#this cousin of mine has twins

[lateseptemberdawn]

Ngl bad parents give me such an ick like stay tf away from me ew

[icterid-rubus]

Just found out a relative is in the hospital. Feels bad.

[malisorn]

𖤓 || 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞

Pairing | Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary | Aemond has begged for many things in his life and for one last time, he gets down on his knees and begs for you ๋࣭ ⭑

Warnings & Suggestions | Fluff & tiny bit of Angst, soft dark!aemond, heavily inspired by Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want by Deftones (originally The Smiths)

Speak the wrong thing, in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

These words have rotted deep inside Aemond's mind ever since he was a child, for he has always been the butt of a joke to his own brother and nephews.

In the beginning, he lets them jest all they wish, enduring their laughter as if it meant nothing. But after times and times of the same old jokes, it is no more fun, it has never been fun.

He started to defend himself, spit back at Aegon's words and try to fight, but still he failed. And in the last resort, he found himself on his knees, crying over and over again.

“Please, please, please, give me the biggest dragon in the world.” Tears streaming down as he begs the gods. He promises to be a changed man if he ever has a dragon.

And the gods seem to have heard him but nothing in the world has ever come without its price. For the very first time in his life, Aemond got his wish as he rode Vhagar through the dark night sky. And for a minute, he felt like he had own the world. After countless nights of practicing High Valyrian, imagining a dragon in front of him as he shouted the word out loud.

“Dohaerās!”

“Lykirī!”

“Sōvēs!”

Now, slowly patting the back of Vhagar, this is real, seeing his tears dropping on Vhagar, this is truly real. He has finally proved himself worthy to be a dragonrider to his father, a perfect son to his mother and a true Targaryen to his brother and his nephews.

His thoughts run short when he notices the Velaryons and the Strongs from below.

“I will not fear them, Vhagar has proved me worthy of her, I will not fear anyone.” He thinks to himself as he comes down to face them.

“It’s him!”

“It’s me.” Aemond feels confidence runs through him like a raging fire, pushing him to all the ways to say things he's always afraid of.

“Vhagar is my mother's dragon!” The girl argued hard with no less confidence than him. “Your mother's dead.” Aemond worries he is too bold but there is no stopping from this moment. “And Vhagar has a new rider now.” He continues with pride on his face.

“She was mine to claim!” Rhaena shouts with her twin sister’s comfort from the back. Aemond was silent for a second as he observes everyone around, none of their dragons can compare to his. Arrax is young, Vermax can barely obey and Moondancer is nothing to Vhagar. Smiling at his realization, “Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride, it would suit you.” He looks at all of them. Threats shouted with punches exchanged, Aemond has insulted them just as they once did to him but never in his life has he thought something so brutal would happen to him.

“The scar will heal but the eye could never do the same, your grace.” Aemond grips the chair hard, he has lost his eye. He looks at his mother with tears full of pain. “Please, please, please, mother, help me.” He thinks to the mother and his own as the maester stitches his scar.

And his mother tried to help him, with the same pleadings in her eyes as she looked at his father, The King, the one who can truly give him everything but the King didn't return the same look in his eyes, he gave those to only his daughter and bash away Aemond's pain. However, his mother couldn't give up, she stood with duty heavy on her back, running to takes Lucerys’s eye. Everything from that night still haunts him and he couldn't look at the King the same.

Aemond did become a changed man, just as he promised to the gods in exchange for a dragon. Not the kind of change he has imagined. Instead, he has become a brute, poisoned with hatred and not even an ounce of sympathy left inside of him.

The Sept is no longer his place of comfort and he rarely begs the gods for anything. Aemond believes he has gotten everything he ever wanted, everything he needs to be a Targaryen. But no, it is far from the truth. Deep inside, Aemond feared that if he ever dared uttering a single wish to the gods, they would take something important from him in return. It could be his other eye, his title, his dragon or even his own life-

“Please, please, please, let this woman be the bride of mine for I have endured the pain my whole life. Let her be mine, for this will be my one last wish.”

Aemond feels bitterness twists through his words, he feels like a fool being down on his knees. After all these years of resentment, he broke all his promises and ran all his way back to the gods one more time. He said his prayers sternly, the gods must answer his wish after all they've done to him, he believes himself deserving something as dainty and perfect as you.

All of his thoughts slowly fade as his blurring sight clears into the vision of you standing right in front of him, wearing a pure white gown with wild flowers in your hair.

With each time he blinks, each breath he takes, every single piece of you has finally revived into a wish he has always yearn to be blessed. The way you talk, the way you smile and how you spin around with that white gown of yours, he has never been allured by a woman's beauty like this.

The gods have answered his prayers, you are now his bride.

“I am forever grateful to be your wife, my prince.” The sweet words dropping from your lips. He didn't know whether he wanted to be eternally confined by your love or to be freed from your lure. After nights of endless prayers, thinking that his wish has been torn aside and forgotten. But at this sight with you as his bride and from now on, his wife. Aemond feels seen, listened and answered, not only by the judgment of the gods but also by you.

He turns to look at you once more, “Same as I, to be your husband is truly a gift from gods.”

Feeling all smug with his answered prayers, Aemond seems to forget that nothing in the world has ever come without its price. Now, he can enjoy his days and nights with the love of his life but soon, the gods will find their ways and take anything they could in exchange of his one last wish.

masterlist for more

requests are open! feel free to ask ♡

images' credits

Society Lady With a Spray of Lilac by Hermann Clementz

Dancing Fairies by August Malmström

Peacocks and Delphiniums by Jessie Arms Botke

[in-loving-memory-of]

Takashi Morinozuka x fem reader -> crush/early dating stage head-canons (sfw)

honestly, i fuckn hate hcs, but i’m gonna put them out there anyway, since mine are simply better cuz i said so

- Takashi isn’t the type of guy to just go up to a girl and ask her out because he thinks she’s cute or anything, so you would 100% have to start off as friends before he made a move (and even then, you’d probably be waiting a while)

- Probably would not initiate a conversation with you on his own (shocking)

- I could see Honey noticing Takashi’s special interest in a girl and deciding to talk to her, and maybe even invite her to the club

- If he did this with Takashi present, he’d be super nervous but secretly grateful that his cousin set him up, cuz lord knows it wouldn’t have happened otherwise

- Once Honey had Takashi’s crush engaged in a conversation, he’d start trying to, not so subtly, gauge whether or not she’s a good fit for Takashi

- If Honey doesn’t like you, then you don’t get to be with Takashi, period.

- If anyone asks at any point during your friendship if Takashi has feelings for you, he’ll either outright deny it or just stay silent, even though it’d be super obvious to anyone who knows him to any capacity

- He would be more engaged in conversations with you than anyone else, MAYBE aside from Honey

- He’d help with anything he thought you may be struggling with (you don’t even have to ask)

- Need help finding something? He’s got you. Pickle jar too hard to open? No problem. Can’t reach something on a high shelf? Well, thank god a certain giant has nothing better to do (he was just admiring you anyway)

- Once the club catches on, any possible privacy the two of you had is gone. Especially if they can tell the feelings are reciprocated

- Tamaki, the twins, and Honey would all try to get the both of you into situations where you’d be alone together, or they’d talk about how cute you would be together, or how cute your kids would be, etc.

- Even before a relationship begins, Takashi will think it’s disloyal or unfaithful to interact flirt with any other girls, so he would be extra quiet during club hours (unless you’re there 🥰)

- Speaking of relationships, when Takashi does finally ask you out, expect it to be a simple question, such as: “Would you like to get coffee with me tomorrow?” or something similar. He’d probably do so when you two are completely alone (mostly so the other club members don’t try to trail you on your date)

- If the date went well, and he felt like you were interested afterwards, that’s when he’d ask you to be his girlfriend.

- The poor guy’s heart would be pounding out of his chest and he’d be blushing like crazy, which would only get worse when if you said yes

- Once you’re official, any reservations he previously had regarding closeness are gone. He wants to hold your hand and just be near you all the time

- He’s not into the PDA shit, though. It’s not like he’d pull you into a make out sesh in public, but he does like to be near you at all times

- Honey absolutely loves that Takashi found someone he truly cares for, especially since he thinks you’re fun to be around, so he and Takashi can still be close as ever

- The other members (mainly Tamaki) are ecstatic about the relationship as well

- Seeing their normally stoic friend all head over heals for you is just too sweet

- Once you start dating, it isn’t long before he wants you over to meet his parents and vice versa

- He doesn’t even see it as a huge step or anything. I mean, of course he wants his family to meet his darling partner

———————————————————————

Alright, I’m gonna call this a part one, and basically just write others to be more tailored to a reader with specific personality traits, cuz writing so vaguely is driving me insane.

(I have no writing experience, but I promise I’ll try harder next time, so hopefully they’ll get better after this 😭)

If there’s anything specific you want to see, feel free to request headcanons or fics for Takashi (or any of the other characters for that matter), as that’ll make it way easier to write something worthwhile lmao

[nattikay]

...hmm...just thinkin' about an Avatar "no angst" AU, y'know, like an AU where the characters who died in the first movie just...didn't? For example...

• Tsu'tey and Sylwanin are both alive and well. They officially tied the knot not long after the point when Sylwanin would've died in canon, and already have a child together by the time Jake arrives on Pandora.

• Eytukan also lives and therefore he and Mo'at are still leading the clan, though of course Tsu'tey and Sylwanin are next in line.

• Because the schoolhouse incident never happened in this AU, Grace was never kicked out of the village; her school is still running and she is on good terms with the Omatikaya.

• The RDA is overall less psychotic than they are in canon, and the Avatar Program has been largely successful in establishing diplomacy with the local clans. There is still some level of tension between the humans and the Na'vi of course, because the humans are ultimately still there to mine unobtainium and the Na'vi would prefer there was no mining at all, but in this AU the RDA is at least principled enough to not do things like bulldoze the Tree of Voices or bomb Hometree etc. (so, Hometree is still standing). Jake was never asked to spy on the Na'vi.

• Grace is actually the one to introduce Jake to Neytiri when she brings Jake and Norm along to the school one day. Neytiri is intrigued by the goofy non-scientist "warrior" dreamwalker and Jake finds himself equally intrigued by her; they begin spending more and more time together, and when Jake expresses curiosity about her way of life Neytiri just naturally kinda takes it upon herself to teach him the ways of the clan.

• Because Neytiri is neither tsakarem nor engaged to Tsu'tey in this AU, her romance with Jake is not quite as ~forbidden~ as it was in canon (and honestly they make zero effort to hide their feelings; the whole clan knows lol). The only remaining barrier is the fact that he's a dreamwalker and how that may affect things.

• Jake and Neytiri fall head over heels for each other about as fast as they do in canon; after three months Jake is already fully convinced that he wants remain with Neytiri and the clan for the rest of his life rather than ever go back to Earth, where there is nothing left for him. Even getting the spinal surgery to fix his legs no longer holds any interest for him, since of course his avatar body can walk just fine.

• By that point Neytiri begs Mo'at and Eytukan to let Jake do the coming-of-age ceremonies and become part of the clan so they can become mates. Mo'at and especially Eytukan are hesitant, but Mo'at consults Eywa and Eywa sends a sign of approval, so they allow it. Jake spends about an extra month preparing more specifically for Iknimaya and Uniltaron, and soon after completing those he and Neytiri actually get to have a proper mating ceremony. Jake does go through the permanent consciousness transfer at some point, though I haven't yet come up with the exact circumstances there...

• The Sully kids get to have more extended family! Grandpa Eytukan, Uncle Tsu'tey, and Aunt Sylwanin are all still around, along with a handful of cousins (Tsu'tey's and Sylwanin's kids).

• Quaritch never shot Grace in this AU, which means she never had to undergo the attempted consciousness transfer, which means Kiri wasn't conceived the way she was in canon. Buuuuuut I still want Kiri as part of the Sully family, so in this AU she is Jake and Neytiri's biological daughter and Neteyam's twin. She doesn't have the special Eywa powers that she has in canon, but does still have a spiritually-minded personality, and is a strong candidate for next tsakarem after Sylwanin. Grace still adores and dotes on her, especially when she shows interest in botany.

• Norm and Trudy are happy in a long-term relationship.

• There was no Battle at the Hallelujah Mountains, therefore Paz didn't die and was still around to raise Spider (undecided on how involved Quaritch was though).

• I like to imagine that in this AU Paz and Trudy are good friends, both being pilots and all. It's through Trudy that Paz and Spider become involved with folks from the Avatar program and Spider meets the Sully kids.

• Because she doesn't have the RDA-related traumas she has in canon, Neytiri is totally chill with Spider in this AU. She is mostly just curiously amused by the strange little human boy running around with his Na'vi friends.

• Spider is semi-trilingual English/Spanish/Na'vi. English is his go-to since everyone he knows can speak it, but he can also do some Spanish (Paz and maybe Trudy's influence) and quite a lot of Na'vi (Omatikaya influence, though Norm was thrilled to help when he caught wind that Spider was interested in learning). Sometimes he (subconsciously) mixes up a combination of any two or even all three and spews out mishmash sentences no one else understands immediately and has to stop and re-word.

• Because Quaritch is not the Big Bad Evil Guy the way he is in canon, Spider isn't really bothered by being called Miles. However, the nickname "Spider" somehow just stuck when he was very young so most people still call him that; it's mostly just Paz (and Quaritch) who call him Miles.

• Jake is not Toruk Makto in this AU, because with the RDA being more cooperative/less aggressive, he never needed to be. He and Neytiri are just normal (albeit well-liked/respected) hunters in the clan. Perhaps eventually a day will come when Toruk Makto is needed and Jake will have some reason to step up...but not yet. He's perfectly content being just a regular clan member.

• This has the side-effect of lessening Neteyam and Lo'ak's dramatic stunts as teenagers, because the legacy they're trying to live up to is simply "strong respectable hunter" rather than "legendary olo'eyktan Toruk Makto"

[isabelawritesthings]

My headcanons for EVERY (I think) Mortal Kombat 1 character

— Liu Kang is a big fan of Chinese food, because well, in the previous timelines he was Chinese, so he constantly goes to Madam Bo's restaurant to eat.

— Johnny Cage is a great dramatic actor, but unfortunately, Hollywood studios always cast him as comedic characters or male characters who are himbos, wasting his potential as a dramatic actor.

