#short and sweet to end the event on <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[i-mybrunettelady]

commander week day 7 - aurene

goodbye, champion. may you be the commander again. set after eod. commander: alysannyra ainsaph.

The day Aurene goes to sleep, they’re all here on the cliff to watch her go. Not the Zephyrites; not Vlast, and certainly not Glint or Kralkatorrik. Them, the mortals, the people she gathered along the way, and the people she calls family now. Or so Nyra likes to think, and it’s not like she can ask yet again without feeling like a broken record. 

The day Aurene is the last Elder Dragon alive, Alysannyra Ainsaph - the Commander, the Dragonslayer, the Champion of Aurene - sits on the cliff that she’s camped on for a while now, teary eyed as she watches the dragon she raised from hatching disappear into fine mist yet again. 

And she’s been tasked to keep the world safe in Aurene’s absence. And she will, but for the time being, she’s allowed to grieve and she’s allowed to put that part of her life to rest and the people Aurene calls family - Trahearne, her father, and Caithe, her Voice - are by her side. Trahearne helped make her legacy as the slayer of dragons. Caithe helped make her legacy as the mother of an Elder Dragon. 

Nyra buries her face in her hands as the last of the crystalline mist falls by and she cries to the dying light of day. She made Aurene promise to come back while she’s still alive. 

“Maybe not as an Elder Dragon,” Aurene said. “But I will come back to see you all.” 

Nyra holds her to it. It gives her hope. So now, in the face of that, she’s allowed to grieve the part of her life that’s ending. 

Maybe it’s not that lonely at the helm of the world. 

[cheriafreya]

Zenless Zone Zero is so fucking good man...

[velarisdusk]

Something Precious

Azriel x Reader

word count: 2.1k content: [ nun crazy just reader having mega insecure thoughts lol ] summary: Azriel has always been steady, unwavering—but the way you look at him makes something shift. Small moments, fleeting words, a tension neither of you acknowledge… until it’s impossible for him to ignore. author's note: IM BACK BABEYY!!!!! this ones a bit short but i thought it'd be a good one to help get myself writing again. i really like how it turned out, just a nice, sweet lil fic nothin crazy :) also not beta'd bc i just needed to get something out NEOW. hope this is to your liking anon thank u for the req!! <3 ✦ . Masterlist . ✦

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its golden glow casting shifting patterns across the walls of the House of Wind. The night outside was crisp and quiet, Velaris resting under a blanket of stars, but here, in this small cocoon of warmth and firelight, everything felt still. 

Azriel lay stretched out on the couch, wings spilling over the cushions in an easy sprawl. His shadows had retreated for the night, content to flicker lazily at the edges of the room, leaving nothing between you but firelight and the slow, steady rhythm of his breath. 

You lay draped across his chest, your weight a comfortable, grounding thing. His heartbeat thudded beneath your cheek, slow and sure, and the warmth of his skin seeped through the thin fabric of his shirt. One of his hands rested at the small of your back, tracing lazy circles under your sweater, while the other curled lightly around the nape of your neck, fingertips brushing idly over your skin. 

You sighed, nuzzling deeper against him, letting the scent of cedar and night-chilled wind wrap around you like a second blanket. Your fingers trailed absentmindedly over his ribs, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing, and when you finally lifted your gaze to meet his, your heart did that ridiculous little stutter it always did. 

Because Azriel was looking at you like that again—like you were something precious. Something worth holding onto. 

The firelight flickered in his hazel eyes, turning them molten, but there was something softer underneath. Something quiet and steady, tucked between the affection in his gaze and the slight curve of his mouth. You weren’t sure you’d ever get used to it. 

You exhaled, barely above a whisper, as if afraid you might shatter the fragile silence. “I can’t believe you’re here with me.”

It wasn’t meant to be a confession. Just a passing thought, one that had been lingering in the back of your mind since the moment you started whatever this was—since the moment you realized someone like him could want someone like you. 

But Azriel stilled beneath you. It was subtle, just a flicker of tension in his fingertips, a pause in the slow drag of his hand against your back. Gone in an instant. 

You wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been laying on his chest, if you hadn’t felt the way his heartbeat faltered for just a second before steadying again. You didn’t call attention to it, just as Az hadn’t. Hadn’t asked what you meant. 

Instead, he shifted slightly, adjusting his wings so they wrapped around you both, pulling you deeper into the warmth of his body. His fingers resumed their slow, absentminded tracing, his thumb sweeping over the back of your neck in a way that made you shiver. 

“Where else would I be?” he murmured. 

You huffed a soft laugh, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. Anywhere. Everywhere. Someone like you doesn’t end up with someone like me.

But you didn’t say that. Just let yourself sink into his warmth, let yourself savor the way his arms tightened around you, as if holding you closer would make you understand. 

Because Azriel didn’t know—not yet. But he was starting to notice. 

And he didn’t like it. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Dinner at the River House was always an event. Not a formal one by any means—the kind where the table was too small for all the elbows knocking together where laughter wove itself between the clinking of glasses and the scrape of silverware. Where the air smelled of roasted lamb and rosemary, of spiced wine and honeyed bread, warmth curling through the candlelit room like an embrace.

Nesta and Cassian had somehow gotten into a debate over who was worse at flirting—Rhysand or Azriel—which had quickly turned into a full-blown conversation about all their past entanglements. 

“You’re all fools,” Amren said simply, swirling the deep red in her glass. “None of you were half as charming as you thought you were.”

Cassian scoffed. “I was charming.”

Nesta didn’t even look up as she speared a piece of meat. “Debatable.”

Across the table, Mor snickered. “He was charming, in the way a golden retriever puppy is charming.”

Azriel smirked into his wine glass. Cassian pointed at him accusingly. “You don’t get to laugh. You spent centuries avoiding love like the Mother herself would smite you for it.”

“That’s because he’s got high standards,” Mor shot back. “Honestly, I’m just surprised Az’s even dating.”

Feyre hummed, shifting Nyx higher against her shoulder as he dozed, his tiny fingers curled into the fabric of her sweater. “Dating? I’m surprised he’s managed to keep someone around long enough to–”

“Feyre.” His voice was soft, but the weight behind it was enough to cut her off. His expression was still easy, his lips curling at the edges, but there was something there—something firm, something protective. 

Your stomach twisted. 

The words weren’t meant to hurt. You knew that. They were lighthearted, Feyre smiling at her brother-in-law, the way siblings poked fun without malice. And Azriel had cut her off before she could finish—before she could say something that might have struck deeper.

But it was already unraveling in your head.

High standards. 

Avoiding love.

Managed to keep someone around long enough.

Because is that all this is? A fling? Something temporary? Another short-lived thing in a string of them? 

Your grip tightened subtly around your glass, the air suddenly too warm, your pulse thrumming a little too fast. And before you could stop yourself, before you could sit with the spiraling thoughts for even a second longer, you laughed. Too loud. Too sharp. A sound that cut through the warmth of the room rather than settling into it. 

“Yeah, just wait until he realizes how much of a pain I am.”

Silence, just for a beat. 

Azriel’s head snapped toward you, sharp enough that you felt it before you saw it—the weight of his gaze landing on you, the furrow in his brows, the shift in the air between you. But you didn’t look. Couldn’t. 

Rhysand chuckled, breaking the brief pause, shaking his head. “Yeah, right. You’re practically a saint for dealing with him.”

Cassian smirked, lifting his glass. “Agreed.”

Laughter rippled through the table again, and just like that, the moment passed—folded itself into the fabric of the conversation, buried beneath the easy back and forth, the scraping of plates, the pouring of wine. 

Azriel let it go. Again. 

But it lingered.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Azriel eventually pushed past that uneasy feeling. It wasn’t a big deal—not really. He figured you probably hadn’t even meant anything by it. But something about it rubbed him the wrong way, settled uneasily in his chest, and he couldn’t explain why. 

But then it happened again. 

And again. 

Little things, small enough that they would have slipped through the cracks if he hadn’t been paying attention. The way you waved off his compliments, dodging them with a laugh like they were jokes rather than truths. The way your smile sometimes faltered, like you’d caught yourself enjoying the moment a little too much. The way your fingers curled into the fabric of your sleeve when he touched you, like you were steadying yourself. 

And then there was the way you looked at him—that was what unsettled him the most. 

Because he was used to being looked at in a thousand different ways—calculating, cautious, reverent, fearful. People looked at him and saw a legend, a warning, a weapon. He’d spent a lifetime standing on the outskirts of things, watching them unfold from the shadows, knowing that no matter how close he got, he would always be separate.

But you looked at him like he was something untouchable. 

Like you didn’t quite believe he was real. 

Like you were waiting for the moment he’d come to his senses and walk away. 

And Azriel—who had spent years mastering the art of patience, of knowing when to hold back—found himself growing more and more frustrated. 

Not at you, gods, never at you. 

But at the way you’d convinced yourself that you were less. 

That he was something more. 

It all came to a head one evening in the training ring. 

You weren’t training, just sitting on one of the benches, legs tucked beneath you, book resting open in your lap. You liked being here with him, and he liked having you here, even if neither of you’d ever said it out loud. He could feel your eyes on him as he moved through his drills, the steady weight of your attention like a tether pulling him back to earth. 

When he finally finished, muscles burning, wings flexing as he rolled his shoulders, he walked over to you. You grinned up at him, eyes warm despite the sharp winter air, and handed him a cup of water without a word.

Az took a long drink before murmuring, “You staring at me again?”

You scoffed, though the way your mouth twitched told him you were fighting a smile. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He smirked, resting a hand on the bench’s backrest beside you, bracing himself as he leaned down. “Too late.”

You made a face, but the slight pink creeping up your neck gave you away. He kissed you softly, just a brush of lips, tasting warmth and wind and something undeniably you.

And then you said it.

“I still don’t know what you see in me.”

You said it casually. Offhanded. Like it wasn’t a confession. Like it wasn’t the worst thing you could’ve said.

Azriel  went still.

The words settled like a stone in his chest, heavy and suffocating. And suddenly, every little moment from the past few weeks clicked into place—the deflected compliments, the hesitations, the way you looked at him like you were waiting for him to wake up and realize you weren't enough.

The frustration that had been simmering in the back of his mind finally snapped.

His voice was quiet, but firm. “Don’t do that.”

You blinked, tilting your head slightly. “Do what?”

“That.” He straightened, looking down at you, jaw tight. “Talk about yourself like that.”

You shifted, clearly thrown off by the sudden change in his tone. “Az, I was just—”

“I mean it.” His wings flared slightly, a flicker of restrained emotion. “You say things like that all the time. Like you don’t think you belong here. Like I’m some…” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Some gift the Mother decided to bestow on you.”

You opened your mouth, but he wasn’t finished.

“You don’t think I notice, but I do,” he said, voice softer now, rough around the edges. “I can see it in the way you dodge compliments, the way you downplay yourself like you’re the lucky one—as if I’m not the one who should be grateful every damn day that you want to be with me.”

You swallowed hard, looking away. “That’s not—”

“Look at me.”

You did.

And when your eyes met, something inside Az ached.

Because you really didn’t see it.

Didn’t see what he saw every time he looked at you—the quiet strength, the unwavering kindness, the way you fit so effortlessly into the parts of him that had always felt empty.

Didn’t see how, before you, he had spent centuries standing on the outside looking in, wondering if he would ever have anything or anyone just for himself.

Didn’t see how you were already everything.

Azriel exhaled, slow and steady, forcing himself to find the words. “You are not some… temporary thing I decided to entertain myself with.” He took your hand, curling your fingers between his own. “You’re not lucky to have me.” He squeezed, firm but gentle. “I’m lucky to have you.”

Your lips parted slightly, but no words came out. You looked like you wanted to argue, to tell him he had it backwards, but there was something raw in his expression—something that made you hesitate.

Az lifted your joined hands and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the back of yours, his lips brushing your skin as he whispered, “Stop acting like you’re less than.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy with everything unsaid.

Finally, you exhaled shakily and leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his. “I don’t know how to stop feeling like I am.”

Az closed his eyes, letting himself breathe you in. And then he whispered, “Then let me remind you.”

And he would.

As many times as it took.

[sapphixsapphire]

➢ baby, you're a star

SYNOPSIS → caitlyn and vi develop an obsession with you, a famous porn star known as angelette. what's theirs is theirs, and they aren't willing to share.

W.C. -> 680 (i apologize my loves, this is a short one 😔)

WARNINGS → mentions of porn, stalking, obsession, femme implied reader, smut, power play

REMINDERS -> despite writing this, i do not endorse or agree with in any terms any of the events in this fic. if you don't like it, please don't read it. intended lowercase. feel free to give me tips as this is the first smut fic i've written! this may or may not become a series depending on engagement ♡

TAG LIST -> @g4ys0n @aubs-243 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @zaunite-516 @sapphicscribecafe @dazevi @usuck @chaos1stuff @snuffphiliaa @yearningandstillnotlearning @slxttymasc @multipleinterestsshown @biohazardousbunny @thankynext @ellieslob @glitterbomm @aiden-slayyyys @iamgonnabeskinnyjinx @halle5s @st0nerlesb0 ♡

➢ [◉°] LIVE | 𓆩ANGELETTE𓆪 -ANGELWINGSPORN.COM [ ▸ 37.3k LIVE VIEWERS ]

▶ chat loading…

▶press [start]

you bit your lip and situated yourself on the end of your bed before starting the stream, letting your followers see you once again. pretending not to notice that the camera is on, you adjusted your hair and smoothed a hand down your side. you were wearing a new pink lace set with a big bow nestled in the front and center. you smiled and blew the camera a little kiss. "hello, my loves," you said sweetly, adjusting the delicate pink mask that covered the upper half of your face. "i know it's been a while, but believe me, i missed you all."

you side-eyed the live chat, excited to see what your fans' response to the new set would be. once again, they didn't disappoint.

╰chad : that lace is so pretty. would be prettier if you took it off.

╰anonymous : you're always so sweet for us angelette <3

╰user12356 : pretty bows angel

╰lucie : ur the most gorgeous angel ever ♡

you smiled sweetly and fanned your face with a hand. "you all are always the sweetest. now..."

you took out a thick strap and gave the camera an innocent little smile. you adjusted yourself and the strap so that it appeared as though you were kneeling, giving the tip of the strap a little lick and kiss. your lip gloss left a little shine on the base and you slowly took it in your mouth, peering sweetly up at the camera.

╰user996 : fuck i'm gonna come

╰cumslut : just like that baby god

you smiled around the strap and let out a soft moan, letting your head tip back.

▶ LUCIE donated $15

"ohh, lucie," you moaned. "thank you, babe."

you continued to moan the names of your viewers who donated, feeling your lace panties grow wet. you ground your thighs together and swiped your tongue across the tip of the strap, blinking up at the camera.

▶ CUPCAKE donated $50 ╰cupcake : that's a good girl for me.

your eyes widened. no one ever donated that much money. "thank you, cupcake," you said, moaning a bit louder than you meant to. cupcake was one of your most supportive viewers, always donating extravagantly. all that was missing was her -

▶VI4VIOLENCE donated $75

and there she was. cupcake was never complete without her...partner? rival? you could never be quite sure. but whenever they started their games, trying to one-up one another, you felt an undeniable thrill.

╰vi4violence : i wanna hear you, baby

you bit your lip, hard. there was something about the pair that felt different than your usual fans. an intensity, some kind of connection.

in spite of yourself, you followed vi4violence's command and moaned even louder. it was getting obscene, how wet you could feel yourself becoming.

you could see the donations flooding in but all you were focused on were the words of praise from your two favorite followers.

╰cupcake : i want to touch you, darling. i want to feel you.

your eyes widened and you could swear your heart stopped. you pulled away from the strap. cupcake's comment was nothing you hadn't gotten before, but there was something about the tone of it that sent a shiver down your spine.

╰cupcake : we're going to find you, my love, don't you worry.

purely on instinct, you shoved aside the strap and shakily turned off the stream. it wasn't that you didn't want them to find you, it was just... you shook your head in an attempt to clear it. were you going crazy? of course you didn't want them to find you, that would be insane. besides, cupcake had probably only meant it as foreplay or something like that.

you tried to convince yourself that it was nothing, but there was a voice in the back of your head, small but undeniable, that whispered maybe you don't want it to be.

➢ OFFLINE | 𓆩ANGELETTE𓆪 -ANGELWINGSPORN.COM

you had just finished putting away your camera when... ping! you had a new email in your inbox.

you scooted over to see it - the sender's name was what caught your attention first.

cupcake.

𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐋?

[YES] or [YES]

[mickyschumacher]

[SUMMER SUNSHINE! PT.3]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: with the great sibling camp on, oscar finds he learns something very important about himself and his heart. or in which a camp leaves everyone testing their limits.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: fluff, poor humour, camping, potential poor location tracking on my part, jealousy, set in nov/dec of '24

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: oscar piastri x childhood bsf!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3.5k+

tag list (lmk if you wanna be added): @kakashiislut @taetae-armyyyyy @satorinnie @at-a-rax-ia @op814kitty @anayaverse @edgyficuselastica @anonomano @sltwins @utopiakys @fullyinsanepartlywriting @justvibbinghere @obxstiles

🏎️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | ⚽️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒

This plan for Oscar was going to need far more attention than you had initially thought.

While you had technically checked off the 'beach' part of your list, the event had left you wondering if you were actually helping Oscar at all.

You sighed bleakly, pushing the spoon of granola and yoghurt into your mouth.

"You okay, sweetheart?" Your mother's voice queried from across the table as she placed her cup of tea down as your dad peeled his eyes away from the news playing on the television and averted his attention to you.

You pressed your lips and nodded. "Just figuring things out," you murmured. You blinked at the slightly concerned gaze from your parents. You smiled gently. "It'll be fine," you reassured, patting your mother's hand before your front door suddenly flung open.

"What the–" Your dad furrowed his brows at the entrance of four familiar figures.

"Hi ___," the sweet voices of Edie and Mae greeted you.

Was the world ending?

Had you died?

You rested your spoon on your bowl, eyebrows softening at the sight of the two. "I knew you two were normal," you cried dramatically, standing from your chair. "Thank you!" You applauded, bringing them a long hug.

Hattie rolled her eyes, adjusting on the bag on her shoulder. "Is it ever that serious?" She queried, leaning on her brother lightly.

You narrowed your eyes, pulling away from the two sisters. "I don't expect you two barbaric heathens to understand the meaning of a simple greeting," you quipped in return.

Oscar grinned at your response while Hattie snorted.

You eyed the four siblings carefully. Day backpacks. Hiking boots tied to Edie's bag. Sunnies gracefully hung on Mae's shirt. Hattie's expensive suncream from Korea wedged on the side of her bag. Oscar in his age-old fishing shorts.

Your eyes widened, lips quirking at the corners. "The Great Sibling Camp!" You exclaimed, hands raising in excitement.

Hattie huffed. "I already have most of your stuff. Just pack whatever you need. We leave in five," she stated, giving you a pointed look. "For you that's two."

You curled your lip, narrowing your eyes. Sneaky little... "Fine," you muttered, retreating to the staircase leading to your room.

"I mean it!" Hattie called out after you.

"Okay!"

━━━━━━━━━━━

"When was the last time you brought Craig out?" Oscar queried, eyeing the old silver seven-seater Toyota Kluger cautiously.

The poor bugger was chipping and rusting in places where Oscar wondered how on earth his parents had gotten the rego this year. He could barely even say it was silver. Was that... yellow?

"I think Edie took it out l-last year, no?" Hattie queried, furrowing her brows as she turned to her sister.

Edie scrunched her nose, trying to think back. Her and her boyfriend had gone to a festival down in Adelaide earlier in the year. Was that the last time the car had been used?

You blinked. "Are we really going to ignore the fact that Oscar calls this thing 'Craig?'" You asked, looking at the siblings in disbelief.

Oscar looked at you, hand on his hip. He raised a brow. "What's wrong with 'Craig?'"

You pursed your lips, inching towards the Toyota. "This is not a 'Craig.' This is a 'Martha.'"

Mae snorted while Oscar looked at you incredulously. "A 'Martha?"

You nodded firmly. "A good ol' trusty Martha."

Hattie looked between the both of you and sighed. "Right then. Martha... Craig... whatever it is. Let's hurry up and get in."

━━━━━━━━━━━

While the drive to Great Otway was just shy of three hours, it would be a lie to say it hadn't been eventful.

With Hattie offering to drive (after you, Oscar and Edie were heavily persuaded), Mae sat in the front passenger seat while Edie sat in the back alone. You were graciously sat next to Oscar who had left no stone unturned to annoy the living daylights out of you.

