#and yet still i feel it is my duty to inform

[varpusvaras]

New note

Marked five files/reports so far for further reading

All groups that have previously operated on the area do not match by their motive or by what they are delivering; cannot be striked through yet

Strava -> possible operator? name repeats in many reports, need further information

Need to find out if

The door slid open. Fox wasn't fast enough to shut the datapad before whoever it was had already seen the glow of the screen in the dark.

"Really?" It was Thire. Fox didn't need to turn his head to see.

"Really", he answered, and turned to look anyway. Thire hadn't switched the lights on in the room yet, but even against the light coming from the hallway behind him, Fox could see that he looked kind of disappointed. "Did Stone make you come here?"

"Stone, Thorn, Index, who didn't?" Thire asked. He hadn't yet stepped in, and despite the expression on his face and the tone of his voice, Fox could see that he was a bit nervous. It made sense. Thire had not been made a Commander yet, even thought the promotion was pretty much imminent, which meant that Fox was still his superior officer in a way that he wasn't for Thorn and Stone.

Which meant that Fox needed to make the decision for him.

"Come in and shut the door", he said. "And switch on the lights."

He squinted his eyes when the bright, yellow-tinted light flickered on. It didn't hurt as much as it did a couple of days ago, at the very least, so there was some progress. Fox decided not to say that out loud, though.

Thire took the one chair they had in their bunk room, and positioned it right in front of Fox's cot.

"Have you found anything?" He asked. Either he didn't feel comfortable admonishing Fox further, or he wanted to get to the point. Either option was good right now in Fox's book.

"Not too much", Fox admitted. "Though that's not a surprise, I've barely made a dent to the files. There's a lot of them."

Thire nodded, and then hesitated for a second, before speaking again.

"Can I help?" He asked. "I've done my work for the night, and Index told me that I need to take a sleep shift today, so I don't have anything better to do."

"A sleep shift means you should be sleeping."

"And having a concussions means you shouldn't be working." Thire looked almost suprised at this own words. "Sorry, Sir."

"No, you're correct", Fox said. "I'd much rather take that from you than from Thorn or Stone. Is Thorn back yet?"

"No." Thire shook his head. "I talked with him maybe an hour ago. He was still a bit...grumpy?"

"I see." Perhaps Index should call Thorn in for a sleep shift as well. It wasn't that Fox expected him to be in a good mood all the time, but he had been tense and annoyed at pretty much everything for the past two days. Fox really needed to get back to work, if having to take on his duties as well caused this to happen to his Commanders.

Thire cleared his throat.

"Can I get the files?" He asked.

"Right. I'll send them over." Fox opened up his messages. "I've marked the ones I have already read, so you don't need to bother with those."

"Thank you." They lapsed into a silence as the files transferred to Thire's datapad, and it continued as they both got into reading. It wasn't a bad silence, though. Fox could see that Thire was just tired, and didn't wish to speak, and Fox felt very much the same. It was still nice, to have someone in the same room working with him. Fox had never done too well with just silence, but that was the case for most of the clones. It just happened when you grew up having someone around you constantly.

He briefly thought of Cody and the others. Did they ever have to do things like this? Most likely, though Fox assumed it was reading over old battle reports and strategies, more than combing through reports of crimes from the past few decades. The former was something they were all familiar with, at the very least. Fox had not been trained to be a Security Officer, as there had been no demand for such while they had been in training, as far as he had understood it. The Guard was something that had been created precisely at the moment the war had started, and Fox had been pushed into the role.

Fox did understand why: the Chancellor and the Senate wanted a good defense force on the Capital, and they had picked the troopers that had the highest marks for the job. Understanding that still didn't erase the feeling of him being wasted.

His train of thought was interrupted with Thire making a noise. Fox lifted his eyes to see him grimace at this datapad.

"What is it?" He asked. Thire glanced at Fox, then back at whatever he was reading.

"Nothing", he said. "This report is just...a bit unsettling? Sounds more like some horror story than a report."

Fox wasn't exactly suprised. The Guard had just barely started to move down to the lower levels, and they had all already seen pretty gruesome things. There was bound to be more of that in the reports.

"Was there anything relevant for this case?" He asked.

Thire scowled at his screen.

"Not that I saw", he said. "...can I share this with Here and the others? They've started to collect whatever creepy stories they have heard. They would love this."

Thire didn't sound overtly enthusiastic himself, which was a bit surprising. Fox had not taken him for someone who was spooked easily.

"Sure", he said. "But tell them that they cannot spread any personal information of anyone mentioned in the report."

"Of course", Thire said. He typed something quickly, and then seemed to move on to the next report, if the slight loosening of his expression meant anything.

The silence lasted for a few minutes more.

Then both of their commlinks went off.

Thire reached his first.

"It's an emergency notification", he said. "From the medbay."

Concussion be damned. Index wasn't someone who used the emergency notifications for no good reason. Fox got out of his cot, and grabbed his boots.

"Let's go", he said. Thire didn't need to be told twice.

#The Other Reports #everyone: Fox please go to bed #Fox: I am in bed #there are at least five different subplots going on at the same time in this #the horrors are not waiting for their turn one by one #sw #tcw #Star Writing #Commander Fox #Commander Thire #Coruscant Guard #my writing

[chirpsythismorning]

PSA editors: PLEASE stop flipping Mike’s monologue in the shed scene horizontally to match it with the lighting of Mike’s monologue in the Surfer Boy scene. Because what you’re doing is removing an entire layer of subtext regarding where Mike’s heart truly lies, which was in part being conveyed by which side of his face was lit in both of those scenes. Left side of Mike’s face lit = where his heart truly lies vs. Left side of Mike’s face hiding in the shadows = his heart is conflicted. Aka shed scene in s2 vs. Surfer Boy scene in s4. The choice to make those scenes back to back for a transition in an edit isn’t the problem, in fact it is the work of pure genius. Which is why I can’t stand by anymore and keep letting this happen without saying something.

#byler #I just witnessed the most beautiful edit in my life #like it doesn’t even matter that it did this exact thing bc it is stunning #but also #they deserve to know that their edit removed byler evidence from mike's monologue to will in the shed #at the expense of trying to match with the style of mike's monologue to el in surfer boy #my skin is crawling just thinking about it #like its 100% unintentional on their part obviously #and not serious whatsoever #bc obviously it's an aesthetic choice to make the transition smoother #and it works like it looks awesome #and yet still i feel it is my duty to inform

[brailsthesmolgurl]

"Where's Mummy?"

A oneshot fluff, entirely headcanon based, featuring all 3 of the LNDS men being a father. Requested by a lovely follower of mine. Hope this is an enjoyable read for you all. The names of the kids are based on my take, but if you want to include names of kids you had thought of with your husbandos, you may slot that in on your own will!