— Kenshi met Suchin after saving her from being attacked by thugs in Tokyo, and the two's connection was almost instantaneous, with Suchin agreeing to run away with him after Kenshi left the Yakuza.

— Raiden has a huge crush on Kitana, and constantly draws pictures of the two of them kissing (he's a cartoonist btw)

— Kung Lao loves Chinese and South Korean comedy dramas, his favorite South Korean comedy drama is "True Beauty".

— Kuai Liang is extremely protective of Harumi, like, if Harumi gets a scar, he won't rest until the person who did it pays dearly. When he was dating Cyrax, he was also quite protective of her as well (He's not a sexist who thinks women are too defenseless to protect themselves, he just wants to keep Harumi safe because he loves her so much).

— Bi-Han trusts women more than men, thanks to the complicated relationship he had with his father and the loving relationship he had with his mother (thanks to his daddy issues, he doesn't trust masculine nature very much, even though he is also a man).

— Shang Tsung is not a "victim of Liu Kang's intrigues", this guy is a sociopath to the core!

— Tanya is not Mileena's first lover, she had a girlfriend as a teenager, the daughter of an archduke, but was forced to end the relationship because the archduke's daughter had to marry a man, breaking Mileena's heart.

— Kitana is a voracious reader, she loves books, especially about the history of the Earthrealm and Seido, her favorite historical figure of Earthrealm is Queen Mary Stuart, a queen of Scotland, reflecting the thinking of some outworlders who think that she should be empress in place of Mileena, just as some 16th-century English Catholics wanted Mary to be Queen of England in place of her cousin, Queen Elizabeth I.

— I don't usually do SMUT headcanons, but I like to think that Sindel and Jerrod had an active sex life, and she never married any man after Jerrod because she only liked to have sex with him, she herself was impressed that she only had the twins and not like, three more children!

— The souls within Ermac have been in the living forest for so long that over time they have become one big family.

— Quan Chi was a thief when he was young and was sentenced to work in the gold mines as a way of paying for his crimes, which is why he hates Sindel so much.

— Tanya was not given to the Umgadi when she was a child, she was actually stolen from her mother's arms like several other Umgadi (a bit cruel, but I wanted to make it similar to Marvel's black widows).

— Li Mei has always been in love with Sindel, but she never had the courage to express her feelings.

— Takeda is destined to meet and fall in love with Jacqui, even though in this timeline she is not Jax's daughter.

— Sektor is a lesbian and has a fraternal relationship with Bi-Han.

— Cyrax can speak several African languages, including Zulu and Arabic.

— I'm going to join @rasta-bot AU that Nitara is also a lesbian, there's a 19th century irish lesbian book called "Carmilla" that I really like, it's about a sapphic vampire, just like Nitara.

— Reiko was a mommy's boy, just like Bi-Han.

— Shao suffers from narcissistic personality disorder.

— Syzoth and Ashrah's love language is physical caresses, such as kisses on the forehead and cheek.

— Ashrah is pansexual (yes, another wlw woman, it's "Mortal sapphic Kombat" for me) she has always felt lonely, so she would like any romantic companionship, no matter the gender.

— Baraka prays to Delia every day that a cure for Tarkat will be discovered (this is actually canon btw).

— Slavery is (unfortunately) legal in Seido, and Havik was enslaved (also canon), so he is an anarchist.

— Tomas is a polyglot, he can speak Czech, Chinese, English and Japanese.

[gummilutt]

250 followers Custom Memory Bonanza

It's finally time! To thank all you lovely people for your support, I have been working hard to get this ready for upload and here we are. Today I am sharing my custom memory object, and my library of a whopping 201 custom memories. Based on the wonderful Tattered Diary by DiLight over on MTS, and the tutorial she shared of how to make your own custom memories.

I've always cared a lot about memories, to me they tell the story of the Sims life. Some of you from MTS may recall when I did the whole several year rebuild of my hood, replicating every last detail of the original. I'm memory crazy, okay? And when DiLight gave me the power to make my own, I may have gone a tad overboard. Or just the right amount, you get to decide :P DiLight taught me most of what I know about making custom memories, and the base BHAVs are from her, but as I've learned more I've added some bells and whistles that I hope you will enjoy. It's a new clone and separate GUID from the original tutorial object set up by DiLight, so if you have your own you can have mine too without issues :) Found in misc/misc, costs 1 simoleon.

Download on simfileshare

Features - Brand new form, created by me. Resized BV photo album with new mapping and new texture (seen above, in game pictures at the end of this post). I wanted something that was uniquely mine, and that you don't necessarily have to hide away in the attic or under the foundation. If you don't like it, you also have some additional model forms you can switch between through the pie menu. - Adaptable dynamic menu. Thanks to a really neat trick from @picknmixsims the menu reflects the memories you put in your downloads. If no file with the correct guid is found, the option for it won't show. Which means that although I am crazy enough to have 201, you can go ahead and only pick your favorite ones and the object will automatically detect and adapt the menu to that selection. - Memories all have a custom icon, that's made from game icons from TS2 or TS3. Some I am quite proud of, some are admittedly not great. Not everything is easy to convey through game icons, but I've tried my best, I hope the effort shows. 5 memories have icons that are not from the game, but I tried to match them to the aesthetic as best I could. - Memory subject menu shows only relevant age groups. For example, if the memory is about having a baby, only baby/toddler Sims will show as options. Goal being to keep menu as concise as possible. If you wish to assign memories retroactively, please see jonasn's excellent Memory Commander object, which has support to add my custom memories without age limitations. As well as a whole lot of other useful memory-related stuff. - Extensive documentation detailing everything you may need to know about the memories (text, icon, background, who can get it, who they can get it about, repeatability, where to find it on the object) to help you select the ones you want for your game, and familiarize yourself with them. - English and Swedish translations of memories, and object menu. If someone wants to add their language, that would be great but it's a lot of work so I don't expect it. You are welcome to share your translated versions directly if you wish, or you can send them to me for me to update files shared here :) If you want to learn how to translate the files directly, Episims has a great tutorial found here.

Examples of types of custom memories included - Extended family members memories (got cousin, got aunt/uncle, got sibling, got twin sibling, got great grandchild, got stepparent, got stepchild) - Birth related memories (pregnancy, becoming parent, late in life parent, had multiples birth, premature baby) - Marriage related memories (divorce, parental divorce, custody things, alimony) - Relationship related memories (fighting, breakups, additional love memories) - Woohoo related (memories for specific woohoo locations, repeatable generic woohoo/public woohoo) - University degree related (declared major memories, got a minor degree memories, got a major degree memories, for remembering having studied multiple things and being able to see what major your Sim chose without looking at their diploma) - Loan related, for remembering taking and paying off loans of different types - Moving memories (first apartment, child moves out, various memories for sims moving in with others) - Kids related (child's first day in school, got their own pet, nursery rhyme, giving up for adoption, living at orphanage)

Mods automating delivery of my CC memories (more to come) Learned nursery rhyme from - Found here, by me Wrote restaurant guide - Found here, part of jonasn "Novel Writing Improvements" mod

Credits: DiLight, @picknmixsims, @morepopcorn, @latmosims, @joplayingthesims, maxon, @keoni-chan. For detailed info on how they all impacted the creation of this, see readme :) Policy: Give credit to DiLight, beyond that, totally open. Enjoy!

[shesjustanothergeek]

The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Ten: The Weight of the Crown

|Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader|

Masterlist of Series

Author's Note: Hello everyone! It's been a while, but I'm glad to be back. It's been about 3 months since I last updated (for those reading along with the uploads), so I recommend reading the last chapter as a quick refresh. Thank you for reading and your continuous support. Be sure to comment on how you're feeling after the end of this chapter. I'd love to hear your thoughts. You'll understand why soon enough. Happy reading!

Chapter Warnings: Graphic depictions of miscarriage, sexism, angst, we're mentally ill folks.

The sea air clung to the rocks of Dragonstone as Gaelithox, carrying you from King’s Landing, flew into the sulfuric caverns of the Dragonmont, emerald wings beating. It was a bitter homecoming but a welcome one nonetheless. The constant rush of the clouds, the cold winter sky above, and the dark stone of the castle all felt familiar. Despite everything that had happened, Dragonstone was where you felt safest. The echoes of the storm that had just passed felt distant as you made your way toward the castle’s entrance, the weight of the journey lifting with every step. 

It had been a turbulent time at the Red Keep. The petition against Luke’s claim to the Driftwood throne, the death of Vaemond Velaryon at Daemon’s hands, and the lingering tension still hung between your two families. The most unexpected event was the moment with Aemond within the darkness of your childhood chambers, feeling his touch, unsteady and desperate yet confident of its path. Despite all the turmoil in his arms, you felt a sense of peace that had long eluded you. The vulnerability in his gaze, the careful way he held you, and those memories clung to you; though you had not spoken of it, a quiet joy bloomed inside you.

Your family was only away for a day, but it felt like a moon. Dragonstone was your sanctuary, its halls frigid but comforting, its chambers filled with memories of the past. Yet, somehow, they felt different now. For better or worse, something had shifted.

As you entered the Hall of the Painted Table, you saw your family settling in after their return, and you were the last to take leave from King’s Landing. Your mother, the ever-gracious heir to the Iron Throne, spoke softly with Daemon, their conversation punctuated by brief smiles as she stroked her swelling stomach. Luke and Jace laughed in the corner, clearly relieved to be away from the tense atmosphere of the Red Keep as Baela and Rhaena stayed at their betrothed sides.

You offered Jace a forced smile, unable to hide how your heart stopped at seeing him next to your cousin. Perhaps Dragonstone was no longer a place of consistency that you remembered. That needn’t matter now; all that did was your future, which was no longer tied to Jace.

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation building inside you as your mind wandered. If your mother agreed, you would soon wed to Aemond. The thought of it sent a surge of hope through you, but the joy was not one you could share openly. 

As you moved to join your family, Jace’s eyes found you immediately. His sharp gaze lingered on you with a curious intensity. His brow furrowed as he stepped toward you, and a glimmer of concern flickered across his face. 

“You seem different,” Jace remarked, his voice low enough to keep the conversation private. “You were distraught last night, and now you’re practically floating. What happened?” 

Your heart skipped a beat. Jace had always been perceptive; he was your twin and a part of your mind and soul. The last thing you wanted was to have him probing into your emotions. Still, you couldn’t lie outright.

“I am just glad to be home. It has been a long two days,” you sighed, offering Jace a smile that did not quite meet your eyes. “We all have our burdens, brother. Mine are not so heavy now.”

Jace’s gaze softened, but his eyes remained wary. “Is that all? You were…” He hesitated, struggling to find the words as your despair from last night echoed in his mind. “You seemed so unsettled.”

You bit your lip, unsure how to explain without revealing your secret. It was unlike you to withhold something significant from your twin, but you were uncertain if you wanted to tell him, knowing how Jace felt about Aemond. The truth was, you had not expected to feel this way after everything that happened. The hope you had harbored for so long that one day you could mend the broken promises had somehow become a noiseless reality. The thought of a life with Aemond, beyond the shadows of the courtly politics and grudges, filled you with joy, but it wasn’t something you could tell Jace.

“I am simply… finding peace with our mother’s decision,” you said, your voice vague but resolute, smoothing your wrinkled riding skirt. “Tis nothing to concern yourself with.”

Jace’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, clearly unconvinced, but he did not press further as Baela grabbed his attention. He gave a short nod and clapped a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Well, I am glad you have found some comfort. I love you, sister, and if you need anything-”

“I am fine,” you interrupted sternly, giving him a tight, reassuring smile that stretched your wind burnt cheeks.

As Jace walked away, still looking back over his shoulder with a knowing frown, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. You hated lying to him, especially when you could see the concern written across his face, but something inside told you this happiness was yours to keep for now, at least until the time was right. 

You looked across the mixed waters of Blackwater Bay and the Narrow Sea through the high, arching windows, savoring the silent joy you felt. You knew that whatever came next, whatever trivial battles you would have to face with this decision, whatever challenges would arise, this moment was yours alone. For the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to believe that, perhaps, this was the beginning of something pure.

The sun shone in a wash of molten gold as your mother leaned back in her study chair, the weight of her unseen crown seemingly heavier than usual after all that unfolded in King’s Landing. Her blonde hair gleamed in the warm light, strands catching like spun silver webs against the intricate embroidery of her black and red gown. You tentatively approached your mother as she poured over her writing desk, deep in thought, and stood before her, heart hammering in your chest, struggling to form words.

“Mother,” you began hesitantly, your voice wavering. 

Your mother looked up from the pieces of parchment strewn about the oak top, her gaze light as she noticed your fidgeting fingers. 

“I must tell you something before you return to King’s Landing.” You had battled with telling her of the proposal since Queen Alicent discussed it, scratching your scalp until it was tender and raw.

Like yours, yet so different, your mother’s sharp eyes squinted, filled with curiosity and faint weariness as she raised a light-colored brow. You could sense her anxiety slowly pique at your statement, but she hid it well, allowing you to continue.

“Go on,” she prompted, her tone gentle but carrying an unmistakable authority. You understood yesterday had taken as much of a toll on you as her with the light indigo crescents underneath her eyes.

Swallowing hard and clutching your hands to stop them from trembling, you inhaled deeply. It was best to finish it now, like ripping off a freshly healed scab. “Queen Alicent has requested that I accompany you to King’s Landing.”

Rhaenyra’s forehead wrinkled slightly, a flicker of suspicion darting across her face. “Oh?” She straightened in her chair. “And what reason might that be?”

“The Queen,” you said, your voice faltering as you twisted three fingers in your fist, attempting to channel your anxiety, “has proposed a betrothal between me and Prince Aemond.”

The silence followed was as heavy as the stones forming the Dragonmont itself. Your mother’s eyes widened, her lips parting in shock. For a moment, you feared she might refuse outright, her pride and long-standing animosity with Alicent taking precedence.

“She thought this would help heal the divisions,” you hurriedly continued as if to justify the decision, taking a few hurried paces towards her. You felt like a child begging your parents to allow you to stay up past bedtime. “I agreed, and so did Prince Aemond.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze softened, though a shadow of unease remained. She rose from her seat, ambling toward you, her hands clasped tightly. “You spoke with him, and he agreed?” she asked quietly. “Truly?”

You nodded, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep up your neck. “Queen Alicent came to me while packing my belongings and proposed the courtship. I was hesitant at first, knowing our history, but,” you paused, swallowing the abrupt lump in your throat, “I believe this to be the best course of action for our House.”

