he flattens his tongue lapping you up. His tongue goes between your folds and over your pearl. You’re a moaning mess already and he doesn’t bother to cover your mouth or give you something to cover your own mouth with. He loves hearing how free you are with him. The pleasure he’s bringing you. His tongue goes in and out of your cunt and his thumb rubs circles on your pearl.

“Please, please.” Your beg him. “Don’t stop.” You choke out. With that he shoves his tongue as deep as he can. Your cunt so tight he can feel it squeezing his tongue. He’s hard again imagining how it would feel around his cock. He’s now flicking and sucking your pearl with his mouth and using his smallest finger inside you. You’re a moaning mess for him. He can tell your about to peak by your cunt fluttering around his finger.

“I. I. Daemon-“ You’re cut off by your own release as you peak on his finger and tongue. Your shouting moaning mess as he devours every last drop and wipes his face on a fresh towel. He licks his fingers clean and uses a towel to wipe his hands.

“We are absolutely not returning to Kings landing now that I know you taste like that.”

“I taste good?” You asked.

“Absolutely. I’m addicted to it I’m afraid.” With that he pulls you in for a kiss and you can taste your self on his tongue. You pull away, “mmmm, I do taste good.” He gives a swift swat to your bottom. “Naughty girl. Only good girls get my tongue.” He smirks at you.

“I’ll be good. Your sweet girl.” The two of you go back to kissing and eventually fall asleep in each others arms.

Chapter 3

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 93 (Finally Coming Clean)

When Conrad arrived home on Friday night, Ash was in the city. He took a shower, joining Heather in the kitchen while she cooked dinner and talked about Ray Pierce, the Landgraabs' driver who she'd met that afternoon. "He seems as nice as Ash says. It's just annoying I had to find out about him from my son and not his father."

Conrad didn't say much; he couldn't exactly chastise Malcolm for keeping secrets from her. Lavender was awake and Conrad practiced sitting with her for a while, putting her to bed as the scent of chicken stir-fry wafted up the stairs.

He went to the kitchen, smiling at the setup of food and candles at their dining table. "You didn't have to do all this." He kissed her cheek. "What's the occasion?"

"The occasion is, I love you. I just wanted to take away a little stress from your day."

He frowned, and his hands went limp around her waist. "Heather, I need to tell you something. The case I told you about that's been driving me crazy...I backed out of it yesterday morning."

She looked at him, confused. "Maybe that's for the best. But it's not like you to give up on a case."

"I had to let this one go. It was kind of...it wasn't an official case. I've been looking for someone off the books for close to six months."

"Why? Is it someone you know?"

He nodded, and she followed him to sit across from him at the kitchen table. "There's so much about my past I haven't been able to tell you. I should have said something long before I moved in, but I'd convinced myself it was totally in my past and would never be an issue."

"What is it?"

"Do you remember that woman who was looking in our windows when you were pregnant? I wasn't sure at the time, but I got the cameras as a precaution, regardless. She started texting me after Lavender was born."

"Who is she?"

He took a deep breath. "She's my ex."

"Conrad, what does she want?"

"Me. She only wants me. But she can't have me so she's..."

"Is she dangerous? Is this the college girlfriend who cheated on you and broke your heart?"

"Same one. Her name's Ximena Bonilla and she's a little...erratic. But she might not be as dangerous as the people she associates with."

"Who does she associate with?"

"Selvadoradian cartels. She's a drug dealer."

The shock and confusion on Heather's face turned to anger. "How do you know her?"

"I met her when I was in college. She said she was a student and convinced me for almost a year. She was raising her kid brother, Rafa, by herself and escaped being trafficked by the cartel by running drugs for them instead. When I found out the students were her customers, I should have broken up with her. But I was in love and I wanted to keep her safe. I didn't leave. I got deep enough that I met some of her bosses and knew about some of their operations, but she cheated on me and it broke the spell. I finally left her, but one of their ops went bad and one of the guys they picked up gave my name to San Myshuno PD."

"Conrad, you don't have a criminal record. I looked you up after we started dating."

"You hacked the police database, too?"

"No...I did a public records search after River made a joke about a hacker and a criminal."

"To this day, I don't know how my father did it. My file's locked under clearance even I don't have, same as anyone else on the force with a past, but Landgraab Security's always had contacts at San Myshuno PD. He pulled enough strings to wipe my record clean and transfer me into the academy. I had to give them a couple names in exchange - street dealers, local guys. No one that would really upset the cartel. But the force had to look like they were managing crime in their city, and that's the only reason I became a cop and not a complete screw up."

"Is the cartel after you? Or just your ex? Did you give them her name?"

"I never gave them her name. I couldn't, because I didn't know what would happen to her little brother if I did. She tried to get me back after I left, but I knew it could never work out. When Gord was still a puppy, she cornered us outside my apartment to get my attention when I brought home another girl. I got a restraining order, but when it expired and she stayed away, I thought she was finally gone for good."

"So why is she back?"

"She asked for my help to find her brother."

"Is her brother even missing?"

"He is missing. He's wanted by San Myshuno PD. I wanted to help him before he was arrested and sent to prison."

"But you were looking for him under the table, as a favour to your ex who sounds obsessed with you? No wonder Gord hasn't left us alone since Lavender was born. He always knew what was going on with you, didn't he? And you never thought to mention any of this to me?"

"Heather, I wanted to, I-"

"Were you going to help this guy avoid prison? How? Criminal connections?"

"Nothing like that. I was hoping to be able to talk to him, encourage him to go back to finish high school, find a solid job, and maybe convince a judge to go easier on him. I really thought I'd be able to find him in a few weeks, maybe a couple months, and we could all move on again. But uncovering leads has been impossible, and his sister's not a reliable source. I'd even started a file on Ximena because I thought once I found her brother I could finally get around to what I should have done more than once and turned her in. But I could see what searching for Rafa and keeping it from everyone was doing to me, so I finally told her yesterday I was done."

"You've been in regular contact with your ex and didn't tell me? And not because there's something between you but because she's dangerous? Conrad, that's worse."

He nodded. "I know it is. I know how not saying anything makes it look, but I'm so ashamed of that chapter of my life. My bad decisions killed my father. After he got me into the academy, his heart got weak. Two heart attacks, and he died within months. As long as I live, I'll know the stress I put him under was the cause."

She was quiet, nervously playing with her food. Neither was hungry anymore. "You should have told me this."

"I'm so sorry. The longer I kept it from you, the more I feared telling you too late to deserve understanding. I love you so much, and I never wanted to do anything to lose you."

They were interrupted when Conrad's phone started beeping. This time, it was work, but he read the dispatch and his stomach dropped.

The phone shook in his trembling hand and Heather stood. "Conrad, what is it?"

"There's a dead body at the pier. I've got to go back to work." A bone-chilling shiver ran down his spine. His heartbeat quickened, as though he knew what he'd find when he reached Fisherman's Wharf. "I'm so sorry, Heather. I want to keep talking about this, but I can't."

She nodded. "I understand."

A pit formed in his stomach. "Will you do me a favour? I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but will you leave for your parents' place in Henford tonight? Don't wait until morning. I'll probably be working all night and I'd rather know you're safe outside of town."

She uncrossed her arms in shock. "Do you think your ex is involved with the body at the pier? Is that why you want us to leave? Lavender's sound asleep already, but you want me to wake her and take her an hour on the Simmerloop when you invested in those security cameras?"

"Heather, please," he begged, reaching for her hand across the table. "If she's anywhere near Brindleton Bay right now, I can't focus on work if I'm worried about the two of you."

Heather looked at him with sad eyes as their fingers brushed against the wood-top table. Betrayal was written all over her face, but she nodded toward the uneaten food and pulled her hand away. "I'll pack this up in the fridge and then I'll take her. Do you think you'll make it to Henford at all this weekend?"

"Heather, I don't know. I hope so. But I can pack this up before I go. Thank you for cooking. I'm sorry we couldn't enjoy it."

"Me too," she snipped. "Good luck. Be careful."

Heather couldn't look at him and Conrad wouldn't press her. As much as he wanted to run after her and beg forgiveness, a deadly crime scene called him to the pier. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: Heather doing a semi-romantic dinner setup wasn't a flirty gesture, but she has the caregiver personality type. I can't remember if this is from a mod or an EA feature, to tell you the truth. I think it's a mod. Conrad has the jester personality type, which I think suits him, too. Conrad is really responsible and respectful which suit his proper trait (which was learned after younger mistakes), but jesters trend toward mischief/"foolish games" in addition to being jokesters. EDIT: It's WonderfulWhims/WickedWhims that adds this!!

WCIF Poses Used? Dinner Table Talks by @herecirmsims. I don't even mind the clipping because their kitchen table and chairs didn't quite fit the dimensions, because the poses gave me the expressions I wanted. I tried way too long to try to get the teleporters in the middle of the chairs, but I got close enough for me. Just ignore the fact that their chests were in their stir-fry for 90 per cent of that convo! Thank you so much for creating and sharing! 🙏

[multifan2022]

Fearless 2

PART 1

It doesn't surprise you that Beatrice and Christina jump holding hands, it was clear they would be friends. Maybe that would help, if she had others her own age to model her behavior off of. As they tumbled and skid to a stop you heard the dark haired girl laughing, smiling to yourself remembering your first time. 

You and Four had held hands, being the only two 'gentle' transfers. Eric had made fun of both of you, only to tear up himself as his knees ripped open under the gravel. Four who then was Tobias had picked the gravel out of your cheek as you both laughed. Your friendship bloomed from there, too this day he was the only other person besides Tori you trusted 100%.

Christina will fit in with Dauntless thrill seekers, such as yourself. You're pulled from your thoughts by a scream, Rita standing on the ledge crying and screaming looking down. You knew without looking that her little sister hadn't made it, it broke your heart. You were thankful when Theo stepped up to hold her back from falling herself. 

You looked away from the transfers and looked up to the sky, willing the tears to go away before anyone sees them.  You can hear Theo trying to calm her down as others walked over looking over the ledge. You hoped that the transfers realize now, that not even Dauntless born are safe now. 

Closing your eyes briefly you open them the second you hear that annoying guys voice again. "Ooh. Scandalous! A Stiff's flashing some skin!" Your eyes land on Beatrice who has her sleeve pulled up, you can tell this one is going to cause problems too. Noting in your head to watch him and to alert Four. Just as you go to tell him where to shove his mouth Max speaks, pulling everyone attention besides your own. You keep your eyes on the Stiff, as if you can will her to listen too you. 

"Listen up! My name is Max! I am one of the leaders of your new faction! Several stories below us is the members' entrance to our compound. If you can't muster the will to jump off, you don't belong here. Our initiates have the privilege of going first."

"You want us to jump off a ledge?" asks an Erudite girl, her mouth hanging open. As a trainer your already taking notes as to who you think the weaker ones will be. Rolling your eyes and crossing your arms as you turn to look at Max, who's smiling at you clearly amused not only by the girl but by your reaction. 

Max always told you that you should've been born into Dauntless, he never understood how you were Amity. "Yes," Max says clearly holding in his laughter. 