You should've known when he tapped your shoulder and asked for a chip. From that moment it was "What are you listening to?" and "Did you know that ravens actually have iridescent feathers?"

By the time you had threatened to jump out of the window, Hattie had thankfully announced you had arrived.

Setting up camp had been surprisingly easier than you expected, partly due to Mae's idea to keep you and Oscar separated or you were sure you would've committed some sort of crime.

You had two tents, one the held three of you and the other holding two. Edie and Mae had naturally paired themselves together, so you had naturally expected for their brother to go with them. However, things had taken a slight turn.

"Do not put me in the same tent as him!" You begged Hattie, following her around as she eyed the area you had bagged. It was a nice view of the Kennett river if you took a quick ten minute walk.

"What am I supposed to do? Mae is adamant Oscar going to let in those bugs like last time!" Hattie retorted, hands on her hips, eyes squinting to block the sun.

Your eye twitched. "She was five and it was one time," you insisted, feeling any little hope you had slowly disappear.

The shuffle of grass was heard from behind you. "I promise I don't bite," Oscar teased, passing the both of you.

Hattie smiled at you and her brother with satisfaction. "See. All solved."

You closed your eyes in dismay, oblivious to the amused grin on your best friend's face. "Fine," you muttered, turning your head to your fated enemy for the next two nights. "If you snore, I swear to God I'll put you outside with the mosquitos," you threatened, finger pointing at the grass.

"And vice versa," Oscar replied, smile quirking at the side of his lips.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, inching towards to help Mae and Edie unpack the rest of the stuff you had brought. Those two... impossible. They were impossible.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The evening had rolled around faster than you had thought. The lot of you had spent the day walking around visiting the river and then the iconic Great Ocean Road.

Edie and Mae had been kind enough to prepare some fruit and sandwiches to eat during lunch. Dinner was up to the rest of you. Which really meant getting your famed F1 driver to cook over the fire while you and Hattie sat underneath a tree a few metres away making terrible daisy chains and swatting mosquitos away while you talked.

You eyed Oscar from afar as you pulled a daisy through another. You sighed, looking back at the flowers.

Hattie's shoulders slumped. That was your third sigh in the past ten minutes. "Okay... what's up? Something's obviously wrong. What's going on?"

You pulled your lip with your teeth, looking back and forth between the two siblings. The conversation you had at the beach had been unsettling, gnawing away at you for days. "I... I think Oscar needs help," you breathed out.

Hattie snorted. "Well there's not much I can do about that. That stupidity comes by itself," she chuckled before quietening at the firm expression on your face. "Oh you're serious," she mumbled.

"He's struggling, Hat. You know how he is. He won't tell you. He likes letting everyone think he's got his shit together but in reality he doesn't," you murmured.

"Sounds like someone else I know," Hattie retorted, nudging you slightly.

You rolled your eyes, dismissing the comment. You sighed. "My point is... take care of him."

You could see it in Hattie's eyes. The slight wave of softness. The same one you had felt when her brother had told you to take care of her. Her hand moved to squeeze yours in reassurance. "Of course," she smiled gently.

Oscar's voice erupted your comfort, standing "Are you two not going to help? These sausages don't cook themselves, you know! Are they supposed to look this... pink?"

You and Hattie blinked before you grunted in response, pushing yourself off the grass and dusting your pants. "Now I regret leaving you in charge."

Hattie watched you make your way towards Oscar who only grinned at your words. Her brows furrowed curiously as your loud gasp filled the air, catching the attention of Edie and Mae in their tents. Her head tilted as you scolded her brother for not cooking the meat enough.

Hopefully... she thought. Just hopefully.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Oscar cleared his throat, watching you enter the tent. "Okay," he started, hand pointing at the line of pillows. "No one crosses that line."

You furrowed your brows as you zipped the tent. You slowly took a seat and folded your legs. "Oscar... we're in separate sleeping bags. I don't think we're going to wake up cuddling. Unless that's your thing," you chuckled.

He could feel the tips of his ears turn red. He pursed his lips, letting out a calming breath. "I know that," he murmured, although you'd bet slightly unsure. "I just have the vague memory of waking up next to a certain koala in 2010."

Your lips parted, cheeks flushing at the memory. "I-I was seven!" You countered, voice slightly squeaking.

Oscar shrugged, unable to keep his grin away as he dug himself further into his sleeping bag. "Just making sure."

Blinking blankly, you turned towards your sleeping bag feeling unsettled. Why would he bring that up? Was this revenge for pinching his slice of bread off of his plate?

You internally sighed, making yourself as comfortable as possible for a good night's sleep. You were exhausted. Most days you were tired from the stress of studying. But for the first time in a while, your happiness had tired you out instead.

The silence in your tent was luring you to a darker abyss, eyes fluttering shut when Oscar's voice grasped you.

"Can I tell you something?" He queried.

You stayed quiet for a moment, fighting to keep yourself awake. "Mmh hmm," you hummed in response, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

Oscar stared at the roof of the tent, hands tapping the top of his sleeping bag. He swallowed hard and took a breath. "I want to say thank you. It's barely been two weeks back here but I feel like you've seen me in a way no one has in a while. I don't know how we keep getting into these types of conversations but they make me feel better. I really appreciate, well, you. So thank you. ___? Are you– oh."

Oscar turned on his side, watching you silently sleep on the other side of the pillows he had lined. He pushed himself closer, unknowingly smiling softly at the way you had bunched yourself into the sleeping bag. From there he could just make out your face with the small lamp you had put in the corner of the tent.

His eyes trailed over the small faint splotches of freckles here and there on your face. The Australian sun was never so forgiving. Your lashes, although ordinary to the naked eye, Oscar found entrancing the way they swept over your skin. Stress lines from all your studying were etched into your forehead, and he almost just wanted to... reach over and smooth them.

Oscar blinked, retracting back his hand. His heart was racing, ears hot. Shit... what was he doing?

━━━━━━━━━━━

"After all these years and you're still a morning person," Oscar's voice interrupted your peaceful silence as you sat at the beach, a towel underneath you and a tree giving you just enough shade to read your book.

You opened your mouth to spout out your usual nonsense but Oscar had bet you to it. "Hi ___," he greeted.

You blinked in surprise, taken aback. You squinted, firmly registering the colourful scenery mixed with Oscar's bright smile. You furrowed your brows at the sudden churn in your stomach.

What the hell?

Clearing your throat, you looked up at the figure that had suddenly replaced the sun in the sky. "Hi," you lamely responded, eyes averting to the sand as you closed your book, resting it next to your legs.

"Mind if I take seat?" He asked, gesturing to the spot next to you.

Curse your brain for bringing such a large towel.

You shrugged carelessly, holding a hand over your eyes as you watched him take a seat next to you. You pursed your lips, examining the mop of hair on his head that clearly stated he had just gotten out of bed, each tress flinging in an odd direction.

Oscar, unaware of the looming grin on your face, spoke again. "Surprised you're up this early. You fell asleep pretty quickly last night. Must've been tired," he commented, brown eyes cautiously averting to your face.

How much had you even heard last night? He wondered.

You smiled in return. "It's exhausting taking care of you kids," you joked, stretching your arms for effect as you yawned. "I was basically knocked out the moment I got into my sleeping bag."

Oscar nodded slowly, lips quirking at your joke while he processed your words. It didn't seem like you had heard anything. Maybe you had truly fallen asleep the moment he started talking. He couldn't tell if he was relieved or not.

"How long till you go back to training?" You asked out of the blue, watching the waves reel back in slowly, revealing the damp sand underneath.

Oscar hummed quietly. "A month I think? I don't know," he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

A month.

It wasn't that long.

You had a lot of work cut out for you.

You hummed in acknowledgement. "New year, new me?" You queried, grinning lightly while you nudged him playfully.

"Something like that." Oscar huffed in amusement.

Another stretch of silence settled upon the both of you. You played with the grains of sands near you and Oscar quietly watched, revelling in the cool morning before it got too hot for the rest of the day.

"Rocky would've loved this," Oscar suddenly said.

You snapped your head towards him, sand quickly falling out of your head. "What?" You laughed, eyebrows raised in shock.

A grin graced Oscar's face. He leaned on his arms, hand sat next yours. "Rocky was an outdoors guy."

"He was a fish," you deadpanned. "A fish you murdered."

"How many times am I gonna have to say sorry?" Oscar queried, an amused plea underlying his voice.

He watched you shake with laughter, your eyes smiling while you shined in the sun and he wondered why his body felt so warm. Why did it feel like his heart was going to burst out of his chest?

━━━━━━━━━━━

The following night and two days were filled with nostalgic activities (or introducing Mae to her rights of passage). It was eventful to say the least.

Your sandcastle competition left Hattie stomping over Oscar's poor rendition of the Australian Grand Prix. A campfire paired with roasted marshmallows had left Mae screaming as you mustered the worst story you could with a flashlight under your chin. Edie had lead the stargazing that night, pointing out certain constellations that had Oscar rolling his eyes in disbelief. Oscar and Mae had caught up, skimming some stones over the river while the rest of you cooked lunch. Before you left the park, you all swam at Port Phillip Bay, which you'd argue had been the highlight of the trip. Only because you had been greeted by some particularly playful dolphins.

To Oscar, it had been perfect. That was why he was in such a good mood driving back, even actually stopping at the petrol station unlike Hattie who had absolutely refused to on the way. The call was actually made by Mae who desperately needed to use the bathroom after jugging a bottle of water.

You and Oscar stood in the convenience store, eyeing the overpriced chocolates and chips. He had already been holding half of the sweet stock you had given to him and proceeded to make a face at the bar of mint chocolate in your hand. "I can't believe that."

You curled your lips at the bar and nodded in agreement. "Hattie's a sick freak," you murmured in disgust, tucking away the chocolate under your arm.

"You're one to talk," Oscar commented, looking down his "Black forest chocolate? Really?"

You mended your brows, lips lightly jutting in offence. "That's the best flavour there is."

Oscar suppressed his small smile upon your reaction. He cleared his throat, tilting his head at you before he shook his head in disagreement. "Dark chocolate is the best."

It was your turn to make a face. "Keep talking and we're no longer friends."

Oscar blinked as you resumed your scrutiny of the snack aisle. Friends. It was odd. On one hand, his heart warmed at those words. After all these years with limited contact, he was happy you still considered him a friend. Even if you both annoyed each other to death. But on the other hand, it rubbed him the wrong way. And he just couldn't put his finger on why. It's like every time he tried to find the answer, you made his brain malfunction.

"Okay. I think that's it. Now come on before Hattie comes in here herself," you muttered, knowing very well the girl would keep you here for another thirty minutes without fail.

Oscar swallowed hard, nodding slowly. He followed after you, heading towards the front of the store to pay when an unfamiliar voice cut through the air.

"___? Is that you?"

Both you and Oscar turned to the male holding a glass bottle of ginger beer.

Oscar eyed the man carefully, taking note of the tanned skin and curly hair. Why did he look so familiar? He looked back over at you, wondering if you had any familiarity with the stranger.

And indeed you did by the way your eyes widen slightly in recognition.

"Blake," you greeted, watching him open his arms for a hug. Oh. You awkwardly returned the gestured, not wanting to be closer than necessary. "It's been a while."

Blake nodded in agreement, hands shoved in the pockets of his shorts. "Yeah, I know. Haven't seen you since the grad party back in school."

You mulled over his words, wondering if had actually been that long. Over four years ago now. You supposed it had. "It's been a while," you agreed, small smile planted on your face.

Blake opened his mouth to speak but was lost for words when his eyes landed on Oscar. "Oh my God, Oscar! Dude, it's been so long!"

Oscar watched the male pull him in for a handshake, patting his back.

That's when Oscar had clocked it.

Blake. Blake Bennett. A kid in your grade. He used to lived right across from the both of you before he moved three streets away. Oscar remembered fondly how much he liked you.

Blake laughed in surprise as the driver smiled awkwardly. "It's crazy... like so weird. We used to walk to school together and now I watch you on TV," he grinned, looking over at you. "Like he's actually an F1 driver? Like he dreamed. So cool!"

You chuckled softly at his enthusiasm. "Something's never change, huh?"

Blake nodded. "That's true. You're still cute as ever," he commented, smiling at you.

Oscar froze, watching you blink while your cheeks flushed lightly.

"Thanks," you murmured, fidgeting with the food items in your hands. You peeked a glance at Oscar's stoic face and internally winced. God, why did this have to happen now out of all the times?

"I was wondering..."

Oscar's throat bobbed, grip tightening around the sweets. Don't... for the love of God, please don't.

"Would you want to go out sometime?" Blake queried, eyes hopefully looking down at you.

Oscar could feel bile creep up his throat. He was hot and annoyed. He felt sick. Fuck.

"Um..." you trailed off, feeling awkward as ever. God, how were you supposed to respond to this? "Um.. can I think on it? We follow each other, right? I'll message you."

Blake smiled and nodded. "Sure. I'm gonna go catch some waves so I'll see you around, hmm? It was good seeing you, mate," he placed a hand on Oscar's shoulder. "Good luck next year."

Oscar smiled tightly while you waved your former classmate goodbye. You blew some air into your cheeks, thankful that interaction was over for the time being. You edged towards the cashier, placing the items in your hands on the counter. "Oscar, come put down the–"

You furrowed your brows at the blank look on Oscar's face. It looked like nothing was going on but those brown eyes were swarming with thoughts.

"Oscar? Are you okay? What's wrong?" You asked, stepping toward him with concern.

Oscar moved his eyes from the door and to you. He blinked, swallowing hard. He could finally answer his question. The answer to why he felt so warm. Why is heart felt like it would collapse. Why he was reaching for you that night in the tent.

The answer was you.

He had a crush on you.

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[thelikesofus]

Buddie Fic Recs

Welcome to another 9-1-1 Hiatus! Here is Buddie Rec List Number 8 to keep you all fed during the break. I’ve been compiling these fics for a whileee, so this is going to be kind of long. Find my other Buddie Rec Lists HERE REMINDER TO CHECK THE TAGS AND TRIGGER WARNINGS

i slur your name 'til someone puts me in a car by @crazygirleddie | T | 4k

Buck gets sloppy drunk with Hen and decides this is the perfect time to go to Eddie and tell him he loves him. This fic is so wholesome and hilarious, and I love the way the author writes Buck and Eddie in this. 

you will get a sentimental feeling when you hear voices singin by @sergeantchenford | T | 2k

A short and sweet fic where Buck mopes about Eddie moving to El Paso, has a conversation with Bobby, and goes to a charity event. I think we all need some Bobby and Buck interactions right now, and obviously, Eddie isn’t leaving, and Chris is coming home!

my heart wants to come home by @sergeantchenford | T | 5.8k

Another fic by the very talented Jules, but this one is about Buck and Eddie catnapping an old lady's cat and talking about dying alone. Very sweet ending <3

The Bunkroom Fic by exvichan | T | 11k

This is the bunk room bottle fic we deserve! Incredible, absolutely amazing fic! 

emails i can't send by @drmellking | T | 5.9k

Another wonderful fic by my beloved friend April <3 Buck leaves his email account open on his laptop while looking after Jee, and she accidentally presses send on all the emails Buck wrote but never meant for Eddie to see. 

(we tried) we said we'd keep in touch by @chronicowboy | T | 6.8k

With Eddie in El Paso, Buck isn’t feeling the Christmas spirit this year, so he agrees to cover someone else’s shift rather than go to the FireFam Christmas party. Eddie has other plans. And I am rocking in a corner and crying over how perfect and cozy this fic is, literally all the feels xx

Songbird by @colonoscopys | E | 71k

Country Singer Eddie AU that is so horrendously heartbreakingly horrifically incredible. My heart was literally in my throat the whole time, and honestl,y this fic is so beautiful, you just have to read it!

Snickerdoodles of Longing by @elvensorceress | E | 52k

Would this really be a Meegs rec list without a Jenwyn fic?? This is the Eddie moves to Texas fic we all deserved as he makes the decision to leave and then slowly unravels as he realizes what he really wants and what he's losing. There’s also a part two of this that I have yet to read, but I can guarantee it will also be incredible because everything Jenwyn writes is just *chefs kiss*. 

A Place For You, Next to Me by @spotsandsocks | M | 23k

I have very talented mutuals, okay, so here’s a beautiful fic from the wonderful Spotty. Buck decides to do something special for Eddie’s birthday, but his plans are about to be thwarted because oh my goodness THERE’S ONLY ONE BED *cheers and screams from the fandom* 

Five Years by aubrey_writes | M | 8k

Buck gets blipped. Eddie's left behind. A love story told through what Eddie did in his absence. 

A Hole in the World by @thatdisasterauthor | T | 61k 

Buck tries to help someone having what he thinks is a medical emergency while he’s at the grocery store, but his kindness is taken for granted when he is KIDNAPPED AND TAKEN CAPTIVE IN A DOOMSDAY BUNKER. This fic had me on the edge of my seat the whole way through, it is such an incredibly captivating read!

Fears and Assurances in Equal Measure by @thatdisasterauthor | M | 15k

It should've been a simple call. But when the "small fire in an apartment kitchen" turns into a collapse that traps Eddie as the fire continues to burn, Buck is forced to make an impossible choice to save the man he loves. The emotional and physical hurt/comfort in this is to die for <3

it hit me in the kitchen by @bugsongs | G | 13k

Eddie leaves for Texas, and everybody copes with food in one way or another. There’s so much good Eddie and Christopher communication in this fic, it really healed me. 

forever is the sweetest con by @becausebuckley | E | 37k

Buck is invited to a family reunion and realises that there's a good chunk of money waiting for him. There’s one issue, though: he has to be married to claim it, and right now, he’s painfully single. It’s a good thing he has such a great best friend in eddie, right? MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE! EVERYONE LIKES THAT!

like a river runs by @nymika-arts | T | 56k

Buck and Maddie’s flight goes missing, and they are presumed dead. Five years later, their flight lands unscathed, but the world has moved on without them. This fic is so heartbreaking. I had my heart in my throat the whole time, but it is also so beautiful. 

a straight guy and an ally walk into a bar… by @songbvrd | M | 23k

After Buck gets dumped, he remembers he agreed to go to Abby's wedding with a date. Eddie steps up and pretends to be his boyfriend. All hell breaks loose.

Batting a Buck & Change by @cal-daisies-and-briars | T | 15k

Eddie and Chim embark on a “Dad’s night out” to watch baseball at a sports bar, and after a few too many, Eddie accidentally lets his feelings for Buck slip. EddieChim Bestism my beloved. Honestly, this fic is so much fun, and I am obsessed with all of it!

In a Moment of Clarity by @thekristen999 | T | 14k

As the jeep rounded a sharp bend, its tires suddenly lost traction, sending it careening off the winding road's edge. THE CRASH FIC! SO SO GOOD! Hurt Buck and Hurt Eddie, what more could you want? Delicious.

Exhibit B by @cal-daisies-and-briars | T | 10k

Seven years in the future, an adult Christopher has a chance to see his grandparents - and subsequently, his father - in a new light, on a family trip to El Paso. Oh, this fic is so good! A very much needed reflection on Eddie’s relationship with his parents, and done through Christopher’s eyes, this fic really hits you in the solar plexus in the best way possible. 

in pursuit of good health by @bisexualbellamyblake | M | 6.7k

I am a sucker for tactile idiots-to-lovers and so when I find a fic about Buck and Eddie ‘platonically kissing for the health benefits’ you best believe I devoured it!

down every road by @young-waverer | T | 4.5k

Buck realizes he needs to be with Eddie and Chris. Unfortunately for the miles on his truck, Eddie and Chris had the same idea. THIS is what happens when idiots in love who cannot commniucate try to surprise eachother but share the same braincell. 

seeing him in a new light by @tizniz | G | 1.2k

Eddie Diaz is all of us fawning over how Buck is Big and Large and BIG.

featherlight by @coldbam | G | 7k

Eddie takes up a new hobby while in Texas, identifying the birds that visit his new porch and realizes he’s in love with Buck from 800 miles away. AKA The Birding Fic and honestly I’m obsessed this is so beautiful. Also the artwork in this is STUNNING! So special shout out to @betanoiz for that. 

the bigger they are (the harder they fall) by @chronicowboy | T | 6k

This is how 8x18 should have gone. Buck and Eddie get trapped in the rubble together and finally confess a few things to eachother. 

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

──── PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE . ↳ one shot // also part of the no doubt series !

✎ᝰ .ᐟ aka jake's love language is physical affection, words of affirmation...& mild desperation.