A faint sigh escaped her lips as she placed a hand on your shoulder. Rhaenyra remembered when she was in a similar position, her father having arranged an engagement tour that ended with the threat of disinheritance and a loveless marriage. It would be better for you to choose your suitor, she decided. She did not want you to suffer the same fate.

“While I am not pleased that Alicent didn’t bring the matter to me first,” she began, voice terse and arms crossed as she sighed softly. “If this is what you desire, and if it will bring peace to our families, then so be it, but understand this partly stems from my fear of how Alicent might react if I refuse. The path of political marriages and alliances is best traveled with our minds and not our hearts.” Your mother’s angular face displayed a profound sense of intensity, one you had never seen before, as her lithe fingers tenderly stroked the crown of your loose hair. 

“We must tread carefully, my brave girl.” Her words carried devotion and caution, and while her agreement brought relief, the tension in your chest refused to dissipate entirely.

“Rest now. We shall return to the Keep with the good news on the morrow,” your mother ordered, her voice softening as she cupped your face briefly. “We have a long journey ahead of us, and you’ll need your strength.”

You nodded obediently and left her chamber with a flutter in your ribs, unable to hide your smile. Sleep eluded you as you tucked yourself under the soft covers of your bed. Your mind raced with thoughts of Aemond—of his piercing violet eye, the quiet intensity of his presence as you felt the textured warmth of the scar on his cheek. The idea of him lying in these elegant blue sheets with you stirred something thrilling yet terrifying within you.

Finally, unable to bear the restless energy that gnawed at you, you rose with a swift flick of your covers and slipped out into Aegon’s Garden.

The sun hung halfway on the horizon, casting a warm amber glow over the sprawling palace gardens. The gentle, melodic symphony of the ocean’s crashing waves flitted through the air as you knelt amidst rows of once-lush vegetables, fruits, and flora. This patch of dirt was your sanctuary, a plot you tended not for the court’s tables but for the smallfolk who occasionally relied on its yield. 

Sod clung to your fingers as you dug into the soil, feeling its cold, gritty texture. A faint smile graced your lips as you recalled the baker’s son’s joy when you handed him a basket of potatoes from the prior harvest. However, your family did not share the same sentiment, scolding you for being unguarded with the smallfolk.

The garden around you continued to buzz with the beginnings of life as you fell into a calm rhythm. A gentle breeze carried the sweet aroma of the crocus blossoms. Winter was almost ending, and you needed to ensure the ground was ready for spring. Still, you could only focus on the excited feeling in your gut. 

In an instant, your serenity was torn apart by the swift swish of skirts and the panicked voice of your handmaiden, Edwina. Her breathless urgency sliced through the calm, each word tumbling out in a rush as if the very air around her crackled with unease.

“My Lady Velaryon!” Edwina’s voice quivered a fragile sound that echoed in your chest. 

As you looked up, your heart plummeted at the focused image of your maid standing before you. Her eyes, usually bright and full of warmth, were now wide with distress and glistening with unshed tears. 

“What is it, Edwina?” you inquired, brows furrowed, and your voice tinged with concern. Hurriedly rising to your feet, the soft, loamy scent of freshly turned dirt from the garden still clung to your clothes and mingled with your faint citrus perfume. 

“Your mother,” Edwina stammered, clutching her skirt as though trying to steady herself. “She… she’s in labor.”

You felt the world tilt, a disconcerting sway that threatened to pull you off balance. It was far too early for the babe, mere months into its fragile journey. Fear knotted in your stomach as you took in the reality of the situation. With each heavy breath, your fist gripped the wooden handle of your trowel, feeling the rough grain beneath your fingertips. You held it tightly as though it was the only solid thing in the chaotic swirl of your thoughts. 

“Where is she? I must-” you began, a frantic pounding in your chest, but Edwina’s trembling voice cut through.

“There’s more,” she whispered, as though speaking it aloud would make it more true. “The king, your grandfather…” she couldn’t get the words out, breathes coming in pants. “King Viserys is dead, and they’ve crowned Aegon in your mother’s stead.”

Time seemed to slow as the words echoed in your mind, clashing and overlapping like waves against jagged rocks. 

Dead. 

Grandfather, the man who barely held the family together, a monarch who, despite his flaws, had been a steady presence in your life, was gone. You knew it was inevitable with the state he was in, but so soon after you left King’s Landing? It made your heart sink into the cold dirt below. And your mother… your mother was losing the child who might have softened the blow of this loss. 

Your mind raced with thousands of thoughts as the future was overturned. You should have known this happiness was just another farce, that your existence was meant to be one of turmoil and suffering. Perhaps you were not destined or deserving to experience a fraction of the happiness others around you possessed because of your inherently sinful nature, what happened with Aegon, and what you did with Jace. 

Breath hastening, you quickly withheld the tears you desperately wanted to shed. “How?” you managed to choke out, voice hoarse. “How did he die?” 

It did not matter how your grandfather died. The answer wouldn’t change the outcome. Still, you wanted to know, to have the weight lifted off your conscience for not being there in his final moments. 

Edwina hesitated, her eyes darting to the ground as though searching for the courage to speak. “They say… they say it was in his sleep, but there are whispers, your highness. Whispers of treachery. The Queen was the last to see him in his chambers and said he wished for Aegon to be king.”

The confession struck you like a blade. Treachery and lies, the court was rife with ambition and deceit. You had grown up amidst its murky depths, but to imagine someone close, your kin, being a victim was unbearable. Your fingers curled into fists, the dirt beneath your nails now a stark reminder of the life you had just been cultivating. Life and death intertwined in cruel, unrelenting cycles.

“I have to go,” you blurted, your tone turning to steel despite the tempest of emotions roiling within you. Brushing past Edwina, your mind raced with grief, fear, and fury, but as you stepped onto the stone path leading to the castle, you paused, returning your gaze to the garden.

The rows of upturned dirt seemed almost mocking in their stillness, a sharp contrast to the chaos consuming your world. A thought flickered through your mind. What would become of the realm? Innocents would perish because Alicent, Otto Hightower, and whatever gluttonous lords decided to place their kin on the throne. 

With your grandfather gone and your mother’s precarious position as the true ruler falling into position, it was your duty to step into your rightful place in the line of succession as her heir. You would display the fruits of your studies and handle this uncertain path with an intelligence and dignity worthy of being the rightful queen’s heir. To the whole realm, you would prove to the Great Houses that your blood House Targaryen, ruled by women, was one of unimpeachable strength and wisdom.

You swallowed hard, setting your jaw as your mind calmed. This was not the time for rash decisions filled with emotions. People like you could not afford such luxuries when others’ lives were at stake. There would be a time to grieve, but not now and not in front of others.

“Tell the groundskeepers to send someone to tend to the garden. I fear I won’t be able to for some time,” you instructed Edwina with a stern nod. “The smallfolk must not suffer because of the Hightowers’ greed.”

And with that, you strode toward the castle, heart-shattering with every step. Yet amidst the grief and uncertainty, a seed of resolve took root. If your mother was still breathing and at least some of the Great Houses remembered their oaths, you would ensure the world did not crumble beneath your kin’s feet. 

While war was imminent, you could still attempt to salvage alliances and oaths before bloodshed. Part of you hoped that, somehow, the brief future that you envisioned with Aemond was not a fantasy but an end to a long and bloody path ahead.

Screams were heard throughout the halls, servants and maids averting their gaze from you as if they were looking upon the Stranger as they instinctively bowed in their red garbs. The tension in the air was palpable as you hurried to your mother’s chamber, thick skirts in your fists. You could hear her ladies before you entered, voices taught with terror and encouragement as they begged your mother to allow them to help her.

Entering without proper announcement, you swiftly approached your mother, crouched beside her bed, face buried between her legs. Blood stained her once pristine smock in an ombre of crimson and pink, tears of empathy welling in your eyes as you kneeled beside her.

“I’m here, Mother,” you announced, trying to comfort her and not invade her space. She lifted her head from where it was focused on the bloodiest part of her dress, covering what you knew hid beneath it.

She seemed at war with wanting to push you away while also craving the comfort her eldest daughter brought. Rhaenyra knew there was something different about this birth, more than the apparent premature arrival. It hurt differently than her previous ones, a pain so unusual to her body that it felt as if she was passing a beast instead of a child as another contraction seized her muscles. Her father and her throne were stolen from her within seconds, and now her child. Rhaenyra could never imagine such a fate.

“Your grandsire is dead,” your mother declared through gritted teeth, nails digging into her thigh to distract from the pain as she stared at the ceiling. “And Aegon sits on the throne.” 

“I know, Mama, I know. I’m here for you, not to scheme. To do my duty as your daughter and help you through this,” you confessed with a sob, tears finally falling free and blinding your vision as you wiped at the sweat glistening on her brow. “You are strong. Stronger than you give yourself credit for, mother. I’ve watched you politic and navigate the courts and come standing with your pride. You have just come from securing Luke’s inheritance. Your father, who had not been seen sitting on the Iron Throne for years, did so for you.”

It hurt to see her in such a state that you could not help but let your heart speak. Your proud, fierce mother, who dealt with slimy lords and deceitful ladies with unwavering grace, was now forced to fight another battle, one against her own body, where words could not protect her.

Love shone through the discomfort in her amethyst eyes as your encouraging words momentarily distracted her. “Where is Daemon?” She asked her lady-in-waiting, Elinda, who shared the same puffy, distraught visage you did. 

You took this opportunity to take the clean linens from one of the helpless maids and a basin of fresh water, returning to your mother’s side. 

“He’s gathered the council members, your highness,” she answered, an anxious wrinkle on her forehead. 

Another wave of pain passed through Rhaenyra at the thought of her husband plotting his war in his grief, abandoning his wife in her desperate time of need. There was no telling what Daemon would do in his madness.

Anger erupted in your veins as you soaked a rag in the cool water and placed it on the back of your mother’s neck. You should not have felt pleased for her to see the man Daemon was in this way, but you knew he would do this. It was in his character, though you wished he would have revealed himself more opportunistically. 

“I will fetch him for you, Mother,” you offered sternly, but she waved away the idea. 

Your mother grunted with exertion as she pushed herself up, using your arm for support as she paced to one of the stone pillars streaming the yellow daylight into the room. 

“No,” she replied with a raspy tone, leaning against the structure with a groan. “I need you now, here with me.” The loss of her father was fresh, a slice to her bleeding heart. 

When agony did not blind her, Rhaenyra’s mind wandered in her grief, thinking of what would happen in the following moments, days, and years. The realm was teetering on the brink of civil war, and it was only a matter of time before the scales tipped and the dragons danced. 

She looked to you, her daughter, her only daughter, a girl still so young and kind despite experiencing the horrors of life that threatened to pull you into despair. 

Rhaenyra knew in her soul that this child would not survive; it was only a matter of expelling it before it ended her, but you… you were alive. For how long, she wasn’t sure. The thought crept into her mind like the shiver of death’s hand, but right now, you were here with her, devoted and by her side, no matter how pained you to see your mother this way. 

You didn’t leave your mother’s side, not even as she limped from one place to another, using you as your late grandsire did to his cane, wiping the sweat, blood, and birthing fluids that stained her porcelain skin. It felt as if your mother was in this gruesome cycle of sitting, standing, pacing, and squatting as she screamed for the child to leave her womb. 

Rhaenyra thought of her mother as she so often did when it came to birth. She wondered if this was the terror Queen Aemma felt when she realized the babe would not go and that she was doomed. Rhaenyra didn’t want to die, even if it seemed like the world wanted her to. She would not allow this child to be the last of her if not for her living, breathing children who stared at her with concern as they entered her room to spite the traitors who were stealing her birthright. 

Jace and Luke gazed at you and your mother as she doubled over with a bout of pain, quickly squatting as you wiped away a stream of viscous blood that ran down her leg. 

“Mother!” Jace shouted in concern as they stopped at a distance, afraid and uncertain of his mother’s agony.

Your mother heavily panted as she tried to gain the energy to speak. “Your grandfather, King Viserys, is dead,” she exhaled through her teeth. “The Greens have repudiated the succession and claimed the Iron Throne. Aegon has been crowned king.”

Jace looked at you with wide eyes, understanding what this meant for you, him, and the realm. You gazed back with certainty, speaking without words. “What is to be done about it?” he questioned, ever the eager and dutiful son ready to protect his family.

“Nothing yet,” your mother declared as she gained the energy to continue her pacing cycle.

“And where is Daemon?” Jace interrogated again, anxious gaze flicking between you and your mother. 

You led your mother to rest against your shoulder to distract and take some of the pressure off her contracting limbs as she inhaled a jagged breath. “Gone to madness,” she sniffled, nose buried into the crook of your neck, stroking her stomach. “Gone to plot his war.” 

Your heart broke for her in every possible way, fracturing into tiny little pieces like a shattered mirror of loss, betrayal, and sadness across your slippered feet. Your mother did not deserve this. No one deserved the loss of a child—to have one thing after another stolen in such rapid succession with no one to support her. But you would. You would stay by your mother’s side as her heir and support her claim more steadfastly than any other because that was the right thing to do.

There was an unspoken understanding between you, not just as mother and daughter, but as a woman and girl. A bond that was unbreakable no matter how much it was twisted, bent, and weathered. She loved you. She made you into the woman you are today, one that would create a new order together.

Turning your tear-streaked face to your brother, you spoke without words, commanding him to deal with what you and your mother could not. He curtly nodded as Luke continued to stare with his wide brown eyes.

“Leave Daemon to me,” Jace declared and swiftly made his way to the exit, but your mother called out to him, lifting her head as she repeated. 

“Jacaerys!” 

She could not lose you. Not now, not in several moons’ time when war fully unleashes, and you ride into battle on dragonback. Rhaenyra understood she couldn’t stop her sons from riding as it was their duty as princes and men, but you were her daughter, and daughters did not go to war. At that moment, she decided she would never let you. Despite the hypocrisy that struck Princess Rhaenyra’s conscience, she could not allow you to be in a position that brought you so close to death.

With what little strength she had reserved, your mother separated herself from you as you attempted to reach out in concern. She need not burden herself more, at least not alone and with someone who truly loved her. Another wave of agony washed through your Queen Mother as you watched how her knees buckled, gritting her teeth through the pain as you hooked your arm under hers. 