"Is there water at the bottom or something?"

"Who knows?" He raises his eyebrows and waving over the ledge, you remember your own group again. You were the first jumper, having to literally pry your hand out of Tobias's who was the last jumper. The blood is pumping in your ears as the group parts waiting to see who has the balls to go first. 

You clench your jaw when she finally steps forward making her way to the ledge thankfully not looking at you as she passes. You can hear the Dauntless around you start to whisper and turn the look on your face shutting them up quickly. When she steps up you can see the doubt on her face, the fear clear as she pulls her over dress off. 

But the defiance steps in as she throws it directly at the annoying Candor boy. A chuckle breaks through the silence, it takes a second for you to realize it was yours. Steeling your face back up you watch as people start up again with the catcalls and laughter. 

She doesn't yell after her foot leaves the ledge, she doesn't scream on her way down and you're slightly impressed. You also know that it could be the choking fear keeping her quiet like it did Four. Max even looks a little impressed, and as you thought Christina was the next to step up. 

One by one each person jumps, some scream, some laugh but others mostly initiates stay silent in fear. They now know there has to be something at the bottom, but they still don't know what it is.  Soon they are all gone, leaving only those of you who are top tier members. 

"So Y/n, whats your first impression of the newbies?" Zeke asks, bringing everyone attention back to you. The one place where you really hate, is under everyone's scrutiny.

Uncrossing your arms and moving to lean against the ledge you pause acting like your thinking. Its of course fake, they all know that, they know you are quick to judge and your opinion is hard to change. 

But its one of the reasons you make an excellent trainer, that and that your normally right. You can find their weaknesses within the first few encounters. That's why you're partnered with Four, who then will push those weaknesses until they break. 

"Really I only have an opinion so far on four of them. The Stiff is either going to excel or completely fail, haven't decided yet. The short Candor girl will fit in here well once she learns to control her mouth. The tall Candor girl is fake. Shes gonna act tough, fight hard but she will ultimately fail. And last but not least that annoying ass Candor boy, I have a feeling Im going to have fun breaking him in. Hes pissed me off already and its only been an hour and a half since I met him." 

Max nods taking notes as you speak, hes a very efficient leader. You don't always agree with him, but it's one of the reasons you get along. You're one of the few people here that gives him an honest opinion. That's also the reason hes training you to take over for him, of course Four was his first choice. But he turned it down so hey, his loss right?  

Once you take over it wont matter. He will be your second whether he likes it or not, you'll kill Eric if you have too. 

After a few more moments of conversation the rest start jumping, until it's just you and Max. He gives you a questioning look, but you shake your head indicating that you don't want to talk. He knows how much you hate running into your brother, hes assuming thats the reason for your mood. You let him run with his assumptions, leaving you alone on the roof for a moment. 

You know you only have a moment, so you remind yourself of who you are. Just a moment to feel the weakness that having two more Divergents here brings. The crushing load of responsibility your promise to Tori lays on your shoulders.  

You are brave. 

You are fearless.

You are Dauntless. 

And with that final sentence you stand back to the darkness, and fall. The ride to the net is too short, the adrenaline that runs through your veins fading too quickly. You hear those who know you chanting your name as you roll yourself off, scoffing at your best friend who's standing right there. He smirks a little knowing you're pretending to be offended that he didn't help you. 

Once everyone leaves, besides you, Four and the initiates, the two of you lead them down a narrow tunnel. The tunnel is lit at long intervals, so in the dark space between each dim lamp. One that if you didn't know where you were going you could easily feel lost or disoriented. 

When we stop I turn and watch as the Stiff runs into someones back, holding back the sigh that wants to escape badly. "This is where you divide,The Dauntless-born initiates are free to go to your dorm. I assume you don't need a tour of the place."

They break away from the group and dissolve into the shadows. You watch the last heel pass out of the light and look at those who are left. Most of the initiates were from Dauntless, so only nine people remain. Of those, only one Abnegation transfer, and there are no Amity transfers. The rest are from Erudite and, surprisingly, Candor. 

You know Four likes to get the first word in, so you tuck your feminism away for the time being and wait for him. "Most of the time I work in the control room, but for the next few weeks, I am your instructor," he says. "My name is Four."

Christina asks, "Four? Like the number?" You somehow manage to hold in the chuckle that wants so badly to escape when you see his face. "Yes," Four says. "Is there a problem?"

"No."

"Good. We're about to go into the Pit, which you will someday learn to love. It—"

Christina snickers. "The Pit? Clever name."

Four walks up to Christina and leans his face close to hers. His eyes narrow, and for a second he just stares at her. "What's your name?" he asks quietly.

"Christina," she squeaks. "Well, Christina, if I wanted to put up with Candor smart-mouths, I would have joined their faction," he hisses. "The first lesson you will learn from me is to keep your mouth shut. Got that?"

She nods, and again your holding in your laughter. You cant wait to make fun of him for this later, cant wait to tell Tori about the bravely stupid girl. Four starts toward the shadow at the end of the tunnel. The crowd of initiates moves on in silence.

"What a jerk," she mumbles as she and Beatrice, now Tris, walk past you. "I guess he doesn't like to be laughed at," she replies and this time you do laugh. They both jumped, clearly forgetting you were still in the room. "He also doesn't like smart asses, He wont tolerate you talking behind his back either. So learn quickly or the next few weeks will be harder than they need to be." You say before jogging to catch up with Four, shoulder checking the kid you don't like on the way. 

He opens his mouth and starts to speak "Watch where you're going Bitch!" The second his voice rang through the corridor Four stopped, but when the word Bitch left the pour guys mouth all Fours muscles tensed. He knew you could handle yourself, but he had a hard time tucking his chivalry away when it came to you. "Excuse me?" He says going to step forward but your hand on his chest stops him. 

Your busy smiling at the dumb ass who just spoke, so you dont see Tris's eyes linger on your hand on Fours chest.  "Whats your name dumb ass?" You say still smiling but cocking your head to the side condescendingly.

"Peter.." He says threw his teeth as some of the guys cover their laughter with coughs. You nod, and without thinking drag your hand down Fours arm, squeezing his hand to let him know you're ok. It's an innocent movement, none of them know what happens behind closed doors. You feel him relax a fraction as you let go and take steps towards the group. 

"Im Y/n. I'm also one of your trainers, I am also one of Dauntless's leaders." You watch as Peters face pales, and chuckle bringing your hands up to effortlessly put your hair in a messy bun. "I will be taking over for Max when he retires, meaning I will be the one that chooses how your life here functions. And for me..." You draw on, turning back to start leading the group away noticing Fours eyes locked on Peter. 

"First impressions are everything." 

[romancefranaticstay]

⋆.ೃ࿔:･Ship on sea ⋆.ೃ࿔:･ 2

Captain! Hyunjin x siren!fem!reader

Category: angst, fluff

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

You swam away from the ship, feeling the drops of his tears on your body. You dived to your hiding place, where you always sat. You felt something strange in your body, something strange. Something you had never felt. After a few days you still felt a strange feeling in your stomach, this time it was a little painful.

After a few weeks your belly started to get bigger and at that moment you knew it. You carried the child of your loved one, the child made by melted love. You still remembered the day you swam away from your captain. You missed him, ohh you missed him so much. You still had his necklace glistening in the moonlight.

Your child was born and accepted into the group of the Sirens. Your father always wondered who the person was, your other half. You wanted to tell him, you wanted to tell him about the most beautiful creature on earth, but you couldn't. You couldn't roll his name off your tongue. Your baby was a boy, immediately after he was born you saw Hyunjin in his eyes. It was difficult without giving birth to him, not being able to hold his hand.

Now the boy is four years old. You love your son so much, so much. It's your little Hyunjin. You sat in the cave while your sisters played with your son. He was already a good swimmer for his age. You were resting with your eyes closed, thinking about anything and everything. Suddenly you felt a kind of hyperactive happiness. Your heart was pounding, you were suddenly wide awake. You didn't know what it was. You ignored it.

“Y/N.”

said your sister Lalisa.

'What is it now?'

"Why don't you ever talk about his father?"

"Like I said, he's unknown."

"Don't you even know who he is?"

"No, only I know who he is."

'Why can't we know?'

'Just, I prefer to keep him in my heart.'

'Okay romantic, just keep him in your heart.'

You went to Lalisa, who was rocking your son. You picked him up again.

"Ohh you little treasure."

"Little Wade."

'What? Wade? That's not his name.'

"You never gave him a name."

'Yes, I have.'

"Why don't you tell me?"

“I've said it a thousand times, his name is Hyunjin.”

“Why Hyunjin? That's not even a Siren name.'

"Because I think it's a beautiful name, and because I'm his mother."

'Maternal behavior.'

'Teenage behavior.'

"Let me be a teenager."

"Yes, so let me be a mother."

"I'm going to be a mother one day too."

"You definitely will."

"And I want to marry a beautiful man."

'Just beautiful?'

"No, that's funny too."

"And grown up."

'That too.'

Hyunjin was tossing and turning in his bed. He dreamed about you again, he dreamed that you had a child. A little child who looked exactly like him. You were in a cave, with him in your arms. You were talking to someone. He was looking at you, he tried to move towards you but he couldn't. You suddenly turned your head. Suddenly he was pulled back and he woke up again. His heart broke again and again when he dreamed about your glowing skin. Your lips that he wanted to bite. Your hands that he wanted to feel.

Tears began to sting his eyes, but he was not allowed to show them. He was not allowed to show his weak side. He looked through his binoculars, no land in sight.

'Row on!'

he was strict. Stricter than before. Since you were gone he had changed, but deep down he was the same. His crewmates were a bit scared of him, except for Jeongin. Jeongin was his son. Not really his son, but he treats him like a son. He had found him on an island, dehydrated and about to die. He took care of him and now he has become a handsome man. He was 14 when he found it. Now he is 19. You could say he has changed a lot.

"We're still 10km from land, Hyunjin." Jeongin said.

"Okay good, we're almost there." he ruffled his hair.

Hyunjin was pacing on the deck, it was night. He was standing near the same ledge you jumped off. He leaned and looked into the water. If you knew how much he missed you, your heart would shrink. Jeongin joined him.

'The water is beautiful.'

"I know, sometimes too beautiful."

They both looked at the waves.

“You go get some sleep Jeonginnie.”

"Okay dad." Jeongin hopped inside to the warmth.

After a while, Hyunjin went back inside. He entered his room and looked at his bed. So many memories, the good times, the magical moments. He locked his door and lay down on his bed. The room was quite dark. He kept thinking about you, he thought about that one night. He felt blood pumping in his cock. It turned him on. His right hand wrapped around his length. He started jerking quickly. He thought about your body, your sweaty body. He started getting faster and faster. Until he groaned. Your name slipped from his lips. He panted.

Little Hyunjin was still sleeping. You admired him from a distance. A little angel, you just wanted to hug him. He is so small and so innocent. You saw him yawn and open his beady little eyes.

“Hello treasury.”

'Ello mommy.'

His small hands clung to you. Your father had collected some food for his grandson.