── sim jaeyun x f!reader ౨ৎ wc. 880 ⌗ comfort, fluff, skinship, slice of life!, kissing (making out?), they're deeply in love my honor </3 (also jake is literally just a freaking loser in this one it's actually almost sad but we love loser!jake in this household so .)

↳ IMPORTANT NOTE .ᐟ ── this is part of my no doubt series ─ a sequel series of short drabbles that take place after the events of my fic no doubt, and show jake & reader's relationship throughout their first year together (& how jake wins her trust & love back hehe) ── THIS CAN BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT, however, there will be some easter eggs if you've read no doubt before!

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── EVERYONE . there's only two official parts left of this series...IM EMOTIONAL dont play with me rn ... can't believe we're almost at the end...but i do have a few requests for jakeyn in my inbox that i will definitely get to! so stay tuned for those hehe :D

Like always—it’s late.

Jake had begged you to watch Star Wars with him for movie night, and the result?

Here you are:

Three movies in.

One YouTube theory video later.

And freshly done giving a very dramatic, very passionate speech on why he absolutely does not need to make a PowerPoint explaining the lore to you.

Long story short: it’s stupidly late.

You’re stupidly tired.

And you’re 98% sure going to dream about baby Yoda and Kylo Ren at this point.

Oh, well. Whatever makes him happy, you guess.

The bedroom is quiet, save for the sound of your breathing trying to settle and the occasional shuffle Jake makes whenever he tugs you closer to him every time you shift in your spot. His arm wraps lazily around your waist, his legs tangled with your own under the ridiculous mountain of blankets you insist on sleeping with (and yet he never complains about), and his face is buried somewhere in your hair, his lips smushed warm against your temple.

It’s warm. It’s tight. It’s a little suffocating.

It’s perfect.

You let out a quiet sigh—soft, sleepy, content—your hand moving up to rest against Jake’s chest as you tuck your head further into the crook of his neck.

“Goodnight, pretty,” Jake whispers, voice low and soft, barely brushing your skin. His fingers comb through your hair absentmindedly, his familiar touch yet leaving a trail of goosebumps every time you feel him. “I love you.”

You smile.

You always do—especially when he says it like that.

Soft, cracked at the edges. Carrying all his emotions and spilling them into those three simple words for you—only for you.

“Mmm,” you hum, sleepily teasing, burrowing deeper into him without answering.

Jake pauses.

You feel his arms tighten around you. His head lifts. His breath hitches.

“Y/N,” he whines, so small and so broken you nearly start laughing into his shirt. “You can’t do that. You can’t not say it back. That’s so evil…you have to say it too.”

He’s fidgeting now, his hand frantically smoothing down your arm like it’ll somehow get the words out of you, “Baby, seriously—I’m not letting you fall asleep without hearing it. Please. Y/N.”

His voice is higher now. The sweet mix of desperation and affection. You swear he might cry.

Or make a PowerPoint.

You pull back just enough to look at him, a smirk on your face and his own expression too pitiful to ignore—eyes wide, pleading, his lips in a pout, and what you swear is a little spark of panic in his eyes.

“Oh my god,” you giggle. “You’re so whipped, Jakey.”

Your fingers reach up to cup his face as you pull up slightly just to get a better look at him. His pout only deepens, and you let out another laugh.

“No, no, baby,” he insists, shaking his head as your thumb brushes his cheek. “I’m not joking. Say it. Just once. Please.”

And then his arms curl tighter around you again, as if holding on for his dear life. And it’s so Jake—the voice, the pout, the way he can’t stand the idea of not hearing you say it back, as if you haven’t said it a million times before.

So completely dorky. So utterly pathetic.

And it makes your heart thump a little harder.

You pretend to think for a second. And then—

“I love you, Jake.”

The words will always slip from your mouth as naturally as breathing.

Soft, warm, and entirely his.

His face instantly lights up, his eyes widening just a little, and you’d think you’d just given him the world (and frankly—you did).

And before you can even process—

Jake immediately pulls you into him, his lips crashing into yours with an intensity that’s almost too much for an easy goodnight kiss.

You giggle against his lips, grabbing onto his shirt for balance, but he’s not having it. He moves his hands to cup your face, desperately holding onto you like he’s going to open his eyes and watch you disappear in an instant.

“Say it again,” his pants, voice a little breathless now, already kissing you again. “Please, please, please—say it again.”

You let out another laugh, pulling back to see how he looks at you with those soft, lovestruck eyes, how his voice is so heartfelt, how he holds you like he can’t get enough of you.

“I love you,” you whisper again. Slow and soft—only meant for him.

He lets out a soft groan before his hand slips to the back of your neck as he kisses you again. Slower this time, more gently—as if savoring this moment.

“I’m so in love with you,” he mutters against your lips, his voice thick with emotion as he finally stops to rest his forehead against yours.

“You’re so dumb,” you whisper, smiling as you kiss him again, quick and so full of love.

“I’m not dumb,” he protests. Another kiss.

“Okay…you’re so whipped,” you tease again, your fingers brushing through his hair as he looks at you with that stupid, goofy smile that you can’t resist.

Jake grins, his eyes crinkling, his hand back to rubbing slow circles on your hip as he holds you impossibly close.

“That I am. And I’m never going to stop.”

<< past || no doubt m. list || next >>

tag list! (open ! // bolded couldn't be added!)

@bluxjun @ki2rins @why-did-i-just-do-this @favoritten @lovialymisc @xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaah @hinryh @ltfirecracker @lov4hoon @taeheexx @niyzu @chunkzdeluluwife @jakeflvrz @fangirl125reader @0429jw @dreamy-carat @yuons @thestarinstarbucks @miszes @llearlert @ppeachyttae @hoomin10 @teddybeartaetae @tanisha2060 @therealmrsbahng @beomgyu-bears @ikeulove @jiyeons-closet @youngheejay @wxnderingthoughts @fuevrois @soobundle1009 @isoobie @enhypenova @zoemeltigloos @lizdevorak @deluluscenarios @bloomiize @hasuyv @ijustwannareadstuff20 @veilstqr @dreamiestay @jakeyyyjakexoxo

[bunnis-monsters]

Baby bees’ first Halloween

Male!Bee Hybrids x Fem!Reader

Bunni’s Monstertober Event

Oct 10th

Oct9

Oct11

summary: when your baby bees want to experience the Halloween traditions of the human world, you do everything in your power to make the night special for them.

warning: mostly fluff, short sex scene at the end, breeding, oviposition, more than two p in one v

Although honey and sweet things were things all bee hybrids were experts on, not a single one of them was aware of the Halloween holiday.

That was, until one of your baby bees looked up from your lap at the movie you were watching. In it, the characters were talking about Halloween as they walked home from school.

The baby bee’s eyes lit up, and he held onto your shirt with his tiny fists as he watched the movie with you. His siblings were already fast asleep in cuddle piles all along the bed and floor, so he took the opportunity to get some extra cuddle time with his precious mama!

The next day, you woke up to your sons buzzing around, their clumsy bodies pumping into walls and each other as they babbled and squealed with delight.

“Really?”

“A special day where you get candy?”

“A-and you get to dress up!”

“Mama!”

Their attention turned to you the second they noticed you were awake. You were tackled by your sons, the sound of buzzing, purring, and multiple voices trying to speak at once filled the room.

“Mama, hungry!”

“I wanna trick or treat!”

“Mama, mama!”

You laughed, holding them close to you. “Shh, shh… one at a time.”

As you began to feed your little ones, they told you their plans.

“We’re gonna trick or treat!”

You blinked, patting the back of one of your little ones after he was done feeding. “Truck or treating? And where do you plan on doing that, boys? You know little ones aren’t allowed to leave the hive.”

Whines and huffs could be heard as they all poured and stomped their little feet. “I wanna eat candy!”

“Costumes sound fun!”

“Mama, please!”

So like any other mother would, you decided that you’d need to plan something for your little ones to do for Halloween.

The week leading up to that special day was busy. Decorations were being put up, lights hung, and candy delivered. Before long the entire hive was buzzing with excitement for the special day!

“My queen, we’ve prepared the costumes.”

You glance at one of the worker bees as he brought in a rack of custom made costumes for your little ones. So far, you had only birthed 3 batches of baby bees, so you currently only had 15 of your own children in the hive.

“Good. Have the children try them on and make sure they’re to their liking.”

You sighed softly, sitting next to the bed of one of the young bees that had recently been taken into the hive. He was just a baby, but so sickly and small. It hurt your heart to know other hives didn’t care as much as you did.

“Mama…”

His little voice made your heart clench in your chest. You weren’t his mother, but you reached out and held his tiny hand regardless. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“I wanna… dress up too…”

So another costume was ordered, the little one requested to dress up as a flower.

When the time finally came for Halloween, you were awoken by a swarm of your little ones all jumping onto your bed and squealing with delight.

“Mama!”

“Halloween, it’s Halloween!”

“Candy!”

You groaned a bit, sitting up and rubbing your tired eyes. “I told you, my little love bugs, we can’t trick or treat until later tonight.”

They were restless through the day, but thankfully you anticipated this and had a small fall fest planned. They all played with hay, bobbed for apples, and got their faces painted by the talented artists of the hive.

“I’ve never seen a baby bee so happy before, my queen,” one of your attendants purred into your ear, nibbling on your neck. “You are certainly the most attentive, amazing-“

When his hand dipped between your thighs, you gave his arm a playful smack. “Tsk, tsk… it’s their night, you aren’t getting any until all my little ones are asleep.”

You attendants all pouted, determined to cling and whine to you about how needy they were. For the most part you didn’t mind, but they were such jealous things!

Settling down with your little ones, you let them nap as you chatted with the worker bees. It wa stole for them to get in place for trick or treating.

When your little ones began to wake, you helped the sleepy baby bees get their costumes on before walking with them through the hive.

Every work station had been converted into a mini house, and the baby bees squealed with delight as they ran and flew to knock on the doors and receive their special treats.

You giggled, watching them bump into each other and toddle around, eating candy and buzzing well into the night.

After going to every house, they were exhausted, toddling after you as you got them all back to bed.

“Was Halloween fun?” you asked in a soft voice, tucking them in.

“Yeah…”

“Mmm… mama…”

“Fun…”

Once they were all asleep, you were guided out of the nursery and to your bedroom. YOURE attendants were pouting, a line of bee hybrids waiting outside for their reward.

“We all worked very hard…” one of them murmured while kissing your fat thighs and tummy. Your panties were already gone, your bee hybrid lovers much too eager to keep them on for long.

Being stuffed with one cock then two, feeling your belly stretch and expand as egg after egg was pushed inside of your womb.

You had promised them all some loving in return for working so hard for your little ones, and they were all so desperate for a turn that they were jumping your leg and pushing more than one cock into your fat cunt.

It was a long night full of cum, love making, and lots of eggs. But by the end of it, they were all satisfied and purring as they curled up with you in a cuddle pile.

Babies and adults were similar in that way. Just like the babies loved to spend time with their mother, the adults yearned to be in the presence of their queen.

————————

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[flowerandblood]

The Song of Promises [1/3]

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: loss of virginity (both characters), sex content, unprotected sex, oral sex, targcest stuff, smut, angst, abduction, description of eye loss, mourning, child abuse, Aemond being a self-absorbed, vain guy ]

[ description: Aemond's childhood is filled with loneliness and regret until Daemon arrives in the Red Keep with his first-born child, daughter of Rhea Royce. The fact that neither of them has a dragon of their own binds them together with a thread of understanding, and their slowly developing relationship gives birth in the young prince's mind to a plan of which she is a part. Slow burn, childhood companions to lovers, first intimacy, rude, insolent, arrogant Aemond with big ego. ]

This is story that describes the events of what would have happened if Aemond had met Daemon's daughter earlier (i.e. as a child). The characters are exactly the same as in the original The Price of Pride, but still, this is a standalone story that can be read separately: you don't need to know that story to read this one.

I have tried to show how the need for closeness matures in adolescents as they get older until they fully understand what they want and how to achieve it. Decide for yourself what happened between them when and at what age so that you feel comfortable with it (let's agree that the ages from the books and the series do not apply here, because at the end of the chapter we are still before Helaena and Aegon's wedding: everyone is simply older than in the source material, decide for yourself by how many years).

A big inspiration for me to wrtie this story was my relationship with my husband (everything was going very slowly for us and each new base was an achievement and a great event). That said, this story you will read alternately from two perspectives (not the same events tho).

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

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Aemond

That night he slept exceptionally badly: he wriggled in his bed for a long time, struggling to hold back tears of anger, thinking of what Aegon and his nephews had done to him. His older brother was spiteful by nature, but until now he had believed that they would support each another in the presence of the Strongs.

He was mistaken.

The pig with wings he had been given by them – according to Aegon's assurances, as a consolation prize – was eye-watering proof of the humiliation he had suffered at his hands for years. The way they all laughed out loud while he stood completely petrified with shame and the fact that they considered it amusing made his whole body begin to shake.

He wished the sun would never rise again.

When he woke up the next day, his meal was served as usual: to his delight, his mother, although she did not usually allow it, ordered his favourite sweet cinnamon rolls to be brought to him. While he still felt miserable, eating them made his spirits lighter, as the pleasant thought went through his head that his mother loved him.

During the sparring, Aegon acted as if he had forgotten what he had done to him the day before: he said something to him and laughed, as if he expected him to feel like replying to him after the humiliation he had suffered at his hands.

His silence, unfortunately, was not met with understanding from his brother either.

“Must you always be such a twat?” Aegon asked.

Again he did not answer, pressing his lips into a thin line with rage, and hit one of the targets with all his strength with a wooden sword.

He did not utter words that Aegon or his nephews could use against him.

He thought he would never give them a reason to mock him again.

Silence was safe.

However, he was snapped out of his reverie by the voice of Jace, who had been speaking to Luke during one of their short breaks.

“Mother said they would be arriving today. Daemon and his firstborn daughter. He killed her mother.” His nephew spoke in a whisper, clearly excited, but he stood close enough to understand what he said.

Daemon's firstborn daughter.

It was true that he had heard of her and knew that she existed, however, her person did not particularly concern him: she had no dragon and she was a girl, so she did not threaten him in any way, yet she also had nothing that would make him find the subject of her arrival interesting.

Or at least that's what he tried to tell himself, as he involuntarily strained his hearing, standing with his back to them, pretending to stretch before his next routine, paying no attention to the fact that Criston Cole was shouting something to him and Aegon.

“He killed her mother?” Squealed Luke, and Jace shushed him and tapped him on the head, clearly wanting his little brother to be quiet.

“It's gossip. Mother says we have to be kind to her. She won't have here anyone but us.” Jace explained to him.

Although he kept telling himself that he didn't care about some pathetic little girl without a dragon, the next morning he sat with his face pressed against the window, waiting for them to arrive.

He didn't know what he was actually waiting for: Daemon had always seemed intriguing to him. His uncle was confident and ironic, on top of which there was no one, except perhaps Ser Criston, who could match him in wielding a sword.

Deep down he admired him and the possibility of seeing him again thrilled him.

He twisted in his seat, rising higher on his arms as the gates to the courtyard opened and indeed, he saw his uncle on a white horse and a little girl with long, dark hair sitting before him in the saddle.

He snorted at the thought that, like his nephews, the gods had not bestowed upon her the Targaryen colour that he wore proudly on his head.

However, she was a legitimate child and had certainly inherited the colour of her hair from her mother, so he felt that this was not reason to mock her.

After all, his mother also had dark hair, and he held her in high regard and respect.

Daemon jumped off his mount lightly, then grabbed his daughter under the arms and helped her down, without waiting for the servant to run up to them.

He saw that she had started to look around – he thought that she was certainly enthralled and overwhelmed by the beauty and grandeur of the Red Keep, but when she turned her face towards him he recognised that her facial expression was more one of uncertainty and fear.

She will have no one here but us.

He killed her mother.

For some reason, for a moment, but only a moment, he felt pity for her.

Although she was not a princess or anyone special, news of her arrival and the reason for it had spread through the fortress very quickly; he usually preferred to stay in his chamber or in the library, but on this day he had left his safe places to stroll the corridors and the castle, hoping to see her.

He wanted to judge her carefully in his mind: he had formed an opinion about everyone, and she could not remain an exception.

A sting of disappointment spread across his chest when, to his displeasure, he did not see her until the next day during sparring, in the company of Jace and Luke. They spoke to her, gesturing vividly, apparently showing her everything they could, she, however, simply looked at them with big eyes, terrified, and said nothing, looking where they told her to.

“My Princes. Come over here. Let's begin.” Criston Cole called out towards them, clearly impatient.

He grinned under his breath with satisfaction, feeling a pleasant pride at the thought that Ser Criston preferred them to the Strongs and was clearly showing it.

Jace and Luke stepped closer, and Daemon's daughter approached with them, her eyes wide, her small hands clenched into fists from anxiety.

Looking at her closely, he decided she was not ugly: her face seemed pleasant to him, her eyelashes and eyebrows long and dark, accentuating her skin tone in some interesing way. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, as were her lips: she was a little shorter than Jace, but like them, she was dressed in a training garment.

“Our cousin used to practise archery in Runestone. We thought she could do it here too.” Luke said.

Cole straightened up and sighed, clearly frustrated.

“Consent would have to be given by Prince Daemon himself. I cannot make that decision alone.” He replied matter-of-factly, causing the girl to lower her head, disappointed.

Jace, however, was not giving up.

“Then we'll ask him.” He said with vigour, glancing at his cousin, who shook her head.

“I don't know where he is. I can't find him anywhere.” She muttered.

“Prince Daemon, from the information I have, set off to Essos before dawn. Without his permission, I cannot take responsibility for your safety, my Lady.” Ser Criston explained, already a little softer.

An uncomfortable silence fell around them, one he'd experienced for the first time in his life: it wasn't filled with irritation or rage, but with the fact that it seemed to him that neither of them knew how to act in such a situation.

Usually when Jace or Luke didn't know or couldn't do something, it was a source of pride and mockery for him and Aegon: their nephews reacted similarly to failures on their side.

However, he didn't know what he should feel or think upon hearing that a little girl didn't know that her father was now with his second family.

He looked at her to witness her reaction and felt a strange squeeze in his throat seeing that she obviously did not know about it – her lips were slightly parted in disbelief, her gaze wandering from one person to the next, as if she felt humiliated and abandoned, left alone in a place foreign and frightening to her.

“With your permission, I will return to my chamber.” She mumbled and bowed, only to turn and move towards the cloisters, disappearing into one of the corridors.

“Did you see that? She is crying like a little baby. Would you like to join her, brother? You two fit together.” Said Aegon and patted him on the shoulder, making his cheeks flush scarlet with shame.

“That's enough.” Cole said. “Get back to practising.”

Although he occupied his head with various activities for the rest of the day – mostly reading books on Westeros history – his thoughts kept returning to her face then, when she found out her father was gone.

She wasn't as annoying and provocative as Jace and Luke, of that he was sure – nor had she inherited Daemon's aggressive manner, at least not in the way he'd expected. As much as he wanted to assign her to the Black party, as Daemon had always supported Rhaenyra, he wasn't sure she was even aware of the division between them and that she had to choose.

She was thrown between strange walls and strange people, left alone.

Even for him, it was quite cruel.

But it was not his concern, he consoled himself in spirit, trying to start a chapter concerning Winterfell.

For the first time in a long time, he looked forward to the supper with excitement: he knew that his father-king would surely invite his niece to it and say a few warm words to make her feel at home.

He hoped she would be seated close to them and not next to the Strongs.

She shouldn't spend time with the bastards, but he didn't blame her for doing so – he guessed that she simply didn't know who they really were.

Perhaps I should tell her about it, he told himself in spirit sitting down at the table in his seat, recognising that, in fact, he would be doing her a favour by doing so.

Indeed, there was one more chair placed at the table than usual. His cousin walked into the chamber, accompanied by his mother and sister. Helaena was saying something to her, and Daemon's daughter was smiling, looking down at her feet, apparently trying not to fall over in her long, brown gown.

Once again he felt a sense of pride, for it was his sister and not his nephews who had made their guest feel better.

To his satisfaction, which, however, he did not give expression to, trying to keep a stony face, his cousin took a seat next to his sister, that is, opposite him and Aegon. When she looked in his direction he did not leave her gaze for a moment – however, when she smiled, he turned his face away, feeling embarrassed.

He felt a sense of distinction because she had paid attention to him.

No one ever did that, because he was a second son without a dragon.