Her bleary violet eyes met yours, deep and holding thoughts inside them that you could not decipher as she tightened her mouth in pain, gaze now fixed on Jace.

“Whatever claim remains to me, you are now its heir. Naught is to be done by my command,” your mother declared, her voice unwavering. 

Time seemed to stand, and Jace and Luke halted their movements abruptly as they stared at the two closest women in their lives with terrified confusion. You felt the life drain from your face, a bleeding heart leaping out of your chest and falling to the stone below. 

She couldn’t mean that. She couldn’t. You were her heir. You were the firstborn, destined to rule the Seven Kingdoms just like her, no matter what others thought. You were to create a new order, a better and just kingdom that reigned in prosperity. This was what you spent your life preparing yourself for. Countless hours of studying history, politics, philosophy, and arithmetic were all meant to prepare you for the best monarch you could be. It was to prove to the Lords of the realm that women were too inferior, that they were too gentle of the heart to rule like a man were wrong. 

And now, as you felt tears not of empathy rise, Rhaenyra Targaryen would prove all of them right. 

“Mother, you can not mean that. I am your heir. The line of succession deems it so,” you stated indignantly, feeling your muscles weaken. 

“I know, my sweet girl, but this is what needs to be done,” she explained, brows furrowing with another contraction as she gathered her words. “You are my daughter… my only daughter, and I cannot lose you to another man’s senseless actions. I know you and what you’ll do. You are not one to stand idly at the hands of injustice, and it shall get you killed.” 

Your world was burning, and the dragons had yet to take the skies. 

“I need your mind with me, by my side as my-” she beseeched, another contraction cutting her words short, “as my council.” 

Your breath was stolen as she spoke, and you felt yourself deflate, your face falling and shoulders hunching. You dropped your arms and stepped away from your mother. 

“You can not mean that, mother. You’re-you’re unwell. The stress of everything has consumed your mind. Do not make any decisions yet. Now is not a time of action. Wait until your body is in good health, and we can reconvene with your council,” you desperately ranted, emotions slowing welling inside of you as you felt yourself clawing your skin.

Your mother shook her head, wiping her sweat-dampened lips as she braced herself against the carved wooden footboard of her bed. “No. My decision is of sound mind and final. You will understand in time that this is what is best for you—for our House.” 

You refused to accept that your mother would reduce you to nothing but another passed daughter, though you were more prepared and deserving than your younger brother, yet lacking only one unobtainable thing. Anger began to replace your defeat, boiling into a rage that spilled over into the venom of your words. 

“You claim to be the rightful heir of the Seven Kingdoms, yet you choose a younger son over the eldest daughter for your legacy. Do you not see your hypocrisy?” you exclaimed, hands waving with every sentence as Jace stood in the doorway, shoulders hunched. Sinkingly, you realized he would not refuse your mother’s decision. “You prove by your actions that the Greens are correct in naming Aegon as king. You claim to be the new rule but desire to be the exception.”

“My girl,” your mother began grunting as she reached for your embrace. Stepping away from her, you crossed your arms, refusing to offer her the comfort she needed when she disregarded yours. “My strong, brave girl, please do not hate me for this. I cannot handle your anger in my time of anguish.” 

Fury crackled with a sinister fire in the hollow cavity of your chest, flames of vengeance licking at the edges of your soul. Hot tears streamed down your cheeks, and you hurriedly brushed them away, desperate to regain some semblance of composure. Your mind was shrouded in a thick fog of rage, and the most treacherous thoughts, words you would never dare to entertain even in your bleakest moments, surged forth, threatening to consume you entirely.

“If you do not want me, perhaps I should return to King’s Landing and bend the knee to my Uncle? I know Alicent would appreciate my value more than my flesh and blood,” you spat, nails digging crescents into your palms.

Your pain made you blind to all rational thoughts. The mere idea of bending the knee to Aegon was repulsive. No matter how distressed you felt, it was an image you couldn’t comprehend. You would instead take your own life than pledge allegiance to your rapist, but that wasn’t the main point. You wanted to hurt your mother in the same way she had hurt you.

“You would never,” she panted, clutching at her bloodied skirt. Your mother’s footing slipped as she fell against the stone floor, crying out in agony and gripping the footboard to channel her pain. 

“No!” you cut her off, shaking your head. “You swore I would be your heir, yet you chose him!”

Jace looked at you in alarm, his face twisted with guilt. “Sister, this isn’t the time-”

“It is exactly the time!” you snapped, stepping back. Jace was just as much to blame, with no refusals for his new title. “I will not stay here and listen to these fallacies.”

Your heart hardened to a chilling frost at her rejection as you disregarded her pain. Though her labor would soon reach its climax, lasting only a few more agonizing hours, the humiliation of being eclipsed by your younger brother would trail you like a dark shadow for the rest of your days. She made you a victim, much like the plight she faced, yet unlike her, there would be no rallying cries or banners raised in your honor.

With a delicate sniffle and a sharp inhalation, you steadied your ragged breath, transforming into the dignified princess the realm demanded you be—the poised princess who sat silently behind the imposing castle walls, gazing wistfully out the grand window of your gilded prison. 

Curtsying, you forced your lips to stretch into a thin smile, willing the hurt to disappear. “I pray your labors are swift and painless. I shall join the rest of the council members and sit and twiddle my thumbs as is your will, my Queen.” 

With no more kindness left, you lifted your skirts, wiping the sweat and blood from your hands as you exited your mother’s bed chambers without a passing glance as she shouted your name. Jace stood there motionless, too stunned to speak, let alone force you to return to her as you strode by. You were still his eldest sibling and held that seniority despite the sudden thrust of a new title. He was not accustomed to giving orders, let alone to his older sister, who was the one who mothered him.

Throwing your brother a look over your shoulder that ordered him to follow you, you trekked down the torch-lit halls to the Council Chambers, where Daemon no doubt was, as your mother’s cries became nothing but muffled noise. Your anger had created a wall around your heart, shielding you from any sympathy for her pain. She certainly had no regard for yours. 

“You need to stay with her,” Jace finally said, mouth syncing with his mind as he slightly jogged to catch up with your swift gait. 

You flashed your twin a sneer in response and flicked your hand in dismissal, continuing your path to Daemon as the sound of male voices grew louder. “I am not the heir. ’Tis not my duty to ensure the survival of the head of our House. I’m but a mere daughter.”

“Do not lose your heart simply because of your anger. It only proves why Mother chose me,” he antagonized, his frustration and pride getting the best of him. 

Without thinking, you spun on him, pushing Jace against the jagged stone as you smacked him across his sharp cheek. “Don’t ever say that again! You will never be as good as me, Jacaerys!” you shouted, finally releasing the fury you held back. “She only chose you because I don’t possess a cock, not because you are a better fit. Don’t ever forget that.” 

You were one soul, one mind, yet different bodies, and no one knew how to hurt someone better than their sibling. Jace had always felt inferior to you for as long as you could remember, no matter how you tried to help him. He never dedicated himself to his studies as much as you did, preferring more to play a pretend knight with Luke. It wasn’t his fault for the skewed priorities; he, too, was under the assumption that you were going to be queen. There was no pertinent reason to impress his studies at the time before yours.

Turning away from Jace, you continued on your path, your conscious an unfeeling stone as you scratched at the hair uncomfortably lying on your scalp. You wanted to claw yourself out of your skin—rip the flesh right off your limbs until there was nothing left but bones. All you wanted was to feel the pain sear your nerves like the hurt you felt on the inside. 

“I’ll fly to the Riverlands myself and affirm Lord Tully’s support,” Daemon’s voice echoed through the halls as you and your twin entered the chamber unannounced. 

The Rogue Prince stood imposingly; your mother’s most trusted advisors circled a table map with tense expressions.

“You will do no such thing,” Jace interjected, shoulders squared as he feigned confidence. “My mother has decreed no action be taken while she’s abed.”

Your stepfather gazed at you under his light brows, purple orbs shifting to Jace and back to you. He seemingly questioned without words as to why your twin was speaking instead of you. His time-worn visage wrinkled in defiance as silence stretched longer than necessary, ignoring Jace. “It’s good you’re here, my young prince. You’re needed to patrol the skies on your dragon.”

“Did you not hear what I said?” Jace questioned as he stepped forth. Each Lord standing around the dimly lit Chamber of the Painted Table stared noiselessly, tense eyes sharing worried glances.

“Patrol the skies, my prince. The heir and I must discuss matters of the realm,” Daemon responded. You did not meet his stare as another fresh wave of tears burned your nose and twitched your lips. 

It seemed as if time stood still as your shame was laid bare before the ruling Lords, chin trembling with hurt and embarrassment. The quiet pierced through your gut like a blade, twisting it inside your organs as the men continued their noiseless stares. You felt their confusion soon morphed into pity as Jace stood with his back ramrod straight, only confirming their conclusions when you refused to speak.

“The ravens, Lord Bartimos,” Daemon reminded as your twin wordlessly asked you for assistance. Your mother made her choice, and it was Jace’s responsibility to bear it as you would have. 

Suddenly, your mother’s scream cut through the Lord’s hesitance as his weathered gaze flicked from Jace, you, and Daemon. “I shall see it done,” he nodded, leaving. It was fruitless to argue with the Rogue Prince.

“Summon Ser Steffon. Our kingsguard are needed on the Dragonmont,” your stepfather commanded next as you observed him effortlessly ignore your brother and, by extension, your mother. It took everything within you not to smirk as Jace pleaded for you to back his standing. “Come with me, and I’ll show you the true meaning of loyalty,” Daemon ordered without a glance at you or Jace, walking briskly between the two of you with his palm on the hilt of Dark Sister.

He left no room for discussion, his imposing aura exuding an air of confidence that only a man like him could have. Your interest in what Daemon could be conjuring up inside his mind as a display of “true loyalty” guided your movements as you followed him, not bothering to see if Jace was too. 

Your stepfather guided you through the dim halls of your home and onto the rocky cliffs of Dragonstone, the wind whipping your hair as you stood beside him. Jace was close behind, standing tensely at a distance as his face betrayed a perplexed annoyance before the two Kingsguards. 

The air was cold, causing gooseflesh to rise on your arms as Daemon began to speak. “You swore an oath as knights of the Kingsguard,” he stated, one hand behind his back and the other on his sword. 

“As do all who wear the white cloak, my prince,” Ser Steffon Darklyn replied, his silver helmet tucked underneath his arm as he squinted in the gray afternoon sunlight. 

“To whom?”

You cast a sidelong glance to Daemon, curious about where this was going. Ser Steffon and Lorent Marband were loyal men, Ser Darklyn primarily as he and his ancestors served your House steadfastly. You supposed it wasn’t unwise of Daemon to ensure that the very men who protected you did not turn cloaks, but it did feel a little excessive to make a grand display for you and Jace. 

“I swore first to King Jahaerys, my prince, and then to His Grace, King Viserys, when he succeeded him,” Ser Steffon answered confidently, showing no effect on Daemon’s intimidation. 

“Do you acknowledge the true line of succession?” the Rogue Prince interrogated. Both the knights agreed in unison as Daemon made eye contact with you and then Jace, showing pride that only he could possess as your brother glared at him. 

You felt a sympathetic understanding radiating from your stepfather that you had never seen displayed before. His violet eyes flicked back to you, strands of hair coming loose from your updo as he placed a wordless hand on your shoulder. It took everything within you not to smack his hand away, understanding the importance of showing a powerful united front. Just because you shared the same fate, another disregarded victim in the line of succession, did not mean your hatred of him lessened. 

He breathed in through his nose, attention back to the pair of Kingsguard. “Do you recall whom King Viserys named heir before his death?”

“Princess Rhaenyra,” Ser Steffon answered as Daemon replied with a low sound.

“I’m grateful for your lifelong service to the crown. I’m presenting you with a choice,” Daemon confessed, voicing a soft timbre that made your hair stand on end.

The ground beneath you began to shake, pebbles rolling over the top of your head as the screech of a dragon roared above you. The lithe form of the Blood Wyrm came forth as he snarled and bared his arm-length fangs. Ser Steffon and Ser Lorent Marbrand flinched in fear as Caraxes low rumble vibrated your chest, enormous head coming so close you could smell the dragon and heat radiating from his scales.

“Swear your oath to Rhaenyra as your queen,” Daemon began, briefly looking at you as he sighed deeply. It seemed his following words pained him to say aloud. “To Prince Jacaerys as heir to the Iron Throne. Or if you support the usurper, speak it now, and you will have a clean and honorable death. But if you choose treachery, if you swear fealty now only to turn your cloaks later… know that you will die screaming.” 

This was power… this was what your mother barred you from, and you would never forgive her for it.

Smoke swirled through the air, thick and suffocating, wrapping around you like a shroud and making each breath a struggle. You stood frozen, watching the flames hungrily devour a small fabric bundle no more significant than your forearm, its colors muted and shadows flickering in the firelight. Your family stood by in solemn silence, each person lost in their thoughts, the weight of their grief palpable in the heavy, overcast atmosphere.

The tiny form of your baby sister lay on the makeshift funeral pyre, occupying barely a quarter of the space on the slab. She was so small, so delicate, that it felt wrong, almost surreal, to see her there amidst the crackling flames as the waves of Dragonstone crashed against the rocks.

The maids remarked that Visenya was more monster than human as they exchanged disappointed glances in your direction. Scales lined her back, resembling those of a dragon. This sight reminded you of the ancient texts you had studied about your ancestors, which spoke of stillbirths, not of human origins, every few generations. 

Occasionally, these texts mentioned unusual traits, such as over-calloused skin on certain parts of the infant’s body or the unexpected discovery of a tail akin to that of a snake. However, they often dismissed these occurrences as mere medical anomalies. You had not heard of such conditions affecting other women; they seemed exclusive to those of full-blooded Targaryen descent.

Your family prided themselves on their dragon blood, and perhaps, you thought, it wasn’t such an expression but a piece of their essence woven into your heritage millennia ago. Dragons were too powerful for even that of Targaryens.

This day would forever be etched in the annals of your family’s history, a day marked by sorrow and despair that would cast a long shadow over the years. The echoes of grief would resonate throughout the realm as the weight of this tragedy burdened not only your loved ones but the people you resided with.

Jace instinctively leaned on you for reassurance when feeling the same sadness and dread as the rest of you. It was part of your shared nature to seek solace in one another, but something inside you had broken. Your deep-seated love for your twin had fractured under the weight of greed, death, and duty, leaving you despondent to his affections. 