Want some angst? Go with this series of mine, tears guaranteed: Damnation

Warnings: Fluff as per usual however, there shall be suggestive themes for this, soooo let you imagination run free :)

RAFAYEL - FATHER TO A GIRL

"I'll be fine. Stop worrying would you?" Rafayel groaned with a smile. "Our daughter will be alright." He walked beside you, accompanying you towards the front door. "I am more worried about you with your work instead. So take care of yourself, please? For our sake?"

His concern made you rolled your eyes playfully, leaning in to give him a long kiss. "I will be home by evening, I promise." Your eyes stared into those mauve purple eyes of your husband's, only to have him yank you back into his arms and pressing his lips to yours again. Provocating you into a minor makeout session. Breaths becoming heavier by every passing minute.

You bit your lip the moment he pulled away, reminiscing the feeling of his soft and tender lips against yours. "Don't want you to be late, unless you want to call in sick for the day, hmm?" He winked, a hint dropped for you to decipher. "You know I can't Rafayel." Your answer made the man pout, arms crossed, but eventually surrendering to the reality of your situation. He press a small kiss against your cheek and sent you off on your way. He stood at the entryway, watching you get onto your bike and rode it out of the front yard and onto the empty streets.

Heading back in, he sat at his usual thinking corner, eyeing the piece of artwork he had yet to finish. Thomas was expecting this piece to be done by two days ago. But an artist's work should not be rushed, Rafayel being an advocate for quality over quantity. He sighed, walking over to pick up his palette stained with an array of colours, before sitting himself in front of the artwork and continued working on his piece.

Hours had passed since then, the strokes of the painter finally stopped when his artwork is finished. He grabbed his phone off of the coffee table and called Thomas. "Rafayel, where the hell is the piece of---"

"It's done, you can come and collect it tonight once it is all dried up." Rafayel spoke, then Thomas started to inform him about the upcoming interviews that he has to attend, one for the local magazine, one for an exhibition taking place abroad... Pitters and patters of feet across the marble floor made Rafayel lost his focus. He turned around to find his daughter, Mariela awake. "Daddy duty calls."

The phone call ended abruptly, with Thomas ending his note on 'There was also an artwork you have to---' Call ended. Ever since Rafayel had taken on his duties as a father, he made sure his works are delayed long enough just so he could spend time with his own family. Recently, you had been called on for many more missions as there has been a shortage of deepspace hunters.

Rafayel and you had discussed about the delegation of responsibilities while being parents to a newborn. Rafayel insisted that you should quit your job so that you could stay at home with him and Mariela. Money not being any concern to your family to begin with. But you could not, you could not abandon your duties as a deepspace hunter, especially when there are not a lot of new recruits coming in.

So you both settled on a solution that meets both ends. Rafayel would delay his paintings and take care of Mariela if you happen to not be at home, but your sacrifice would be to not work past evening times. Him not wanting you to overexert yourself and still being able to spend time with you as a family. The miniature version of you and Rafayel clumsily walked over to him. Small and chubby hands rubbing her cheeks in circles.

"Good morning my little fishie." Rafayel knelt down and gave her a hug, a usual greeting for morning and night. "How was your sleep?"

"Good." She replied, arms curled around her father's neck as he carried her up in his arms. "Where is mummy?"

"Mummy has to work so today, you will hang out with daddy, yeah?" Rafayel sat her at her baby chair by the dining table. He took a plate of ready-made mini pancakes and poured a cup of warm milk into a cup. "Mummy even made you your favourite breakfast." The idea of having his kid eating such sugary stuffs in the morning is unfavoured. But since y/n had woken up extra early today to prepare the breakfast for her daughter, Rafayel will let it slide for this once. but we all know he too soft of a father to reject that if it ever happens again

Watching his child dig into the pancakes, Rafayel started allowing his mind to wander. Mariela's name came about while his wife was pregnant, and you had both agreed on wanting your child to have names related to the sea to remind the child's origins of being half-Lemurian. Rafayel was thrilled to have their names being related to the waters he used to live in and so the naming process is entirely within his control. Both of you settled on Mariela eventually, the name a direct representation of the star of the sea.

...

When y/n rode past the main gates and towards the yard, you found you husband, with your daughter standing next to him, waiting for you at the front of the door. Mariela the size of a toadstool next to her 6' tall father. But her big, doe-like eyes took the shade of Rafayel's, a mirror of his lilac-blue mixture. "Hey there!" You greeted excitedly, quickly pushing yourself off of your motorbike and rushed over to hug your daughter tightly in your arms.

"Mummy!" The brunette toddler giggled, arms wrapped around her mother and head tucked into your neck. The hug between the two was interrupted with Rafayel hugging both of them. Three of them within a circle of a hug. "Hi, mummy. I missed you."

"I missed you too, so so much." A big kiss was given to the toddler's cheek and they all walked further into the house. "What did you do with daddy today?"

"Daddy taught me how to draw fish and he taught me Wewuma." She spoke, a wide grin evident on her cherubic cheeks. This made y/n confused and you turned to look for Rafayel for an explanation but sees him being on the phone. Assuming it is Thomas on the other end of the line.

"That's good darling." You held her close to you, legs directing towards her bedroom. "But I think it is nap time for you okay? Mummy and daddy will make dinner and then later we are going to have pasta!" Mariela's eyes lit up at the word 'pasta', for she is a huge lover of carbs just like you. No doubt you two are of the same bloodline.

Once you had laid your daughter to nap, you started prepping the ingredients in the huge kitchen. Rafayel came by your side and hugged you from behind, breathing in your scent deeply. "I missed you wifey." He mumbled into the crooks of your neck and drew circles on the side of your hips.

"What is wewuma?" You turned over slightly, the question directed towards your husband. But his expression matches yours, confusion written all over his face. "Our daughter said you taught her wewuma today."

That sentence made Rafayel laughed, releasing you from his embrace and with him smacking his hand against the marble counter a couple of times. "Wewuma!" He continued his laugh, but mellowed down when he noticed that you became more confused than ever. "I taught her how to speak Lemurian." He said, the wide, cheeky grin not leaving his face anytime soon.

"Oh." Realisation hits you about his lesson for the day and you shake your head, chuckling at how your daughter had the word pronounced earlier. You can't blame her, as she is not a preschooler yet. Rafayel attached himself to your back again, his lips pressed a kiss to the shell of your ear and you blushed. Despite being married for quite some time, his intimate actions never failed to make you feel like a giddy teen girl.

"Lemurian is already a dying language. So, wifey..." He nibbled your ears lightly, whispering his question quietly. "How about we make one more little us?" His arms tightened around your hips and you felt something pressed against your bum, making you gasped in teasing pleasure. He turned you around forcefully and pushed you up onto the kitchen counter effortlessly, spreading your legs. "Right here. Tonight."

˚ · • . ° .

ZAYNE - FATHER TO A PAIR OF TWINS

"Thanks a lot, my love." You leaned forward to hug your husband, after knowing that he had planned an itinerary for you to get yourself pampered for a whole day. That includes making the necessary bookings and paying for all of the expenses. Not to mention the extra money he had given you so you may use it to buy anything you please from the mall you would be visiting later in your itinerary. "You deserve it. Given how much you had cared for the kids the past few days as I was busy with work." He leaned down slightly, pressing a kiss to your forehead as a loving gesture. "In return, I shall take care of the kids today."