But she didn't have a dragon either, he consoled himself in his mind, and for some reason he felt relieved.

They were alike.

As he expected, his father greeted her in the presence of everyone, apparently wanting to give her courage.

“As I'm certain you all know by now, we have a guest. It is my brother's daughter, whom I welcome with great joy and love. From now on, the Red Keep will be her home and I ask you to treat her with kindness and understanding. A strange place, even more so for a little girl, can seem frightening. I trust each of you to care for her as best you can.” He said, then nodded and allowed everyone to begin their meal.

One more interaction occurred between them that evening: when he tried to reach for a pate that was too far away from him, she helped him by handing him a platter. She smiled at him again then, and he reciprocated the gesture awkwardly, feeling that for some reason his palms had started to sweat.

His king had said they should be kind to her, so he simply followed his order as any good son would do, he assured himself in his head.

Then Jace suddenly spoke up.

“My King. Our cousin is an excellent archer and we think she should be able to practice with us in the Red Keep as well. Ser Criston said that without her father's permission this is not possible. Wouldn't the King's order be more significant?” He asked, and all eyes fled towards his father.

“Little girls shouldn't be involved in such things.” Said Queen Alicent, taking a sip of wine, for some reason casting a long look at Rheanyra, sitting across the table.

“Why?” His half-sister asked. “Are all women in this world the same?”

His father decided to put an end to this brief argument by giving his own opinion on the matter.

Viserys decided that she could practise archery during their sparring, if it didn't interfere with their training.

She usually stood on the side and shot her bow at targets standing in a completely different part of the courtyard, so everyone quickly forgot about the dispute and stopped paying attention to her.

Or at least that's what he tried to convince himself.

He often looked at her, because when their gazes met, she usually smiled.

It was a warm smile, devoid of prejudice or malice: he did not usually reciprocate the gesture, fearing that Aegon would see it and find another reason to mock him.

She spoke to Jace and Luke, also occasionally smiling in their presence, but when she did so while looking at him, she looked different.

Perhaps it was just his childhood desire to be special to someone, to be noticed, that made him live in the belief that his cousin wanted to know him better.

He craved it too: confirmation of his suspicions, of the fact that, indeed, he had caught her attention. The reason, after all, could have been any feature of his personality that no one had noticed before: his intelligence, his knowledge, his rhetoric, his calmness and composure, how different he was from his brother and nephews.

His pride, however, prevented him from taking the first step: he knew that if anyone found out he was seeking her company, his brother would again call him a twat and say that he liked to play with girls because he was one himself.

That left him internally torn.

The opportunity fell upon him like a thunderbolt from a clear sky when one afternoon, as always eager to search the library for more reading for the dull, monotonous evenings, he saw Daemon and his daughter sitting at the table, bent over a thick, old volume that he knew intimately.

High Valyrian.

His cousin lifted her head upon hearing someone enter the room and bestowed upon him a broad, soft smile – Daemon's expression was not as friendly and expressed boredom.

To his relief, she spoke up first.

“My father is teaching me the language of our ancestors. Would you like to join us?” She asked, surprising both him and her father.

Daemon sighed, but did not protest, spreading out comfortably in his chair, giving him a look as if challenging him.

On the one hand, he was terrified and just wanted to run away, but on the other, this was his chance to get closer to both of them.

He nodded, embarrassed, feeling his hands involuntarily clench into fists.

The fear of humiliation was greater than the excitement.

“Sit down.” Daemon commanded.

No one had ever spoken to him this way, not even his own father; for some reason, however, it did not frustrate him, but made him feel even more respect for his uncle.

I want to be like you, he thought in the back of his mind.

Confident and fearless.

So he sat down on the other side, in the empty chair next to Daemon, and moved closer to the table – he was ashamed that his legs still didn't reach the ground, but he hoped it wasn't apparent yet.

Just a few more years and he would become a man.

He felt much more confident when he saw that they had just reworked a chapter he had already read before.

“Perzys zaldrīzī ossēnagon daor.” Said Daemon, glancing at his daughter expectantly, apparently wanting her to translate the sentence.

“Fire cannot…” She started, but fell silent, clearly not knowing what one of the words meant.

“Fire cannot kill a dragon.” He spoke up, proud to show his uncle how broad his knowledge was.

“Good.” Daemon said.

He swallowed quietly, glancing at his cousin: her downward gaze and her hunched figure told him that she was sad that he hadn't even given her time to think.

He decided that perhaps he shouldn't come out in front all the time, lest he come across as vain.

“Zaldrīzo ānogar.” Said her father – he stirred in his chair, excited, knowing exactly what it means and that it is a fairly simple, even obvious phrase.

Daemon did it so she could respond too.

“The dragon…” She muttered, incorrectly constructing the sentence syntax.

When she looked at him, his lips uttered quickly the soundless ‘blood of the dragon’. She drew in a loud breath, an expression of relief flashed across her face.

“N-no. Blood. Blood of the dragon.” She quickly changed the order of the words, and Daemon nodded, moving on.

He didn't know why he had helped her then, but he liked the way she looked at him from then on.

With curiosity and gratitude.

In secret from his mother, grandfather and brother, he would sneak off to the library to learn with his uncle and his daughter about what he had been studying with the Maester earlier. He didn't admit that he had a kind of advantage over her, but he would sometimes pretend that he didn't know something in order to give her the opportunity to prove herself to her father.

Daemon seemed to him the embodiment of everything he himself wanted to be. Unlike his father, who did not find the strength or time to teach him about the history of their lineage, his uncle shared it extensively with him and his daughter, seeming indifferent and matter-of-fact at the same time.

Daemon was a demanding teacher, but this made him turn on his natural desire to compete: his cousin, however, did not have as much knowledge as he did because she could not have it, so he did not treat her in the same way as Jace and Luke.

They did not speak with each other outside the library; sometimes she smiled at him, but he only reciprocated this expression when the others could not see it – the corner of his mouth then lifted slightly upwards in an attempt to present some pathetic caricature of cordiality.

He wanted to be liked and admired, but didn't know how to achieve it.

One day, to his surprise, his cousin visited him in his chamber when the sun had long since set – he was already lying in his bed while reading a book.

He didn't like anyone invading his private space, but he couldn't say that the sight of her made him uncomfortable either.

He remained silent, deciding to listen to what she had come to him with.

“Tomorrow I am leaving to Essos. My father wants me to meet my sisters and stepmother.” She muttered, lowering her gaze as she spoke the last sentence.

She didn't want to see her replacement.

He grunted quietly, fiddling with the page of the book he held in his hands, feeling some kind of regret and disappointment.

“I see.” He replied, not knowing what more he could add.

She, however, was still standing in the same place, as if expecting to hear something more from him.

“I want to thank you for... for helping me then. Before lessons with my father, I repeat everything he taught me, but when I sit next to him, I suddenly forget the words. My head is empty.” She choked out finally, making him involuntarily look at her, surprised.

He felt a pleasant wave of pride and self-satisfaction ripple deep into his chest.

He lifted his chin higher, wanting to look more mature and dignified.

“You're welcome.” He hummed, hoping to hear even more praise from her lips.

“Sleep well, cousin.” She said and turned away, leaving him once again with a cold feeling of disappointment.

He realised that he hadn't asked her when they were coming back.

As she and his uncle disappeared, he felt with redoubled intensity how invisible he was to the inhabitants of the Red Keep: or at least that was how he perceived it. Even if he had wanted to, he no longer had anyone to show his intellect and knowledge to, no smile waiting for him when he sat down to supper in the company of his loud nephews and his half-sister, whom he deeply despised.

He was the embodiment of all his father's dreams, he was the reason he opened the womb of his first wife while she was still alive: he was the son he was always waiting for.

But his father could hardly eat on his own, let alone pay attention to him or the other children Queen Alicent had given him.

“Pass me the porridge platter, sweet Aemma.” He said to her once, pointing his blue finger at the dish he was thinking of, causing everyone around him to freeze.

He felt some kind of constriction in his throat when he saw his mother swallow this humiliation with difficulty, reaching for the platter and handing it to her lord-husband without a word.

He lowered his gaze to his plate, trying not to think about it, realising that he would like to see her comforting smile again.

He was beginning to grow impatient.

It had, after all, been several weeks.

As always when something was bothering him, he went to the only person he truly trusted.

“When will uncle Daemon return?” He asked, feigning indifference, fiddling with one of the flacons of expensive oils that had belonged to his mother.

Alicent looked at him, sighing quietly, clearly tired and embittered, probably by what his father had done.

He didn't know how he was supposed to help her, so he remained silent.

“The longer he's gone, the better.” She replied, surprising him.

“Why?” He asked, and she sighed again.

“He's a dangerous, unpredictable man. I pity his daughter. He drags her around all the continents like an object.” She said with a kind of impatience that made him unsure if she really meant what she said.

Adult people often spoke in riddles, which frustrated him constantly.

He preferred it when someone was direct.

The conversation with his mother brought him neither answers nor relief; the only person who showed interest in him was far away, and he was once again learning High Valyrian alone.

That night he prayed to the gods to help him tame a dragon and for his cousin to return quickly to King's Landing, so that she would continue to be kind to him.

The gods listened to his requests, or at least some part of them.

After a few days, Daemon, his daughter from his first marriage, Baela, Rhaena and his wife, lady Laena, reached the Red Keep.

He came to see them because he hoped to see her.

Indeed, when he stepped into the chamber, where his mother, Rhaenyra and Helaena were also present, he spotted her at once, standing behind her father's back. She was looking at Daemon, as if hoping that he would turn his attention to her, but he did not – his uncle was looking at his brother, who was holding Baela hand in his.

His only child who had a dragon.

Although no word was spoken, he understood what had happened.

She had only regained her father for a moment and lost him again.

A pleasant shiver ran through him as she looked around the room, but her gaze stopped on him when she noticed him: he offered her a sad smile of comfort, and she reciprocated the gesture.

Although everyone at supper that evening was loud and chatty, she sat quietly, staring at her plate, immersed in her thoughts. He could see that she had not eaten much; her lips were tightly clenched, her gaze fled again and again to the silhouette of her father, who was talking aloud about the magnificent mansion they lived in Essos and their desire to stay there.

He felt an unpleasant twinge in his stomach at the thought.

“Do you like insects?” He suddenly heard his sister's voice leaning over their cousin.

Her question seemed absurd and out of any context, but Daemon's daughter was clearly trying to focus and answer the question.

“I like butterflies. And bumblebees.” She said after some thought.

Helaena twisted in her seat, delighted, and invited her to come to her chamber later that evening so that she could see through her large collection of dried moths.

He sighed, trying to hide the unpleasant sting of jealousy that an object that raised his self-esteem had just been stolen from him.

He wanted her back for himself, so that she would say nice things to him.

He wanted her to admire him.

He wanted her to love him and cry for him with longing when they were separated.

He would never reciprocate this, of course, because these were tender, feminine concerns, but it would certainly satisfy his vanity.

He noticed, watching them from the sidelines, that a strong, cordial bond developed between her and his sister after that day: otherwise it would surely have caused his irritation, but at some point he began to see it as an opportunity.

The more she became attached to them and to the Red Keep, the more she would desire to stay with them.

To his surprise, Helaena too had begun to care that her new companion remained in King's Landing; she shrewdly tried to address the issue as they set off together to the Great Sept with their mother.

“I have no trusted lady of the court, Mother. I don't like the fact that they put things in different places than I want. They disturb my order and speak too loudly. She is kind. She always asks my opinion first before she touches me or my things. We embroider together and watch insects. I would like her to stay with me.”

Though his mother easily denied him and Aegon, to her only daughter she could not.

To his satisfaction, she turned to her lord-husband, and he convinced his younger brother that his daughter needed stability and a girl her own age as a companion.

Though reluctantly, Daemon agreed.

He couldn't say that everything had gone according to his plan: now his cousin was his sister's lady-in-waiting, spending a lot of time with her. This meant that she couldn't give him as much attention as he would have liked.

However, one day everything changed.

“Helaena said the Maester is teaching you High Valyrian. I was wondering if you could teach me too, as my father is not here anymore.” She mumbled, clearly fearing that her offer would not be attractive for him.

He sighed, pretending that her words made no impression on him.

“What can you give me in return?” He asked defiantly, though he knew he would have agreed even if she had not been able to give him anything.

“...and what would you like?” She answered question for question, staring up at him with her big eyes, playing with her fingers in a nervous reflex.

“You will obey all my orders without complaining.” He replied at last, feeling that satisfaction, not blood, was now flowing through his veins.

His cousin furrowed her brow at his words, clearly worried and concerned.

“What if you make me do something bad? Or something that will bring me disgrace?” She mumbled.

“I won't make you do such a thing. I am a man of honour.” He said proudly.

He blinked, shocked to see that she nodded at his words.

That's it?

“When can we begin?” She asked, and he pressed his lips together, struggling not to smile.

“Come to my chamber tonight. I'll draw you a map so you can get to it through a side entrance. And don't you dare tell anyone about this, or I will kill you with my own hands.”

She was clearly unaffected by his threat, because she smiled broadly, her face beaming with joy.

Indeed, his quarters could be accessed not only through a door, but also from the side of his bed: there was a small tower with stairs leading up to one of the rarely used corridors of the Red Keep.

He was worried, waiting for her, sitting over a mountain of books, whether the journey through the dark alleys of the fortress would prove too difficult for her: for some reason he was relieved when he heard quiet footsteps in the distance, and then saw her in the passage, looking up at him with big eyes.

She smiled broadly at the sight of him, apparently happy that she had managed to find the right way and not get lost; he grunted as she sat down beside him, pulling off the thin grey cloak thrown over her shoulders.

“Where did you and your father finish?” He asked, forcing himself to be indifferent – he swallowed hard, noticing with horror as he reached for one of the volumes that his hand was trembling with excitement.

He had never yet invited anyone to his chamber, much less without the knowledge of his mother and father.

It was their secret.

“On chapter twelve.” She said lightly, moving her chair closer to him so she could better see what they were about to discuss.

He felt relieved at the thought that he and Maester were already on chapter forty.

“Very well.” He hummed, pleased that he would be able to show off his knowledge and proficiency in this area.

His cousin, when her father wasn't around, proved to be a focused and curious student. She would ask him lots of questions and go back to things he had mentioned earlier, giving him proof that she was really listening to him.

He liked the role of teacher very much: he felt that it added to his esteem, while reassuring him that his time spent over the old tomes, contrary to what Aegon had said, was not time wasted.

He didn't know who he was really doing it for: whether for himself or for her. Certainly, in his own mind, he was convincing himself that the fact that he had agreed to teach her in Daemon's absence was an act of his favour, something for which she should be eternally grateful.

In fact, she was grateful to him.

He found it harder and harder to pretend he didn't see her during sparring or supper; some part of him, to his dismay, had come to the conclusion that he was enjoying her presence.

She cared for his older sister and was her faithful companion, but she also found time for him and his perpetually praise-hungry ego.

He was embarrassed by the way she smiled at him when their glances met in the courtyard or at the table: he had the impression that her eyes shone with joy for some reason, the expression on her face gentle and warm.

Kind.

He chastised himself for these thoughts and the strange yet pleasant feeling that filled his chest every time he lowered his head, stopping the corners of his mouth from rising with difficulty.

Then it was revealed that lady Laena was expecting another child, and something in her suddenly faded.

She felt less and less visible in the eyes of her father, who was far away, on another continent, while she was here, all by herself.

Looking at her and his own mother, Queen Alicent, sitting near her, he compared the shades of their hair, their eyes, the shape of their noses, hands and faces.

After thinking about it for a while, he decided that differences between them were not that great, and that if he had forgotten that she was the daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen and Lady Rhea Royce, his cousin could be the daughter of King Viserys Targaryen and Queen Alicent Hightower.

His sister.

In truth, he was only a month older than her, but that did not change the fact that this would make him her older brother: this, in turn, would mean that since it was Helaena's destiny to marry Aegon, it would be his younger sister's destiny to marry him.

He lowered his gaze at this thought, feeling a burning red blush of embarrassment spread across his pale cheeks at the thought.

His heart thumped harder in his chest when he realised that nothing in that thought had rejected him.

But what if she didn't want it?

If she felt disgusted at the very thought of marrying him?

Rejection was something he couldn't afford.

It was safer to remain silent.

He felt his own blood under his tongue when his teeth involuntarily bit his lower lip at the word that her father wanted to take her to Essos.

“You have been away from home for too long. You should spend more time with your sisters.” He heard Daemon's voice outside her chamber door a few hours after her father had arrived in King's Landing.

Eavesdropping was not in good taste, but for some reason he couldn't help himself.

“What should I say to Helaena? I don't want to leave her.” Mumbled his daughter, clearly trying to come up with something quickly that would allow her to stay in the Red Keep.

“That you will now spend time with your true family.”

Your true family.

He didn't know why, but his jaw clenched in rage when he heard those words, a sharp pain piercing his heart, which beat harder in his chest.

And then Daemon took her away.

The first months without her presence had been the hardest for him, as he'd forgotten she was gone: he'd flipped through the books, wanting to prepare for their lessons, reminding himself angrily after a while that they weren't going to happen after all. Her chair had disappeared from the supper table, and her silhouette was not standing in the courtyard, aiming at a target with a bow.

It was as if she had never been there.

And then word reached King's Landing that lady Laena had died in childbirth.

It was a time of sadness in the Red Keep: previously Rhaenyra had mourned the death of her lover and father of her bastards, Harwin Strong; now, however, someone who was related to them all by blood, a close part of their family, had died.

He was ashamed that during the journey they had taken the whole family on to attend lady Laena's funeral, he had struggled to hold back a smile, feeling excited at the thought that the largest dragon in the world had just been left without a rider.

Although he tried to fool himself, he was enjoying not only the opportunity to claim a dragon, but also to see someone else.

The sea journey he had been forced to make, unlike his siblings, had dragged on mercilessly. When they finally reached the shore, he vomited: however, he quickly pulled himself together, recognising that neither she nor his nephews could see him in such a state.

His family were welcomed into the fortress with honours; he felt his heart pounding hard as he looked around the courtyard, hoping to see her. As he raised his head, he drew in a deep breath, catching sight of her silhouette in one of the open windows.

When their gazes met, she smiled.

Despite the fact that he should be concentrating on grieving, all he did during the funeral was listen for any sounds of the dragon that might be coming from afar and glanced at her, shocked that she seemed slightly taller to him – he also had the impression that her figure had become more girlish, whatever that meant.

When she caught him staring at her, he lifted his head up, embarrassed, pretending to look at the sky.

During the feast, which took place in one of the courtyards situated high above the sea, all he could think about was how to get her to speak to him. He did not want to be the one vying for her attention, running after a woman: this was foolish and, most importantly, unworthy of a man.

A man was supposed to be strong and proud, cold if necessary, but never weak.

Nevertheless, he longed to spend time with her, though she did not know it: she watched from the sidelines her half-sisters, embraced tightly by their grandparents, drenched in tears. Daemon and Rheanyra had disappeared somewhere, and she was left alone, not knowing what to do with herself.

After a while, their gazes met again – this time, though with difficulty, he did not look away. They continued like this for a while, until she made a slight movement with her head, as if pointing to the stone steps that led behind the wall, and then walked down them.

She wanted him to follow her.

He swallowed hard and glanced at his bored brother, who held a refilled wine cup in his hand.

“I'm going to take a walk. I have no desire to stay with these people.” He said to him dispassionately.

Aegon shrugged his shoulders.

“Do what you want.” His brother replied, looking intensely at one of the servants in the distance.

He sighed silently and moved ahead, feeling his heart in his throat.

What if someone sees them?

Was this a good idea?

Maybe he should turn back?

Hundreds of thoughts beat against each other in his head, but his legs led him to the stone stairs anyway, and then down to where no one could see them.

His cousin stood by the wall, looking beyond it to the sea; her long hair was partly tied back with a blue ribbon, the rest of it was blown by the wind. When she heard his footsteps, she looked up at him and smiled in a way he knew very well.

She was glad to see him.

“I'm glad to see you, cousin.” She said softly when he stopped in front of her, as if she was reading his mind.

He nodded, embarrassed, feeling for some reason that despite the cool sea breeze around them, he was hot.

“My condolences.” He muttered, reminding himself that his mother had ordered him to say it to everyone he met.

His cousin lowered her gaze and nodded, accepting his words.

“Thank you.”

They both fell silent, looking out at the sea, simply standing side by side. He was afraid that he should say something and was thinking hard about what neutral topic he could raise, when he suddenly heard her voice beside him.