Gently moving Jace away from your body, you slinked to the other side of your family where Rhaenys stood. A woman who held such distaste for you was more comforting than the brother you shared the womb with. He had Baela now to hear his worries and dry his tears, and you… had no one. No longer your twin and no longer Aemond. It was your destiny to be aggrieved. 

You suppose you were the only one the Seven saw fit to handle such agony repeatedly, meant to bend and stretch but never break, though you felt moments away from it. 

One by one, heads turned to something you could not see behind you, but you didn’t care, stares trained forward to where your little sister’s body smoldered. Suddenly, a Kingsguard you didn’t recognize came into view. A brown satchel slung over his shoulder, and he continued to walk atop the grassy hill to where your mother and Daemon were. Your mother’s guards quickly readied their swords, blocking the knight from getting closer. 

“I mean you no harm, brothers,” the man said, removing his helmet as the men hesitantly lowered their blades.

They allowed him to continue, taking the bag from his shoulder. He kneeled before your mother and revealed the item he carried—the golden crown of her father and the Old King Jaehaerys. The metal glimmered with a history of power and legacy, and the knight swore an oath before your mother, who gazed at the unexpected gift with wide, astonished eyes.

“I swear to ward the queen with all my strength, to give my life for hers. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall guard her secrets, obey her commands, ride at her side, and defend her name and honor.”

His sincere vows resonated within you, expressing a devotion you could only dream of. This man risked his life and traveled across the water to ensure that your mother received the crown that belonged to her father and grandfather. With unwavering resolve, he pledged his life to her service, his words a promise steeped in loyalty and love.

If he made it, could Aemond? 

Reality shattered your fleeting hope, scattering it like feathers. Even if he had been allowed to escape and pursue the proposal, deep down, you understood that his loyalty, much like your own, would remain immutable, unmoved by the wistful echoes of childhood dreams of love. 

Daemon took the crown from the knight, gazing at it and contemplating its significance and the power it would bring. He turned to your mother, and they shared a moment you couldn’t perceive from your distance. He placed the crown atop her silver hair while the wind gently caressed her loose strands as Daemon knelt before her. The crowd followed suit, with every court member, guard, brother, and cousin bowing before their Queen. The scene before you showcased the power your mother would now wield, which she rightfully deserved over the entire realm if not for the Greens, her piercing amethyst eyes locking onto yours.

You wished to show her your wrath, refusing to bow despite the sternness in her face. The crown emboldened her as she refused to move her gaze away from yours. As you stared longer, vision traveling to that of your stepfather, you realized that no matter what outrage you held, no matter how unfair and hypocritical she was, she was still your mother. 

And you still loved her.

The ground was cold and damp beneath your navy dress, so swarthy it seemed black as you knelt, your funeral veil covering your cold cheeks. With your mother at the helm, there was still hope for a future with little bloodshed. Your love was strong; despite everything, you would give your life for hers if the situation arose. Yet still, you would never forget her decision or forgive her as the sun set over the sea.

Masterlist of Series

Spotify Playlist

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp , @britt-mf, @marvelescvpe, @haikyuusboringassmanager, @discofairysworld, @lottiemsgf, @nessjo, @fiction-fanfic-reader, @qvnthesia, @hotvillianapologist, @p45510n4f4shi0n, @theendlessvoidofdarkest, @readerselegance, @gothamgurl2024, @aleemendoza2425-blog, @vaylint, @ln8118, @prettyduckling22, @primroseluna, @baybaybear1

Sooooo... how are we feeling after this? Did you see that plot twist, or were you surprised by Rhaenyra's actions? I grappled with whether this would be out of Rhaenyra's character. Still, in my head, based on how she treated Rhaena and Jace in season 2, I believe Rhaenyra would pass over her daughter, especially after losing her only girl.

I understand the reasoning behind thinking she wouldn't choose a son over a daughter, but if you look back on season 1 and how she treated Alicent when she was married to Viserys (stuck inside a castle and forced to squeeze out heirs scene), you'll see how she doesn't realize the insensitivity of her words to Alicent. In my head, too, I believe Rhaenyra has "only child syndrome" with desiring to be the only "special one," even if it's subconscious. That's just my head cannon.

Thank you for reading!

[nattule29]

unfinished Yasammy family drawing (AUGH I wanted to finish this so badly but I couldn’t bring myself to do it)

Not official info but what I got so far info on this au below

Okay, in this Au yasammy has 3 kids

Their older daughter named Coraline that I’m open to change (Aka if anyone has name suggestions im open) she has a lot of phobias but she’s probably the bravest person you’ll know. She’s the only not into a sport athletic person in the house hold and is always left to babysit her many many cousins (Sammys side) and her two twin siblings, which in her opinion is a sport alone. Other wise she’s an indoor person. She’s really social which is something she easily picked up from Sammy and her likes to sit down and simply draw or read from Yaz.

Erm but what’s a character without a little angst. (not on purpose) she tends to be left out on family time because her interest are so different from everyone else. She doesn’t mean to be the lone wolf but she can’t help but hate snuggling up or learning how to lasso, running, cooking, ect. Being the oldest ofc she has more responsibilities and tends to take that a little too seriously and unintentionally putting herself under a lot of stress. She always feels bad when she sees her mom’s sad faces when they see her by herself not wanting to participate in what the rest of them do so she forces herself to do them which just drains her and on some occasions gets her hurt.

The twins are inspired off angel and rebel and I want their names to be a twist of the name meaning like how an oc of mine is named Atharva which means Knowledgable or Knowledge of God. I haven’t found a name like that for the two yet so for now I’ll call them angle and rebel (calling them this might stick if I can’t find them a different meaning name) Rebel is the only boy in the family and is something kinda sweet that Dahlia (dahlia is a benrius kid if you didn’t know) and him can bond over. THEY ARE BFFS FOR LIFEEeEeEe- it’s kinda funny how Sammy and Ben had originally tried to pair angel and Dahlia together, both being girls that were around a the same age, but they did not hit off or exactly get along especially with their opposite like personality’s (Ben and Sammy were crossing their fingers for a opposite attract sort of friendship) ofc angel and dahlia were both friends but somehow rebel and dahlia would always be closer which is fine by angel.

btw the kicker in the photo is angel. Even with the name meaning angel and a name meaning rebel they don’t live up to it. Angel is most definitely the rebel and rebel is most definitely the angel.

Somthing I have thought about a lot though is rebels relationship and how they would be that duo. They both got each other’s back in a “they asked for no pickles” way but it applies to both of them

I don’t expect anyone to read all this but if you did you’re a real one and angel is going to gift you a hand full of moss each day <3

[coco-loco-nut]

Guilty as Sin?

pairing: Oscar x Reader

summary: you can’t help but to long for the Australian boy you met

a/n: sorry it took a while, i was adding ✨plot✨ and did as much research I could (also a little secret is that i lowkey used my crush from when i was with my ex to fuel this)

masterlist ttpd masterlist

———————

Being the younger twin sister of the heir apparent to the throne is stressful, but it has allowed you to do a lot of things, such as attending the Dutch Grand Prix. Obviously you were there to support Max and meet all the Athletes, but it’s where you met and befriended Oscar. The Australian was nice and didn’t treat you any different because of your status, not to mention he was cute.

Since then, there’s been a shift in your mood. You are bored more than ever, the guilded cage of the castle that contains you is no longer fine. You text Oscar about it, requesting a song recommendation to change things up, he sends you a song that you haven’t heard in a while. It makes you want to cry, the idea of being stuck here forever until your sister marries and has children. For now you are stuck in the castle, pining over a guy who only knows you via texts.

Lately your dreams have been of cracking the locks that keep you in. When you escape you’d go on adventures with Oscar, crashing into him like the ocean waves crash onto rocks. Each dream leaves you longing for him more and more.

You can’t tell if he is just being cordial and politely responding, or if he is interested and flirting. Every time you flirt, things seem to get cold after. He’s a paradox over text, leaving you wondering if you are mad for thinking there was a chance.

You turn to your older sister for advice, telling her about what he does to you in your dreams. Secret trysts in the hedge maze, messy kisses, hands roaming each other’s skin. You keep recalling things you never did, as if he’s written mine on your upper thigh. You’d die happy if it were real.

“You know, there’s no such thing as bad thoughts, only your actions talk. I’ll talk to Papa about maybe going to Spain for a race in couple months,” Amalia says, invested in how this will play out.

You go on a few dates with various wealthy and noble guys your age, trying to distract yourself from the longings locked inside a vault deep inside you. Every date leaves you unsatisfied, counting down the days until you are in Spain. The fatal fantasies visit you in your dreams every night, leaving you feel like you’ve made a vow to Oscar that you are supposed to uphold somehow, despite knowing it’s all make believe.

You and Amalia fly out to Spain without the rest of your family, spending the week with the Spanish royal family. You are friends with the princesses and their cousins so it is a great distraction.

“Y/n, who is your favorite driver?” Leonor and Sophia ask as you lay on the floor of Leonor’s room together.

“Oscar,” Amalia answers for you as your cheeks flame. “She’s always texting him,”

“Amalia,” you groan, hiding your face with your hands.

“We are definitely stopping by the McLaren garage then,” Sophia grins, nudging you. Their cousins Irene, Miguel, Pablo, and Victoria arrive tomorrow morning to complete your group that is attending the Grand Prix. You had a crush on Miguel growing up, but it quickly passed once you turned 15.

“Girls, it’s time for Amalia and Y/n to return to their hotel, and the four of you have to be up early for tomorrow,” Queen Letizia says, opening the door slightly.

“Alright, we will see you tomorrow for breakfast and the driver reception,” Leonor sighs as the four of you stand up.

“Thank you for having us,” Amalia thanks the queen as you leave.

“You are always welcome, we will see you girls tomorrow,” she smiles, making sure her assistant gets you to the chauffeured car safely. The trip from Palauet Albéniz to your hotel is relatively short, one you didn’t realize was housing multiple drivers. You don’t notice Oscar as you walk into the hotel, a small security escort around you, but he notices you. He’s tempted to text you and ask why you are here, but Lando distracts him, giving him his room key and number.

Your room is plush, but lonely. You stare at your texts with Oscar, tempted to let him know you are in Spain, but something stops you. The morning is busy, your alarm waking you up early to shower and dress. You choose something simple but beautiful for the day. Your light blue dress lays nicely on you with matching heels, and your hair is styled neatly, a headband in place of a tiara. Your visit isn’t a state visit, so it is nice to have flexibility in your attire. A knock on your door tells you that Amalia is waiting outside for you.

Once again, you don’t notice Oscar as you leave, your eyes looking ahead, surrounded by the security detail.

“Your girlfriend is here,” Lando teases Oscar, noticing who he was looking at.

“She’s a princess, I would never be able to date her. She flirts over text, but I don’t want to hurt her,” Oscar sighs, watching you get into a car and leave.

“I think you already have,” Lando says, letting Oscar think.

You arrive to the palace, eager to see your friends again. Breakfast is wonderful, and afterwards you all go outside to the gardens to catch up. Despite only seeing each other every few years, your group chat is alive and well.

“Go talk to Miguel, he’s been eyeing you since breakfast,” Sophia tells you, you look over to her cousin. He has aged well since you last saw him. “Ask him about school, oceanography,” she nudges you in his direction.

“Oceanography? How’s that?” you slide up beside Miguel, deciding it’s a good idea to try and move on again. You listen enthusiastically as he talks about his studies and living in London.

“What are you studying?” he returns your question.

“History with minors in French and German. Nothing terribly exciting,” you say, a slight blush appearing on your face as he focuses on you. The two of you unconsciously separate from the group, caught up in conversation. Victoria and Irene grab the two of you, informing you that it is time to go back inside for the drivers welcome and lunch. Miguel’s hand rests lightly on the small of your back as you walk up the stairs.

“We will wait for you at lunch,” Pablo says to Leonor and Sophia, the six of you ready to find something to do as the drivers arrive from their hotels.

“No, join us. Mama and Papa would want you there,” Leonor says so you follow her in. The six of you stand a few behind the four royals, following royal protocol in that regard. You are chatting with Irene and Miguel quietly when the drivers walk in.

“Accompany me to the Opera tonight,” Miguel says quickly, you nod and blush a little before turning you attention to the drivers, eyes instantly meeting Oscar’s, your blush deepens a little before you put on your royal mask. It doesn’t matter if your date with Miguel goes well or not, deep down you know that you’d drop him for Oscar immediately if asked. One by one, the drivers are introduced before you are allowed to mingle before lunch.

“Your Royal Highnesses,” Max bows before you and Amalia as the two of you approach him.

“Max, it’s wonderful to see you again. Please don’t bow, you only need to in formal situations,” you smile, greeting the champion.

“Yes, no need to bow when we aren’t here formally visiting. We will be cheering for you this weekend,” Amalia says and you notice Oscar standing nearby.

“Excuse me,” you excuse yourself from the conversation, Max takes no offense as he sees you beeline to the Australian, Amalia continues her conversation with Max. It would be a bad look for the heir apparent to brush off her own countryman.

“Y/n! What are you doing here?” Oscar asks happily, unsure if he can hug his friend, acting like he didn’t know she was here.

“Surprise visit. I didn’t want to wait until the Dutch Grand Prix to see my friend again, and I wanted to visit my friends. My sisters and I are close with the princesses and their cousins, but Amalia and I were the only ones who flew out since we like the sport. Sorry, I’m rambling,” you laugh nervously.

“That’s okay, it’s cute,” Oscar says with a cute smile, not quite realizing what he was saying.

“Thanks, that means a lot coming from you,” you can’t openly flirt with the Australian here, but you do your best.

“I’m sorry, Lando is beckoning me to him, visit me in the McLaren garage, yeah?” Oscar asks.

“I’d love to,” you smile, watching him go to his teammate. You rejoin your sister and Max, effortlessly sliding into the conversation. You can tell Leonor had a hand in the lunch seating because she placed you between Oscar and Max, Amalia was on the other side of max. Carlos and Fernando were sat near the King and Queen.

“Y/n, how does this work? I’ve never been to a royal meal before,” Oscar discreetly asks you.