Zayne fetched you to the middle of Linkon city, where all of the activities planned out in the itinerary are located before he headed back. Not wanting to go home to his toddlers being awake from their sleep. When he arrived home, he heard the creak of a door as he was placing his shoes on the shoe rack. Lumi and Iver, hand in hand, facing their father.

"Daddy?" The both of them spoke in sync, given their connection as twins. Fraternal twins, a rare occurrence for any mothers in life. They are considered a miracle given the statistics whereas out of 100 births that happen, only 2 mothers would end up with fraternal twins. And the percentage of getting fraternal twins are way lesser as compared to conceiving twins of the same gender.

Short way to put it, y/n and Zayne have a very special family, in fact they may be one of the few families within Linkon city to have a pair of fraternal twins. Hence, they are very lucky indeed. Both of the twins were named after snow or winter season, with Zayne's evol being the main inspiration. Zayne's daughter Lumi, carries the meaning of snow and light, while Iver's name means winter in French.

Contrary to their names, none of them have any features that are pale as the cold weather, except for their milky white skin. There had always been a debate on which child inherited the looks of which parent, in this case, Lumi looks like her mother and Iver takes on his father's looks. And it could easily be differentiated from their hair and eye colour.

"Both of you just woke up?" Zayne's voice was gentle, going over to both of his kids and bending down to their eye level. They are both 3 years old, so you can imagine how tough it was for him to lower his height just to meet their eyes. "What do you want to eat?"

"Daddy, can we watch you make eggs?" Iver asked, his hazel green orbs twinkled under the sun rays shining in through their sky light. "The ones that are flat?" He even used his hand to draw a line in the air, to demonstrate the word 'flat' to his father.

Zayne smiled, nodding his head and walked towards the kitchen with the two toddlers bobbing behind him. Their standard breakfast had consisted of nothing but nutritious food which are vital for their growths. For their father is a doctor afterall. Zayne sat them both into their respective baby chairs and put on an apron, not wanting to dirty his outfit, and he started to cook, with the twins watching his every move. A few 'wah' and 'daddy, daddy, do it again!' slipping from their mouths every once in a while when Zayne does something out of the blue.

Half of the day passed, Lumi and Iver sat in the living room after Zayne had given them a bath and a change of clothings. They will be heading out soon for dinner. Zayne has never been a huge fan of cooking, but only does it out of necessity. The same rule applies even now, breakfasts can be done at home but for dinners, if time allows for both of the parents, Zayne would much rather eat out with his family.

"Daddy, time! Time!" Lumi shouted from the living room when they heard the cuckoo's chime, hailing from the handmade wooden clock that you bought a while ago. Although the toddlers had yet to enter pre-school, they are both surprisingly fast-learners. 9 months in, both of them had already started learning alphabets, and by now, their vocabulary has expanded beyond the age of usual three year olds. You strongly believe Zayne's genes are the cause behind this.

Zayne appeared from the room, a long-sleeved black turtleneck clad to his well-built physique, his iconic black slacks makes yet another appearance, and his hand held a dark grey coat. The weather was getting chilly and he decided to bring along a coat for you, the colour identical to his.

"Lumi, Iver, get your coats and I will help you to wear them." Zayne instructed, picking his car key off of the key holder on the wall. He had decided to go with the Maserati Levante i am not sponsored by them but the cars does scream his taste today, a comfortable SUV for his family of four.

"It's okay daddy. Iver will help me." Lumi responded, arms held up horizontally as Iver put on one of the sleeves for her light grey coat, then running over to the other side to help her to put on the remaining sleeves. "My turn." Lumi did the same for her sibling. When they are both done, they walked over to Zayne and held their arms up in sync again, urging their father silently to help them to tie their coats.

Zayne did just that, hair as dark as the night cascading in front his face when he bent down to help his kids tied a knot to secure their coats. Satisfied at the way their knots turned out, he gave each of them a kiss on their cheeks. "Are you both excited to see mummy?"

"YES!" Both of the kids shouted, arms raising, a sign of elatedness. Zayne held onto both of their hands, one on each side and slowly walked them to the car.

...

Zayne had chosen a western restaurant for dinner, reservation timing marked at 6pm. Now, here he sat, with both of his kids secured tightly behind in baby car seats. He was parked temporarily at the valet parking, patiently waiting for his wife. Soft piano music was played in the car to ease the silence as the kids were sound asleep in the back.

Seeing a familiar figure closing in, Zayne got out of the car and walked towards the passenger side, greeting you with a warm hug. "I could not have asked for a better day to pamper myself." You sighed contently, face flat against his chest, inhaling the scent of his cologne. A scent he would only use whenever he is out with you, a soft mix of pine wood and oakwood as the top notes, vanilla as the middle notes and cinnamon as end notes. A scent you are all too familiar with.

"Then I shall plan more of this for you." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. "You must be hungry, I had already booked us a table at one of the nearby restaurants." He opened the car door and you got into the car. Getting into the car, he added. "The kids are sound asleep behind, I will wake them up once we arrived at the restaurant."

"Hello my babies." You greeted once the car door to the back was opened, watching your twins stirred in their sleep, before eyes slowly fluttering open.

"Iver..." Zayne cooed to his son, standing on the other side of the door, unbuckling the baby seats for the twins. "We had arrived at the restaurant. Let me give you a lift, alright?" You had never imagine Zayne with kids, given how cold he is of a person. Not mean and ignorant, but just, monotonous, quiet and calm. Having kids with him was unexpected, but him asking for kids was even more shocking.

The young man lifted his son into his arms, smoothing the back of his son's coat to make sure he is fully covered from the brazen cold wind and he headed in after locking the car. With you, holding onto your half-awake daughter behind in, walking swiftly into the restaurant.

The dinner was enjoyable, with the twins munching on to their kids meals and with you sat next to Zayne, having a delectable meal based on the waiter's recommendation. "The food here is good." You commented and your twins looked up, Lumi smiled and nodded, while Iver, with his face stuffed, nodded as well. "So what have you kids been doing today?"

"We watched cartoons." Lumi said, eyes mimicking your eye colours radiating her giddiness. You assumed the cartoons would be more educational rather than entertaining as Zayne does prefer the twins having to gain some form of knowledge from the cartoons. For him, the method is practically killing two birds with one stone. "Daddy also read some storybooks for us." Iver added in, still chewing onto his food, which made Zayne leaned forward to wipe the boy's lips clean with the napkin. "And we took a nap on daddy's chest."

"Be careful of choking, Iver." Zayne warned, his tone soft, giving him son's cheek a soft pinch. Zayne's lips tugged upwards, there is no way he could be mad at his own twins. That is how much he loves them.