'Very good food, mhmmmm.'

you said, encouraging little Hyunjin to eat it all. He smacked his little mouth.

'Yummy.'

'Very yummy, and also very healthy.'

'Yeh, vey healy.'

'No no no, not healthy, but healthy. Heal-th-y.”

'Healty.'

'Close enough.' you stroked his hair.

______________________________________________________________

You swam with your son.

"Mommy."

'Yes treasury?'

'What is tha?'

he pointed his little finger towards the land. You looked at the land.

'You want to go there?'

'Yes, yes.'

It was uninhabited you saw, so it was safe for little Hyunjin. He also needed to develop his leg strength, so it was good to go ashore. Once you felt the land, your legs started working again. Hyunjinie immediately fell gently into the sand. You smiled seeing him like this. You grabbed his little hands and lifted him up so that he was now standing on his feet. You slowly started to step back so he could step along.

'You can do it.'

His steps were small and somewhat sloppy. He fell into the sand. You saw little tears growing in his eyes.

"Ohh, treasury, don't cry."

you lifted him up and started rocking him.

"Ohh little darling of mine."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'Land in sight!' Jeongin shouted.

"We're here dad."

"Okay, throw the anchor."

The anchor was thrown. Ten men remained on board, while five men began searching the island. The island was not dangerous, it was very small. Jeongin was sitting in the sand, lying on the ground.

"You stay here, I'll go explore some more."

Hyunjin started walking around the shoreline. You sat with Hyunijnie on the other side of the island. From a distance, Hyunjin saw two people. A child and a woman who seemed very familiar for a reason. He pulled out his sword just to be sure. Little Hyunjin started taking small steps towards you as you sat in the sand.

"Yes, almost, two more small steps."

He took two quick steps and fell into your arms.

"Yes, well done, you are such a smart little boy."

You were snuggling with him. Hyunjin recognized your voice. For a second he thought he was hallucinating. He dropped his sword and came closer. You felt something approaching you, you felt your heart pounding faster. You held little Hyunjin tightly. You stood up and took out your sharp teeth. You saw him, you looked into his eyes. You saw your captain standing there, your Hyunjin. You wanted to run to him, but you had a baby in your arms. Hyunjin stepped towards you until he was standing in front of you. His fingers caressed your cheek.

'Are you real?'

'I'm real.'

Tears stung both of your eyes.

"My son... I dreamed about him."

"He's real."

Hyunjinnie's eyes widened, he reached his hands out to his dad. Hyunjin picked him up, tightly in his protective arms. Tears fell into his little hair.

You hugged Hyunjin gently. Your son between you. His lips found yours. The two of you held your son. Jeongin came from a distance. He saw Hyunjin kissing a woman. Jeongin recognized you as 'the woman' he sometimes talked about. Hyunjin had described you perfectly. Your eyes opened again and you saw Jeongin standing there. You removed your lips from Hyunjin's lips.

'Who is that?' you pointed at him.

“That's my son, Jeongin.”

"You, your son... and the mother...?"

"I don't know who his mother is."

You immediately understood what was going on.

"Oww, I see."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hyunjin brought you back to the ship. The crew members stared at you, still remembering you. Hyunjin made a small bed for your son. Every day you were told how much he looked like his father. You and Jeongin also grew close. He saw you as his mother and you saw him as your son. You heard Hyunjinnie giggle. Jeongin was playing with him again.

“Careful Jeonginie.”

'Yes mom.' Y

ou were watching from a distance. On a rocking chair. Your hand on your stomach. You were pregnant again, you were three months pregnant. You couldn't really deduce what the gender was yet. It wasn't until you were 5 months old that you as Siren could sense it. Hyunjin came to you and kissed you on the cheek.

'Hello Darling.'

'Hello captain.' He placed his hand on your stomach.

'A little boy or girl.'

'Yes, strange, isn't it?'

'It is.' Your heart melted when you saw Jeongin playing with Hyunjinie. The fact that anyone could leave Jeongin behind is a mystery.

“I will never let you go again Y/N.”

"I'll never go again."

"I'll never let you go again."

You turned your face to him and kissed him softly. Jeongin covered Hyunjinnie's eyes.

“Ewww.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE END

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

@newtsbloodygf @trixiekaulitz @bbhyunjinie @wolfyychan

[tonyspank]

HEART 2

Summary: Rumours spread like wildfires and you have to convince the ex-pirate that you’re not such a bad person.

Warnings: Idek!

A/N: she’s so cute

Words: 2.0k

Tara Carpenter x Female! Reader

PART ONE

It was a calm Friday evening, the wind was blowing, the street lines were on and you were walking down the slightly busy paths of Blackmore University. With Chad, of course.

You two had just finished football practice, and it had been three days since the Halloween party. Chad was sweaty, his grey Nike compression shirt had a dark stain on the back, while, you were completely dry.

And the only reason you were was because you had gotten in trouble with your coach about your actions at the party. Should Chad also have been in trouble, yes. Did you take the blame for him, yes.

For your coach, the story was that you had started an altercation with Frankie, turning into a fight which led to Chad jumping in to separate it, which only lead to him getting hit in his nose.

There had also been stories going around about how Sam Carpenter, the 'mastermind' behind last year's killings in Woodsboro tased you. Saying that they wouldn't expect less from a murderer.

"Are you excited to see Tara?" Chad teases, bumping your shoulder with his fist. You shake your head as a small laugh leaves your mouth.

"About that..." Chad furrows his eyebrows, "Don't tell me she cancelled your date."

Now it's your turn to furrow your eyebrows, you turn your head to Chad, no longer watching the path in front of you. "Date?! What do you mean date!"

"What do you mean, what do I mean date?!" He says, repeating your words even louder. "It was never a date?" You state, confused.

Was it a date? Tara had given you another note the day after the party, asking you to meet her at a park not too far from the university.

"Y/N! Why would it not be a date!"

You shrug your shoulders, "I don't know!"

Chad lets out a loud groan, slapping his forehead with his free hand, "If a girl gives a note. Right?" You nod at his words and he continues, "And it says HEART, right?" You nod again, but slower.

"Then it flipping means it's a date. She put heart, twice! Not once, but TWICE!"

You stop walking. Chad also stops, and you can't help but mutter, "Fuck!" You throw your head back, continuing to walk. "It was a fucking date. But I'm not ready for a date, I mean I am!— I don't wanna end up hurting her or I just!—"

Chad stops your rambling, "I know that you're scared to date again, but Tara's not Kayla, Y/N. And she doesn't even watch football, she watches futbol, so I highly doubt she even knows who you are."

You bite on your lip, "Actually... I think she does." Chad turns his head to you, "What do you mean?"

"Yesterday... I was walking and I called out Tara's name and she sent me the meanest glare I've ever seen in my entire life. And I think I know why."

"Why?" You pull out your phone, showing Chad the articles they had written about her sister and you.

"Y/N Y/L/N attacks someone at a frat party, shortly after that the star receiver is assaulted by Sam Carpenter, a born serial killer. The victim says they were scared for their life once seeing Carpenter lift a weapon." He reads, confused. "Wait? What? You didn't even make a statement about what happened?"

"Exactly! And I didn't even physically see Sam lift a weapon, I just felt it." You say nonchalantly shrugging it off.

"Tara probably thinks you did make that statement." He mumbles, "We gotta go see her." Chad picks up his pace, and you can't do anything but follow him confused. "Wait! You mean now?" You shout out, jogging after the fast-walking athlete.

-

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" You ask Chad, he had just knocked on the door of the Carpenter-Bailey apartment. Chad stares ahead waiting for the door to be opened, "Of course. Just hide a bit."

You step out of the view of the peephole, "Oh. Okay?" A few more seconds pass and there are multiple clicks heard before the door opens.

"Chad, hey?" You hear Sam say. "Hi! Is Tara here?" Sam steps aside, showing Tara sitting down on the couch, along with Mindy.

"Hey, sis!" Chad waves, he then proceeds to grab you by your shoulders guiding you in front of him and into the apartment. Sam's slight smile leaves her face, along with Tara and Mindy's.

"What is she doing here?" Sam asks, obviously upset by the fact that you're standing in her apartment. "She's here to explain."

You send everyone a nod and wave, "Uh, yeah. Um, I didn't actually say those things... I didn't even make a statement. I only talked to my coach and I never even mentioned that you tased me, I just said that I got into an altercation with Frankie.  Then I took the fall for Chad." You announce to everyone present, Chad nods his head agreeing with your words.

"Exactly! So whoever wrote that article lied. Who wrote it by the way?" Chad then asks you, you pull out your phone and pull up the article searching for the publisher's name.

"It says," You drag out, "Um. Kayla Burke."

Tara scoffs from the couch, "Wait, what? Are you serious?" Chad doesn't even let you answer him before he snatches the phone, and it indeed says, Kayla Burke.

"What the fuck!"

"Wait, who's Kayla Burke?" Mindy questions and Sam nods, wanting to know as well.

"Kayla Burke is Y/N's ex-girlfriend." Mindy's mouth turns into an 'O' shape, and she lets out an "Ohhh! The one that cheated on you, right?"

You take in a breath, looking at the ground and then at Chad who speaks up for you almost immediately, "Mindy. Not right now." The twin holds up her hand in surrender, Sam steps up voicing her input. "So, are you going to make a statement? To get all these rumours situated?"

You quickly nod, "Yes, I can ask my coach about it so that you're not thrown under the bus." You can almost see Sam visibly relax, "I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't know people would say things like that."

"It's not completely your fault, I'm sorry for tasing you." You wave her off, "Already forgotten."

"So you're just going to take the blame for everything that happened at that party?" Mindy asks you with squinted eyes, it was clear she didn't trust you or just didn't believe you had a clear motive.

"I mean? Yeah? I'm already in deep shit for even fighting Frankie, so if it helps Sam clear her name, why not?" You shrug.

Mindy unbelievably nods at your words causing you to slump your shoulders.

"Tara," Her head lifts at your voice. "Can we talk?" She stares at you, waiting for you to speak.

"Um," You look around the room, all eyes on you. "Alone?" You feel Sam's eyes staring into the side of your head. "Just downstairs, please?"

Tara gets up, and walks out the door, not even looking back to see if you were following her or not. You give everyone one last look along with a tight-lipped smile, before following Tara who's seated at the end of the stairs.

You plop down beside her with a sigh, "Hey."

Her eyes stare into yours, and you can practically see the mental battle she's having with herself. She doesn't know if she can trust you, not after reading the articles about her sister and you.

And after reading the article about only you, after figuring out you were some sort of big deal to the school, she looked your name up. She found out about your ex-girlfriend and Frankie, and she believes you only helped her at the party to get back at Frankie in some way.

She also believes that you're a dickhead due to the leaked DM's people have posted of you into multiple 'Stab' subreddits.

But what she doesn't know is that you didn't want to get back at Frankie, you wanted to help her. She also doesn't know that those DM's are fake, and you don't even have any social media to direct message, anyone.

And she doesn't know the fact that you didn't know your hangout was supposed to be a date, not just a friendly get-together.