“Follow the pattern for who to speak to, It will be dictated by the king, for everything else just follow my lead. King Felipe is a slower eater so you should have time to finish your meal, and this is more laid back than a state dinner. If I were wearing a tiara, you’d be in trouble,” you joke, Oscar seems relieved at your explanation. You turn to Max first, discussing the race and things he misses about the Netherlands. Once the meal is served, you turn to Oscar.

“This is a lot less stressful than what I imagined,” Oscar smiles, having trusted your quick overview of what to do, one he just shared with Lando.

“Not every meal is full of such protocol, usually just for guests and important meals. You should’ve told me you’d be here, I could’ve answered your questions. I only thought that Carlos and Fernando would be here,” you admit and he shrugs, balancing his talking and eating.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of it. Sometimes I forget you are third in line to the throne,” you scrunch you nose, cringing a little.

“Don’t remind me,” you laugh a bit so he knows you are joking. “Where are they housing you?” you ask, taking a bite of food.

“The Hotel Arts,” Oscar says, ready to act surprised when you say where you are staying.

“Ah, Mr Fancy Pants. Living it up like royalty, I see,” you smirk, glancing around the table to make sure you are eating at the right pace.

“I take it you are staying there as well then,” Oscar says, taking the hint.

“Yes, we should get breakfast one morning before you go to the track,” you suggest, a little hope in your heart.

“I’d really like that,” Oscar thinks back on Lando’s words, deciding to take the risk. He’s worried about your life as a princess more than anything that will happen to him if he were to date you.

“Maybe not tomorrow though, I am going to the Opera tonight so I will be nursing a wine hangover,” you appreciate the light and easy conversation you are able to have with Oscar.

“Sounds like a deal, we can play it by ear,” Oscar smiles. The two of you turn your attention to your meals. The rest of the day passes quickly, the drivers having left after the lunch.

You and Amalia go back to the hotel to get ready for the opera. You just finished putting your heels on and securing your tiara when there is a knock on the door.

“Oscar?” you say confused at the Australian standing outside your door.

“I brought wine, figured you’d want to get the party started early. You look stunning, by the way,” He says, inviting himself into the small living room space.

“I thought drivers don’t drink before race weekends,” you smile, carefully sitting beside him.

“One glass won’t hurt,” he pours two glasses, carefully handing you one. It’s a cheaper wine, likely bought from across the street rather than from the bar downstairs.

“I’d also take shots, but wine is nice. Thanks, Osc,” you sip the white wine. Oscar chose a safer choice than a red. You have time before heading down with Amalia where one of the cars will pick you up.

“So why the tiara?”

“The opera is considered a white or black tie event, I don’t remember which it is. Plus, I agreed to go as Miguel’s date so I have to look perfect or else the media will slaughter me,” you sigh, taking a large sip of the wine.

“Oh, that sucks,” Oscar digests the last bit of information.

“He’s a great guy, but I think he’s more of a friend. I have my eye on someone else anyway,” you add on, quickly glancing at Oscar who regains his hope, noticing your glance.

“Any guy would be lucky to have you,” Oscar says as Amalia enters the room.

“Hello, Oscar. Y/n, we have to go, they are close,” she says, the two of you finish your wine.

“Thanks for the glass of wine, good luck tomorrow if I don’t see you,” you press a gentle kiss to his cheek, following Amalia out the door. You trust Oscar to leave once he cleans up the wine.

The opera is nice, and the next two days are fun as you spend time in the paddock. You wake up early to join Oscar for breakfast on the race day.

“Orange? For me?” Oscar grins after you order. You are wearing an orange blouse with white pants and heels. Since it isn’t the Dutch Grand Prix, you have a small pin with a bull and the number one on it attached to your blouse.

“For Max, but also for you,” you smile back.

“It’s actually papaya, I can get McLaren to gift you some stuff,” he says, leaning back in his chair a bit.

“That’s okay, I have enough Red Bull team wear in my closet. I wouldn’t even be allowed in McLaren clothing unless there was a better reason other than being friends with the driver, unfortunately Max takes precedence there. Also, I have money to buy McLaren merch, they are better off gifting merch to other fans,” you say, sipping your water.

“So what can I do to get you to openly support me?” he asks, knowing one of the answers.

“Well, if you get a podium at Zandvoort I can hand you your trophy,” you tell him and he nods.

“I can do that, maybe I will beat Max,”

“Yeah, don’t do that,” your laugh is music to him. The two of you finish your breakfast, both having obligations to attend to. You and Amalia arrive to the paddock together, only joining the Spanish royals for the actual race.

“Welcome to Red Bull, Your Royal Highnesses,” a hospitality employee greets you as you enter the garage.

“Hello, Max,” Amalia greets the driver with a smile.

“Good morning, Your Royal Highnesses. Welcome to our garage,” Max smiles, a girl and a woman with him.

“Maxie, are they real life princesses?” the little girl asks. She pulls at your heartstrings, your royal foundation works with young girls.

“We are, what is your name?” You kneel down as she looks at you with wide eyes, curtsying.

“Penelope,”

“Hi Penelope, my name is Y/n. You curtsied beautifully, but there is no need to curtsy to a friend,” you tell her, glancing up at Max and the woman who you assume is her mother.

“This is Kelly, my girlfriend, and her daughter, Penelope,” Max introduces them to you.

“Would you like a picture, Penelope?” Amalia asks, the little girl nods.

“That’s my big sister, she’s going to be a queen one day,” you tell Penelope as if it’s a secret.

“Can I, Mommy? I want Maxie in it too,” Penelope asks, when Kelly agrees, you carefully pick up Penelope. Both Red Bull and Kelly take photos. You chat with the group until you realize there isn’t too long until you will have to join the royal family, so you excuse yourself to walk a few garages down.

“Can I help you?” someone in papaya stops you from going too close.

“Yes, I’m here to visit my friend, Oscar,” you start, looking into the garage.

“Y/n! You made it,” Oscar wraps an arm around your shoulder, guiding you inside.

“I don’t believe we’ve met, Princess. My name is Lando Norris of the United Kingdom,” Oscar’s teammate extends his hand, you find the childish antic amusing. You give him your hand, he bows slightly, lightly kissing the back of your hand.

“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Norris,” you giggle, feeding into the antics. Oscar went from worried to amused in those thirty seconds.

“Alright, she’s my friend, not yours. Find your own princess to hog,” Oscar pulls you away, his smile betraying his annoyed tone. You get some silly pictures together, and he puts his helmet on you before one photo.

“I could totally drive one of these,” you say, lying to see his reaction.

“When we get to the Netherlands, I’m racing you in karts and taking you on a hot lap then,” Oscar laughs as your eyes widen.

“Bring it on,” you don’t back down. Oscar could kiss you right now, but he never did ask about how your date to the opera went, so he doesn’t.

“Oscar, I’d like my sister to be returned, please,” Amalia says, walking over to the two of you.

“Oscar, I found my princess!” Lando grins, Amalia’s confused reaction causes you to snort and Oscar to laugh.

“She’s off limits to you, Lando. You aren’t king material,” you tell him, gently patting his shoulder.

“But Oscar is prince material?” Lando asks. Amalia drags you out of the garage before either of you can reply.

The race is exciting and you watch eagerly.

“Who is your favorite driver?” Pablo asks, watching from beside you.

“Politically, Max. Personally, Oscar Piastri, he’s a close friend,” you say, watching the track as Oscar passes, fighting for P3.

“It’s a shame my brother and you aren’t a match,” he says, referring to the Opera.

“We are better off as friends, something we realized quickly. Once we realized that we weren’t teenagers anymore, the Opera got much better,” you chuckle.

You are aware of the cameras watching your box as the race ends. You and Amalia celebrate carefully, not doing much other than clap and excitedly talk to each other. The podium ended with Carlos winning, Max in P2, and Oscar in P3. Max dropped in the last couple laps, his tires degrading too early.

That night you show up to the club with Irene and Victoria, being the only girls who could go out and not be yelled at. Your black party dress doesn’t leave much to the imagination, but your coat doesn’t let photographers know as you step into the club with them. After checking your coat, you head to the bar where you notice drivers taking shots.

“This round on me,” you tell Irene and Victoria. You order your round and a vodka Red Bull for after the shots.

“Princess! Oscar, your princess is here!” Lando slurs, calling over a slightly less drunk Oscar.

“You look incredible,” his smile causes you to blush. You notice Max and Carlos observing the interaction.

“Shots for the podium! And ladies, and I guess Lando,” you declare, ordering seven shots. You all take them and you are feeling a lot braver at flirting with Oscar.

“What are you drinking?” Oscar asks, standing close to you, his breath warm on your ear.

“Vodka Red Bull,” you tell him, sipping the drink.

“Hey Max, your princess really is your fan. She’s drinking a vodka Red Bull,” Oscar tells the Dutchman.

“It’s a good choice,” Max smiles, unsure how he feels about partying with the third in line to his home country. Carlos, however, has no problems, talking to Irene and Victoria.

“Dance with me,” you tell Oscar as you finish your drink, he follows you onto the dance floor, bodies close. His hands stay on your hips, holding you close but trying to stay respectful. A couple songs later you kiss him, and his hands wrap around you, pulling you into him.

Soon after, you are getting your coat and heading back to your hotel, pulling him into your room. Scenes from nights you’ve spent together flash through your mind, ones where he has you screaming his name, building up like waves and crashing over and over again. His hands roam your skin, bedsheets ablaze, maybe you can be guilty as sin this time.

You wake up in his embrace, his soft snores tell you he’s still asleep. You think about your options. After this weekend, you’ll face criticism anyway, why not go after someone you’ve been pining after. The public will always have opinions about who you date, but the way it feels when Oscar holds you is so right. The only way they will be happy is if you never date or marry until you’re thirty. They don’t know how keeping the crush to yourself haunted you every night, and how he is stunningly perfect.

“What’s going through that pretty mind of yours?” Oscar asks sleepily, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I choose you and me, no matter what the public says,” you whisper, looking in his half awake eyes.

“Finally. I choose us too,” he smiles, pulling you into his chest.

“I still can’t openly support you as opposed to Max,” you smile, Oscar’s eyes open again.

“I will propose right now,” he says, quite seriously. You giggle, running your hand up his chest.

“Don’t, that’s a whole process and a lot of conversations that I don’t feel like going through yet,” you say, feeling Oscar’s chest vibrate as he hums in agreement. He looked up what would happen if he were to marry you one night while texting you. He’d have to become a naturalized citizen, your parents would announce the engagement, then the parliament would have to approve the marriage in order for you to stay a member of the royal household.

Oscar gets up half an hour later, needing to board a plane to Austria with the team. As he waits to taxi, he sends you the link to a song, the same one he sent a couple months ago. The past twenty four hours have been better than any dream. Are you allowed to cry happy tears?

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

I saw your requests were open and I came RUNNING! I’m the one who always requests dad!tan but I have a different one this time (barely) cause I’m thinking of like dad!pietro. Would love some HCs or a short fic, whatever you want honey. Love you and your writing!!

hii!! omg it’s you!! ofc angel, love you and hope you’re well💌

DAD PIETRO HCS.

— I feel like he's a boy dad (but maybe has 3 kids? twins - boy and girl age 5 or 6?? (can't help myself) and another little boy, like 2???? idk, not completely sure?? or just one kid?? no idea where I stand on the amount tbh lol)

— (might be stereotypical dad stuff but bc it's pietro it works) loves being able to do sporty things with the oldest boy. throwing balls in the garden, taking him to sports events, watching him at school games, taking him to practice - all that kind of stuff. he might be slightly disappointed if his son isn't into sports stuff, but he won't push it or make him feel bad about it

— the twins love to hold onto him as he speeds around

— he's a fun dad but he's not careless

— he wishes he had more time with his parents and often wishes they were around so they could meet his family. big, large families are a part of his culture (I think??? like an eastern european thing??) so he often feels like he's missing out and not able to continue traditions

— (im letting wanda have her boys and vision bc im not cruel) and bc pietro and wanda are orphans, they make conscious efforts to spend lots of time together - family is very important to them both. so they like to have game nights, sunday dinners, sleepovers for the kids, days out with both their families. they want their kids to be close cousins and do tonnes of fun stuff together

— the kids love his breakfasts bc he always does so much and makes it playful

— getting the kids ready for school is fun bc he's so fast and makes games out of it

— the kids love inviting their friends over so they can show off pietro. he secretly loves how cool they think he is. "your dad is so cool. wish mine was like that" he just loves it (even if it is the thought of a 5yr old with no real ability to think for themselves)

— very good at being a dad. it's like a natural instinct to him. he's like a fun uncle but with the responsibilities of a dad

— very active with the kids. always doing something sporty/ doing something outside

— love the idea of him in pjs in the morning and one kid is just hanging off him while he’s telling another what to do/ helping with homework, and feeding the youngest

— has dad facial hair scruff (🫠)

— when you come home and pietro had the day with the kids, they’d be sleeping on him on the sofa. both kids tucked into his side, little baby on his chest and the tv is playing cartoons. it’ll be your new lock screen

— he teaches the kids sokovian, and uses terms of endearment/ everyday words in his home language so the kids pick up on it. and more importantly use it