"That is good to hear. Sounds like an eventful day for today. And I think daddy did a great job." You happily stated, resuming your meal. A hand on your thigh made you jerked slightly and you looked over, your husband's smile had exchanged for a smirk.

"It is my responsibility to take good care of the kids." He eyed the twins, and facing back to you, his orbs turning a shade darker. "But, it is also my responsibility to make my wife feel good. Mentally..." He trailed off, hands smoothing up your thighs till his thumb glided slowly over your intimate area. The table cloth a good disguise as Zayne's fingers worked his way to pull your panties to the side, collecting the wetness that was pooled there.

You shot daggers towards your husband as this is a public area but he paid no mind to you. The tip of his middle finger, the one adorning the wedding ring, slowly pushed its' way inside of you, pumping an agonizing pace into you. "And physically, of course." pls do this to me too Zayne, i want more babies too

˚ · • . ° .

XAVIER - FATHER TO A SON

"DADDY! DADDY! DADDY!" Lucian came bursting in through the door leading to his parent's room, causing Xavier to stir in his sleep. Eyebrows furrowed at the loud sounds of his son's voice at the early start of the weekend. The copy of Xavier jumped onto the bed and grabbed ahold of his father. "Wake up daddy!"

"Yeah, yeah I am awake now." Xavier yawned, rubbing his eyes with one hand and the other coming up to secure his son on him so he don't fall off. "What's the matter?"

"Mummy said you can take me to go get ice-cream today." His light blue eyes just a tone lighter than his father's when he propped himself up on his father's chest, patiently awaiting for a response. "Daddy please?"

"Okay okay." Xavier chuckled, hugging his son tight in his arms and the young boy laughed. With that, Xavier got out of the bed, with Lucian in his embrace. The hallways outside of the room wafted the smell of noodles and he knew immediately that you are still within the house.

But he was wrong, when he saw you being all dressed up, in a white t-shirt and blue jeans, sitting at the front of your door when you are tying the shoelaces to your sneakers. "Where are you going?" Xavier asked.

You turned at the sound of his voice and watched as Lucian was placed onto the floor by his father and the little boy came running to hug you. "I am heading to the mall with Tara for a little while. She needed me to help her pick out a dress." Standing up, you checked your outfit in the standing mirror for one last time. "At the meantime, you okay with bringing Lucian out for ice-cream?"

Xavier smiled and nodded obediently, taking long strides to press a loving kiss to his wife's lips and he sees her off. Lucian waving his small hands to say bye-bye to his own mother. "Have you eaten yet kiddo?" Xavier asked his son, only for the toddler to shake his head. "Alright, come on, let's have breakfast together. Then we will go for ice-cream later."

Xavier placed Lucian into the baby seat at the dining table and he took off the lid of the pot that was on the stove and he noticed that you had made tomato soup noodles. A dish that you had recently learned from social media. Your first try at making this dish however, was a failure. With Xavier finishing the tasteless noodles and struggling with diarrhea for the next few days. This time, he had his fingers crossed, hoping that the soup would be edible and not cause any unwanted effects.

Before giving the bowl to his son, Xavier tasted the soup base first, to taste if it would be too hot for his son to ingest. To his surprise, the soup was sweet and tangy, which marks a win for your cooking this time. He hungrily filled up his own bowl, before scooping a few spoonfuls of soup and noodles into Lucian's bowl. He also made sure to cut the noodles short enough so it would not cause Lucian to choke on his own food.

"Did mummy made this?" The 3 year old asked, eyes wide, moving in between his father's lips, and to his bear-shaped plastic bowl. Lucian have had a fair share of his father's cooking. The experience of watching his father cook was just as traumatic as eating the food his father had made. There was even this one time, Xavier nearly set the kitchen on fire because he added in some cooking wine into a very hot pan filled with oil and that made Lucian cried for the whole night.

"Yes, your mum made this." Xavier ate his noodles, slurping onto it like a champ. "If she asks me to make breakfast for you, we can just skip breakfast and go for ice-cream instead." Xavier acknowledges his incompetence when it comes to cooking, and it is the only one thing he would not dare to compete with you. he just cant cook anything that deals with fire or electric, just admit it with me boys and girls

...

"Daddy, what do you want?" Lucian asked his father, looking at the flavours that was on display. "Do you want the blue one? Or the green one? Or the red one?" He swung his short legs back and forth, all the while sitting on Xavier's shoulders. The little one did not feel like walking earlier on and that was why Xavier gave him a lift on his shoulders.

"Which one would you like kiddo?" Xavier smiled politely at the waitress behind the counter and the waitress returned the smile, a blush coming onto her face. Who would not blush at the sight of a good looking young man with a son that looks just exactly like him? "How about the blue and red one?"

"Okay!" The young boy excitedly agreed, watching the process of the ice-creamed getting scooped out of the canister and placed onto a cone. Xavier slowly lowered his son down and held onto the hand of the young boy before making the payment at the counter. "Thank you!" Lucian spoke to the cashier when the ice-cream was handed to him and they both took a seat by the window in the store, facing the streets.

Xavier had always wanted a boy, the sole purpose being he could train the son well enough so you can be protected. You were not buying into his idea to begin with but the moment you found out that you were pregnant with a boy, Xavier could not be more than glad. He was so happy to the point he said. "We should name him Lucian, as he shall be the light in our lives." Xavier's words touched your heart and since then, Lucian has been the light in both of your hearts. just like you are the light in OUR HEARTS hello?

The young boy took a lick out of the blue ice-cream, then switched to the red ice-cream and took another lick. Seeing his tongue turning purple, Xavier pointed at his son. "Your tongue is turning purple because of the ice-cream, kiddo." Taking his phone out, he took a picture of Lucian with his purple tongue hanging out of his mouth. He then sent the picture to you, with the caption 'Brain Freeze'.

"Daddy, here." Lucian stretched his arm out, the ice cream in hand and held it in front of his father's face. Xavier took it as an invitation and he took a big bite out of the ice-cream. His action made the young boy flabbergasted, mouth forming an 'O' when he realised that his father just bit off a whole chunk and now he is left with a few more lick of ice cream.

The son's intense gaze at the ice-cream made Xavier felt guilty that he took such a huge bite. His son was not much a naggy child, but he still would not want to upset his little boy. "I'm sorry kiddo, I can---" He wanted to offer to buy the boy another ice-cream but Lucian only laughed, his tone amused.

"That is so funny daddy, when you go AHHH---" Lucian mimicked the way Xavier bit the ice-cream, mouth widely opened and face all crinkled up to show just how big of a bite Xavier had conducted. His son's reaction made Xavier laughed as well, Never knowing his son has such a sense of humour.

The door opened, chiming of the bells at the door could be heard and Xavier looked up, seeing you walking in with a bag in your hands. "Hey boys!" You called out and Lucian turned in his seat and called out to you, arms opened and waiting for you to hug him. Xavier took the ice-cream out of his son's hand so he would not dirty your shirt and he stood up, taking his place to stand next to you.