"Hey." She replies, leaning against the rail beside her. "I'm sorry about what Kayla said about your sister. I didn't even know she was back in journalism."

"Is it true about what you said about that girl?" You furrow your eyebrows at her question, "What?"

"You said something about Amber Freeman last month, right?" You shake your head, confused.

"Amber Freeman?" You say though it says more like a question. "You were texting people about Amber Freeman and how she was the peak of the ghost faces, and she deserved to get away with it."

"Tara—" She interrupts you, continuing. "Amber Freeman was my best friend, well, I thought she was until she tried to kill me. First, she stabbed me seven times, then broke my leg. And Chad, stabbed him seven times as well. So, you'd prefer to see her get away with stabbing your best friend?"

You swallow your spit, not looking away from the hard stare Tara was giving you. "Tara... I never wrote any of those DM's."

Tara's face falls, but she doesn't say anything letting you proceed to talk. "I used to live in Woodsboro and people found out, so of course they wanted me to get involved in all that Ghostface shit, but I never said anything about Amber or anything else about Ghostface."

You chuckle to yourself, "I don't even have any social media to text stuff like that."

"Well, shit." She mutters, "I'm so sorry—"

"It's okay, I have a question though." She furrows her eyebrows, "What is it?"

"Was our hangout tomorrow supposed to be a date?" Tara's face heats up, "Um. I don't— If you wanted it to?" She stutters out, a smile on her face as she finishes.

She looked so cute when she was flustered.

"I think I do want it to be a date now."

"Now?" You stand up from the stairs, holding out a hand. "What about before?" Tara grabs your hand, standing up with you.

"Y/N! What'd you think before!" She yells out after you as you walk up the steps.

You can't help but laugh at the girl.

She stops you from opening the door by grabbing your arm, forcing you to face her. "What'd you think before!"

"Wow! You really hate being out of the loop." Her smile increases, "There's a loop? More people know about this?" You laugh.

As your laugh dies down, you inspect the shorter girl's face in front of you, who smiles up at you,  her dark freckles scattered across her face, and her deep dimples prominent in her smile. Along with those pink plum lips you can't help but stare at, noticing this she licks them, and you look back at her eyes, only to find them staring back with a steady gaze.

"Has anyone told you that you have a cute face," Tara whispers, you chuckle, she probably doesn't even know what she just told you as she's so caught up in the moment. Her hand reaches to your face, trailing over all of your features before lingering on your cheek.

Your heart was pounding, and you were almost scared that Tara might've heard it herself. You began leaning in slowly, drawing your lips closer to hers, she felt so warm and inviting.

Her lips part slightly, and she closes her eyes leaning in with you, you could feel her breath on your lips until you finally connected them.

At first, the kiss was soft and delicate, inside your stomach felt like a sanctuary for butterflies, but on the outside, it felt like fireworks going off, your hands found her waist, deepening the kiss and earning a slight noise from the ex-pirate.

In Tara's mind, she found herself already addicted. You and this kiss were so intoxicating, and she knew once it ended, she'd want it to be repeated.

You pulled away, and Tara shamelessly chased your lips, you chuckle. "Does that answer how I felt before?"

"No, you might need to tell me again."

Your smile, pulling her back into another kiss.

[evolnoomym]

The Night We Met🌠/Pt.2

Dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Pt. 1 🌌 | Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Summary: You return to Texas after being gone for 5 months.

Rating: 18+ content mdni!!!!(there’s nothing explicit, still I want the minors to stay away.)

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: no use of y/n, pregnancy, female reader, reader has no name only a nickname, size difference, loss of a loved one, grief, food and eating are mentioned, age gap,

If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Authors note: The part 2 some of you wanted, hopefully you’ll like it 🫶🏻

Shoutout to @thecutestgrotto and @cafekitsune for the dividers 💙

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that(and me being high). I’m totally here for constructive criticism or feedback on how to improve. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly 🌠🫶🏻

+Bonus at the end 🥰

Song’s I listened to while writing:

To Build A Home - The Cinematic Orchestra, Patrick Watson

Twins - Gem Club

Space Song - Beach House

Silver Soul - Beach House

Santa Monica Dream - Angus & Julia Stone

Sunset Lover - Petit Biscuit

Big Jet Plane - Angus & Julia Stone

you. - Oscar Lang

Home - Catie Turner

I would - Torri Weidinger

Hearing - Sleeping At Last

My Love Mine All Mine - Mitski

I miss you, I’m sorry - Gracie Abrams

Everywhere - Fleetwood Mac

* 5 months later *

You haven’t been in this place ever since leaving all those months ago. So much has changed for you. The sickening feeling you used to get when entering didn’t seem to return once you stepped onto the property. Now as you sit across from him, it does not feel as if you’re being torn apart by each second you spend here, perhaps it’s also because you have a little helper to make this less painful. 

His grave looks just like you remember and once you sat down you noticed that somebody must’ve taken care of it in your absence. Your favorite flowers are placed on top- blue chrysanthemums. 

It’s a beautiful warm spring day, birds chirping in the distance, sunshine warming up your skin, fresh breeze blowing through your hair and finally more color being added to the scenery. 

You smile softly because it’s a good day and you’re happy to see him. 

And as some sort of Déjà vu, a father comes walking down the dirt path with his daughter and the little girl is cheerfully giggling while taking in all the beautiful flowers adorning the graves. 

When the girl reaches the blue chrysanthemums she lets out a stunned gasp, it seems like she might have never seen those flowers in her life before. 

When her dad spots you he immediately starts apologizing profusely for his daughter’s behavior but you let him know that it’s more than welcome and you think to yourself how the little girl reminds you of the past. 

When they are out of sight you start laughing and then say “You Funny old men, sending me a sign aren’t you? Thank you Papa.” He’s still here, always with you and he was even when you were so far away. 

(Flashback beginning )

The first few weeks were rough for you, so incredibly far away from what was supposed to be home and with Joel’s distraught face burned into your memory. 

Luckily Sunny was there to catch you in the darkest moments, if it wasn’t for her you wouldn’t have made it. 

When you called her out of sheer desperation and told her you’d need to be somewhere far away, Sweet Sunny, without thinking about it, offered to take you in. 

The flight over there was incredibly stressful for you but seeing Sunny’s face once she picked you up from the airport made it all worth it. 

She had to treat you like a wounded animal, cooking your favorite meals, taking you for walks around the pastures, massages when the back pain flared up again and when nothing helped just sitting with you through the agony. 

Sunny is your childhood Bestfriend, you were born on the same day just 4 years apart, you have the same interests and the same dislikes. Your dad always called you Sunny and Moon. Two Inseparable forces. 

The time with Sunny and the change of scenery was healing. You went to yoga with her, took trips to Costco, she took you to the local aquarium, the butterfly garden and to the beach.  

When the time came to fly back home you were sad but Sunny promised to visit once it’s time. 

(Flashback over)

It was a week ago that your plane touched down in Texas, it felt so strange being back in the town you so hastily left. 

Once you landed Joel was all you could think about, is he okay, does he look different, did he move, did he find someone new or is he still waiting for you?

You’ve seen the countless messages he sent you over the months, yet you couldn’t find the courage to answer him you would’ve felt like a liar. You felt terrible for not holding up your end of the bargain.

After sleeping in the motel for a week you finally, especially after talking to your Dad, feel empowered enough to go see Joel again. 

You had stopped once on the drive towards Joel’s house, due to raging nausea, you are incredibly nervous sitting in the parked car in front of his home. 

It still looks exactly the same as when you disappeared, nothing changed about it. 

It takes a few more minutes before you get out of the car. You have to take a couple deep breaths and wipe your shaking sweaty palms off on your long black stretchy skirt that you decided to wear combined a black ribbed tank top. 

The outfit looks good and is the most comfortable for you in this state.

Your knees are weak on the steps up to the house, the fluttering in your belly gets continuously worse the closer you get to the front door and when you knock on the door you’re close to passing out. 

The seconds you have to wait feel like hours. In reality it’s only seconds and when the door opens time seems to stand still, there he is Joel Miller in all his glory. 

His eyes scan your face in frantic disbelief and his mouth makes him look like a fish fresh outta water. 

You try to take control of the situation “H…hi Joel.” It’s simple but you’re just as stunned. 

You can see his eyes turn glassy “No Joel, no tears come on, you gonna make me cry too.” You try to say it in a cheerful way but the words end in a quiet whisper. 

“Y…you- you’re back? Am I….dreamin?” He stammers clearly unconvinced. You nod gently and reach with your hand for his face, when your warm soft palm touches his scruffy cheek his eyes fall shut and the tears start rolling down his cheeks. 

His lips are trembling, as if your touch hurts him. “Joel, I…I’m so sorry.” At that he opens his eyes again and to your surprise he does not look mad, though he’d have all right to be. 

With his eyes still locked onto your face he asks “How…how long have ya been back?”

You turn away slightly and gesture behind you towards the car parked in front of the driveway. “I've been back for about a week, sleeping in that ranch motel and I was just at Dad’s grave when I thought about coming here.” When you turn back to face him his eyes are no longer on your face, but instead somewhere else. 

Joel’s eyes are stuck on your midsection. 

Oh yeah, the bump, from the front it’s not that noticeable but as soon as you turn boom there it is the unmistakable swell. 

That’s what scared you the most, how would he react to the pregnancy. 

“Y…you- you’re pregnant? How…I mean ya didn’t say anythin bout that back then?” He questions in almost trance.

“Maybe we should go inside to talk, hmm? My feet kinda hurt.” You laugh which pulls him out of his frozen state.

“Jeez of course, come in let’s sit down Moon.” He gestures to come into the house you used to share and once you cross the threshold the familiar smell engulfs you, a mix of vanilla and sandalwood.

Everything mostly still looks the same, once you reach the living room you immediately note that all the pictures are still exactly where they always hung on the wall. And when you look at the dining table, the one you sat at that night it’s still the same but what’s placed on top makes your breath hitch. 

Blue Chrysanthemums, the same as on his grave. 

When you turn you realize Joel’s been watching you “Did you put the flowers on his grave?” 

“Yeah, that was me” while he nervously scratches his neck “I hope ya liked them.”

You huff “Joel I loved them they are my favorite you know that. So you've been going to his grave?”

He hesitates for a moment but then responds “Every week since ya left Moon. Just spend a bit talkin to the ol’ men. Ya know he was my Bestfriend.” 

You nod “I’m sorry you couldn’t grieve cuz you had to take care of me. I know you were close and Joel-“ you reach for his face again, gently patting his cheek “- you meant soooo much to him, you know how I told you he’d basically chew my ear off telling me all about his super cool boss every night.” You smile sweetly at him trying to soothe the pain he must’ve felt at losing your father, his Bestfriend and then ultimately you as well.

The two of you sit down on the couch, which is now possible unlike 5 months ago when just looking at it made you sick, Joel sits down with a respectable distance from you. 

“So….you must have a million questions, shot?” You encourage him. “How far along, are ya?” 

“25 weeks to be specific, so only three more weeks and I’m officially 7 months.” You answer with a smile. 