“She was a good woman. She never tried to replace my mother, but she did everything she could to make me feel that she cared about me. I regret that I never thanked her for it.” She muttered, her voice breaking more and more with each sentence.

He looked at her uncertainly out of the corner of his eye, fearing that she would cry.

He wasn't good at consoling, so he remained silent.

“But I couldn't love her. Nor my sisters. I couldn't form a bond with them. My stepmother died, and I don't feel anything.” She said in a breaking voice, tear after tear ran down her cheeks red from the cold.

“If you don't feel anything, why are you crying?” He asked, looking ahead, straight at the setting sun hiding behind the horizon of the sea.

“Because I'm ashamed.” She confessed, making him feel a squeeze in his chest for some reason.

“You don't have to. She was not your mother, and they are not your sisters. You don't owe them anything.” He replied matter-of-factly, feeling that this was exactly what he believed.

Contrary to what Daemon had told her, they were not her true family.

They only pretended to be one.

“Who then is my family, if not my own father, his wife and daughters?” She mumbled with difficulty, as if his words frightened her even more.

He pressed his lips into a thin line, wondering if he should say it.

“Unlike my nephews, you are a true blood of the dragon. You can decide for yourself who you will love and who you will despise.” He replied with emphasis on the last words, involuntarily glancing in her direction.

She looked at him in disbelief, her dark eyes larger than ever, as if what he was saying shocked her.

“We don't control who we love.” She said, looking him straight in the face.

“We don't control. We choose.” He finally stated and drew in the air loudly, folding his hands behind his back. “You also have to choose. If you wish, I will take you with me back to where you belong. To King's Landing.”

Her lower lip twiched at his words, as if he had stabbed a dagger straight into her heart.

“I don't believe you.”

He wanted to answer her, but he flinched when he realised that he had heard the screech of a dragon in the distance – he raised his head and followed with his eyes the small, dark silhouette flying between the clouds.

Then he made his decision.

“I will take you to the Red Keep on the back of my dragon.”

She did not understand what he meant, however, he preferred not to initiate her into his plan: she had promised to obey him, so when he commanded her to go to sleep and worry about nothing, she did so reluctantly.

He, on the other hand, set out under cover of darkness to meet his destiny.

The trip through hills full of sand and stones was difficult and exhausting, but what he saw was sufficient compensation for his efforts. Vhagar was frighteningly beautiful: she was big, magnificent, and she evidently saw in him what none but his mother and cousin could, for although she opened her maw to burn him, when he spoke to her in High Valyrian, she hesitated.

Climbing onto her back, his palms were sweaty from nerves and terror, his body trembling as he tried with great effort to reach her saddle. When he finally succeeded and lifted into the skies with her, he realised that the gods had given him a sign, revealing to him his fate.

He had made Vhagar his dragon, and in the future he would make his cousin his wife.

In that moment, as he screamed with happiness, flying between the clouds, it made perfect sense to him. He didn't see this idea as something to do with physicality, but rather the conviction that since they both held affection and respect for each other, someday they would surely be able to beget offspring together, to create a lineage they would both be proud of.

In that one moment, he felt like he was holding his destiny in his hands, only for the gods to flip a coin again.

As soon as he landed back on the ground his nephews were already waiting for him and gave him another gift, this time one he was never to forget.

If he had to explain to someone what the pain of his eye being pulled out of his eye socket was, he wouldn't be able to describe it: it seemed to him that not only he was screaming, but his whole body as well, that his fingernails would pierce the frame of the bed he was lying on, that he was about to die and would never wake up.

He feared death.

“Mother, don't let me die.” He mumbled out, choking on his tears, his hands clenched into fists on the sheets.

His mother squeezed his arm harder, giving him courage.

“You will not die, my brave son. One day we will have our vengeance.”

Though Luke had taken his honour and his face, he had gained something more: a dragon.

A dragon that no one could challenge.

He knew that what happened after he returned from Vhagar's liege had nothing to do with Daemon's daughter: he had ordered her to stay in her chamber until he came for her, and so she did.

When he walked into her quarters, she rose from her seat, her face flooded with tears.

Daemon had already told her what had happened.

“I –” She began, but he would not let her finish.

“Fly with me or stay. I won't give you a second chance to choose.” He said coldly.

He was a man of honour and he kept his word.

He was sure she would refuse.

He was sure she was a coward.

But she nodded her head.

Neither of them knew how furious Daemon had been when he and his daughter had taken to the skies without his knowledge: when, in his eyes, he had abducted her as it was in the tradition of Old Valyria for centuries, to one day make her his wife.

Lady Royce

Her father punished her escape with his silence: the very thing he knew would hurt her most. He didn't answer her letters or explanations, and for months, then years, he didn't visit the Red Keep even at the invitation of his brother-king.

She knew that he considered what she had done a betrayal, and she suffered greatly because of it.

Nevertheless, she could not lie to herself and pretend that returning to King's Landing did not bring her relief. Between her half-sisters, she felt invisible, her father's person crushed her, and now she was free again.

At least in theory.

Queen Alicent was enraged when she saw her in the company of her son as soon as they returned to the Red Keep: she considered it their act of disobedience and a reason for Daemon to take revenge on her and her children. Her husband, however, was not so harsh about their misdeeds.

“They are just children, my love. My niece can stay here as long as she wishes. My brother and his daughters are in mourning. Let her not surround herself with sorrow and death.”

Although, in fact, King Viserys was partly right, her father was not really focused on mourning, but on marrying another woman as soon as possible.

Rhaenyra.

Only then did she feel as if someone had drawn a clear red line between one part of her family and another: the one that supported Queen Alicent and the one that supported Princess Rheanyra.

She herself wasn't sure she supported anyone: all she cared about was keeping Helaena safe. She was unable to bond with Baela and Rhaena, but she treated the king's daughter like her true sister.

She was calm, quiet and kind, full of warmth that gave her a sense of safety.

“I'm worried about Aemond.” She said one day, bent over her beautiful embroidery depicting a spider. “I feel that he is retreating more and more into the darkness of his mind.”

She lowered her gaze at her words, understanding perfectly what she meant: she answered nothing, however, as her cousin forbade her to speak of anything they discussed or did behind the closed door of his chamber.

He had kissed her for the first time when they were thirteen; he was respectful and gentle when his hands cupped her soft, pink cheeks during one of their lessons in his quarters, his caress slow and warm.

He was clearly nervous and excited, his breath heavy as their skin pressed together in a wet, sticky act she had only heard about from girls older than her.

She was convinced that this gesture was not a proof of his affection for her, but jealousy that Aegon had more experience with women than he did.

Nevertheless, since then, there had been a change in him that she had not expected: he had apparently regarded that incident as a turning point of some sort.

He began to speak not of his lineage but of their lineage, not of his heritage but of their heritage.

“From now on, I will be to you like an older brother,” he communicated to her proudly, looking down at her, having long been much taller than her, “I will protect you and surround you with the care a man should bestow on a woman.”

She accepted his words with joyful disbelief, feeling her heart flutter like a bird in her chest.

On more than one occasion, she had witnessed Aegon encouraging him to join him in a brothel – according to his older brother, only intercourse with the body of a mature, experienced woman could make him a real man.

It seemed to her that her cousin was inwardly torn listening to these words – some part of him clearly wanted to prove to Aegon that he could be as good a lover as he was, but on the other hand he dismissed him, saying that he was interested in the arts of war and sword, not old courtesans.

Occasionally he would glance at her out of the corner of his eye, as if the fact that she was listening to this exchange of words made him uncomfortable; then, for a moment, the thought would cross her mind that perhaps she was the reason he was refusing him.

She realised then that there was some kind of plan in his head, a vision of which she was also a part.

She craved it and was terrified of it at the same time.

She was not a mature woman, let alone an experienced one.

When she looked at herself in the mirror, she saw with sadness that, compared to the other ladies of the court, she still looked like a child; the delicate outline of her breasts under her gown could not compare with the full, plump shapes of the other women's chests, as much as with their wide hips and coquettish smiles.

She didn't know what to do to make the change inside her happen faster, until one day she found out that transforming into a woman wasn't as pleasant and beautiful as it might seem.

“You are bleeding, my love,” Queen Alicent told her, trying to reassure her after she woke up, all sticky from the blood leaking from between her thighs, “your flower has blossomed. It means you are fertile and can become a mother. It's natural, although unpleasant.”

“When will it end?” She muttered, twisting in her seat, already dressed in clean smallclothes, filled inside with materials that were apparently meant to stop the bleeding.

“In a few days. But it will happen again in a month. It will continue to happen for years, as long as you and your future husband do not conceive a child.” The queen explained to her.

“For years?” She squirmed, feeling that something in that thought had broken her.

She did not know why she had cried that day, lying in her bed. She resented her father that neither he nor his second wife had warned her what the woman's fate was.

She did not know that she would feel painful spasms in her lower abdomen, she did not know that the warm, disgusting liquid would flow out of her again and again, making her uncomfortable.

She felt that there was no glory in it, no reason to be proud – on the contrary, for some reason she felt an overwhelming, deep shame.

She shuddered and covered herself more tightly with a fur when she heard the door to her chamber open – her cousin stepped inside without a word, striding towards her with his hands folded behind his back.

It was the first time he had come to her, rather than she to him.

“My congratulations.” He said, stopping beside her bed, looking at her with some kind of curiosity and satisfaction.

“I don't follow.” She mumbled, surprised by his choice of words.

“Fertility is a reason for every woman to be proud.” He stated, cocking his head to the side.

She lowered her gaze, realising that he knew what was happening to her.

“I didn't know it would be so painful.” She finally confessed, wondering if he would scold her for self-pity.

He, however, was silent for a long moment before speaking again.

“That's because you're not carrying a child inside you. When you become my wife, I will see to it that you no longer suffer.” He replied at last, struggling to remain calm – she had known him long enough, however, to know that he feared her reaction.

She looked at him with big eyes, feeling her heart pounding like mad.

What?

“What do you mean?” She muttered without thinking, even though she understood perfectly well what he was implying.

She just couldn't believe he'd said it out loud.

She saw that he swallowed hard, struggling to keep a stony face.

“Do you wish to marry someone else?” He asked, a hint of frustration in his voice that sent a cold shiver down her spine.

She shook her head quickly, horrified at his suggestion and the direction their conversation was going.

“N-no.” She mumbled.

“Good.” He said and turned away without another word, leaving her alone with his suggestion of what he truly desired.

Despite his words, he didn't try to kiss her for a second time; apparently his pride wouldn't allow him to ask again for something that, in his mind, was no more than a naïve female fantasy.

That he was incapable of expressing and showing his feelings openly, she had known for a long time; anything that might make him be seen as weak or naive was an unnecessary risk for him.

His older brother watched him closely, mocking and commenting aloud on any behaviour he found amusing and worthy of his attention.

To her cousin, the thought that he was constantly being watched, and thus could not afford to make a mistake, was completely petrifying.

This was the reason he avoided using words; it frightened him how many undertones and misunderstandings they involved, how easily he could destroy his reputation in the eyes of others with one ill-considered sentence.

She was then left with no choice but to use her intuition, carefully observing his subtlest gestures and glances to understand what he was trying to convey to her wordlessly. It was a difficult process, because he too often did not know what his needs really were and what they stemmed from.

“I don't want to strain you. We can discuss this chapter another time.” She said uncertainly, seeing that ever since she had crossed the threshold of his chamber his figure had tensed and his face expressed cold displeasure.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye in a way from which she felt a squeeze in her throat.

“If you want to leave, then do so.” He replied, making her blink in astonishment.

“I just want you to rest properly.” She muttered, playing with her fingers in a nervous gesture.

She felt around him like she was with her father, never knowing what would satisfy him.

“Are you afraid of me?” He asked at last, forcing the words out with some strange difficulty, as if this thought had been weighing on his heart for a long time.

She swallowed hard, completely surprised by his question.

“No. I just… I just find it hard to comprehend what could possibly please you.” She choked out with difficulty, feeling ashamed at hearing how pathetic that sounded.

She thought he would laugh mockingly at her words, but his face was completely grave.

“Your kiss will please me.” He said with some kind of regret, as if he was suffering from having to ask her for it.

It hit her that he simply wanted reciprocation when, at the same time, she was afraid that if she offered it herself, he would consider it undignified behaviour on her part.

She sighed, trying to calm herself down and moved closer to him – she saw that he drew in air loudly through his nose, as if he was trying to mentally prepare himself for what was about to happen.

He shuddered as she took his face in her hands, exactly as he did then – her thumbs stroked his cheeks and he closed his eyelid for a moment, as if he felt relieved. She took advantage of the fact that he wasn't looking and leaned in, letting their lips join in a moist, soft kiss – he surprised her when he parted his mouth and gently deepened the caress, making his warm breath fill her throat.

She closed her eyes, for some reason not wanting to pull away from him – she let his fingers run through her long, loose hair, let his hands roam tentatively over the back of her head and neck, while their lips brushed and teased each other with the quiet, sticky clicks of their saliva.

Eventually they ran out of breath, so they broke the kiss, however, their foreheads remained pressed together.

“Leave, if you want to.” He whispered, clearly indicating that he had no intention of taking advantage of her in any way.

“I don't want to leave,” she mumbled, embarrassed by her own words, “I want to fall asleep by your side.”

“My mother would kill me.” He mumbled out, as if he was fighting the strenuous urge to succumb to her.

“Then I will leave. I don't want to be the reason for you two to disagree.” She said, stroking his cheek with her palm, trying to comfort him.

“No,” he breathed out, his fingers digging harder into the fabric of her robe at her back, “stay.”

So she stayed.

There was something naïve about the way they lay far apart on his bed, the way his hand grasped hers and squeezed it, as if he wanted to find out if it was really happening.

“Don't tell anyone.” He asked, a sort of childish desire in his eye, from which her heart filled with warmth.

“I won't.”

That night it seemed to her that he didn't fall asleep even for a moment – she felt his hand run over her fingers, over her shoulder, and when he was sure she was immersed in a dream, he smoothed her cheek with his thumb.

What surprised her was that every time he did this a warm, pleasant shiver ran through her body – she wished he would never stop, because this was the first time in her life she had felt so comforted by someone.

This event had changed him; clearly the realisation that she reciprocated his affection had emboldened him in some way.

When they finished their lessons, they often lay on his bed facing each other and talked, touching each other's hands, faces and hair at the same time. Her heart pounded like crazy as his fingers combed through her curls, as his hand closed around the back of her neck, massaging it gently.

“I like the way you smell,” he said once out of nowhere, surprising her completely, “and the fact that your skin is so pleasantly soft.”

She realised he was trying to offer her a compliment – the thought of the two of them taking a walk through the royal gardens or showing interest in each other in public filled him with embarrassment, however, he had clearly found that in the privacy of his chamber he was willing to give her something he was not offering anyone else.

His words.

She smiled broadly at his confession, feeling a pleasant warmth in her lower abdomen spilling over her insides like a wave.

“And I like your big hands,” she replied shyly, stroking the skin of his wrist with her fingers, “and your beautiful white hair.”

She saw that he swallowed loudly, and his lips tightened in an involuntary attempt to stop himself from showing any reaction to her words; nevertheless, his eye betrayed him – it grew large and full of something she understood perfectly.

He needed to hear that something of value could be seen in him too, including physically.

That he wasn't a cripple in her eyes.

The way he slowly leaned towards her, his lips that barely brushed hers in a gesture full of invitation, their hands that clasped in their hair seemed as natural to her as breathing – the caress of their lips was hotter and more intimate than they had ever been before, deep, filled with something she was yet to discover.

Kisses were a form of reward for them, but also some kind of consolation on difficult days; in this way, although they could not speak openly to each other about this subject, they gave each other a sense of mutual care.

Over time, although it carried a high risk of being caught, they took this caress beyond the thresholds of his room; it was enough for him to catch her in one of the less frequented corridors of the Red Keep for their brief – even rough on his side – exchange of words to end with his tongue invading between her plump lips.

He liked it when their tongues met and licked, because he was obviously aroused by how perverse and passionate it was; his healthy eye was closed when his body pressed hers against one of the cold stone walls, while their hot mouths melted together again and again.

It was a warm, wet experience, filled with their loud, raspy breaths, their hands tentatively trailing the silhouettes of their bodies, giving them only the promise of what they both desired.

In that moment, in some strange, chaotic way they were devouring each other.

Her cousin evidently believed that he did not need to explain or confess anything to her; no words of affection, if he had any for her, ever left his lips. On the contrary; as he grew taller and his physique grew stronger, so did his ego, and with it the impression that he could not afford to show what he thought was a mere feminine sentiments.

Perhaps this would have been the reason for her distress, had it not been for the fact that he paid more attention to her than to anyone else anyway; above all, to the despair of the other ladies of the court, she was the only person besides Criston Cole and members of his family with whom he spoke in public of his own free will.

He usually approached her when he had something to say to her and announced it to her as simply and quickly as possible – he would then stand erect in front of her with his hands folded behind his back and look off somewhere into the distance, glancing at her only occasionally, usually driven by mere curiosity.

“A wild dragon has been seen in the Vale regions lately.” He said to her one day, as she happened to be heading to his sister's chamber to help her change before supper. “He is said to be larger than Meleys.”

She blinked, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad – she looked around quickly, wanting to make sure no one had heard what he had said.

“Help me.” She whispered. “Please.”

Her cousin cocked his head and hummed, looking at her with his mouth formed in the shape of an o, as if he wanted to whistle in satisfaction.

He liked it when she begged.

“Hm. How can I be sure you won't use this dragon against me and my family one day?” He asked offhandedly, looking down at her, a kind of challenge in his voice.

She blinked, feeling cold discomfort in her chest at his words.

“I am your family.” She mumbled.

An uncomfortable silence fell between them – she could see in his gaze that he was thinking about something, at the same time unable to deny her words.

“We leave tomorrow, at dawn.” He finally communicated to her in boredom, leaving her bewildered.

“And the Queen and your grandfather? Do they know what you intend to do?” She asked, and he rolled his eye, clearly frustrated by her remark.

“Sheep don't understand the ways of dragons. It's beyond their comprehension.” He recognised with some kind of pride, from which she pressed her lips together to keep from expressing her disbelief.

Clearly something in the expression on her face must have betrayed her, for he looked at her suddenly with a piercing, watchful gaze, his jaw twitching in a reflex she knew well.

“Come to my chamber tonight.”

Just as she had done in their childhood days, to leave her rooms now she had to wait for the watch to change; only then would she slip out and take advantage of the moment to make her way down a dark, rarely used corridor through a side entrance to the prince's quarters.

She had no idea if anyone but her knew about it; presumably if they did, the guards thought the additional door remained locked. However, her cousin had left them open for her, and it was through these that she entered, stepping into his chamber, enveloped in the warm light of the fire.

She spotted his silhouette at once – he was sitting at the top of a long table, on which lay stacks of maps and letters, a thick, old volume in his hands.

When he heard her footsteps, he lifted a glance of his healthy eye to her, and then returned to his reading again, carelessly turning the page over.

She was not bothered by this; he was often in the habit of pretending not to see her at first. From her perspective, it was his attempt to cope with the fact that, although accustomed to solitude, he was hosting someone else in his private quarters.

She untied her cloak, placed it on one of the richly decorated oak chairs and, wearing nothing but her nightgown, took a slow, quiet step towards his bed. She knew she could do it, and that she was certain to stay with him anyway, so she simply lay back on the soft sheet and closed her eyes, listening to the pleasant sound of the sizzling fire.

For a moment, all she could hear was that and the rustle of pages being turned – the smell of him and the parchments pleasantly filled her nose, calming her.

The quiet creak of wood woke her from her half-sleep and she shuddered, opening her sleepy eyes – she spotted his silhouette heading lazily towards her. His hand rose to the belt of his tunic, undoing it with the quiet click of a buckle.

“Tomorrow. You must promise to obey me. Otherwise I will not fly with you.” He said calmly, looking at her with an expression on his face that pretended to show indifference.

“I will.” She said.

“Mm.” He hummed under his breath, finally pulling the leather material off his shoulders.

She made room for him and moved sideways on the bed as he sat on the edge of it and leaned over, pulling his boots off his feet. She watched wordlessly as he did the same a moment later with his eye patch, finally throwing it carelessly onto the stone floor. He sighed and hid his face in his hand, massaging the area around his scarred eye socket in some subconscious reflex.

Stress was causing discomfort to return to the left side of his face.

“You are in pain.” She whispered softly, raising herself up on her elbow.

He didn't reply, just swallowed hard and froze in stillness.