"How was the outing with Tara?" Xavier took the bag from you and pulled a chair over from the other table as you set your son back down onto his chair. The ice-cream that your husband was holding previously was returned to its rightful owner.

"It was eventful. We only managed to find the dress she wanted at the highest floor." You fanned yourself, sweat beading at your forehead. Your husband took a piece of tissue out of the tissue holder and he dabbed it across your forehead, not wanting to ruin your makeup since you are still on an outing with him. "Thanks a lot."

"No problem." Xavier purposely avoided your gaze, hiding his smile. "The tomato-based noodle soup you made this morning is very good by the way. I enjoyed every bite of it." He complimented, looking over to his son and noticing the young boy, staring out of the window, in the direction of two kids playing by the park, chasing one another.

"Daddy, mummy." Your son's voice beckoned the both of you to turn your heads to face him. His stubby little fingers pressed against the window, pointing towards the two kids at the park. "Can I have a brother?" The way he phrased the questions sounded like siblings could be bought off of a shelf. Your jaw dropped.

But Xavier was expecting this, expecting the fact he would not just settle for one child. He loves you so much, not only as his lover, but he also loves the way you look, with your stomach bulging during the days you are pregnant, carrying a miniature version of him inside. And not to mention, he enjoys the process of giving you a baby. Just the thought of seeing you pregnant again, his cerulean eyes catch yours, similar to a gaze of a predator awaiting to jump onto its prey. He reached his hand out to take yours on the table, giving it a small squeeze of comfort.

"Of course you can." Xavier's gaze darkened, hungry for intimacy. He dragged his fingertips up and down your arms, and stopping right at the back of your hand to draw mindless circles on it. Doing all that without getting his eyes off of you. "Daddy will not stop until you get a brother."

Sorry this took wayyy longer than expected, the toughest part was to find the pictures that would match the faces of the kids and also having to do research for their names and figuring our scenarios that would make the fathers take care of their kids. Other than Rafayel, Zayne and Xavier are going to be out most of the time due to their work!

But I had fun creating this piece, hope you guys enjoyed this! Lots of love <3

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #fluffy #rafayel love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #lnds #xavier love and deepspace #rafayel sfw #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

[visionsofmagic]

day 22: simon ghost riley [sex pollen]

࿓ synopsis • after the mission is done, waiting for trucks, you realize something is wrong with your body but ghost there to help.

―❦ nsfw, roughness, jealousy, fingering, clothes full on/off, dom!ghost, possessiveness, claiming, mentions of exhibitionism (I guess), licking, cum eating, pet names, nearly fainting, crush, f!reader, brat!reader, praising, poison/venom, flower & more in the work! • 3.9k • the longest one for the kinktober, but, who is surprised? I am on my knees for this man, so, hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed whilre writing! here’s our lieutenant, have fun & enjoy! [kinktober m.]

“copy,” ghost said, using the device on his chest as he talked with soap on the other side of the call, making a plan about waiting where you are for a while – inside a small room used as an office for information gathering, while the team secures the building entirely until the trucks come. “y/n and I will wait in here.”

hearing your name from his lips always gives you goosebumps – he has great effects on you, and you believe he knows every one of them because of how he acts around you, however, he’s a duty man, bringing no love or any affection into the field – sadly. you content yourself with the little yet effective affection he gives you though. he’s different around you – even though he will deny it right away.

as he nods to you, then, sitting down on a chair with no arms, he puts his weapon beside it – elbows on his knees, he kneels lower, taking his knife out of his pocket and cleaning it – acting as if he’s alone in the room but you can sense that he studies you.

to act calm down, you travel around the room as possible as you can, the rain washing over the window, giving a sense of coldness. holding the beautiful flower inside your hands, you smell it again because of the addicting scent it has, giving you a feeling of joy, even a highness you cannot acknowledge yet.

finally, putting it onto the table, you grab a book from the shelf, get in front of the table, and sit on it, making ghost stand right beside you as he still uses a cloth to clean his sharp knife.

blowing the dust from the surface of the book on your hands, no glove, the scent of the flower is still on there, you read the title that book has. you chuckle, making ghost look at your face for a moment under the mask, hands never stopping.

turning to him, you show the book, saying, “didn’t know there would be classics on the shelf of the bad guys.”

ghost nods, “it’s just for the display sergeant.”

“it seems so,” you say, shrugging and putting the book down beside you. then, you watch his skull-themed gloves working on the knife, signing because the images – dreams, in other words, come into your mind in which he uses his long and thick fingers to fuck your holes – how would it feel, you ask to yourself, and a deep voice answers it right away, ‘it would feel euphoric’.

when you come to yourself, you look at how his hands stopped, and his eyes directed on your face, studying you.

leaving a nervous chuckle, you hold your thighs tightly to stay still under his piercing gaze. “something wrong sir?”

he gets up slowly, taking your breaths away with each little step he takes. his knife goes into his pocket, and, his gloved hand finds your chin, rising your head up, standing a bit taller than you even though you sit on the damn table. “s-sir?” you try to ask, getting breathless at the proximity you have – it’s not the first one, nor the last, yet, it’s effective as if it is.

“your face –“ he says, furrowing, “it gets redder.”

“huh?” it takes time for you to understand what he’s saying. when it hits you, your eyes widen, thinking that the reason behind being red is him. chuckling, you wave your hand in the air as he leaves your chin, “’s nothing lt, gotta be overwhelming state of the mission we have finished.”

he doesn’t say anything. going back to the chair, his eyes never leave your body as you get up from the table, traveling around the room, and finally stopping in front of the shelf once again. your back is turned to him but you can feel his eyes on you which burns you alive.

palms getting sweaty, hair on the neck getting high, hands trembling, breathing rapidly, nose getting cold, and the whole body except it becomes warmer each passing time – making you weak entirely – it all happens in a moment, before even you know it, your body’s temperature changes from steady to warmer one – only a few places of it remain cold; your nose, the tips of your fingers, and sweats. only simon’s voice is audible as the rest of the world’s noise becomes blurry to hear – to understand. even the rain’s peaceful sound disappears.

it feels far more different than any disease or feeling you have ever felt – taking your logical side away slowly, one by one, it makes you breathe louder, taking the attention of simon to you when you turn to him, hands moving without your mind’s control, scratching your back, neck and even abdomen. “s-simon – “ you say, voice low, haskier than before, using his first name, not the title or nickname.

he stops talking with whomever he talks to through the device, looking at you as your hands find the surface of the table – to become steady, you hold its edge strongly, still looking at his worried eyes.