A moment later “So ya were pregnant when you left, did ya know or..?” He questions.

“No, I didn’t know when I left. I didn’t think it would take at the first try. I chalked the whole throwing up thing up to the grief, you know?” 

He nods “Yeah, I get what ya mean…and how did you figure it out?”

“I didn’t. Sunny did, she thought something was off and had to drag me to the doctor. Did some tests and well I was 8 weeks already.” 

(Flashback beginning )

Sunny plopped down beside you on the couch 

“Ok we need to talk this is not normal anymore Moon.” 

You stared at her in question “ Why what’s wrong?” 

“Seriously.?? Let’s look at the facts: your periods have been missing for almost 3 months, you puke allllll the time, you eat the weirdest food combinations I’ve ever seen and….no offense but your tits have blown up, look at them.” As she points at your chest.

“Ok fuck you Sunny if you like looking at my tits you could’ve just told me and whats with my eating habits??”

“Baby you literally dipped pickles in Orange Sorbet for breakfast…you don’t see anything wrong with that, huh?” She laughs 

“Well I…I just really craved that”

“No baby, the little Miller fetus inside you craved that.” 

“Okkkkk then let’s go to the doctors office to see if you are correct or just imagining things.” As you flip her off while laughing. 

When the little white blob showed up on the screen, Sunny started yelling, of course she had to be right.

(Flashback over)

“Ya did all of it alone? I’m sorry Moon Girl.”

“Oh no, Sunny was there for each visit and she documented the whole process so you could have a chance at sorta having those memories too. You’re gonna be a Daddy Joel Miller” 

Tears well up in his eyes again “C…can I, ya know..?” While his eyes go to your belly.

You understand what he wants “Of course Joel, though you might not feel a whole lot…I think she’s asleep, which I can’t blame her for after the stressful ride over here.” You laugh gently. 

Joel’s gasp makes you look up 

“Y-y-yo…you said “she” it’s a girl, we’re having a little babygirl?” The tears slip down his cheeks again but this time he’s beaming with happiness as it happens. 

You take his outstretched shaking hand and place it on the top of your stomach. 

“Yeah a little Moon Babygirl, now imagine how Sunny freaked out when we got told, some of her cheerful screaming is probably caught in the video she took.” 

Joel’s crying intensifies so you motion for him to get closer and when his thigh presses against yours you pull him in for a side hug. His unoccupied arm slides around your lower back, hand resting on your hip, while his face slots right into your neck. 

“Sorry Baby I…I’m a mess.” He mumbles against the side of your neck.

“Shhh Joel, it’s ok, I got you. I got you Joel.” while stroking the back of his head. You give him the time to let it all out. 

Suddenly he perks up and pulls out your arms. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask 

“I…I think she kicked me, our baby kicked me..” he whispers. 

“Guess she knows it’s her Daddy needing some comfort, she’s done it for me too.” 

“How.?” 

“Whenever I couldn’t bare it anymore, she started kicking me as a distraction.” You continue “I believe she’s a gift from him, that sounds weird..” Joel just shakes his head no… “a purpose, something to keep going for you know?” 

“I know what ya mean Baby.” 

“Not that you were not enough but I..I - I just..” 

“It’s alrigh darlin, I understand you.” 

He gets up out of nowhere “I got something for ya, jus wait a minute sweetheart.”

As he heads up the stairs. 

When he comes back down he orders “Close ya eyes Moon.” 

“What, why?”

“Come on jus do it, trust me.”

You can feel him somewhere in front of you but you don’t know where exactly. 

“Open up.”

And there he is on his knees holding a small box up to you in it a beautiful engagement ring but instead of a normal shaped diamond it’s a moon shaped one. As if he had it made specifically for you.

You are completely stunned by the way he just wiped it out. 

J…j- Joel I..I don’t know what to say.” 

He jus shakes his head and looks at you softly “Moon ya don’t have to say anythin, I jus wanted you to have it.” 

You’re in sheer disbelief and only shake your head frantically. 

“m’ sorry that was too much I..I-“ but you cut him off

“Shut up I just needed a minute to process, yes Joel, yes I do.” You smile 

“W..what’d ya mean?” 

“Yes I want to Marry you Joel, not immediately but someday, ok? Put it on me.” You say as you hold out your hand 

Now Joel’s the one stunned but after collecting  himself he does just as you told him, he slides it on your left Ringfinger.

Once he’s done it you get up to admire the ring in the sunlight, you walk out onto the porch and hold your hand up to the Sun. 

You can hear his heavy steps coming up to you from behind, then you feel his muscular arms slide around your middle, his hands come to rest on the bump and his chin on your shoulder. 

You turn in his hold and place your palms on his broad chest. “I have to explain so much about why I left you and..and-“ 

This time he cut you off “I don’t care bout that right now, m’ jus happy to have ya back Moon. Can I kiss ya?” 

“Of course you can kiss me Joel.” That’s all the encouragement he needs before pressing his lips against yours and then again and again.

Suddenly he ask’s you something you did not expect “Ya got a name for Her in mind?” 

You pretend to think about the answer but then reply with confidence “I really like the name Matilda. What do you think of that?” 

Joel smiles amused “That’s a real pretty name for our Moon baby, darlin.“

You feel more content than ever before and you can feel him watching from above being happy as well to see you back in Joel’s arms. 

It’s them 🌌🌠:

Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI, thank you 🙏🏻

Npt: @joelmillerisapunk @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @studioghibelli @joelslegalwhre @thundermartini @almostfoxglove @sizzlingcloudmentality @vivian-pascal @strang3lov3 @xdaddysprincessxx @mountainsandmayhem @mrsmando @joelsgreys @janaispunk @iamasaddie @the-mandawhor1an @joelalorian @ace-turned-confused @clawdee @penvisions @rivnedell (honestly I’m pretty randomly tagging sorry) 🌠

[qrevo]

Was tagged by @humanaaa and @hholandies!! Thanks for the tags ^^

1. Are you named after anyone?

Kinda?? My first and second names are supposed to come from angels of the bible (or as so i was told), but istg the one from my first name DOES NOT exist. I searched everywhere and came up empty-handed lol

2. When was the last time you cried?

Last week when i replayed Adastra. The catharsis was so strong it disintegrated my core being into dust fr fr

3. Do you have kids?

Nope!! And i don't plan to!!

4. What sports do you play/have you played?

I practiced judo when i was very very tiny, but i was too scrawny and clumsy for it. Left before even making it out of the white belt LMAO

Also a little before high school i used to play basketball and swim!!

Now i just bike regularly if that somehow counts SKDJFDKF

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Very very rarely

6. What's the first thing you notice about someone?

Their outfit!!

7. Eye color?

Brown!!

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

C-Can i have both 🥺👉👈

But if i had to choose between them i think i'd go with a scary movie

9. Any talents?

Being good at math counts?? SKJSJSJD

10. Where were you born?

BRASIL NÚMERO 1 CAMPEÃO DO MUNDO 🇧🇷🇧🇷🇧🇷🇧🇷🇧🇷🇧🇷

11. Hobbies?

Since the start of the year i picked up drawing again!! I sometimes play videogames, but i haven't been doing it that much lately. I take walks a few days of the week. I also like watching/reading stuff but that one's a given

12. Any pets?

We have two dogs!! Fiona, the bigger one we adopted, and Moana, the smaller one that adopted us!! (i also wanted a cat but everyone here's allergic and hates them to death for some reason)

13. Height?

I must be between 1.70m ~ 1.72m?? I haven't measured my height in quite some time lol

14. Favorite school subject?

Unsurprisingly, math!!

15. Dream job?

I used to dream of becoming a programmer or a game developer, but i've become quite disillusioned with the industry. Now i really have no idea LMAO

Tagging @not-too-many-eyes @rainbowghostcat @candckirby @seariii @gunsli-01 @roseofcards90 and anyone else that feels like it!!

edit: enough reblogs on this one continue the tag game on your own posts 💥💥💥💥💥

[batsplat]

always am obsessed with motorsport champions that decide to run the number 1 plate vs those who’ve stuck with their number. because it reveals so much of each of their inner philosophies, whether they are deeply superstitious, or seek a tangible everyday proof of their victory, or concerned with branding/legacies, or trampling the inner critic that believed deep inside of them that they were cut out to be a champion. just so interesting to parse through possible motivations

you're so right anon!!

of course, a big part of it is historical context... you can't really disentangle the choice of whether to run the number one plate or not from the era within which they made said choice. until fairly recently, it was entirely the norm to pick the number one plate - and beyond that, even those who didn't finish in first tended to just adopt the number that represented the place they had finished in during the previous year's championship. so for instance in 1987, gardner was first, mamola second, lawson third, haslam fourth, macckenzie fifth, and so on. in 1988, gardner ran the number 1 plate... mamola 2, lawson 3, haslam 4, mackenzie 5, etc etc. the only champion who broke with tradition was british racer barry sheene (500cc champion in 1976 and 1977), known for being a rebel - and even the styling of his iconic number 7 was apparently a wee bit controversial:

sheene stuck with the 7 both after his formula 750 title and then after his two 500cc titles:

there's some ways in which sheene is kinda the prototype of the modern rider, and he was the first to reap the benefits of having a distinctive number associated with him

in the eighties and nineties, it was all back to number one plates - but then of course another rider decided to break with tradition

incidentally, the generally purported story for why valentino took the number 46 is that it was his father's number. if his autobiography is to be believed, the truth is a little different:

I am Valentino. Graziano chose that name for me because he wanted to honour the memory of his best friend, who drowned at sea, near Pesaro, at the age of eighteen. The fact that St Valentine's Day is just two days before my birthday was also a reason. Number 46 originated when I raced minibikes. I was on a team with two kids from Gatteo a Mare, Marco and Maurizio Pagano. They are the brothers who lent me the Aprilia 125, which I used for my debut at Misano. All three of us had number 46 because we raced in three different categories. They too loved Japan and Japanese riders. One day we were mesmerised by a wild-card entrant at the Japanese Grand Prix who pulled off the most amazing tricks and seemed to have no fear whatsoever. He was number 46. And from that day on, so were we. For me, that lasted until I moved up to the Italian championship and, later, the European series. But when I finally made it to the world championship, I was asked to choose a number. I discovered that 46 was Graziano’s number when he won his first Grand Prix on a Morbidelli 250cc, back in 1979. Which was the year I was born. That’s why I decided that I, too, would be number 46. For me that number represents my career and, partly, my life. It certainly symbolises my massive, incredible, adventure. 

so valentino was only the second premier class rider who stuck with his number. the norm of just following the previous year's standings to choose your number was kinda starting to die out in the late nineties anyway. by 2002, when valentino was defending his title for the first time, if you look down the list it's basically personal numbers all the way. still, valentino was the one to break tradition for champions - the first to do so in a couple of decades. valentino did also know sheene personally as a result of the link through his father, who was a friend of sheene's and had raced him:

^valentino with sheene, valentino wearing a tribute helmet with the iconic '7' on it after sheene's passing (also with the rainbow helmet colours and the word 'pace' or 'peace' on the back during the 2003 invasion of iraq), and valentino's 2005 championship celebrations for his seventh title, his shirt again featuring sheene's seven

hayden didn't follow valentino's example and instead went for the number one plate in 2007. casey made the same choice for the 2008 season, then jorge in 2011... so for a hot moment it really did look like valentino had been just another blip. if anything, the trend was going the other way, with a couple of high profile instances of riders who hadn't won the title rejecting their established numbers:

this particular trend didn't catch on, and from 2010 onward dani decided to just stick with the 26. because all the non-valentino aliens just couldn't stop faffing about with their numbers, 2010 is the only year in which all four aliens are actually concurrently running the numbers we most commonly associate them with

then, by 2012 apparently people were starting to get a bit superstitious about the number one plate. here, from an interview with casey:

the idea is that you can't defend the title if you're sporting the number one plate. which is true! in the 21st century, three guys chose the number one plate, and they defended their titles a grand total of zero times. one bloke stuck to his number, and he defended his title five out of seven times. so yes, it is technically correct that nobody with the number one plate had defended their title, though it is equally true that nobody not called valentino rossi had defended their title. I suppose we'll never know what the bigger factor was

anyways, if picking the number one plate was already a sure thing before, I reckon this sort of silly talk about 'jinxes' would have made casey even less likely to change his mind for 2012. not only is he stubborn, but he also takes an extremely dim view on superstitions

That race was the twelfth in a row that had been won by a rider not starting from pole, which was a new record. People were making a big deal about it and questioning whether, psychologically speaking, it wasn't a good thing to qualify on pole position at all. Maybe to the superstitious riders out there it had become an issue but I have never allowed myself to be affected by outside influences like that and I put an end to the stat by winning from pole in the next round at Laguna Seca in California. It is amazing how many riders have superstitions, which to me are completely ridiculous. Pretty much every one of them has a little mascot or a lucky pair of undies that they once had a good result in and have been stuck with ever since (so to speak!). Superstition is basically just fear and as an athlete my view is that by allowing it to enter your mind you are effectively handing over control. My approach has always been to deliberately tackle it by doing things differently to the last time, just to make sure I don't get into a restrictive habit. Some riders look at their qualifying position and think, I never go well from fifth position, or arrive at a circuit thinking about past results there and say, 'I've never done well here before, it's not my favourite circuit.' You have to be in the mindset that every day is a new day, a new set of circumstances. Every corner is different, every situation is different, and if you are not prepared to open your mind to that then you will always struggle more than necessary. You might have been through one particular corner a thousand times before but with a slight change in temperature, a new bike, a different tyre or a rider trying to pass you on the inside it becomes a completely different challenge and you have to be ready to deal with that.

given that casey is like, neurotically anti-superstition - well, he was probably always going to do the same thing as he did in 2008, but now he definitely would never just stick with his number. unlike jorge... who did change his mind, having run the number one plate in 2011 - but decided against making the switch in 2013. funnily enough, this did not help him defend the title. the eventual 2013 champion ended up also opting to stick with his number... and, well, marc's title defence went a little bit more smoothly. after jorge's 2015 title, he once again stuck to his 99, while marc has used the number 93 throughout his career. by the time you get to 2020, it's easy to have a warped perception of how common it is to keep your number. if you're born in, say, 1997 or later, you think it's basically the done thing to stick to your number, and it's really only a few outliers who use the number one plate. but even in the 21st century... it's really just valentino and marc who were doing it, plus jorge two out of three times. but between the two of them, they sure were winning enough of the titles to make it feel like the established norm

by this point, there really was a bit of a superstition about how the number one plate was 'cursed'. obviously, this wasn't actually a 'curse' as much as it was 'the dominant force in the sport in the noughties decided this number one plate thing wasn't for him and the dominant force in the 2010s who also happens to a massive fan of the other guy also decided not to make the switch either so that probably explains it'. it's not 'you won't defend your title if you're sporting the number one plate', it's 'you won't defend your title if your name isn't valentino rossi or marc marquez'. but obviously, sports drives people insane, so it was always going to be something that prompted a lot of speculation until someone finally managed to defend the plate

following his 2020 championship, mir didn't depart from the new tradition, with a suzuki video to announce his decision:

and fabio did likewise after his 2021 title:

obviously, sticking to their numbers didn't actually help joan and fabio defend their titles, and after his 2022 championship it was pecco's turn to make the choice. pecco went about this in the most pecco way imaginable, with just a touch of public hand-wringing about the whole thing:

just as a quick reminder, before pecco there had been 28 premier class champions. five and two thirds decided against the number one plate - sheene, valentino, marc, joan, fabio, and jorge twice. "I have always been fascinated about riders with number one" describes something that until very recently had been completely normal. not even remotely noteworthy. cheers valentino

eventually, presumably after some extremely extensive introspection, pecco decided to go for the number one plate:

and also this:

and also this (look he's got a lot of thoughts on the matter, please allow him):

and talking about defending the number one:

pecco has continued talking about it sporadically since then. he's spoken about it in the context of defending his title, which as he points out he can only remember marc and valentino doing:

and then the pressure inherent to sporting that plate, from after he'd successfully completed his title defence:

hm. right. let's unpack

the thing about this whole 'running the number one plate' business is that in motogp, each rider's individual choice has to be read with that history in mind. for many years, this wasn't even really a question... it's just what you do when you win the title. sheene was the rebel, the one who decided to do things differently, who wanted to be associated with his very own number. and valentino, who himself knew sheene and was already attached to his own number and has always had a good sense for personal branding, decided to stick with 46. of course, valentino being valentino, he's inescapable enough within motogp that ever since he made that choice, every single champion after him has had to actively make a decision one way or another

so you've got jorge, who had used the number one plate in his title defence during his 250cc campaign in 2007 - and also used it in 2011 as motogp defending champion. he ended up changing his mind for his following two campaigns... remember, he only started using the number 99 in 2009 after his fractious split with his manager during 2008 (see more on numbers lore here). here was what he said about his decision in 2011:

versus his decision in 2015:

jorge in particular does of course have a bit of a complicated relationship with the numbers he's used during his career - and unsurprisingly he's clearly put quite a lot of thought into the whole matter. he's determined to still have the number 99 represent him in some way even in 2011, while also thinking about how he can integrate the number one into his initials - and since it's jorge, of course it's particularly important that his fans approve. he "won't forget" his 99, it was still on his leathers because it's still 'in his heart'... but he explains it by saying he has "earned the right", that it's a "unique opportunity". then, a few years later, his main cited reason for sticking with the number 99 is how it 'represents' him

very much a question of identity, then, something about how jorge made the choice to use the 99 and how it was an expression of liberation for him... he was tempted by the number one once and only once - a statement in itself, following on from jorge's title win in 2010 where the oppressively popular defending champion had been taken out of contention through injury. jorge says he's 'earned the right' because he feels like he deserves it and he wants to tell the world as much. did his failure to defend the title play into his decision not to run the plate again or did he just decide it wasn't really for him after all? did he realise he had grown so attached to the number 99, what it symbolised to him, that he didn't want to give it up again? or did he just realise it was better for personal branding?

last year, here's what casey had to say:

it's fun how the perception of it has changed so drastically, hasn't it? now it's kinda the brave decision to take it... and that's mainly the legacy of two blokes who happened to monopolise this century of racing and decided to make their numbers their own (you may have noticed that there's considerably less material out there on why they made the choice they did). it's gone from something that you just sort of did automatically to something that puts a bit of a target on your back. because that's the subtext, right - everyone wants to 'take the number one plate'... which obviously they do anyway, but all this talk of curses and jinxes attempts to give it a bit of extra weight. is it presumptuous to take that number? valentino and marc made the call to stick to their numbers - and years later it's become a statement to deviate from that path. in that fabio quote above, in context he's really just trying to say he feels like he's the number 20 and nothing other than that - but "I feel like I'm not number one" is still a teensy bit loaded. how did marc's injury affect the choice made by those in his absence?

casey is unsurprisingly very firm on the whole thing, "you are world champion and you should be wearing number one". as if doing anything else is shying away from this duty. defending the title is another "challenge" that he says he likes - almost like a way of putting extra pressure on himself. though in a different interview, casey also says this:

just a number after all, then? it's also interesting how they frame it in different ways, isn't it? for casey it's "recognition" of an achievement, for jorge it's something you've "earned"... and for pecco, it's something you "need to respect". it's about something that puts "pressure" on you... perhaps that's partly because so much of the discourse about the number one plate has become about defending the title (or failing to do so), but pecco discusses it more as a responsibility than something he deserves. you can tell that it's clearly preoccupied him for a while - it's something he's "fascinated" by, he's "admired" people who have done it, he's "always loved it". for both casey and pecco, part of it seems to be about respecting the history of all the blokes who have used the number in the past, like it's an act that pays tribute to that heritage. you'd think this shouldn't have been such a tough choice in the first place, wouldn't you? goes to show how much of a break with tradition it's become - tradition, of course, that was really started by pecco's own mentor. would it be that surprising if that's part of the reason for the reticence? and, at the same time, would it be that surprising that his mentor's long shadow might make him feel like he needs that big and bold number one? what does pecco think it's saying that he went a different way? all this public hand-wringing just because he's breaking a trend

for jorge, the number one plate was a public declaration that he'd made it, naysayers be damned. to pecco, "the number one plate means you need to demonstrate you are number one". it's like giving yourself a point to prove... is it mainly a matter of pride or giving yourself something to live up to? both of them go to great pains to stress their continued attachment to their original number, how they're continuing to integrate it into all their cute designs... and that is something that has changed pretty definitively - not entirely as a result of valentino, but around the same time as valentino emerged as the figurehead of the sport, and he's certainly a big part of it. even the riders who go with the number one still want to have their number and to be known by it. the numbers have become such an integral part of branding and rider identity that riders want to make clear how important they are to them, whether they stick with the number as defending champions or not

at the same time, the fact that taking the number one plate has been de-normalised means that this decision places extra focus on the challenge of defending the title. pecco might not frame his choice in opposition to valentino and marc's to keep their numbers, but he does repeatedly link it to how they alone had been able to win successive titles. for him, then, it becomes an indirect way of living up to a legacy - counterintuitively by doing the opposite of what they did. "since I remember, was just marc and vale have repeated the title" “I thought about it many times this season in all the races we were struggling that the only two riders able to win two years in a row were marc and valentino"... that's what he's trying to live up to, this simultaneous source of inspiration and insecurity. are you lacking confidence if you need to see the number one to believe yourself that you are the number one? or is it conversely shying away from something you have rightfully earned if you can't bring yourself to take the plate? is it an expression of ego if you think your personal number is more meaningful than the number one could ever be? personal branding decisions aside, wouldn't manufacturers much rather you display the number one plate proudly on their bikes?

kind of remarkable, isn't it? it should be such a simple choice... and yet. not only is it now a question of branding and identity, but within motogp it's also become one of how you relate to the legacy of two specific riders. maybe it'll gradually become more common again to take the plate - after all, the curse has now been broken. or maybe it will be the source of much hand-wringing forevermore... we shall see. we shall see

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Seeking the Sky

I want to go higher and higher. I won’t be contained any longer.