“Let me.” She insisted, and he finally looked at her and nodded.

She raised herself up on her knees and moved towards him, sitting down so that she could see his face. He looked at her silently with some kind of melancholy as her hands gently grasped his face and her thumbs began to massage his temples.

He immediately closed his eye and flinched as her thumbs moved over his brow arches and cheekbones – he twitched when she did it the first time, but relaxed more and more with each subsequent stroke, and his face took on an expression of relief.

“I wouldn't object if you did this to me all night.” He said quietly, his eyelid still closed. She smiled involuntarily at his words, running her fingers over his forehead, nose and cheeks, going back to the beginning – to his temples and brows.

“I can.” She said warmly, but he shook his head.

“We need to rest. Come. I want to sleep.”

She nodded and held out her hand to him, shifting back towards the middle of the bed – he moved obediently to follow her and literally fell into her arms, pressing his nose against the space between her breasts.

She wasn't sure if he was able to breathe in that position, but she could see that his chest was rising and falling, so she didn't comment on it, combing her fingers through his white hair.

She knew that he was hiding from the world now: he wanted to disappear for a while and simply not be, like a small, defenceless child.

The control that he, in his mind, had over his life had a high cost that he did not speak of – it superseded any of his other needs unrelated to survival and victory, whatever that victory would mean.

While it may have seemed complicated, in fact the truth was much simpler: he was tired. It wasn't so much a physical fatigue, however, but rather a spiritual one – the self-imposed compulsion to remain silent when he was still a child was something that kept him safe, but also imprisoned him in his own head.

She mused on this as she watched him in silence, playing with strands of his long hair, feeling his body grow loose in her embrace, the tips of his fingers wandering lazily over her bare arm, his eye remaining closed.

He craved her closeness, but in more ways than one; preferably ones he could see as safe in his mind.

Lying in her embrace was such; he could just lie there and let her stroke him, listening to the slow beat of her heart. He could smell her scent and feel the warmth of her body, hear her breathing, have her to himself and know that she would fall asleep with him.

It calmed him.

In the middle of the night, she was awakened by the touch of a familiar hand – when she opened her eyes, she was in the midst of darkness. Her cousin was still snuggled up against her body, and he was obviously convinced that she was deeply asleep – it was only because of this that he allowed his fingers to travel up to her breast and squeeze it gently, as if checking to see if it was as soft as he imagined.

She couldn't stop the hot shudder that ran through her body or the pulsing she felt deep between her thighs. Other than that, she didn't move; she felt him freeze for a while, but after a moment, when he recognised that she had reacted in her sleep, he went back to stroking her plump bosom with his fingers.

A soft, shaky breath escaped her lips, her hands tightened on his back, holding him close; she felt him flinch and he froze again, taking his hand quickly off her chest.

She heard him swallow hard as she grasped his wrist and, in a gentle, slow motion, placed his hand where it had been – her fingers intertwined with his, allowing him to sink into the softness of her flesh again.

She thought it was a very intimate experience, one from which her whole body grew hot and her cheeks lit up red. She closed her eyes, hearing both of them breathe a little louder, their bodies pressed tighter together, seeking closeness.

Her wordless consent apparently made him feel bold, because he leaned forward, closing his lips around her nipple, clearly visible under the thin material of her nightgown. Something between a moan of surprise and a sigh escaped her throat when she felt him begin to suck as if he were a baby – her fingers clenched on his hair, holding him close.

“– lēkia (big brother) –” She whispered and flinched as she felt something long and hard pulsate in his breeches, pushing against her thigh.

She didn't quite understand the purpose of what he was just doing, but it was pleasant; she thought perhaps it was one of the secrets Aegon had told him about the pleasures of the female body.

She kissed the top of his head as his hand slid down her waist, slipping uncertainly under her linen shirt to finally touch her bare knee.

She felt that something throbbed hard deep inside her, that something sticky ran down her buttock to the sheet beneath their bodies.

They both began to pant as his broad hand went higher up her thigh and then to her hip, squeezing it finally between his fingers.

She shuddered as his wrist slid lower, between her legs, and his hand immediately froze – exactly like her body – when he touched her moist, pulsing womanhood.

“May I?” He asked in a whisper, still snuggled into her chest, not daring to look at her.

“What… what do you want to do?” She answered question for question, unsure of how much she herself was ready for.

She heard him swallow hard, as if he was terrified of having to answer her out loud.

“I want to give you pleasure.”

She felt her heart pounding like mad under his cheek, her fingers gently stroking his head.

She wondered if she should say it.

“I'm afraid.”

He took his hand from between het thighs at her words.

“What are you afraid of? I would never hurt you.” He assured her with a kind of surprise and regret, as if he didn't believe he had to say it.

“It's such a… private place. I…”

“I didn't mean to rush you. Forgive me. Do not be afraid.” He whispered, his voice strangely soothing, as if he understood what she meant.

“I'm sorry.” She mumbled in shame, feeling that she had ruined something that could have changed everything between them.

Her cousin raised himself on his elbow to look at her, but her big, red eyes made him freeze.

“Daor, hāedar (no, little sister). Gaomagon limagon daor (do not cry).” He said in a quiet, melodious tone, his large hand gently cupping her hot cheek.

“It was happening so fast. Your hand…”

She didn't finish as he leaned over her and placed a soft, gentle kiss on her lips. They stayed like that for a while without separating their bodies, her fingers grasping his, holding him close.

When he finally pulled away from her, his gaze was calm.

“I should have prepared you better. Explain what I want to do.” He said with a kind of weariness from which she felt a squeeze in her throat.

It was the first time he had spoken openly.

“Can you explain it to me now? So that I understand?” She asked, and he swallowed loudly, lowering his gaze for a moment.

He began to play with the material of her nightgown between his fingers, apparently struggling to find the right words to describe his desires.

“The source of a woman's pleasure, from what I understood from my brother's babble, is deep between her thighs. It is hidden there and must be found and caressed for a woman to achieve fulfilment.” He choked out finally, looking at her womb and hips, now hidden again under her shirt.

She twisted in her place, intrigued.

“The ladies of the court say that a man's tongue down there can perform wonders. But I don't know what they meant by that.” She said lightly.

She saw that he looked at her in shock, his nostrils twitched in a deep breath.

“You've heard about it too. From whom?” She asked amused.

He grunted and shrugged his shoulders, turning his head in the opposite direction.

“Aegon likes to brag about what he does to his whores and servants.” He muttered, feigning indifference, but his breathing, deep and uneven, betrayed him.

“Would you like to try it? That tongue thing.” He suggested suddenly, glancing in her direction out of the corner of his eye.

She drew in a loud breath, twisting in her place again, feeling her womanhood swell suddenly and pulsate around nothing at the very thought.

His mouth, down there.

“Doesn't it disgust you?” She mumbled in shame.

“You took a bath before you came to me, didn't you?”

“…I did.” She admitted, looking at him with wide eyes.

“So I can try. To satisfy our curiosity.” He proposed, apparently wanting to find any justification for what he wanted to do.

She nodded, feeling her heart in her throat, her stomach no longer filled with fear but with pure, hot excitement.

“If you don't like it, say so. I don't want to force you.” She said in a voice breaking with tension, watching in disbelief as he moved down, kneeling between her legs.

He threw her a meaningful look, in which she saw some kind of mockery.

“As if it's easy to force me to do anything against my will. Who do you think I am?” He asked with a wince, a slow, lazy movement of his hand lifting the material of her nightgown above her hips.

She had never been so exposed to anyone before in her life; she had to turn her gaze away to avoid looking at it and closed her eyes, trying to calm her breathing. Her hands tightened on the pillow on each side of her head when she felt him gently take her thighs in his rough hands and spread them slightly apart.

For a moment nothing happened; she thought he was just looking at her, or rather at what was between her legs. She sighed and flinched, surprised when his thumb ran down the length of her opening, apparently wanting to collect what had managed to leak out of her.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked uncertainly, clearly not understanding if her reaction was due to discomfort or not.

She shook her head quickly, looking up at him only to close her eyes again a moment later, overwhelmed by the helpless position she had just found herself in.

She was at his mercy.

He won't hurt me, she assured herself in spirit.

He promised me that, and he is a man of his word.

This thought calmed her.

Her heart thumped harder in her chest when she heard the bed creak loudly under the weight of his body, and then his hot breath enveloped her throbbing womanhood – a quiet moan of surprise broke from her throat when she felt his slick tongue run over her flesh, causing an aggressive shiver to pass down her spine.

She didn't have time to calm down after that first, shocking sensation, and his tongue again clung to her smooth, dripping cunt, licking it like a cat drinking milk – her hands involuntarily reached into his hair and clenched on it, her hips made a motion forward as if trying to sink into his face.

“– oh – yes –” She breathed out, but it seemed to her that this voice was not her own, its tones squeaky and girlish, full of surprise.

She thought her body was on fire, arching as it rocked to the rhythm of his caresses – she heard him sigh, obviously feeling her wetness begin to run down her buttocks. His lips closed gently around the sweet spot she felt most strongly and began to suck, making her cry out loudly, throwing her head back.

“– Aemond –” She whined out pleadingly, though she didn't know what she was really asking for – all she could hear and feel were the wet sounds of slurping and licking, lazy and unhurried, full of a thoroughness that drove her mad.

As she glanced down at him, for some reason wanting to see him now, she noticed that his eyelid was closed and he was completely absorbed in his task – his head was moving back and forth, disappearing again and again deep between her thighs.

It felt like a bolt of lightning pierced her lower abdomen when she felt his tongue burst inside her body and begin to thrust between her fleshy, hot walls.

“– g-gods – gods, oh, fuck, fuck, yes, yes, brother, here, right here, yes –” She begged, completely losing touch with reality, feeling nothing but overwhelming pleasure as again and again the tip of his tongue teased a spot deep inside her, from which the tension in her loins became unbearable.

She felt that some sort of peak was approaching, that if it lasted even a moment longer, her poor womanhood would simply explode.

“– ah! –” She almost screamed out in pleasure as a convulsion shook her body – she threw her head back, feeling a wonderful, overpowering, tickling wave of heat spread across her insides, flowing through her mouth, her breasts, her belly, down to her throbbing, leaking cunt.

She panted for a moment longer, wishing the feeling would never go away, until she froze powerless, breathing heavily with her eyes closed. She only looked up at him when she heard the quiet rustling of fabric, followed by quick, rhythmic, sticky splats – before she could make any sound his mouth was on hers, tasting foreign, salty and sweet at the same time.

She moaned into his throat, surprised when she felt something warm and long rub against her womanhood again and again – at first she was frightened that he craved fulfillment inside her, but contrary to her assumption, he did not try to take her. He caressed himself with his hand, squeezing his manhood at the very root, teasing its smooth tip by running it over her moist, oversensitive slit.

She murmured contentedly, sinking her hands into his long hair, letting it fall lightly against her body. Knowing that he was balancing on one hand and just giving himself pleasure with the other, she decided to help him achieve satisfaction, exactly as he had helped her.

He looked at her with his mouth wide open, breaking the kiss for a moment when he saw her slide her nightgown off her shoulders, revealing the fullness of her breasts to him. He closed his eyes and gave her a quiet little moan as she lifted his shirt up, exposing his chest, and with a gesture of her arms, encouraged him to let their bare skin touch.

“– hāedar – mmm –” He breathed out into her mouth, sliding his tongue deep into her throat, his free hand grasping her breast so that with every movement of his hips her nipple rubbed against his chest.

Her body was all flushed from what she had experienced with him earlier, and his uncontrollable, almost animalistic movements were giving her some strange kind of pleasure. She knew he didn't want to take advantage of her – on the contrary, he no longer knew what to do with the tension he himself felt in his loins and was looking for a way to take her while not depriving her of what should not yet be his.

She didn't know what he thought of it, but she let her hands roam over his bare neck and down his back under his shirt, to his exposed buttocks from which he had slipped his breeches off. His body twitched each time her fingers explored a new region of his skin that no one but himself had ever seen or felt before – the slaps of his hand became faster and harsher, his breath heavy in her throat, the bed on which they lay began to creak loudly under their weight.

And then suddenly he made a sound of strange relief, as if he had sighed deeply and was about to cry – she squealed quietly, surprised to feel something warm and sticky spill over her abdomen and thighs, realising after a moment that it was his seed.

His body fell inertly on top of her, as if what he had done had cost him all the strength he had left, and he drew in deep breath, apparently trying to calm himself. She felt his heart pounding hard in his chest, pressed tightly against hers – his manhood, still twitching and pulsing, now lying between his body and hers, was nestled against her stomach.

She stroked his hair and his back, cuddling her cheek into his temple, trying to calm down with him and comprehend what had really happened: their bodies were hot and wet with sweat, she felt a drop of it run down her spine.

She had never been more exposed, but she had also never felt more safe.

She wasn't sure if she should say anything – she really wanted to, however, she feared that the barrage of words that would flow from her mouth would simply overwhelm him after what had happened.

She suspected that, like her, her cousin was in a state of some sort of shock.

She blinked and shuddered when she suddenly heard his voice near her ear.

“Forgive me.”

She swallowed hard, feeling discomfort at the words, for some reason filled with guilt and resignation.

“What should I forgive you for?” She asked in a whisper, looking uncertainly in his direction.

Their eyes met.

“I was supposed to protect you. I didn't keep my word.” He said finally, startling her completely.

“You can't protect me from lust. You can only make it a pleasurable experience for me, in your strong, safe arms.” She replied with a kind of conviction that evidently impressed him, for he remained silent for a long time, looking at her with wide-open eye.

“You don't resent me?” He muttered, and she shook her head, smiling for some reason.

“No. I am happy that we are discovering these fascinating mysteries together. I could not imagine a more beloved and trusted companion for this journey.” She whispered, and he snorted, but she noticed in the darkness of the chamber that the corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

“Let's sleep.”

Aemond

When he woke up, the sun had not yet risen on the horizon – he always got up before dawn. The order of his day was predetermined and he didn't like anything to change his plans. First he would eat his morning meal, preferably one that would give him energy before sparring. Then he would move on to training his body, spending long hours in the courtyard with a sword in hand.

When this was behind him, he would take a nice hot bath in the privacy of his chamber, spending the rest of the day delving into old, thick tomes that smelled of dust. He was not fond of suppers with his family, for they bored him and were a time of mere, even simpering courtesy which he did not understand, he endured them, however, because he could then look at her in peace.

As in their childhood, she was sitting in exactly the same place now – opposite him, at the side of his sister Helaena, at the very end of the table.

To their right sat only Daeron.

Helaena was fond of her, because their cousin understood and respected her barriers. It was something he himself deeply valued in her – the fact that she could watch someone carefully and knew the boundaries she could not cross.

It made him, as well as his sister, enjoy being in her company – they knew they would not be surprised in an unpleasant way or put in a situation that would be uncomfortable for them.

In the case of her and Helaena, a sincere, warm friendship had grown between them over the years; he didn't mind this turn of events because he knew that his cousin didn't gossip about his sister with the other ladies of the court and that she kept her secrets, like his, deep in her heart.

He, of course, was not such a fool as to share his worries or thoughts with her, however, he would be lying if he said that he did not enjoy speaking with her, though he usually tried to give that impression.

“Will you stand to fight in a tournament in honour of our king's Name Day?” She asked him, putting her bow and arrows back in place while he sharpened his dagger, which he always carried with him.

Ever since she managed to tame Sheepstealer she has been more brazen than usual.

“Do you want to annoy me?” He answered dryly with a question to a question, not even looking at her despite his overwhelming desire to do so – her familiar scent reached his nose, making his manhood pulsate softly in his breeches.

His tongue swirling around her hard nipple, his two long fingers thrusting deep into her throbbing, hot cunt, all leaking with desire.

He felt a pleasant shiver run down his spine and he swallowed hard, trying to keep a stony face.

He heard her laugh behind him.

“No, but my wreath will have to fall to someone else. Pity. Perhaps I'll give my blessing to your uncle.” She said lightly, and he struggled to hold back the grimace of displeasure that pressed against his lips.

Gwayne was fond of her, and his affection was reciprocated – when he came to the Red Keep to visit his father and sister, he often chatted with her during supper and teased her in ways that drove him mad.

Usually, however, one sharp look from him over the table in her direction was enough for his cousin to turn to Helaena and pay no further attention to his uncle.

“Do what you want.” He burbled coldly, and she sighed heavily.

“Just don't be surprised.” She said disapprovingly, but before he had time to answer her anything she turned and disappeared into the depths of the castle, leaving him with her words and the discomfort he felt in his heart.

Did she really have to give anyone that fucking wreath?

On the other hand, what would it look like if she refused to give it to anyone?

What would his mother have said?

Whether he wanted to or not, he had to watch the next day as his uncle, proud in his armor, sat on his gray steed, holding aloft his lance, on which his cousin had placed a wreath of field flowers.

He looked ahead as she sat back between him and his sister, pretending not to feel how she pressed her arm against his. His gaze involuntarily fled to the side, to her hand, when he felt her little finger brush over his.

He swallowed hard and crossed his legs, shocked that this public expression of intimacy aroused him.

Did the people sitting behind them see it?

Rumors about the nature of their relationship had been spreading around King's Landing for years anyway.

His fingers involuntarily began to pluck the cuticles around his fingernails in some subconscious, nervous gesture full of excitement, the source of which he did not understand.

That night he took her for the first time.

At the beginning, it was simply a coupling similar to others they had experienced so far, but more fiery and loud, full of his frustrations and her assurances that she was faithful to him.

But then, instead of just rubbing his long manhood against the space between her thighs as usual, he decided to experience the warmth that was hidden deep inside her.

“– now I will receive my wreath – the only one that matters –” He exhaled into her ear, involuntarily pushing the tip of his length, swollen with pain and desire, against her moist, pulsing opening.

She let out a moan full of surprise and effort, her nails digging into the bare skin of his back.

“– Aemond – we can't – we can't –” She mewled and gasped as she felt that with a steady, slow thrusts he began to force his way into her hot, fleshy interior.

“– fuck –” He mouthed, feeling his heart pounding like mad, thinking that he shouldn't be doing this, but he had to, because he couldn't bear it any longer.

“– just let me –” He asked in a breaking voice, and she complied with his request.

She stared at him with her mouth wide open, trying to catch her breath as he began to move inside her, sinking deeper and deeper into her body with each deep push.

He pressed his forehead against hers, panting along with her, and stroked her sweaty cheek, looking at her with desperation, wordlessly asking her for forgiveness.

He expected it to be pleasurable, but didn't know it would be that much – her insides were warm and moist, enveloping his manhood on all sides, while squeezing him so tightly that he had trouble taking a deeper breath.

He had the impression that he was in some kind of trance, and the sounds that left their throats were not their own – their moans were high-pitched, similar to crying, her fingers clenched on his buttocks, her hips seeking rhythm with his thrusts, rocking back and forth.

“– I need this – do you understand? – I need you –” He mumbled in pain, imposing a faster, sharper pace on her, finally filling her completely.

His hips pounded against her buttocks with loud, wet splats, her moist, hot walls throbbing around his manhood, clenching against it in a way from which he felt like howling with pleasure.

“– here – please, here, brother –” She sobbed, arching her back so that the entirety of his manhood brushed against the upper wall inside her hot, spasming cunt.

“– here? – here it feels good? –” He panted with excitement, grabbing her hips in his hands, deliberately teasing the area she had showed him now – she threw her head back, her girlish cries of pleasure had to be enough of an answer for him.

“– yes – g-gods – ah –” She whimpered out, clearly experiencing it as extremely as he was, wriggling under him in pure ecstasy.

He just stared at her as his thumb ran over her swollen, plump lower lip, as her breasts bounced lightly with each of his deep, sharp stabs, until he finally felt what he so craved approaching.

An almost animalistic sound of relief came from his throat as he reached his peak inside her – he heard her sweet sound of pleasure and felt the shudder that shook her whole body, her leaking womanhood squeezing his cock greedily, sucking his seed deep inside her.

He collapsed on top of her and snuggled into her warm, sweaty skin, letting their arms embrace their figures tightly. They were both panting and quivering, feeling each other more than ever, wanting to stay that way.

As one.

He had promised himself, however, that he would never beget a bastard, and having his cousin drink moon tea was not an option for him.

He was not going to kill his own blood, his own heritage, his own child.

Then he decided that the time had come.

“Marry me.”

[dicksapointed]

𝑺𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑩𝑬𝑫𝑺 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑬𝑵- !

𝘚𝘔𝘜𝘛 !! 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴.