“is it me or – agh – is it me or the room is getting – uhm, hot?”

simon says he needs to go to soap, as you assume, then rushes to your side – hands find your face after he gets rid of his gloves – skin touching to the skin, you close your eyes and leave a whimper at the feeling of coldness his body has. “ohh – simon –“

“shit –“ he swears, letting your forehead hit his chest, holding you from the back now, he says, “damn, y/n, you’re burning as hell.”

he sounds calm, giving you the power to hold still, and having the strength to hug his arm, “simon – aggh – please, please, simon – help me.”

you have no idea how your mind works in the moment but you’re grateful.

picking you up, he sits you down on the table, holding you by the arms, he makes you look at him, “hey, look at me sergeant. listen here little one, I will go and get the medic team, got it?”

he doesn’t wait for you to answer, ready to leave you and get the others immediately because he cares about you so much that it drives him crazy to see you this weak, so red, breathing rapidly, and can’t focus anything but only him.

however, he can’t go, not when your eyes meet with his, hands finding his chest and holding him dearly – as if he’s the cure you need, and in the end, he will understand that it’s the deal – his your cure.

“don’t leave – simon, need you, only you.”

a certain time passes until he understands what's going on truly after he analyzes all the possibilities and the reason behind your state – the moment the sight of the flower on the table, behind you comes to the vision, he gets it at the exact same moment.

“hey, y/n, look at me kiddo. did you smell that flower?” his patient runs empty – turning your head to it, he asks the question again, and you finally answer by nodding.

he curses under his breath – even his breaths get rapid, how to help you without alerting others is a hard decision to make. he spends his little time thinking about it as he picks up the water bottle from your pack, giving it to you, waiting for you to drink it and get a bit of clearer mind.

“okay, okay,” you whisper to yourself, cleaning your face with the rest of the water, shaking your head, “I get it now – the whole lab, medics, scientists – it’s all because of it, right?”

he nods, calming down to see you good again, not entirely, but enough to understand it all.

“oh, how stupid I am!”

he stops you from going further and blaming yourself – he knows you like cute little things, can’t hold yourself from playing with them, being innocent, and not thinking about the consequences fully. this is why the enemies tried to make venomous yet cute-looking flowers to use against others, to get what they wanted without being caught.

“’s okay, just focus in here, tell me how you feel.”

with wet eyes, you say, “hot – it’s so hot – lt, can I take my clothes off?” you ask suddenly, the logic is long gone, only instincts remain high, and you act according to them. “gotta feel coldness.”

without waiting for an answer, you take your clothes off, not thinking about the outcomes, just doing what you think will be helpful.

staying only with the thin fabric of your upper shirt, covering your body tight, and leaving your abdomen in display, your muscles loosen up. to become colder, with the fact that the temperature lowers as the clothes leave your hot skin, you take your pants off, only leaving the little shorts hanging on your lower part – too occupied to get as naked as possible that you can’t see ghost going and locking the door with the key you used to enter in the first place.

finding himself before you once again, he reliefs when he sees the heat disappearing on you, however, the risk still is there to be fixed before anyone comes into the room, questioning why their lieutenant and sergeant stay silent.

he knows you got the flower with the poison of sex pollen segments – causing the user of it to get a high degree of warmness, especially in certain parts of the body, making the person who used it want to have intimate sessions with another one, and it all happens without their knowledge because they’re too gone to understand the situation they’re in – and that is exactly what happens with you, his delicate sergeant who he needs to take care of – to heal, to become the cure for that he will gladly agree on but first, he needs to tell you about it, retelling what soap told him before you said how warm the air was.

“hey, doll, focus on me, would ya?” he asks, spanking your cheeks lightly to make you focus on him. “you’re under the effects of a poisonous flower,” he shows it again, “the warmness, sweats, desires are caused because of it,” he tries to stay low, not giving his feelings away when he sees your almost naked body and how your eyes wink rapidly, looking at him from head to toe and mouth going dry as you do, “we need to get it out of your system.”

“I know,” you say, whispering.

“what?” he asks, sounding surprised.

you look guilty for a moment, avoid his gazes, you confess, “I read the description on the report but I didn’t know which flower was which – I thought this one was – pure, to use afterward – but it seems it’s already affected.” you sound sorry, yet, you don’t stop on your actions – picking the bottle and using the rest of the water to pour it on you. “I am so sorry, lt, I really am but I – aggh – I know what we should do –“ you look at him from the corner of your eyes, too afraid to look directly, “if you would like to help me – but if you don’t, I can go –“

“no,” he sounds as if he orders you around. he hides the jealousy rising within him as the idea of another man touching you, being the cure, hit his mind – he wants to be the only one who can have you – his good girl – well, not in the particular moment but maybe, you’re still his good girl – or else, you would suggest to go and see a doctor immediately, not waiting and asking him whether he can heal you or not and it’s even meaning that you’re giving yourself to him.

because of the effect of the venom in your system or not, he knows you damn well that you would not ask if you didn’t want it. “I will help,” he says, nodding to show how certain he is, hands slowly reaching your arms, skin to skin, the coldness flowing from his fingers to yours. eyes widen, you look so pretty, he thinks, “just tell me you want it not only because of the pollen but also because you desire it.”

it doesn’t take time for you to confess it, nodding, hands finding his chest, “I desire it,” you say, breathing louder, “I desire for you, sir.”

satisfied, he smirks, glad he has the mask on, yet, you know him, don’t you? even your gestures are proof of it – the hands gripping him by the neck, lowering him down, saying, “sir, your mask is on the way.”

“you’re a brat, aren’t ya?” he teases, not understanding how he is adapted to the sudden situation – he just gives up, giving you what you want – what you need – himself, and taking what he desires for a long time in return.

curling his mask up until it reaches half of his face, lips on sight, he nods, allowing you to move closer and kiss him, and you do it in high spirits, smiling, and connecting your warm lips with his cold ones with such passionate that he puts his palms on the table beside your thighs not to fall onto you.

warmness makes it euphoric – lip kissing lip, tongue joining the other’s mouth intensely, whimpering sounds coming out both of you in unison. hands hugging his neck tighter, you make him kneel down closer enough that he gets between your inner exposed thighs – the hard fabric of his pants touching your flesh, sending chills because of how clothed he is compared to you.

leaving for air, you feel his massive hands moving to your thighs, finding the sports’ edge from there, and pulling it down in one motion after you nod to him, moaning his name lowly, “s-simon –“

“oh,” he says, waiting for you to take your top off too, throwing it onto the floor, putting your palms on the table as you lean to behind, displaying your naked body fully to him with pride and lust – and a bit of shyness you can’t hide. “prettier than I have imagined.”

“you – you have imagined about m – mmmph!” your words are cut by his fingers entering your mouth, shutting you up as he waits for you to lick his two massive fingers. now thanks to seeing half of his face, you can witness the smirk he has, clearly enjoying how you lick his fingers with pleasure, eyes half-closed.

“wondering how you will manage when you have my dick inside you twice as big as my fingers on your mouth, doll,” he says, teasing yet having the voice of a man who tells no lie – only the truth – and just the idea makes your pussy clench around nothing as you suck his fingers, wishing they were his cock instead.

his lips find your ear, whispering, “tell me, do you think you can handle me, princess?”

not in the slightest you believe you can, but, you want to, so, you nod fast, making him chuckle – sounding so sinful and angelic at the same time that you feel warmer – hotter than any poison can give.