This is part 18 of 20. Her will and the curse’s clash.

***CONTENT WARNING: drowning (implied/mentioned), self-harm (stabbing hand with pen nib).***

The Tale of the Cursed Raven: Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5 I Part 6 I Part 7 I Part 8 I Part 9 I Part 10 I Part 11 I Part 12 I Part 13 I Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17

Once.

The first word is always the most difficult to lay down. It determines the shape the sentence will take, leading into the rest of the story. For fairy tales, there’s a comfortable default.

Once, once, once.

Because it was like that before, but no longer. It's change, it's challenge. It's a rose in the winter, a promise in the midst of despair, a light in the dark.

Only with Once Upon a Time is there a Happily Ever After.

So that's what she begins with.

Raven writes with the ink that doesn't yet have a name. In the bottle and on her quill nib, it appears as a deep blue--but scrawled on a blank canvas of paper, it's a brighter, jauntier hue. The color of an endless sky laced with sunshine.

I've decided, she thinks. This story is mine and mine alone. Even if I'm told it's going to end in doom... I still want to imagine an alternative. A happier conclusion.

I’ll end this tale on my own terms. If I cannot be free, then I can at least dream of it until the very end. This is... my act of defiance. Proof of my existence.

Her nib firmly presses to the page.

It starts as it always does.

Once upon a time, there was a common Raven.

She lived all her life in the forest where she was born, doing all the things that a common raven would. And for a while, she was content.

As time went on, the Raven became aware of a world beyond her own. Those beings called humans would wander into the forest, and from her perch up above she watched with great interest. Their feathers changed constantly and they spoke in strange tongues. With each passing day, her curiosity swelled until she could stand it no longer.

The Raven decided to leave home and explore the world afforded to humans. On wings as black as the night, she found herself sailing out to a place blanketed by tumultuous waves. She had never seen such a vast expanse of water before, and so foolishly descended to observe it close up.

That was when the sea swallowed her up.

The Raven came close to death in that icy grip, for a bird's wings can only flounder when weighed down by water. But... by a miracle of miracles, she was rescued by a prince. The face and name she did not know--but upon waking up safe on a golden beach, she felt in her chest that she was more meant for this world than ever before.

The infatuated Raven returned to that beach, hoping to meet her prince once more.

He never reappeared before her.

She was crestfallen. "Of course," thought the Raven. "How silly of me to think that a mere raven could catch the eye of a prince... that she could be a part of his world."

So the Raven went home to the forest to nurse her broken heart.

On some particularly lonely days, she would nest by a pond and gaze at her mournful reflection in it. A creature with feathers as dark as the night, heralding bad omens--who could ever learn to love such a thing? The Raven shed a tear into the pond.

It was then that a withered man in a tattered cloak appeared. His ominous visage startled the Raven, but his voice was a whisper.

“What troubles you?” he asked of the bird.

“It is the prince,” the Raven lamented. “He will never look my way, for I am just a raven.”

“It is possible,” said the stranger, “for a raven to win the eye of a prince.”

There, he offered a bargain. In exchange for becoming his writing apprentice, he would grant the Raven the form of a girl so that she might pursue her prince.

She accepted his hand and picked up the pen.

And for a while, she had a place where she belonged. The Raven learned of both writing the humans from her new mentor, the Storyteller. He was a stern man, a perfectionist in his craft—but he was her family, her home. All she had ever known.

She was not yet allowed out on her lonesome, but would always hand over her drafts accompanied with questions like, “When can I?”

“Soon,” he would say cryptically. “Soon.”

She believed him.

Then one morning, the Storyteller was gone—passed away in the night.

He had packed a suitcase before his spirit had slipped from his mortal form. It came with a letter addressed to her, a letter full of frightful confessions.

The Raven was to inherit both his legacy as a storyteller... and the curse he had been shouldering. Eternal life she would have, but never would she be able to find the human connection she sought out--for should she utter "I love you", she would vanish into a speck of light.

The naive little Raven was overcome with great despair. The things she had longed for had been torn away. The hope she had for her future, extinguished like a candle's flame. The happy nest she had found, gone.

Her trust, betrayed.

When at last she had no sobs left to give, she picked up the shattered pieces of her heart and set out, seeking a new home.

The Raven arrived at Night Raven College, a place described in the Storyteller's letter. There, she was intent on stowing away and focusing on her new art. She is a storyteller now, she reasons, and storytellers never meant to step into their stories, to mingle with their characters.

In the highest room of the tallest tower… The Writing Raven roosts to this day.

She stops on the dot punctuating the sentence. There’s finality in a period, that which marks the end of a thought.

This isn’t the full story. Not even close. Raven dips her quill in an inkwell, watching as sky blue creeps up the nib. It’s only the start.

Her hand resumes its dance.

At Night Raven College, she met many new faces. Kind people, cruel people… People who showed her things her stories never could. The Raven had many happy moments and many sad moments too.

There is an uncle who is bumbling and vain but means well. He grants her a home and acts as her guardian. He is strange but warm.

There are older students who are reliable and tough. Visions of what she could be when she grows up.

There are students who are as immature as she is. Chicks freshly hatched from their eggs, still unsure of themselves and what they should do.

Then there is the boy that broke her heart. He had a gentle smile and demeanor, even seemed familiar somehow. It was all lies—yet the Raven still found herself drawn to him.

She was told that those feelings were doomed, not meant to be. That she was destined to dissipate as light.

The curse, claiming her.

The ending, tragic.

Again, Raven loads her quill. Her hand has grown heavy, shaking.

But she still d—

She has frozen.

What?

Raven tries again, straining with her writing implement. She knows the motion, the rounded flick of the lowercase a. D-a-r-e, easy. She has never had an issue writing before.

But she still dared to dream.

It is like hitting an invisible brick wall. She can push all she likes, but her hand will not budge from its place.

The shaking gets worse, turning into tremors.

Her hand rockets off, but not by her own will. There is no feeling in her nerves as the sentence completes itself.

--id not dream!

"Th-That's not what I wanted to write!" Raven squeaks. She stares at her hand, thinking it possessed. It doesn’t feel like a part of her anymore

On a piece of scrap paper, she tests a few strokes, a couple letters. Nothing seizes—not until she returns to the story on a new line.

But she sti—

The tail of her l trails off. She crosses out the sentence, but the next attempt stops at the s of she. More words prematurely cut off.

Raven’s eyes blow wide open.

What is this? Why can’t I…

The feeling floods back into her hand, but it's entirely wrong. It's like a pile of cinderblocks has been dropped upon it, crushing her muscles and bones. Her blood screams. A searing pain shoots from her fingers and to her wrist.

She clutches it with her other hand, hissing through her teeth.

“Yours is a fate meant to end in tragedy,” a laugh booms in her head. “You cannot hope to escape it.”

Raven hunches over her desk, coughing up a raspy breath.

Realization.

The story. It’s snapping back into place, trying to correct itself. It doesn’t want to change its course.

Her brow scrunches. Part of it is the barking pain, part of it is the wheels spinning in her head.

But that is, in of itself, proof. Proof that it is possible to change things. Isn’t it…? If the story is attempting to ‘fix’ things, then it was ‘broken’ by something to begin with.

I did this.

Me…!

She takes her other hand and lets it pick up her quill. Raven involuntarily grips her wrist, the original hand silently demanding the implement back.

“No…!”

Her chair clatters to the floor. Raven throws itself across the room. She collides with a bookcase, knocking several volumes off. Ink-spattered papers and dust fly into the air.

She jerks the other direction, ramming into a wall. Hurt spikes up her back, her shoulders. The phantom hand pulls her this way, that way, like a careless child dangling a doll.

Her small, battered frame falls to the floor—a toy, discarded.

The Raven vanished in a blink of light, never to find happiness, a voice she recognizes as her own snarls. It is dark, distorted. Alone, forgotten, insignificant.

You know it to be the truth. You know that is where this path leads.

W r i t e i t.

Tears spurt from her eyes, running like broken faucets.

She clenches her jaw, refuses to let a scream escape. Her insides claw and twist in agony.

The room is a foggy haze, rectangles and muddy colors. The floor, cold and hard as she lies there, writhing. A streak of black in the corner of her eye—her quill.

Raven reaches for it, managing to graze it with the tips of her fingers. When she clenches it, it is with her whole fist, her grip so tight it may as well be on a spider’s thread in hell.

“I will complete this story. I will write my own happy ending,” she grunts through her fresh splitting headache, “if it’s the last thing I do…!”

Raven wrests herself up on trembling legs, using the ledge of her desk for support. Collapsing into her seat is a relief, even if every part of her throbs.

One hand lays out to keep her canvas steady. She has her quill, brings it downward—

—skewing clear off the page, leaving only a murky blue trail where it had touched the page.

The hand clutching the quill crunches the shaft, snapping it. The hand raises, hovering over the marred paper. She wills it, wants it to strike white.

Then the quill plunges.

Down, down, down.

Into the back of her own hand.

There's a terrible crunch. Flesh tearing, bone cracking, as the nib punches through her glove and skin like it's nothing. Something thick and black oozes out.

She feels faint.

Is it blood or ink or blot? She cannot tell.

The pain magnifies, cresting at the puncture wound. Her mind threatens to split in half at its seams.

The things on her desk are jostled. Pens and papers scatter, her glass inkwell tipping over. A beautiful blue paints a sorrowful sea on the page.

Her backstabbing hand goes to retrieve the ruined quill, and her heart stops. Once it is pulled, she knows whatever flows inside of her will gush out uncontrollably. By the time her uncle will find her in the morning, it will already be far too late.

No.

She pushes against the force, attempts to reel her hand back. The immense effort causes sweat to dribble from her brow.

Stop…!!

It fights her, advancing. The pain is nothing compared to the sirens wailing in her head.

Her tears heat. She glares at the spilled ink, the few words that peek through the blue fog.

This can’t be where it ends. It can’t. The story isn’t done…!

Faces, scenes.

They dart by at a rapid pace. Life flashing before her eyes.

Happy times, sad times. All precious moments, priceless and glittering treasures.

Wobbling, unsure steps into the Mirror Chamber, donning her ceremonial robes. The sting of betrayal, chocolates crushed at her feet. Lessons in the library, one-on-one, testing new sounds out on her tongue. The slick of something awful rising in her throat and spilling over her fingers. The thrilling energy of a live concert. The stiffness after an argument. The sweetness of a schoolgirl crush.

The little things she loves about each dorm and the campus. Ghostly staff, fire pixies, the grand buildings rich with stories history. The flowers of Heartslabyul and Pomefiore, the vastly different sceneries of Savanaclaw and Scarabia. The mystique of Diasomnia, the cold unfamiliar composition of Ignihyde… The romantic sea of Octavinelle, stretching out beyond a glass wall.

The hand extended, beckoning.

Hope courses through her. The sun itself is in her veins, a warm blossom in her center.

It dullens the pain like some miracle inoculation. Her vision clears.

She knows.