HEESEUNG felt all too giddy with you in the same bed as him. he couldn’t help but sneak glances and looks here and there, especially when the moon cascaded over your little body compared to his. you barely took up half the bed in comparison to him, and don’t get him started on those short shorts and tank top that did horrible jobs at hiding your modesty. by one am, your legs are thrown over the creases of his elbows, his name rolling off your tongue like a mantra as your shorts dangled just over his shoulder. he couldn’t keep his desires at bay.

SUNGHOON acted tough like sharing a bed with you was no big deal, but on the inside it was an internal battle for him not to pop a boner. that stupid moomoo you wore that accentuated your breasts and ass definitely didn’t help keep one from forming in his sweats. he promised to keep it PG tonight but when you slid into bed besides him, smelling like a fresh sweet cake he couldn’t keep his hands off of you. he pulled orgasm after orgasm from you until your moomoo was somewhere over the clouds, your chest and throat covered in hickies he’d have to explain tomorrow.

JAY was decently good at keeping his composure. he had shared a bed with you numerous times, but this time it was different because this time you were his. with your ass pressed to his pelvis, his hand underneath your top, gently fondling your right breast he tried to lull off to sleep. but your whiny moans and twitching ultimately ruined all the composure he had. flipping you onto your stomach, he mounted from behind, tearing your shorts and panties off in a slick motion for better access. the others wouldn’t let you two share a room anymore because they got no sleep with how loud you were.

JAKE purposefully made sure every trip that you two ended up together, if that meant bribing everyone with lots of money so they’d willingly book a hotel with one less room for everyone. Jake would sadly break the news to you, pouting to really add to the bit. in the end, it worked in his favor because you’d be straddling him that night, his hair between your fingers as you rode him like your life depended on it. Jungwon would end up banging on the door, asking you two to kindly “shut the fuck up.”

SUNOO was nervous every time you had to bunk with him. he’d go the extra mile to make sure you were comfortable, he wouldn’t even sleep without socks. one night, all of that flew right out of the open window when you cuddled up to him, tucking your face into his collarbone. your soft whimpers of enjoyment fueled something inside of him, he tapped your back gently. it was nothing but fireworks from that night on, blissful orgasms that made both of you see stars and shake violently against one another.

JUNGWON being the leader it was only right that he let you bunk with him. he had a set of rules that seemed to go right through the floor when you came back from a steamy shower with dewy skin and a nighty that hugged your body in all the right places. you asked him if this was alright for his “rules”, whilst smoothing your hands down your body. he sucked in a deep breath, looking towards the door before ultimately deciding whether or not he wanted to be ridiculed in the morning. needless to say, after an eventful, blissful night with Jungwon, that nighty was ripped to shreds and he had to explain what all those weird sounds were last night.

NI-KI put his cold feet up the back of your shirt and kicked you off the bed with both very large feet.

K BYE!!

actually, before i leave i wanted to say thanks for all the reblogs and likes!!! i really appreciate whomever likes and blogs, thanks a ton! and please if you feel comfortable (AND 18+ because i’m not playing) leave some requests of what you wanna see and what member !! besides ni-ki <3

[yoursjaeyun]

𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 — 𝐩𝐬𝐡.

𝐩airing. ex bf!sunghoon x reader

𝐬ypnosis. nearly a year after your messy breakup, you and sunghoon cross paths again at a business party— different lives, same unresolved feelings. but when the night ends and you can’t drive yourself home, an unexpected car ride forces the two of you to face the words you’ve never said, and the love you never really let go.

𝐠enre. angst angst angst, romance, ex-lovers to ???, tension, suggestive

𝐰arnings. suggestive themes, mild sexual tension ( implied sex ), partial undressing, heated makeout, alcohol consumption, angst

𝐰c. 2.5k to 3k

𝐚/𝐧. idk guys i haven’t really seen many enhypen angst lately sooo i kinda wanted to try writing one myself:) it’s been a hot minute since i’ve written anything like this so pls be nice LMAO… its pretty short too so pls don’t be disappointed </3 anyway enjoy the pain <3

🤍🎵 inspired by — on the drive home by NIKI ( listen while reading for max pain! lol )

reblogs are appreciated !!

YOUR FRIEND— YOUR CURRENT BUSINESS PARTNER, HAD FINALLY CLOSED THE DEAL OF A LIFETIME. a celebratory event was needed. they invited everyone involved in the project: investors, collaborators, mutual connections from back when everything was just a rough idea scrawled on paper.

you were here to support them. smile, nod, make polite conversation. try not to look too out of place in heels that quite literally pinched at your toes.

you stood near the tall windows, drink in hand, your coworkers talking beside you as you let the familiar sound of their voices fade into the background.

you weren’t exactly thrilled to be here, but you weren’t dreading it either.

or at least… you hadn’t been.

because who you didn’t expect to see was park sunghoon. your ex. right because you both worked in the same business—well, technically. seperate branches, different departments, hardly ever crossing paths.

and yet, there he was. across the room. near the bar. talking to someone you didn’t recognize, dressed in a black suit that fit him too well, his hair perfectly styled like he hadn’t spent the past year out of your life.

you felt your breath hitch slightly, chest tightened as your heart raced.

he looked… the same. annoyingly the same.

and then, as if drawn by the weight of your stare, his eyes found yours.

time paused.

and then he looked away.

you eventually did the same before downing the rest of your glass faster than you should have, sweetness hitting too sharp on your tongue.

“easy there, y/n,” one of your coworkers chuckled lightly beside you, “you alright?”

you forced a smile, waving them off. “yeah,” you pursed your lips. ���just celebrating.”

somewhere between your third and fourth glass, the warmth of the wine settled in your chest, making everything feel a little fuzzier, but your emotions, somehow, felt harder to keep in check.

you barely had a moment to collect yourself before you felt someone step up beside you.

“is that… who i think it is?”

jennifer. your closest friend and coworker, the only person who knew the full story. you kept your gaze fixed on your glass, swirling the last bit of wine at the bottom.

“unfortunately.”

“don’t look,” you hissed under your breath, shooting her a quick side-eye. but she only gave you a knowing smile, tilting her head slightly.

“tell him that. he was already looking over here anyway.” she leaned in slightly, “like full-on staring. i thought my lipgloss was smudged or something.”

you sighed. “great. just what i needed tonight.”

“do you want to leave?” she offered, and you shook your head. “no. i’m fine. i’m not going to let him ruin this for me.” — “attagirl,” she smiled, bumping her shoulder against yours. “still… proud of you for coming. i know it’s not easy.”

you let out a quiet laugh. “is that your way of saying i looked like i was gonna bail?”

“a little,” she grinned, not denying it. “but i also knew you wouldn’t. you’re stubborn like that.” you rolled your eyes.

“thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“anytime.” she nudged your arm, giving you a sidelong glance. “you gonna talk to him?”

you paused, heart skipping in your chest.

“no.”

“you sure?”

“positive.”

“okay. but if you change your mind…” she wiggled her brows. “drama’s always more fun when i’m there to witness it.” you couldn’t help but laugh.

“tempting. really tempting.”

looking back at him, you looked down at your glass once again. “you know what, i might just go home early tonight, actually.” jennifer raised an eyebrow but said nothing, waiting for you to explain. “i think i need some fresh air.” you gave a small, tired smile. “i’ll catch up later.”

she nodded, concern flickering in her eyes. “alright. but promise me you’ll text if you need anything.”

“i will.”

you set your glass down gently and started to step away. “stay until the end for me, yeah? and tell the others i’m leaving for now, don’t want anyone wondering.”

jennifer smiled warmly. “of course. go take care of yourself.” you gave her a grateful nod, then turned toward the exit, mentally preparing yourself to slip out unnoticed.

but fate clearly had other plans.

because standing right in your path — of course — was him.

you kept your eyes down, focused on weaving past the crowd, just a few more steps and you’d be out of here— and then your heel caught on the edge of the carpet. you stumbled forward, heart leaping to your throat— but before you could hit the floor, a hand shot out, catching your arm.

“careful,” his voice came low.

you froze.

“sorry,” you mumbled quickly, avoiding eye contact. you pulled your arm free gently, almost like it hurt to leave his grasp, and hurried outside before you could think twice.

you cursed under your breath, reaching down to yank off your heels. the sharp sting of forming blisters had finally pushed you over the edge. “stupid heels,” you muttered, wincing as you flexed your sore feet, gripping the heels in one hand while pacing toward the curb.

behind you, through the glass doors, sunghoon watched. his brow furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line.

you stood by the curb, the cool air brushing against your shoulders, shoes hanging from your fingers, your breath fogging up in the night. the sounds of the party drifted through the doors behind you. you thought maybe you’d made it out without having to deal with anything else tonight.

but then—

the door creaked open, and you heard footsteps approaching slowly.

you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“going somewhere barefoot?”

his voice broke the quiet. you let out a slow breath, forcing a small smile as you kept your gaze ahead. “figured i’d give my feet a break. what’s it to you?”

then there was a long pause.

“give me your keys.”

you finally turned just enough to see him standing there, coat over his shoulders, his expression cold and serious.

“i can take care of myself, sunghoon.”

“you’ve been drinking.”

“so has everyone else tonight.”

he scoffed softly, shaking his head like he’d heard this before. “don’t be difficult.”

your feet ached, your head felt heavy, and honestly… you were too tired to argue tonight. you tightened your grip on your shoes, sighing in defeat. “fine.” you fished your keys out of your clutch and tossed them to him without much thought. he caught them easily, of course.

“come on,” he said, nodding toward the lot. and you followed, dragging your steps a little behind him.

the walk to your car felt longer than it was. when he unlocked it and held open the passenger door, you slipped in, setting your shoes on the floor and smoothed down your dress. he shut the door, and the quiet settled in again. you turned toward the window, arms crossed.

it had almost been a year. and somehow, it still felt familiar.

sunghoon closed the door gently, then circled around to the driver’s side. the engine started with a low hum, dashboard lights flickering to life between you. and for a while, neither of you spoke. the only sounds were the quiet rumble of the car and some soft instrumental song playing on the radio.

he pulled out of the parking lot, his eyes fixed straight ahead. and then, after what felt like forever, he finally spoke.

“how was the party?”

you kept your eyes on the window, watching the streetlights blur past. then a dry laugh slipped out.

“like every other one.”

he hummed quietly. “busy. loud. full of people you don’t really want to talk to.” you glanced at him briefly,“you remember.” the corner of your mouth pulling into a small, tired smile.

“i remember a lot of things.” his voice was softer this time, holding back a grin.

and just like that, it was silence again.

the car rolled on through the empty streets, you thought that would be it. just small talk to pass the time. but then—

“you looked happy tonight.”

your stomach twisted. you turned a little, still watching the streets blur past your window. your brows pulled together. “happy?”

“yeah,” he let out a faint, humorless laugh. “laughing with your coworkers, having a good time. i haven’t… seen you like that in a while.”

you breathed in slowly, heat creeping up your chest. “thats what you noticed?” he flicked the turn signal on, his eyes never leaving the road. “what else was i supposed to notice?” your fingers curled into your lap. “maybe how miserable i felt the whole time. how fake that laugh was.” the words slipped out before you could stop them.

he exhaled, jaw tightening. “you think i didn’t notice that too?” you fell quiet, biting the inside of your cheek, trying to hold yourself together.

“i still notice, y/n. whether you want me to or not.” and that was when your chest finally gave in a little.

“well, what good does that do now?” your words came out harsher than you meant. but he didn’t answer. you waited for it—another cold remark, but all he did was tighten his jaw, knuckles pale against the steering wheel.

he didn’t want to mess this up the second time.

you let out a quiet scoff, shaking your head as you leaned back in your seat. “still quiet when it matters, huh?”

nothing.

you watched the street signs blur past, and as he took the next turn without hesitation, you realised he still remembered. the way to your place. and you hadn’t said a word.

“right. still remember my address,” you muttered under your breath, “figured.” but he still stayed quiet.

unbelievable.

a few minutes later, the car slowed in front of your apartment building and you didn’t give yourself time to think as you unbuckled your seatbelt, slipped your heels back on, and pushed open the door all in one rushed motion. the cool night air hit your skin, but it didn’t do much to clear your head.

“thanks.” thats all you mumbled before stepping out, not bothering to look back, your heels tapping quietly against the pavement as you walked away.

“y/n.”

his voice stopped you in your tracks, and slowly, carefully, you turned around.

“your keys.” he held your keys in the air.

right.

you let out a tired sigh, your steps slow as you walked back toward him— but as your fingers brushed against his, he pulled his hand back.

he can’t be doing this right now.

“sunghoon.”

his name came out more of a warning than anything else, but he didn’t move. instead, his eyes finally met yours. “is that it?” his voice wavered slightly, barely enough to notice, but you caught it.

“after everything thats all you have to say?”

your stomach sank, but you forced your face to stay still. “what do you want me to say, sunghoon?”

“something. anything.” he let out a dry, tired laugh. “i drove you home, i… i haven’t seen you in almost a year, and all i get is a ‘thanks’ like i’m just some stranger giving you a ride?” you clenched your jaw, feeling the sting behind your eyes start to build.

“what do you expect me to do? fall apart in front of you? again?”

his grip on the keys tightened. “no. i expect you to stop acting like none of it mattered.”

“stop putting words in my mouth!” you snapped, your voice shaking even though you tried to hold steady. “it mattered. it meant everything. that’s why i can’t talk about it.” and for a second, neither of you said anything.

“then why did you leave?” his voice barely audible.

“why didn’t you fight for us?”

you laughed, but it came out weak. “i was fighting, sunghoon. every single day. i just got tired of fighting alone.”

that shut him up.

his shoulders lowered a little, like your words finally hit where it hurt. you bit your lip, holding yourself together.

“give me my keys.” your voice broke.

he hesitated first— but finally, without saying anything, he placed them in your palm, his fingers brushing yours, long enough to make your heart ache all over again.

you turned on your heel, gripping the keys so tight they dug into your palm. but you barely got two steps away before his voice stopped you again.

“y/n, wait.”

not again.

you closed your eyes, shoulders tense. “please, sunghoon… just let me go home.” if i stay any longer, i’ll love you again and i can’t survive that twice…

you heard his footsteps, felt the space between you close in until his presence was right there, behind you, even though he wasn’t touching you. “do you really want this to be the last time we talk?” his voice cracked on the last word. “don’t do this,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

“i can’t do this anymore.” the words spilled. “acting like i’ve moved on when every part of me still looks for you. when i laugh, i wish you were there to hear it. when something good happens, you’re still the first person i want to tell. it’s always been you. it’s still you.”

you bit down hard on your lip, but it didn’t stop the tears from falling, no matter how hard you tried. “i thought you didn’t care anymore,” you breathed out, wiping at your face quickly.

“i thought you stopped loving me.”

he let out a hollow laugh, “i never stopped. god, i never stopped.” your shoulders trembled as you tried to hold yourself together, heart breaking in a way that felt too familiar.

you turned around to face him. eyes puffy, cheeks damp—

“then why did you let me go?”

and for once, he didn’t have an answer.

all you could hear was your own uneven breathing, your heart pounding painfully against your chest. sunghoon stood there, staring at you like your words had knocked the air right out of him. his lips parted, like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

and maybe that silence said it all.

you let out a bitter scoff, shaking your head. “that’s what i thought.” you turned to leave again, but this time, he didn’t let you.

his hand caught your wrist, gentle but firm, pulling you back toward him. before you could think, his other hand cupped your face and his lips met yours.

it wasn’t careful. it wasn’t soft. it was messy, desperate, full of all the words neither of you knew how to say. your instinct told you to pull away. and you tried, really, you did.

but your heart was tired of running.

instead of pushing him back, your hands grabbed at his jacket, fingers curling into the fabric, holding on like it was the only thing keeping you standing.

because god, you missed him.

you let yourself feel it again. when you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, his forehead rested against yours, “give me a chance,” he whispered, barely holding it together. “one more chance baby, please.”

you kept your eyes closed, heart twisting painfully in your chest, his words hanging between you like a question you didn’t know how to answer.

somehow, between hurried steps and lingering touches, you ended up at the front of your apartment. neither of you really remembered the walk there, just the rush of adrenaline and the weight of everything finally crashing down.

his hands were on your waist, your fingers tangled in his hair, mouths meeting like you’d been starving for this. your back hit the door, breath hitching as his lips trailed along your jaw, your hands tugging at the collar of his jacket, slipping it off his shoulders.

“keys,” you whispered against his mouth, barely able to focus.

he laughed softly, breathless. “later.”

but you still fumbled blindly in your purse, finally unlocking the door with shaking fingers. the second it clicked open, sunghoon guided you inside, the door shutting behind you with a quiet thud.

his coat dropped to the floor somewhere near the entrance. your heels followed, forgotten. you tugged at his tie, loosening it until it slid free, his hands slipping beneath the straps of your dress, clothes fell away in pieces, like neither of you wanted to waste another second.

it wasn’t perfect.

it was real.

for the first time in months, it finally felt like you could breathe again.

you barely made it past the front door before sunghoon’s hands found your waist again, guiding you toward the couch in the dim light of the living room. you fell onto it together, laughter mixing with shallow breaths, his arms wrapping around you like he didn’t want to let go.

you straddled his lap, knees pressed against the cushions, his hands resting on your hips as you leaned in, kissing him again—slower this time, more like you were taking your time to memorize him all over again.

when you finally pulled back, your breath warm against his skin, your eyes drifted down. his shirt was halfway undone, the buttons you’d tugged loose now leaving his chest exposed.

you just… stared.

all the noise faded, leaving only the rise and fall of his chest and the steady way he looked back at you. “what?” he asked quietly, the corner of his lips tugging up in a smirk.

you shook your head, a smile tugging at your own lips despite yourself. “nothing. just… forgot how annoyingly good you look.”

he laughed. “you’re one to talk.”

you ran your fingers gently along his collarbone, tracing the familiar lines. “this feels… strange. weird, kind of.” you mutter. “yeah,” he whispered, hands squeezing your waist a little. “but it feels right, doesn’t it?” his smile softened, eyes searching yours for just a second longer before he leaned in again, lips brushing against your jaw, then lower, against the side of your neck.

you exhaled deeply, hands tightening slightly around his neck as his mouth found that familiar spot just below your ear. he kissed you slowly there, like he had all the time in the world, like he wasn’t planning on letting you slip away this time.

you nodded, closing your eyes. “yeah… it does.”

his smile turned a little smug, eyes lingering on yours like he already knew what you were thinking. “knew you’d miss me,” he teased softly, brushing his lips along your skin. “you always do.”

before you could roll your eyes, his mouth found the curve of your neck, kissing it slow. and he knew exactly what he was doing.

“don’t flatter yourself,” you managed, voice breathless but not exactly convincing.

he chuckled against your skin, the sound sending goosebumps down your arms. “too late,” he whispered against your ear.

“your face says it all baby.”

you let out a shaky laugh, tilting your head slightly as his hands slid up your waist.

“shut up and keep kissing me,”

and he did—gladly.

YOURSJAEYUN est. 2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[seokminfilm]

all yours — lee seokmin

🤍 pairing, lee seokmin x reader

🤍 warnings, idol au, boyfriend seokmin, kissing, lots of touching (seokmin & reader cannot keep their hands away from each other), reader teases seokmin a little bit, suggestive at the end (if you squint), seokmin calls reader baby, lowkey chaotic, mentions of dsquared2 dk (yes that needs it's own warning)

🤍 summary, one of your sweet boyfriend's photoshoots has your attention more than he does, and he's dying to figure out which one it is.

🤍 from saint!, driving home from a 3-day trip and am currently in the car with 46% battery left on my laptop and terrible internet so here's something to leave you with! expect a seungcheol fic later tonight because his met gala outfit/appearance has me acting up 🧍

(psa: the dk x reader x mingyu fic is still in the works! I've restarted it like 4 times because of how much i hated the beginning BUT we might be getting somewhere this time?? we'll see 🤷)

🤍 now playing, come over (le sserafim)

🤍 word count, 685 | for @kstrucknet, @maestro-net

"what are you looking at, baby?"

seokmin comes up behind you, arms instantly going to your waist as he presses his body against yours. he's already pressing kisses to the crook of your neck, and you hide your phone, giggling as you shake your head.

"nothing important, seok," you smile at seokmin's eagerness to have his lips on you, and he frowns in return, pointing to your phone which you quickly pull away from his reach.