[upinthecloudss]

random hc's - my candy love hsl boys

the brainrot developed further after reading the first 3 mangas these past few days (tysm @draconess-tania for sharing the link for the english translations to me!! my 13 year old self who could never find them online is healed)

kentin has always been very acne-prone, his mother helped him develop a pretty solid skincare routine and he finds it very relaxing to do in the evening - he hasn't admitted it to anyone in fear that he will get laughed at

gave tips to armin once when he had a particularly nasty pimple and became less self conscious when he saw how greatful his friend was

momma's boy through and through - he loves having sessions catching her up with all that is going on in his life with a cup of warm milk and cookies

after military school he became a bit more closed off and these catch up sessions became less common - he eventually opened up after a few months when he saw how sad she got at his new attitude

to his dismay, he is terrible at baking sweets

he's fine at other basic cooking skills but it's not his passion

kentin is a bi man but he didn't come out until his early 20s

[i'd like to write a one shot on him coming out to his family, or just more about him - there is sm potential with his character,,,,]

he comes from a very small family, he only has about 2 cousins since it's only his mother who has a sibling so he's used to being alone - evan was his first ever 'big brother' figure to him

has -6.5 impaired short sight vision (translation: blind asf)

has relatively short fingers, 'baby hands' candy calls them. he hates how cute they look

nathaniel's mother is not a natural blonde, but the twins are. people started believing she is naturally blonde because of nath and amber

nathaniel is tone deaf, he's fine with the drums and rythms but anything solfege is out of reach for him

bless him lys tried giving him voice lessons and he dropped them a few weeks in

if he were to ever get another cat in the future it would be a british shorthair - insited upon by amber

amber lived with nathaniel for the first few years of college

she insisted it was because she wanted to save up on money while she looked for stable modelling gigs but she honestly missed living in the same house as him

armin likes painting his nails in dark tones of purple, blue or black - he did it for the first time to let alexy practice but he liked it so much that he rarely doesn't have nailpolish on nowadays

the polish is super chipped at all times, no matter how recently he applied it

it helped him stop biting his nails

fnaf lore expert - loves markiplier + game theory and watched them growing up an unhealthy amount

he plays the videos as background noise every now and then

it's his comfort frfr

the twins love stealing their mother's makeup - she has gotten so used to it that she gets dupes for most of her products just in case

armin tighlined his eyes during a specially grungy era of his - he's a master of eyeliner

he is also pretty acne prone but only on the forehead area which he covers with bangs

alexy is always insisting on how bad that is for his skin but armin chooses to ignore his brother

bi armin with a slight female preference btw

alexy uses coloured contacts + colour corrector for some redness but isn't all that much into heavy makeup looks

armin owns way too many ripped jeans

alexy DESPISES them - considers them an atrocious fashion crime

the twins go on regular spa trips with their parents - it is the only time where you will see armin willingly leave his console at home

on that topic armin developed scoliosis due to genetic predisposition + constant hunchback while playing AND he usually has neck pain so he never says no to a massage

warning for an unpleasant story involving teeth-related injuries but this is something that happened to a friend of mine and it fits sm - alexy and armin were once playing catch in a playground with stairs and while alexy was trying to run upstairs he tripped and landed on his two front teeth - he had to wear a dental prothesis for years until his adult teeth came in

armin can only sleep if he has those dumb ass whale ambience sounds in the background, alexy can only sleep with silence

armin needs to have the room as cold as possible, alexy cannot stand having the window open at night

surprisingly, they actually manage to sleep well in a shared room because they feel more at ease around each other (and armin doesn't need the sounds to relax)

castiel cannot sleep if there is light in the room - he sleeps with those eye masks that cover your eyes

his mother buys him flower-patterned or cute animal themed masks PFFT she brings them back from trips abroad so they're sometimes themed with cute mascots from the country

he only wears them when his parents arent home - he'd never admit to his mother that he actually uses them

he has a collection of guitar picks related to memories, he has a scrapbook - esque thing where he puts them in pages with dates

one of them is a pick that iris gave to him before their concert together - she knew of his collection to she wanted him to have it as a memory of it

it's purple with golden details on it

his first one was from his first time meeting lysander - he got him a pick to teach him some guitar but lys gave it back to him in case he wanted to play in the future and inevitably lost the pick

he doesn't play with picks tho - the manga kinda confirmed this but he developed the callouses to play

thought it was dumb at first but in his late teenage years he picked up spanish guitar - enjoys compositions by albeniz etcetc (Rumores de la Caleta is a piece that he enjoys playing - not because his mom loves it nooo who said that)

i just had a lightbulb moment

spanish castiel - on his mother's side

his mother dressed him up as a chulapo when he was younger - he HATED it (are we surprised)

nathaniel is terrified of flying - his parents forced him to suck it up growing up but he ever grew out of the anxiety during take off and landing

his favourite animals are meerkats - he loves that they stick and protect each other as a family

this is purely self indulgent but lysander's favourite classical composers are liszt and chopin - any romatic composers tbh

he likes singing ofc but he also wants to learn violin at some point

lysander always wanted to try classical dancing but never got the opportunity to do so

he'd be a natural at ballroom dancing methinks

nath is the token straight

cas is bi, lys is queer - but they never rlly came out

they j date whoever they like, if it turns out to be a man then eh whatever

[duskier]

I am a big family Soap truther but I feel like Gaz would have one too - SoapGaz fluff I just barfed out - 1.8k words!!!

One of the first things that bonds the two together- beyond being brothers in arms of the same rank, and living through actual hell on earth together saving each other's lives again and again- is that they are the only ones who will listen to each other yap about their families.

…

When Soap tries to boast about his twin nieces winning double horse riding awards to Ghost, Ghost politely stands still like he's listening. Soap knows Ghost well enough to see that he's mentally checked out, can see that his eyes are fixed somewhere far off. Soap knows how touchy of a subject family is for Ghost, so he learns quickly to give up any mention of it.

…

When Gaz tries to show Price a video of his oldest sister finding out she's gotten a full ride to her choice of grad school, his captain is a bit more blunt but still evasive. Just tells Gaz that he's busy, that he should show him later. But Soap hears delighted squeals and joyful yelling coming from Gaz's phone and suddenly he's beelining over.

"She graduated super high in her class, did a bunch of extra curricula, applied everywhere like mad but this- this one has been her dream since we were little."

Soap looms over Gaz's shoulder, a smile blooming on his face as Gaz restarts the video. It feels amazing to be listened to, but it makes Gaz's heart soar seeing Soap near in tears, misty eyed while he’s sharing in the joy. His eyes are... really pretty. Weird that Gaz was only noticing it then.

"She deserves it, I bet yer so proud... we ought to celebrate!"

And they do. Soap buys Gaz and himself a few rounds at their usual bar just off base that very night, and over the next few hours they detail everything about their families to each other. Soap pulled out his sketchbook and drew a little family tree then passed it over so Gaz could do the same thing, too. 

“Your sister sounds just like my uncle-”

“She looks just like my cousin’s ex girlfriend-”

“D’you think your mom would be able to stand my mom?”

“My sister is taller than your brother.”

“How many kids does that one have? …Five!?”

Pouring over instagram pages, pulling up texts, Gaz even messaged his mom to send him a specific photo of him and his siblings at his 6th birthday party. He can hardly get through telling Soap the story behind the photo without laughing so hard his ribs hurt, and Soap is suddenly feeling breathless when he realizes how lovely a sound it is to hear Gaz laugh. 

…

…Then when Gaz needs a date to his cousin’s wedding- he can’t just not go, he’s part of the groomsmen- he asks Soap to come. 

“Don’t make me go alone mate, besides there will be plenty of dancing and-and drinking and that pretty cousin of mine you liked! You already know all their names, so it makes sense I’d bring you over anyone else.” He’s serving the biggest, shiniest brown-eyed-puppy dog look of the century, and it works immediately. 

That’s how they end up on a flight together to a gorgeous beach resort. Soap doesn’t have a chance with that pretty cousin Gaz mentioned (unbeknownst to either of them it's because just about everyone in Gaz’s family is convinced the two Sergeants are dating.)

Gaz’s four sisters nearly knocking him on his ass as they all tackle him when he’s spotted in the hotel lobby, fighting to be the one to hug Gaz first. It is clear how much they all love each other, warm embraces and laughter ringing out in the lobby without a care. 

Them all welcoming Soap immediately with open arms, now fighting to be the first one to share the most embarrassing story about Gaz. (“Did he tell you about the time when he--” “I HAVE A LICENSE TO KILL, ZIP IT!!”) He’s immediately treated like a bonus-sibling, the youngest one (only 7 years old) wrinkling her nose at Soap’s mohawk from her spot in Gaz’s arms. His other two sisters grilling Soap on their brother’s job, hoping Soap had embarrassing stories about Gaz to tell them in turn. 

(Later the sisters gather together in their own hotel room to debrief- it was painfully obvious the two guys were crushing on each other- they knew what Gaz looked like when he was like that. They made a deal with one another to be nice to Gaz about it. Despite how easy it’d be. They then praised themselves for being such kind sisters to their brother, and shared sparkling apple cider over a Barbie movie.)

Soap watching Gaz walk down the sandy beach aisle as a groomsman, looking handsome as ever in the tux and silk pink bowtie the bride had chosen for the party. Gaz with a bridesmaid on his arm, pretty in pink, but the second they part his eyes find Soap sitting in the crowd. In a pretty deep blue suit that compliments his eyes, top two buttons of his white shirt undone. Gold chain to his cross glittering in the sunlight. 

The two admiring each other, and Gaz watches his grandmother sit down next to Soap. The Scot says something charming, undoubtedly a direct flirt, knowing that was the way to her heart. Her wrinkled hand clutching at her pearls jokingly, admonishing him as they fall naturally into conversation. 

Gaz passively wonders why it suddenly meant so much to him for his family to like Soap, how it sent a bolt through his heart to see him get on so easy with his grandmother especially. (He was always a grandma’s boy, even if he’d never admit it. He was her favorite grandson, though she’d never admit that, either.)

During the reception, when Gaz and Soap are smiling big dopey smiles at each other in the multicolored lights, dancing with their arms slung around each other in messy, drunken circles, Gaz’s parents watch on with satisfied smiles. 

“Our son has never looked happier, love. Just look at him, he’s glowing!” Gaz’s mother offers her champagne glass as a toast.

His father’s face wrinkles handsomely when he smiles back at his gorgeous wife. He clinks his glass with hers.

“Looks like he’s found himself a nice young man, darling. You did a good job.” 

“We did, love. We did.”

(Gaz and Soap end up going back to their hotel room and making out a little bit, but they don’t discuss it for a long while. They write it off as them being drunk and stumbling back to their room together, that they got confused or wires got crossed somehow.) 

…

Soap and Gaz realize their mistake of introducing their mothers to one another much too late. They become fast friends, video calling each other once a week over drinks to gossip about their families, talk about books they are reading, and boast about new recipes cooked. As much as the two men complain about it, they know the friendship is much deeper- the two women comfort each other when their kids are on mission. Finally, they each had another mom who could understand what they were going through.

…

When Soap’s grandpa gets sick and it's all hands on deck, every sibling and cousin and family friend coming home, Soap doesn’t even have to ask Gaz. He’s already got his bag packed and both of their paperwork filed for the time off. A warm supporting hand giving his shoulder a squeeze, offering the first bit of relief Soap has felt in weeks. 

By this point, Gaz was already known by half of Soap’s family online. They were able to just arrive at the MacTavish family home, roll up their sleeves, and get to work. No one knew that Grandpa Mactavish had been on such a rapid decline, the family home and property in general disrepair. 

Soap’s eldest sister was a carpenter. His middle sister was a homemaker. His youngest sister was a moody teenager. Together the three women pulled the most weight, directing the family into teams. Within a day, the house had been cleaned, the overgrown grass mowed, the dry rot on the outside of the home repaired, each dead lightbulb on the property replaced. 

Soap and Gaz filled the family home with the scent of spices and herbs as they cooked tirelessly. Enough to feed every hand that leant help, and then some so Grandpa Mactavish had plenty leftover. While they chopped and simmered and seasoned, Gaz listened to Soap reminisce about his memories in this home. Every Christmas when the family of nearly 30 all packed in together, every birthday or life milestone that was celebrated there. The wall of carved height trackers- from his great-grandfather to his littlest cousin. When Soap eventually breaks down crying, Gaz doesn’t think twice to pull him into a hug. 

He doesn’t move when Soap’s mother comes in and hugs Soap from behind- Gaz and Soap’s mother worked as a team to hold Soap together. 

…

Years later, when Soap finally blurts out the big question, eyes wide with fear as if Gaz would ever dream of saying no to his proposal, Gaz tackles his boyfriend- now fiancé- with such vigor they both get bruises from the tumble. They are laughing, blushing, ragging on each other for being so sappy even as they have happy tears forming in their eyes. 

The Garrick-Mactavish wedding is no small event. It's damn near the wedding of the century. 

Laswell and the rest of their 141 family runs the event like it's a military op. The Vaqueros join in too, friends from KorTac throwing in their hand as well. (Nicolai's main job is just keeping Price's blood pressure down.)

The reception itself was gorgeous, Gaz dressed in a warm white suit, looking like a dream with gold accents. Soap opposite him in a formal wear kilt fashion, his usually messy mohawk tamed back. The 141 made up the wedding party, plus each groom's own assortment of childhood friends or siblings. (The joint bachelor party the month prior was legendary, but the aftermath gave Laswell a headache. Something about a building getting blown up and/or burnt down. If asked, she wouldn't talk about it but excuse herself to get another drink.) When they kiss, confirming their lifetime bond now confirmed and witnessed by all of their loved ones, Soap dips Gaz, making the beautiful man laugh and hold onto his shoulders as cheers erupt around them. 

The reception and party and after party in total lasted three days. The two families now and forever intertwined‐ once separately large on their own- made a tree so huge they couldn't fit it on one page of Soap’s sketchbook anymore. (They just make a huge painting of it in their home- the home that houses the entire extended Garrick-Mactavish family every holiday until the happy, long-lived end of their days.)

[raven-dor]

can you write a fem reader x James Potter where she like has an anxiety attackat like 3 am bc her parents say she isn't getting good enough grades and that they're gonna pull her out of Hogwarts and so he like calms her down?

drink some water and eat something <3

also can I be :3 anon?

stay with me

In which james potter comforts his best friends twin sister

PAIRING: james potter x sirius black's twin!reader

WARNINGS: anxiety attack, horrible parenting, mentions of abuse, self-esteem issues, fluff ending

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

🎶 : stay with me - sam smith

AN: loved writing this!! as someone who craves academic validation, this was kind of healing to put into the world <3

Her hands shook as she stared at the letter her parents had sent her. It had been the fifth one this month, not that she was counting. And they were all the same: vile insults of her knowledge and constant reminders that her brother was a better student than she would ever be. 

She laughed when they had said it the first time, telling them that “comparing anyone to Regulus, and he’s a better student.” Her mother had smacked her for that. 

This letter had been the worst of them. Her parents knew how to get a rise out of her, stating that if she did not better herself, she’d be pulled from Hogwarts before she could graduate. And even worse, if she was pulled, they would marry her off to Amycus Carrow, the insufferable twat. 

Her head of house had pulled her aside weeks ago, telling her that she was doing poorly in her classes, stating that he knew of multiple tutors who could help her fix them. She ignored his offer; after all, if she had wanted help, she would have asked Remus. 