I want to see that endless blue sky that's full of endless possibilities. I want to see it here, at our Night Raven College. I want to see it with everyone, to walk beside them.

I want…!!

Summoning the last vestiges of her strength, Raven releases a guttural shriek. There is both bird and human in her raw voice, naked animals flailing for survival. Blood pumping, spirit soaring.

And she rakes her ink-stained hand across a blank page.

So Quoth the Raven.

Jade slips out of Octavinelle in the dead of night. It’s not too terribly difficult—he moves swiftly, making nary a sound that might rouse Floyd from his slumber. Stepping over discarded bags of chips (half-finished) and clothes, he easily lets himself escape.

In his pocket is the letter. He fears that if he puts it down, lets it out of his sight, it could disappear in a fine mist. A dream—a figment of his imagination. As he briskly heads for the mirror, a hand goes to the letter, stroking it, to ensure it is still where it should be.

That it is still real.

I have something important to tell you. Too important to scrawl on paper. It must be said face-to-face.

The mirror ripples as he passes through its face. When he comes out the other side, the chamber is frigid, bleak.

In the dark, his eyes glow.

The apple tree in the courtyard is in bloom. It’s so very beautiful this time of year. I wish I could stare at them forever and ever. In the language of flowers, apple blossoms can mean many things. Love, peace, rebirth, good luck... a long life too.

He walks, thinking he should keep cool.

Let’s meet there, in the shade of the apple tree and under the cover of stars.

His pace picks up. He is restless.

Tomorrow, right before the stroke of midnight.

He breaks out into a sprint. He doesn’t know why.

I will give you my answer then.

Something feels wrong.

Best regards,

The letter, still with him. It has never left.

Raven Crowley

He makes it to the meeting location. Stops to catch his breath, to seek out a familiar bird-like shape in the shadows.

And Jade waits.

But one comes for him under that desolate apple tree.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 53 (Detective Gordon's New Precinct)

While work kept Heather busy, Conrad spent his days learning the ropes at his new precinct in Brindleton Bay, where crime was less organized and the cells full of mostly petty criminals. Smuggling could be a problem at the docks from time to time, but they never stayed in port long to avoid getting caught, and never added much intrigue or danger to the town.

Gord couldn't join him when he spent his days on patrol, but this only motivated ambitious Conrad to prove himself even more.

He liked the sleepier lifestyle, the less dangerous crime scenes, and the supply of NesbeetsLT faux meat sandwiches in the break room vending machine. But he didn’t love leaving his beloved partner at home with the cats. None of his human partners could sniff out a suspect the way Gord could!

Conrad had better instincts than most of the detectives at his new precinct, and they invited him along to learn the ropes after a local barfight ended in a robbery. But rather than learn the ropes, Conrad solved the case. As a reward they let him process the booking - and all the paperwork, too!

He didn't mind. He was happy to show them how good he was. The guilty sim asked how he knew it was her while he took her fingerprints, and Conrad smiled.

"I followed the clues. You just left more behind than you thought."

He quickly proved himself worthy of several promotions until he was back to being a detective again, just like he’d been in San Myshuno. He was thrilled to have proven himself in less than six months. And now he could bring Gord on the job with him again.

And Gord was thrilled to be back inside a police station, ready to sniff out the next bad guy just like he used to do in the city.

"Okay, Gord, like we talked about, just be cool," Conrad pressed. "Stay calm."

Gord turned up his chin and gave an affirmative ruff.

Inside, the other detectives were happy to meet their new "deputy" Gord. Brindleton Bay was a pet-loving town, and it seemed silly there'd been no canines on the local force until now!

Gord leapt into the arms of Josephine, Conrad's human partner.

"I'm so sorry. He does this a lot more than he should." Gord barked as Conrad shot him a sideways glance.

"It's fine!" said Josephine with a laugh. "I think I'll like having him around."

After Conrad grabbed some lunch and put in a workout in the gym upstairs, he came back down to find Gord at Josephine's feet in the chief's office. "Gordon, you've got a great dog. If I'd have been in charge then, I'd have let you take him out with you when you first got here," said the chief.

Josephine smiled. "I'm supposed to retire in a year, but I could stick around for Gord alone. Where did you find this one?"

"We busted the puppy mill where was born back in the city. But honestly, Gord found me. My first partner named him when he followed me back to the cruiser. He passed K-9 training with flying colours, and he's been my partner against crime ever since."

Gord barked happily, rubbing his head against Conrad's pressed pant leg. Josephine pulled out her phone. "Can I take a picture to send my grandson? He just loves dogs!"

One evening, Conrad and Gord returned from work to find the cats playfully stalking the chickens in the yard. Heather hadn't asked him to pick up Ash on his way home, but for that he'd expected to see them both when he walked in.

"Heather?"

He set down his keys, but only the cats came running.

The house was eerily quiet. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

I hadn't figured out how to get Gord to the precinct and @deardiaryts4 just casually said "I guess you'll have to pose him there without a mod" and it melted my brain. Like I had never heard of or done this before in my life, but it opened up a whole new world of sim storytelling and poses for me and I'm so excited!! Thank you so much for the advice so I could at least pose Gord at work!

[dreaming-of-the-reality]

The last couple of days, I have been rewatching House of the Dragon Season 1 in preparation for Season 2 which begins next month. There have been small details I have begun to notice this time round watching. So I just wanted to share some.

In this post, I would like to mention a few details regarding the bond between Aemond and Vhagar.

——————————

Some people view this bond as a weak one. They use evidence from episode 10 where Aemond “loses control” over Vhagar and she kills Lucerys. Claiming that Aemond does not have a clear strong bond with his dragon in comparison to Daemon and Caraxes, or Rhaenyra and Syrax.

I disagree

To explain what I mean, I need to give some context regarding the shows timelines (please disregard the books timelines which are different to the ones of the show)

In episode 2, 12 year old Laena Velaryon and Viserys are walking through the gardens as Laena has been offered up as Viserys potential bride by her parents. To make conversation, she asks Viserys about Vhagar and where she is - Viserys mentions that no one had seen Vhagar and the dragon keepers believe she rests somewhere far away.

Vhagars rider before this was Baelon and it is assumed that she left after his death and has not been seen since.

Episode 3 starts with Aegons second name day celebration. This implies it’s been atleast 3 and a bit years since episode 2. We can assume the royal wedding happened very quickly and Alicent got pregnant shortly after with Aegon. Once born, Alicent would’ve gotten pregnant with Helaena as she is heavily pregnant during this episode.

Laena would now be around 15 years old based on this timeline.

In episode 4, only 2-3 months have passed as Alicent has now given birth, and Rhaenyra is returning from her tour. This episode ends with Otto being fired.

Episode 5 picks up right after as we see Alicent in the same outfit as the end of episode 4, and Otto readying his horse to leave. Rhaenyra and Viserys have sailed to Driftmark, and return shortly after with the Velaryons for the royal wedding.

When arriving, Rhaenys and Laenor fly their dragons Meleys and Seasmoke, together towards the red keep. This implies that Laena (15) has yet to claim a dragon - as we know she claims Vhagar and we would have very obviously seen her if she were there.

I believe that at the wedding, Alicent is already pregnant with Aemond, conceived during that awkward and gross sex scene in episode 4. We know that Helaena and Aemonds age difference is about a year or two, so this would line up.

In episode 6, Laena is speaking with her daughter about how she did not have a dragon even when she was 15, but then claimed Vhagar. By my timeline, Laena would’ve claimed Vhagar, who had suddenly come back after years, in the same year as the wedding of Rhaenyra and Laenor. Aemond would’ve also been born in the same year.

——

Here’s my theory:

Vhagar only returned when Aemond was born because she knew that he would be her last true rider.

We can assume that Vhagar had her strongest bond with her first rider Visenya - a bold warrior and a brave fighter. Aemond, Vhagars last rider, grows to become a brave and bold warrior too, appealing to Vhagar as he was bold enough to claim her, one of the largest dragons left, in the middle of the night, alone as a young boy.

So what if Vhagar only returned to Westeros from wherever she was hiding all those years, specifically for Aemond? Symbolic of the dragon egg in the cradle, Vhagar was bound to become Aemonds dragon from his birth.

We know Aemond felt very embarrassed about the fact he was the only one who hadn’t claimed nor hatched a dragon, which only encouraged him to continuously attempt to claim one over and over again. But wouldn’t it be a twist if he did in fact have a dragon all along but never knew it? It was more of a spiritual bond before it was a physical one?

——

Laena and Vhagars bond was never demonstrated in the show. It was portrayed subtly as weak in comparison to Rhaenyra’s and Syrax’s bond or Daemon and Caraxes’ bond.

When Daemon gets shot with an arrow in the step stones, we can hear Caraxes let out a roar in pain. When Rhaenyra is having a miscarriage and attempting to give birth, we see Syrax roaring in pain reflecting Rhaenyra’s.

When Laena is trying to give birth, and clearly in pain, struggling to walk, we see Vhagar… having a nap. She only wakes up when Laena is standing right in front of her. Vhagar did not sense Laena’s pain or distress like other dragons have sensed their riders.

It reminds me of Jon and Rhaegal in Game of Thrones - Jon may have ridden him, but he did not bond with him like Danaerys bonded with Drogon.

In this post thus far, I have not mentioned or referenced any differing events and timelines from the books as I have only used examples from the show, but in the books, it is written that when Aemond loses his eye, Vhagar roars in pain - thus demonstrating their strong physical bond.

You can choose to discard that if you want, but it is a little crumb of context taken from the book as in the show, it is not shown when we cut straight to everyone gathered in the Driftmark hall.

In episode 10, when Aemond is chasing Lucerys through the skies above Storms end, I believe Vhagar could sense Aemonds anger towards Lucerys, and acted upon it as an instinct of revenge. She understands Aemonds pain and suffering at the hands of Lucerys, and in return kills him.

People look at this as being disobedience and a weak bond, I see it as such a strong bond that Vhagar didn’t even need to be told by her rider, because she could sense it. Just like Arrax, sensing Lucerys’ fear, defended him by blowing fire at Vhagar without being told. This also would’ve been an act that would’ve triggered Vhagar to attack - wanting to defend her rider from a dragon and boy who wished to harm him.

——

I believe there is reason to believe that Vhagar only returned to Westeros for Aemond. It would be the biggest coincidence that just before the dance, after so many years, Vhagar returns for no reason around the same time that Aemond, her soon to be rider, is born.

Vhagar could’ve left again after Laena died, but she didn’t. She flew to Driftmark where Aemond was, and waited. Roaring out to him when she landed.

Helaena foreshadowing Aemonds claim by saying he would have to close an eye, means that this was something already destined to happen. This wasn’t a random event.

I don’t believe the writers would add something in about Vhagar not being spotted for YEARS, if it were not important to the plot in some way.

——————

This take is certainly an interesting one, and is one to think about. The timeline matches, the foreshadowing matches, there are small hints that match, there is evidence to similar cases already in the show that imply this.

I think Vhagar knew that Aemond would be her last true rider, and that she would die with him as well. She is a war dragon, she would die a war dragon.