"you've been staring at your phone for the past hour now. i want to see what has my baby's attention, too." seokmin says again, voice sounding more annoyed as he tries to reach for your phone.

deciding to tease him some more, you grab the phone before he can and wag it in his face, holding back a chuckle as you announce: "try to come and get it from me first."

sensing that seokmin has taken your challenge, you start to dash to your bedroom, seokmin's footsteps right behind you as he chuckles, breathless. "you're in so much trouble when i get my hands on you, baby!"

"if you can even do that first!" you say again, trying to ignore how your pet name sounds even prettier with seokmin's breathless voice.

dashing through the rooms, you let the cold-conditioned air run through your hair, dodging seokmin as fast as you can as you trudge your way up the stairs quickly, sensing seokmin rapidly approaching you as he groans playfully.

once you burst your way into the bedroom, seokmin pounces for you, grabbing your waist and causing you to fall to the cushioned bed with a soft thud. before you know it, you're on top of seokmin's warm body, breath coming in short puffs as you stare down at your boyfriend.

"can i? please?" he pleads quietly, biting back a smirk as he quirks an eyebrow. seokmin's hands are firmly on your waist, eyes staring down at your soft-looking lips as he runs a hand through your hair. nodding,

you smile as seokmin leans in, inches away from your face before he winks and touches his lips with yours.

he's practiced with his movements, sucking and nipping in all the right places as you giggle at his fast pace.

seokmin quietly groans under you, happy with the turn of events as he pulls away, lips swollen and glossy from your kisses.

"so...wanna share what's had your attention for the past hour?" seokmin smiles at you, all hints of anger and annoyance gone. smiling, you tug your phone from your back pocket, trying to unlock it before you sigh.

"seok, can you let go of me for just a second? i have to unlock my phone first." giggling, you almost drop your phone as seokmin kisses your collarbone, sharp nose tickling your skin.

"are you gonna run away from me again?" seokmin's voice is low, warning as you fall silent, chills threatening to run up your spine.

"no—" your voice is steady, unlike your racing heart. "i'm done running."

seokmin releases his grip on your waist, smiling as you roll off of him and onto the empty space beside him. "i'm just teasing you, baby. i was gonna let you go."

laughing, you unlock your phone, scrolling through your gallery before landing on the pictures that had caused this whole police chase—seokmin modeling for dsquared2.

you had never gotten over that photoshoot, and an edit had come on your 'for you' page that brought you right back to square one: square one being the many thoughts you had about seeing seokmin model those boxers for you himself.

all sweet, wholesome, adorable thoughts, of course.

"oh, come on. seriously, baby? you have me right in front of you. all you have to do is lift up my shirt, and you'll see what you want to." seokmin laughs lightly, but a blush comes to your cheeks at the second part of his sentence.

"can i see, then?" you question innocently, trailing your fingers down seokmin's abdomen, feeling the ridges of his stomach under his soft t-shirt. seokmin's eyes darken just a little bit as he nods, unable to stop himself from smiling as he replies.

"all you had to do was ask, baby. i'm all yours."

[xxsunoosprincess]

hi, can i reqs enha reaction to waking up with their back all scratched up after a long night with their s/o?

back to my regularly scheduled content 😋 absolutely delicious request

Enhypen’s reaction to seeing the marks you left on their back. (OT6)

pairings: enhypen legal line x reader

warnings, 18+, minors DNI, mentions of sex, handjobs, and marking

Heeseung

Shy baby…. doesn’t tell you because he doesn’t want you to feel bad (and also secretly wants you to do it again). When you wake up he is fully dressed and sitting in bed, back facing away from you which is weird. He’s never awake this early and is he watching you sleep?? Can’t pry what’s wrong out of him so you end up wrestling him down and flipping up his shirt, exposing the marks (and making his cock throb). Repeated tells you it’s not a big deal but walks around with his shirt tucked in like a dork just in case anyone else tries to pull a fast one on him.

Jay

Loves that shit. Type of boyfie that sends you $200 to get your nails done all pretty. Taking care of you is his top priority!! Plus, he loves the way a nice manicure looks when you have your hands wrapped around his cock. He can also feel the scratch marks you leave down his back that much better with a nice set of acrylics. When he catches sight of them in the morning, you will have another “investment” sitting in your bank account immediately.

Jake

Shakes you awake after he takes a shower and the body wash packs an extra sting. Once he has you up and sufficiently panicked… “It’s important, wake up!!” Is not the most delicate way to wake up your partner… he pulls off his shirt and flips over to show you the damage. Thinks he has a rash at first, but it doesn’t take much to deduce what the red lines running down his back are from. Once you tell him, he switches to “Look what you did to me! You wild animal!” all whiny and rosey cheeked. Makes you kiss it better.

Sunghoon

Likes it and makes sure everyone knows about it. “Oh these? Y/n was over last night” cue groans from the other members. After that they stop asking but he makes sure they are visible. Will probably even ask you to do it again and leave marks along his shirt line so they “accidentally” show. And when you do, he makes sure to reward you with an extra nice pounding that night <3

Sunoo

Sweet blushing baby!! He sees it in the mirror while doing his morning skincare and shrieks. It obviously attracts the attention of everyone in the dorm, but he runs back to his room with his shirt clutched to his chest and back pressed against the wall. He finally slips into the room and sees you sitting up in bed, clearly just awoken by the chaos happening behind the door. Jeers of “damn Sunoo I didn’t know you were a freak like that!” from Jake as he turns around to show you what all the commotion was about sends you into your own fit of laughter.

Jungwon

The first time it happened he didn’t even notice. Goes about his day until he is at dance practice and is getting sweaty so he takes his shirt off. Sunoo’s scandalized gasp is all he heard before a shirt is thrown at his face with a hissed “are you crazy? what if the managers see?”. Oops. Not so secretly happy about it. Now he walks around the dorms shirtless after a romp with you in the sheets just so he can show off a bit.

END.

a/n: short lil thang to get back into the swing of things after everything that went down today. Good lord… thinking about getting two requests out tonight to make up for deleting last nights :( also reminder that requests are open for 100 follower event!! anyways, hope you enjoy! xx - princess

taglist: @sunoofairyofsass @cha0thicpisces (fill out form or dm to be added)

[magicalmanhattanproject]

man im just like. thinking about egg signs and how they've evolved over the course of the qsmp and how the qsmp has evolved over the course of the qsmp and just feeling so much love and affection for every part of the project. i dont have any grand overarching point with this just. like. here's a history of egg comms bc of the kind of person that i am

so wayyyy back ten months ago now at the start of the short and sweet egg event that was planned to last maybe a month at most, the eggs had their own custom, decorated signs!

[ID: Leo with a pink sign with an egg on the bottom corner that reads "hello" in all caps. Her nametag reads Leonardo. End ID]

They were extremely simple, single word signs. There was hello, hola, story, feed, sleep, and maybe one or two more and each was its own separate sign. The eggs could only communicate the most basic needs in words and everything else was through minecraft body language or just hoping their parents guessed right.

But obviously, there was a lot more that parents wanted to hear from their children. I'm not sure who was actually first, but the earliest departure from this system I know about is BadBoyHalo giving Dapper a simple oak sign so he could name his pet slime. (Screenshot from @/lxrd-ren)

[ID: Dapper wearing a diver's helmet standing next to a tiny slime in a boat with an oak sign reading "Bouncy (slmecicle but better)" End ID]

Parents quickly realized how much more convenient this was and pretty soon every single egg had stacks of signs to communicate with.

The next innovation came from Vegetta, who was the resident mod knower at the time. He knew about colored canvas signs and gave Leo signs in her favorite color purple because he loved her and gave her everything she wanted.

[ID: Leo's bed in her room under some Fooligetta fanart with a purple sign reading "<3" End ID]

Colored signs obviously had a lot of advantages. Being able to tell at a glance which egg placed which sign was a huge step forward in eggs being able to have long, complicated conversations as well as leaving obvious marks of their personality everywhere they went. It took a little while for them to be standard for every egg though. Bobby never stopped using oak signs even after Richas and Pomme both showed up with colored signs.

[ID: Two signs reading from right to left a red Pomme sign reading "we already started working on a guillotine factory" and a dark grey Dapper sign reading "thats the most french u have said so far pomme" End ID]

And this was the system for a while! And it worked pretty well for most people! The biggest struggle most people had was egg signs not being translated, but streamers adjusted to that by reading signs out loud so the translators would pick up on them. This also lead to adorable and fascinating dynamics like Richas swearing in signs he wrote for Bad and then warning Bad not to read them out. There was also the genuinely phenomenal development of Leolingo where Leo writes only in Spanish to Foolish because it's easier for her to write and he takes his time to puzzle his way through it and learn in a way that's super cool to watch someone else do onscreen.

Then Tubbo joined the server. And Tubbo himself had no problems at all with the system, but he is dyslexic and he casually mentioned offhand that it was getting kind of annoying to read signs after a ten hour long stream and the admin team Fucking Cooked.

Within 24 hours, they had TTS working on the signs. Within 48 hours, it was working on books too. I can't remember how long it took to get translation working, but it was definitely under a week.

And this opened up a whole new world of possibilities for the entire QSMP. The admin team has been on top of capitalizing on it for story purposes, but also just allowing the egg admins to speak in their native languages to everyone whenever they want has been so enriching for everyone involved. Leolingo is awesome but Foolish has been learning Spanish insanely fast and his process is a lot slower and more frustrating than most people can do in front of an audience of thousands of people without feeling discouraged. That's also one language. We've had everything from Foolish being able to check his work a bit more faster to Phil insisting on his eggs taking a day to speak to him in their native languages to Ramón writing a book for Fit in Cantonese, a language we haven't even seen on the server in any other context!

And all of it is fully understood and fully communicated! Sometimes the translators mess up but no one expects them to be perfect and people ask for clarification if the translator says something that doesn't sound right. It's not only a massive step forward in communication technology, but it's a great demonstration of how to use it and when you can and can't rely on it.

And finally, the most recent innovation! One of BBH's viewers sent him a dono saying they had trouble reading certain signs because they were too low-contrast. Bad, Richas, and Pomme just. Took it upon themselves to fix the problem right there and then. Based on One (1) bringing up their own personal struggle, those three came up with new signs that innovate tremendously on the originals.

[ID: Two separate images of the before and after. The first is the egg signs in their original colors with the corresponding egg's name written on them to demonstrate the font color and the second is in the new, higher contrast colors with the same text. The new signs also have custom decorations for each egg. The second picture also has two signs from Pomme in all caps that read "Send all the love to Richas he spent a whole night making this he's the best <3" End ID]

There are three main innovations visible in the above pictures

1: Obviously, the colors are higher contrast. The signs with white text have darker colors and the signs with black text have lighter colors.

2: The colors themselves are lower saturation. Richas said this made it easier for him personally to read them so he corrected that way, but that's open to change if it causes difficulties for more people than it helps

3: The decorations are for accessibility reasons! People with various different forms of colorblindness will find different sets of colors easier or harder to distinguish, but any of them can look at the decorations and use them to identify whose sign is whose instead.

But! Those innovations are not why I made this post! It's these ones!

[ID: The backs of the new signs when placed on the ground. Most visible are Chayanne's with vines and a hardcore heart, Sunny's with shining sunglasses, and Pomme's with an apple and the Eiffel Tower. End ID]

Richas added distinguishing marks to the backs of the signs too! This is something that Bad brought up specifically as something he wanted because it was hard for him to tell who was talking when he was using TTS from behind signs and couldn't see the colors at all.

We went from custom egg signs (a hotbar or so of words and nothing else to communicate with) through a long journey of expanding communication and expanding who we're bringing along on the communication and how easily they can join in and we've circled all the way back around to custom egg signs (they can say anything they want in any language they want and anyone will know it's them saying it from any angle)

and i guess i have enough feelings abotu that to write All This about it

[wiltedwish]

Hey, pssssst— if you are looking for something to listen while washing dishes, I've got a list just for you,

● If you're into dark academia but with more trauma, less studying, mysterious British guys who emotionally malfunction, and horror stories that make you say “mood”. Try The Magnus Archives.

● If you’re into small towns where everything’s a little off (actually, a lot), radio hosts who are way too calm about it, and bizarre, inexplicable occurrences that are totally fine, then you’ve found your new home in Welcome to Night Vale.

Tune in, stay safe (or don’t), and remember:

the sheriff's secret police definitely aren’t listening.

● If you’re into road trips that go way off the beaten path, chasing something you can’t explain, and a haunting mystery that’ll make you question every car that drives by—

then Alice Isn’t Dead is your new obsession.

Buckle up, drive safely, and the people you’re looking for might be looking for you, too.

● Does the phrase “amnesiac eldritch horror with a thesaurus” excite you?

It does? Oh, you little freak.

Then you definitely need to try Malevolent. Also there is whimpering, male whimpering.

● Ever wonder what happens when you trap a bunch of dysfunctional coworkers on a spaceship with limited resources, a suspicious number of near-death experiences, and one emotionally complex AI? You get Wolf 359.

It’s like The Office—but in space, with more trauma bonding and fewer HR rules. Next time you're on a spaceship… check the air supply.

● Are you looking for unsettling horror, a sentient city and unreliable reality? Are you looking for a monotonous narration? Are you looking for I'm in Eskew?

Think.

● Have you ever wondered if your summer camp was just a little... off? Like, dangerously quirky?

Maybe it has a nurse with questionable credentials, several mental disorders, and an unsettling love for worms?

No? You haven't? Weird. Camp Here and There.

● Hello from the Hallowoods. A forest where the trees remember. Where silence isn’t empty—it's waiting.

The world as you knew it ended here. But the story? That’s just beginning.

Listen closely. You might not like what you hear.

● There are things that lurk behind the veil of normal. Objects that don’t follow physics. Creatures that don’t obey God.

They find them. They contain them. They pretend the world is still safe.

You were never meant to know. SCP Foundation.

● If you’ve ever clipped through reality and landed in a buzzing yellow hallway that never ends...

Congratulations. You’re already a traveler.

This guide won’t save you. But it might tell you what not to look at.

The Traveler’s Guide to the Backrooms. Mind the damp. And the screaming.

● Now, if you’re like me and sometimes can’t handle complex storylines, freeze up every time a new character shows up, or feel too lazy to open the wiki just to remember who that guy from episode 3 was? I get it.

Try Tales from the Breakroom, Unexplained Encounters or anything from Eriecast Network.

Enjoy the horrors and forget when the episode ends.

● Do you know Japan holds events where people gather to exchange scary stories? Cool, right.

God, I wish my country did too, since it doesn't I guess I have to listen to Kaiden: Japanese Scary stories.

● Do you like magic, dragons, daring quests… and unexpected romantic tension?

The Two Princes is a fantasy audio drama where two rival princes set out to save their kingdoms—and accidentally fall in love along the way. It’s got sword fights, sass, heartfelt moments, and enough gay yearning to power a castle.

If you’ve ever wanted a fairy tale that’s charming, funny, and unapologetically queer—this is it. Adventure awaits. So does Prince Amir. (And he’s very handsome.)

● Love and Luck podcast is a sweet, queer love story told through voicemails—with a touch of magic. Set in Melbourne, it’s about building love, community, and kindness. Short episodes, big heart, no tragic endings. Just good vibes and quiet enchantment.

● Maybe you are not looking for fiction but real things, true crimes, perhaps that send chills down your spine thinking how can humans be like this? as cherry on top?

Look no further for you are looking for Crimehub: A true crime podcast.

● What if vampires were less “terrifying monster” and more “dramatic queer disaster”?

All Vampires Are Gay is a bold, funny, and emotional audio drama that reclaims vampire lore with sharp fangs and sharper wit.

[rotagnus]

their intentions. . . [pick-a-pile!!!]

hihi butterfly! a card reading about what this person has in store for the connection you two have. can be asked about both platonic and romantic relations; general overview, short and sweet but as in-depth as possible. six piles; 1-3 up top, 4-6 on the bottom. enjoy!! don't force yourself to ask about a specific connection. pick an image and trust your gut as it connects it to a specific person.

pile 1.

this person mostly has bittersweet intentions surrounding you. it seems like it's a connection that's not in the honeymoon stages it was once. maybe you're talking less, or there's this feeling i'm getting; one or both of you are missing the other terribly. they feel like it's too late to come back to what once was, and even if they know that you'd accept them with somewhat open hands, they know that this story is one long over. of course it wasn't as good as it seems, looking back on it; but at one point you were their world. this may be a parental figure, an ex, or an estranged sibling, in which either party (them or you) simply left. no closure; which is why there's this lingering feeling of it not being finished. i think that both parties need a lot of healing...there are better connections for both of you in the future. sometimes people come into our life to teach us lessons, not to stay. i know that's a very sad thing to hear, and that you've probably heard it a kajillion times, but listen.

pile 2.

this is so sweet! while channeling this i just had this very happy, raw feeling if you know what i mean. think of spontaneous events in summer; genuine connections built on a desire just to be close to one another. 'crush' by ethel cain is similar to what i felt, i feel like this might be your inner dialogue? i think that this is such an innocent connection; by which i don't mean that it'll end badly due to naivete, but it's so soulful and pure i'm actually giggling right now. while it seems surface level, this person feels anything but. their intentions are to have deep conversations with you and bond more on a deeper level, even though you may not yet be on that level. they wanna know your flaws and your good parts, and while they're aware that you may be hesitant on this part, they're willing to take time. i can't really read into how this'll end, but if it does last; it'll end sweetly. this person is incredibly self-aware and they wanna work on problems that come up in any kind of relationship. this could be a future best friend, future lover. mostly those areas.

pile 3.

they think that you're pretty cool. it's giving hallway crush or a hot classmate. it's surface-level as of now; they think that you're neat, maybe you have good style or the few words that they've heard you speak are powerful, but they're not against forming a deeper connection. however, they're a very guarded person and prefer to keep to themselves a lot of the time; even if they thought you were the most awesome person in the world, they still wouldn't say anything to you. they're very egotistic from what i'm getting...so if you can handle that, awesome! if not, just observe. sometimes people aren't what we think they are. they could be egotistic because they ARE all that, or they could just like keeping people around to boost their brain up. they do look for deep connections, but very rarely actually form them. a small circle is important to them. to sum it up, they don't have any ACTIVELY PURSUING intentions towards you, but at some point in time, a spontaneous discussion can trigger this. they don't have any specific platonic/romantic feelings to you--they just think you're cool.

pile 4.

this seems like a new beginning for real. the kind of a connection that appears in a night and creates a whole lineage of memories, good ones, bad ones. very tumultuous but such a deep connection. i think their intentions are to create a life intertwined with yours. they, similarly to pile 3, don't have a specific label for this. they don't like putting labels on feelings; they lowkey like going with the flow. they really do value connections with people, and their intentions do align with that; they feel like they're here to connect, to feel this world thrum under their veins, to meet new people with so many different specific details and experiences. this does not undermine how special you are to them, though. they're very interested in you as a person and how you function; all those subtleties to you that you don't even notice, they see it. they may be spiritual or religious, i'm getting that their faith is deeeeeply important to them. they are a deeply hopeful and optimistic person; in touch with their heart and their soul.

pile 5.

they're in their own little world frrr. but they're not against you being in it!! lmaoo they think your personality is awesome. they're very mild, not in a bad way, but they don't get invested into things very quickly. they definitely wanna be friends with you; core memories coming up, or maybe you've already had some! teasing may be prevalent. other than that, their intentions are very wholesome. can't read too deeply into it, but they're very pure-hearted. this doesn't mean that you shouldn't have your guard up! but generally, they don't have it in them to hurt people very deeply. they look for this transcendent quality in people and you have it; that's what drew them to you in the beginning. you know how sometimes you can tell how a person is before you talk to them? depth that lingers in the eyes, in the blood. they saw that about you and they're pulled to you because of that.

pile 6.

this is a very nostalgic pile. so similarly to the pile above, i do think you'll make a lot of memories together. this connection is similar to a flower; but it takes a long time to bloom, in the great timescheme. so don't rush it. trust the universe, because it'll give you what you need. AWWW you won't feel left out with this person. they're a very inclusive, loving person, and they make sure that their friends, lovers, family members, etc. are included. yeah so a spiral came up. i think that you guys are on a start to something new, and the nostalgia is what you're leaving behind, but you'll see remnants of memories from the past in this person, which will make you feel safe. it's still in the early stages of things, so please don't rush it. you may have had to leave another person or environment to get to this new era in your life, and it's a good thing. that's a confirmation for you. let yourself be vulnerable, too. i think a lot of you struggled with it; this person's intentions are wholesome. but don't let things go too quick; i said it's gonna be slow, so let the sweetness linger in your mouth.