“atta girl,” he praises you, both for licking his fingers and nodding, “now take my fingers, need to prepare your beautiful pussy.”

waiting no more, he shoves his fingers into you in one go, making your forehead hit his chest, hands gripping his arms strongly that were he another man, he would break – but no, he’s fucking ghost, and he can receive any damage he can get from you without complaining.

you moan mindlessly, trying to swallow them – it’s too much, you think, too much to handle yet too delightful to push – so, you open your legs wider, they’re shaking already.

“simon – ohhh! yes, yes, yes!”

he chuckles again – how many times now, two? – more than he chuckles for an entire year but it’s you after all – his pretty girl who is so fucked up even with his fingers.

“unbelievable, sergeant,” he says, taking you by the chin, eye to eye, “it’s only my fingers, and you’re already cumming?”

“huh?”

he’s right – he’s so right that it hurts – seeing your cum on his finger, you feel shy, one step away from hiding your face on his chest – but you stop when you see him licking his fingers full of your juicy – a moan escapes from your parted lips.

“mmhh –“ he whimpers, “tasteful.”

it’s the only thing he says before giving you one last look full of danger – mixed with lust – something you see first, something you will beg to see again and again after this night as well.

putting down his mask, he turns your body and bends you down on the table – not too harshly, not too gently.

“simon!” you scream in shock – a shock that turns you on further – even though you cum a few minutes ago, you sense an upcoming climax after he grips you by the neck, pushing you onto the table, getting your ass up. hearing him unzipping his pants, your wet pussy clench around nothing, eyes closed, heart beating as if it will break your chest into two, set free – you know the venom eating your body alive still even after the cum – however, can’t deny decreasing power of it which leaves its place to one and only simon ghost riley who seems like he’s ready to devour you.

“didn’t though ya would get away that easily from disobeying my rules, and picking a possible venomous flower without sayin’ me about it?”

he sounds amused rather than angry – he’s doing it on purpose, to make you go crazy – to make your pussy go crazy for him.

“don’t say such things, lt,” you challenge him to be rougher, being a brat, using the effects of the poison on the advantage. “or else I will disobey you more often.”

“is that so, kiddo?” he mocks you – you can hear it through his husky and dangerous voice, alerting you about what will come – and you’re so right about it when you feel him slapping your ass – body jolts forward – weren’t he holding you by the neck, you would fall at the impact, “then for each one of ‘em, I will fuck you so well that it will dig into your bratty mind not to show disobedience to your superior.”

“wanna learn it, sir, wanna learn my lesson – please, simon – pleeease! need you – agghh –“ your words – or begs if you be honest with yourself, shutting down by his cock’s tip, entering your pussy slowly as he opens your folds wider to make it fit.

with a different desire except being fucked by him, you turn to behind as possible as you can, looking at his thick and long cock staying right in front of your hole’s entrance, “ohhhh –“ you moan with pure instincts when you see how massive it looks.

simon’s head tilts to the side, eyes burning your skin alive, “what is it, doll, bigger than you have imagined?” he refers to the fact that he’s not the only one who has deep desires – but also you – having naughty thoughts about your superior, your lt who you have by your side all the time.

“s-simon,” you sound more fearful than you want to, “will it – will it even fit?!”

he shakes his head in disbelief, kneeling further – his cock enters you deeper, making your back arch in both pain and pleasure – it’s already too much and it has another halfway to go!

“don’t worry princess,” he says – how come he can sound deeper with each passing time? “I will make it fit into your tight greedy pussy. after all, you are made of for my cock – for me, aren’t ya?”

he finds the answer to his question by going in deeper, causing both of you to moan and swear – he shoves his cock deep inside your walls, filling you up fully – the feeling is euphoric, boiling in sin, completing with the lust and passionate coming from the love you have for each other.

“ohhh – simon! it’s too – too much!”

hoping you will be able to adjust his length soon enough, you let him take his cock off out of your aching pussy and shove it inside again with a hard thrust, trying to make it fit – make it give you the pleasure you need as a cure at the highest scale.

“just – fuucck –“ you could never, “mghhm – just one more to fit!” could never thought you would make him swear, whimper, even moan out of all the people, yet, here you’re, in front of his massive body, bent over, displaying your body to him in nude, letting him use your body as he pleases – he does it to heal you, it’s the first thing you believe, but when you go deeper in your thoughts, you realize how not only you but also he is in the need of you – having you.

“there it is,” he says, taking you from your mind into reality, cock has started to fuck you faster, going in and out with perfect rhythm which continues to accelerate instead of staying at the same pace. “told ya you’re made for it, doll.”

starting to fuck you hard, deep and rough – exactly what he wants and you need, he uses your wetness to thrust into you easily, earning sweet voices from your dry and parted lips, looking at your exposed body shamelessly, as if he has all right to do – well, he does, you both know it – feeling pussy clenching, squirming around his length and soaking onto it – mind dizzy, hands gripping the table under them to stay in the earth – he’s the only reality you have who feels like a dream – eyes seeing starts because of how good he fucks you, you sense poison leaving your body, its place is filled with what ghost is giving; heaven and hell – mix.

“simon, simon, ohh, simon! s’ good – agggh – it’s s’ good!”

“shh,” he quite you down, kneeling on your level – cock hit the deepest part of your pussy, thrusting your g-spot without missing, “you don’t want the others to hear, do you?” he asks, entertained when you bite your hand to stay silent, “or you want it. would you like that? others watching your pathetic face as I fuck you good? no one, but me – mmh – fuuck! that’s right baby, no one – just me, simon ghost riley. shiiit – can’t even realize soaking so wet hearing my words,” his fingers joining his cock, picking the wetness you’re making with his fingers, then, shoving them into your mouth.

you moan his name as you suck your taste from his fingers, eyes rolling, going white when he grabs you by the hair, turning your face to watch your pretty face close while fucking you harder as if it’s possible – he claims you, you know it even with your dysfunctional brain, “scream my name louder.”

he orders, hands leaving your hair to position on your hips, holding you still, breaking you into pieces – you don’t know how louder you moan his name, too cock dumbed to care – don’t know how many times you cum onto him – don’t know the tears washing your face – brain isn’t working – or it works just to send pleasure into your twisting abdomen, and abused pussy.

the last thing you feel his hot semen filling you up, moaning your name as he does it, then, nearly collapsing onto you because of how good it was to fuck you.

“fuck, you have no idea how weak you’re making me, princess.” he confesses, picking your body, he guarantees, “don’t worry, I got it from here, sergeant. only rest.”

hearing his words lastly, you give up – the exhausted body is left to take care of him, your one and only simon ghost riley.

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina& @snowprincesa1 & @dookiemeshibear & @manuursw *hearts, hearts, hearts* 💌💌💌

#☁ last week of kinktober 2023 #kinktober 2023 #cod #cod: mwii #call of duty #cod x reader #cod smut #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x f!reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost smut #simon ghost riley x you #cod: mwii x reader #cod: mwii smut #but you haven't seen my man *in lana del rey voice* #ON MY KNEES FOR HIM 🧎‍♀️

[harunayuuka2060]

Vil: Did you manage to resolve the issue?