It was late; curfew had passed hours ago, but she still stumbled through the halls, hyperventilating. She’d told herself she needed fresh air, but that hadn’t helped. Then she thought a walk would help; also useless. Now, she was just choking on her tears in the hall, hoping Filch didn’t find her. She was used to it, the constant belittling by her own mother and father. Even her cousins contributed. At first, it hadn’t bothered her; if her family had nothing better to do than insult her, they should feel free. 

Eventually, their insults warped her mind. She became a shell of her former self, no longer cracking jokes or teasing her brothers and friends. She sat in the corner of the library, reading the pages of her textbooks over and over until her mind felt numb. Sirius had tried to cheer her up constantly, one of his attempts resulting in a detention. 

A breeze pulled her down the dark corridor, the night sky visible at the end. Maybe sitting by the Black Lake or lying on the grassy hill would help her calm down. She sniffled, pulling her robe closer to herself. The Quidditch pitch was empty; she was sure of it. The grass there was well-kept, thanks to the gamekeeper. She pushed past the cloth, the great field standing before her. 

She ran to the middle, falling to the ground in a completely undignified manner. If her mother were here, she’d scold her. “That is no way for a lady to sit.” She could hear her, even hundreds of miles away. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop the voices that attacked her. Her heart pumped harder, beating against her chest. She gasped, rubbing her hand in circular motions, grounding herself. “You are no daughter of mine.” That is what her mother had said in the letter, the last thing she said before she signed off with her perfect penmanship. “You are no daughter of mine.” 

Y/N laughed. She didn’t want to be her daughter anyway. Sadly, she did not have a choice in that matter; Walburga had pushed her out 17 years ago, and here she was. Sobbing violently in the middle of the night on the grass.

Most likely the best thing Y/N Black would ever do.

She couldn’t get her grades up, no matter how hard she tried; she couldn’t be the perfect daughter, and she couldn’t be normal. A normal person, she told herself, wouldn’t be sobbing over her horrible grades. “You are no normal person, Y/N.” Her father would say. “You are a Black.”  

She brought her hands to her face, shaking her head. She murmured to herself, hiccuping every so often. A hand touched her shoulder, and she jumped, ripping her hands from her face. “Y/N?”

James. 

He smiled lightly. “Are you alright, love?” 

She sat up, wiping away the tears that still flowed. “I’m fine, Jamie. Don’t worry about it.” She stood, smiling. “Have fun.” 

He stood in front of her, blocking her escape. “I wouldn’t say you’re fine. You’re crying.” 

She scoffed. “Well, I didn’t ask for your opinion.” She stepped around him, speaking over her shoulder. “Drop it.” 

His hand wrapped around her wrist, holding her in place. “Indulge me.” He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “Sometimes I forget to breathe, and I do these exercises to help regulate myself.” He smiled. “Can you do it with me? It would really help me if you played along.” 

She knew he was tricking her, but she didn’t really care. “Sure, James.” 

He nodded. “Just breathe in for five, hold for two, exhale for five.” He smirked, nudging her shoulder. “Works wonders.” 

She tried not to roll her eyes, following along. God, she hated it when he was right. He often was, too; that was the horrible thing. James tried to play the dumb jock stereotype, but he was brilliant in Transfiguration, DADA, and Potions. It irked her to no end that James was not only a great quidditch player but an amazing student, friend, and person. 

They sat in silence for a moment before he spoke again. “Do you want to tell me what had you so worked up?” She shook her head. He sighed, holding her hands in his. “Can I guess then?” 

“Be my guest, Potter.” 

“Dear old mum and dad.” He raised his eyebrow, smiling lightly. “Am I right?” 

“Once again.” She nodded. “You know how they are.” 

He nodded back. “I do. But I’ve never seen you this upset over something they’ve done.” He whispered softly. “You don’t have to tell me, but you need to know I hate seeing you like this.” 

“Am I that hideous when I cry?” She laughed. “I’ll try to refrain from violently sobbing next time.” 

“Don’t do that.” He rubbed her cheek, smiling when a blush formed. “You’ve never been hideous a day in your life, Y/N. And you never will be.” 

She scoffed. “You flatter me too much, James.” 

“I only tell the truth.” Their hands swayed in between them. 

“They told me they were going to pull me out of school because my grades were so poor.” She murmured. “Don’t they know I’m trying?” 

“Your parents are unforgiving and cold. They disowned Sirius, for Merlin’s sake.” He pulled her closer, leaning down. “You know they have no logical thoughts.” 

“I know.” 

“I know you’re trying,” James smirked. “And honestly, that’s all that matters.” 

“How could I forget?” Y/N laughed. “The great James Potter, in all his infinite wisdom, strikes again.” 

“Is there…” He sighed. “Is there anything else?” 

“If they pull me out, they’ve already promised Amycus Carrow that we will be married.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “My worst nightmare come to life.” 

James gasped, visibly disgusted. “Merlin, I knew your mother was a horrible person, but to promise you to him-” He shivered. “She really has no love in her heart.” 

“She does.” Y/N corrected. “It’s reserved for Regulus.” 

“Ah.” He sighed. “You know you’re a good student, right?” 

She glared, trying to pull her hands out of her grip. “Don’t be mean.” 

“I’m not, I swear. You are an amazing student. Remember when you helped me with DADA? Last week? I would have completely failed if it wasn’t for you.” 

“Nonsense.” She blushed. “You would have been fine. DADA’s your best subject.” 

He laughed. “Maybe. But because of you, we’ll never know.” He giggled, wiggling his eyebrows. “You’re my hero, Y/N Black.” 

She shoved him away, rolling her eyes affectionately. “Shut it, you.” 

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, walking them out of the Quidditch Pitch. “I could use a hot cocoa. What about you?” 

“Cider sounds better.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Cider it is.” 

The kitchens were luckily not far from the pitch, and with one tickle of the pear, the door opened, not a single house elf in sight. Y/N settled into one of the two large leather seats, staring into the fire. “It’s my fault they don’t love me.” 

“What?” James scoffed, kneeling in front of her. “Why would you say that?” 

“I should have been a better daughter. If I had spent less time-” 

“Living? Y/N, listen to me. You are doing your best. And if they can’t see that, then that’s their problem. You, Sirius, and Regulus are better off without them.” 

“Sirius and Regulus, maybe.” She mumbled. “I don’t deserve it.” 

“It?” 

“Happiness.” 

James shook his head. “Never say that again. If you can’t do it for yourself, then do it for me. You- You deserve everything.” He brought his hands up to her cheeks. “Everything.”

She blushed. “James-” 

“Say it.” He looked at her rather dangerously; her stomach flipped. “Say you deserve everything.” 

“I don’t-” A hand tickled her side, and she gasped. “James!” 

He grinned, tickling her incessantly. “Say it, and I’ll stop!” 

“I- I deserve- I deserve everything!” She cackled, panting from the sudden attack. “I deserve everything.” 

He nodded, looking much too pleased with himself. “Good.” He stood up, grabbing her mug. “My lady.” 

She scoffed. “The least you could do after your violent attack.” 

“Please.” He smirked. “You know you love me.” 

“How exactly did you know I was on the Quidditch Pitch, hm?” She raised her eyebrow. “Were you following me on your little map?” 

He blushed, taking a sip of his cider. She smiled to herself. “That’s what I thought.” 

[child0feden]

DIRTY NEW YORKER

niko bellic x reader

- general dating headcanons for niko!

started replaying grand theft auto IV a couple days ago and i just love him so much, reader is very slightly referenced to have big boobs but it is not a major thing at all <3

- view my video game masterlist here

reading music recommendations: dirty new yorker by mobb deep - windowlicker by aphex twin

- niko can very often be just kind of cheap when it comes to dates and such!

✩ he does not really mean to be cheap, it is kind of just that he is not a super fancy person at all! he did not grow up with money, he is not very knowledgeable on princess or prince treatment and what not…

- but he really does try his absolute best to treat you as well as he knows how to and as well as he knows you do deserve to be treated

✩ wether it be taking you out to a local bar to grab some drinks together which he pays for, bringing you some supermarket flowers when picking you up in his car

- speaking of which, when you are in his car is when you get ultimate prince or princess treatment, you are his number one passenger prince or princess

✩ you want to play one your CDs or switch the radio station over to one of your usual favourites? go for it, he will not bat an eye, he might even find himself bobbing his head to the music as it plays through the slightly crackling speaker of his car

- you want the windows rolled up so that the rushing wind does not ruin your hair that you brushed back perfectly for your time out together? even on a pretty hot day? okay… it is completely fine by him! have them rolled all the way up if you want to…

✩ niko is already kind of a reckless driver but when you are in the car sometimes he will speed up when approaching sudden speed bumps in the road and slyly side eye you to watch your boobs bounce as he smirks at the sight

- i just think he probably absolutely loves bouncy boobs and there will no further comments from me at this time…

✩ niko likely did not introduce you to roman for quite a while when you guys first started dating!

- he thought you would be extremely overwhelmed by his… very unique personality and want out of the relationship you have with him because of just how different his close family is

✩ when niko eventually told you this, you were obviously so beyond confused because like… you are in a relationship with niko and definitely not roman… why on earth would you care at all about how his cousin acts? why would you leave him because of how his eccentric cousin acts?

- so eventually you do end up meeting roman and of course he is nice enough to you! he makes a point to over enthusiastically tell niko how he “ totally hit the liberty city jackpot ” with you when you are off grabbing a drink for yourself

✩ niko can obviously be pretty damn protective of you!

- with the line of work he is in and the type of people who he knows reside comfortably in liberty city, he just knows he kind of has to look out for you, he wants to look out for you

✩ if you are ever catcalled whilst walking beside him through the grimy streets of liberty city, niko is so quick to cuss the person out in some harsh serbian as you either try to pull him along in fear of him pulling a pistol and just killing the guy or you might sometimes egg him on… depending on what mood you are in that day… because sometimes protective niko is just a sight you love to behold…

- after this happens, he usually fucks you so insanely hard! either in the cramped backseat of his old car or in bed when you get back to your apartment! you are all his and those pieces of filth should know that, really everyone should know that

“ fucking filth… you’re mine aren’t you, Лепа? they could never fuck you like i do… ” ( you cannot even get a word of agreement out with how fast and hard he is pounding you, he is almost downright animalistic as he gives you no room for breathing and ruts his cock into you with harsh force mixed with a strange softness )

✩ he is not insecure, he is just pretty damn protective and very much likes other people to know you are certainly spoken for

- niko is not majorly into pda, he finds it to just be kind of unneeded, but this man will never not be holding your hand tightly in his as you walk down the streets of liberty city!

✩ and you really like holding his hand anyways, his cotton black fingerless gloves keep your own hands toasty warm and if you ever need to be more warmed up he will lend you his cozy bomber jacket whilst huffing and grumbling under his breath about how he told you to take a damn jacket out with you

- when walking the street together, niko is one of those men who walks on the side of the path closest to the road… it is just a major protective instinct for him

✩ i feel like he probably uses way too much cologne and aftershave on himself!

- like sometimes you have to cover your nose when you first approach him because it feels like it is being burned as you inhale the heavily scented air around him

✩ when you tell him to maybe loosen up on the cologne a little, he is so personally offended! what? do you not want him to smell good? he literally only even really puts it on himself for you!

“ what do you mean too much? i smell nice! you… okay, whatever… too much… ” ( this is the most genuinely upset you think you have ever seen him and it is literally all over cologne )

- but after a lengthy explanation to him and defending your case against his heavy usage of cologne, he agrees to go easy on the sprays next time, if it will make you happy…

✩ niko keeps a little risqué picture of you tucked in his leather wallet! but of course roman saw it from afar once and started mocking him for being so corny but also asked to see it up close to which niko simply widened his eyes in his direction and yelled at him with a stern tone in his voice

“ what? no! you can’t, why would i show you that? leave, go away… ” ( he is so mad roman saw it at all, let alone him asking to see it even better )

- when you guys sleep together, it is pretty rare that he ever really cuddles you… he just does not really like body heat! it makes him sweat and he hates being sticky and sweaty under the thick blankets of your bed, so he usually just has an arm thrown over your midriff or your chest and one of his legs tangled with yours under the blankets <3

[solstices-dreams]

𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐠 𝐝𝐫.

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐫. ᝰ.ᐟ

— 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭 𝟏𝟎.

Usually I wake up around 8 am. My neighbor Noah is usually out in his backyard by then practicing with his sword. I’ll head over for a bit and sit with him and talk. He’ll occasionally force me to practice with him, no matter how much I refuse. Afterwards I have breakfast with my family. My sister, Mabel, collects eggs from the chickens and my twin brother, Asher, milks the cow. After breakfast I usually go out and water the plants. We have a few flower pots for decor and then raised garden beds that have genuine crops in them. If it’s the weekend I’ll then go over to Noah’s house and we’ll go to the lake. Sometimes he brings his siblings, sometimes I bring mine or we bring our friends/old schoolmates.

If it’s a weekday my father and I take patients from across d-10 and occasionally d-11. Usually we don’t take money as payment but if people offer food or material items we accept. If it’s a Thursday we go into the town and visit patients as well as stock up on groceries.

After seeing patients we return home and I usually sit down to do some of my hobbies which can be crocheting, embroidery, jewelry making, or pottery. A lot of the stuff around my house is homemade and I also sell some of my stuff at the market.

Next I have dinner which is important to my dad and he dubs it a “family thing.” So Asher’s cutting up vegetables and Mabel’s setting the table as Dad cooks or something. Usually my dad or I cook cuz Mabel’s scared of the stove and Asher can’t be trusted around fire in the house.

Then after dinner I gossip with my sister and brother about their days, about Mabel’s crush or Asher’s latest escapade. (he’s a trouble maker.) After I send my letters to my friends in the other districts, journal, or read from my books. I’m excited to see what Panem literature is like and look in my history books! Sometimes I’m packing after dinner because I travel the districts (with the capitol’s permission) to see Finn or Haymitch. Then I get to curl up with my cat and got to sleep!

— 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐭 𝟏𝟎.

Sometimes I visit my extended family which live in the ranching sector and nowhere near the victor’s village. When we visit we tend to visit for a while, typically around the harvest !! We have a massive family (i will make a post, trust.) and we’re very big on family so we have massive dinners together with all the extended family.

My different cousins drag me around and show me new stuff around the houses. And talk my ear off about everything happening with them. It occasionally gets isolating in the victor village.

On some occasions I visit my mentor Brie. We usually have tea and discuss whatever’s on our minds or what’s going on with the other districts. She also has a kid and a wife so we all interact.