MC: Yes. It was a bit difficult at first, but the client listened in the end. 

Vil: …

Vil: You shouldn't have disclosed that you used to work as a concierge. 

Vil: Now everyone is bothering you. 

MC: *smiles* That's better than doing nothing. 

MC: I'm not here for relaxation anyway. 

Vil: …

Vil: Anyway, I received news from Dad. A director, who is a friend of his, needs a stand in. 

Vil: And he wants to hire you for this.  

MC: Huh? 

Vil: What do you think?

MC: …

MC: Is physical appearance a requirement? 

Vil: He didn't specify. Although he might need you for doing action stunts. 

MC: …

MC: Alright. 

Vil: Hm. Great. We'll be meeting him this afternoon to discuss it. 

MC: Okay. 

The casting director: *after seeing MC for the first time* Oh my seven… 

MC: …

The casting director: Their face, their eyes, their built… *turns to look at Vil’s dad* Oh, Eric! Where did you find such a fine specimen?!

Eric: *chuckles* They're a friend of Vil. 

The casting director: *turns to MC again* Do you have any experience in acting?

MC: …

MC: Yes. But it was a long time ago. 

The casting director: Oh? How come I've never seen you in any movie? 

Vil: They usually played as a double at that time, especially for action scenes.

The casting director: A double? With this gorgeous face? 

Eric, MC, and Vil: …

The casting director: Oh sweetheart, you are straight out of a fairy tale! 

MC: Um…

The casting director: Everyone! We found our protagonist! 

The staff: *cheers* 

MC: …

MC: *smiles* We might've some misunderstanding—

The casting director: Thank you so much, Eric, for bringing me this one! 

Eric: *chuckles* You're welcome. 

Vil: …

Vil: Dad. 

Eric: Er, I didn't know she was looking for someone to be a protagonist. 

Vil: …

Vil: *has managed to convince the casting director to do a screen test first before deciding on MC* 

The casting director: MC, don't be nervous. Okay?

MC: *nods*

The actress: Good luck. *smiles kindly at them* 

MC: *smiles back* Thank you. 

The casting director: Okay! Let's roll the camera! 

Vil: …

The casting director: Action! 

MC: *looks at the actress with a gentle gaze* *then subtly smiles* 

Vil: …

The actress: …

The actress: *ends up blushing* 

The casting director: Cut! Cut! That is perfect! 

Vil: …

The actress: I-I’m sorry. 

MC: *feeling slightly embarrassed* It’s alright.

Vil: …

Vil: Looks like you'll be doing separate work now. 

MC: Yes. But I won't still be neglecting my duties here. 

Vil: …

Vil: Have you told the news to Che’nya?

MC: Yes. *smiles* He was really happy about it. 

Vil: …

Vil: I haven't congratulated you yet. Let's have a toast?

MC: It's already late and you have an appointment tomorrow. 

Vil: You're right. 

Vil: Let's do it tomorrow then. 

MC: *smiles*

MC: Why are you still awake, Che’nya?

Che’nya: I wasn't able to call you all day, nya~. 

MC: Yeah, I'm sorry. Something unexpected happened. 

Che’nya: That you got scouted for a movie and received the protagonist role?

MC: …

MC: How did you know?

Che’nya: Nyaha~ The actress you practiced with is Neige’s co-star before! 

MC: I see. 

Che’nya: Congratulations nya~. 

MC: *smiles* Thank you. 

Che’nya: When will the taping start?

MC: In the next couple of weeks. 

Che’nya: Hmm… Does that mean you have to stay there longer?

MC: Hm. Yes. 

Che’nya: …

Che’nya: Nya love~ 

MC: Hm?

Che’nya: I miss you nya~! 

MC: *chuckles* I miss you too. 

Che’nya: *squeals* So sweet~! Bye-bye~! *ends the call* 

MC: *smiles* 

Neige: How did it go?

Che’nya: Nya love has no idea we're here! 

*Both of them has arrived to the airport* 

Neige: Oh Che’nya, I told you to inform MC. 

Che’nya: Nope! I'm surprising my spouse! :3

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst chenya #twst vil #twst neige #twst vil and mc series 1

[lowkeyren]

heartfelt embrace!

in which — aventurine gets jealous when another man offers you a drink and gets too comfy with you.

pairing — aventurine x gn!reader

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆  — wc: 1.1k, unestablished relationship (but u guys pretend to be a couple), it gets kinda sappy at the end but its implied that ur feelings are mutual!! anyway, likes and reblogs r appreciated <3

the bar is like a social haven where strangers meet and share their stories without the need of holding back or the worry of judgement —which is also the perfect place to collect information for the ipc. 

a vibrant mixture of lights falls from the ceiling, smooth jazzy music fills the air, and aventurine's hand is wrapped tight around your waist. this is strictly professional you think, both of you are undercover as a loving couple where any and all intimacy is a facade to blend in with the people around. despite that, you can't help but feel a bit giddy and flustered whenever aventurine refers to you as "my love". though he has a knack for slipping those endearments into your conversations with such ease that it almost feels like second nature, you can still sense the warmth rising on your neck.

but duty called, both of you decided to split up at one point to be more efficient. the clinking of glasses, and the hum of activity at the bar counter draws you over to it. scanning the room, you spot your target and pretend to mull over the various cocktails in the menu in order to observe him more closely without raising suspicion. although what you didn’t expect is for him to notice you right away and approach you, offering you a drink with a lopsided smile. caught off guard, you hesitated for a moment, you weren’t actually planning to drink tonight, you were only pretending after all; but declining his offer might arouse suspicion, plus he is a crucial part to your plan, and any chance to gather intel directly from him was not to be squandered. 

“ —and it’s my treat, a darling like you shouldn’t be alone, not to mention pay for your drinks. so c’mon let loose a bit won’t ya? your boyfriend doesn't have to know..” he leaned forward, invading your personal space, and you could smell the stench of alcohol from his breath. you stepped back in response, glancing furtively behind him in search of aventurine, just as you spot him, the man unexpectedly grabs your waist, drawing your attention back.

“so? what’d ya say darling..? the newest collection of soulglad mixed—”

before the man could finish his sentence, aventurine smoothly intervened, pushing the man’s hand off and wrapping his own around your waist and placing his chin on your shoulder. you could feel the hairs on your neck standing up from the close proximity of the both of you. “relax sweetheart, let me handle this.” he whispered in your ear while maintaining eye contact with the man. 

aventurine stepped between you and the man, with a deceitful smile, aventurine addressed him, his tone laced with subtle hostility. and despite his best efforts to maintain his composure, you could sense the turmoil brewing within him. alas, after countless backs and forths, and a few witty remarks made by aventurine solely for the purpose of pissing the other party off. the man finally left the scene while rolling his eyes, muttering not-so-subtle curses under his breath. 

you heaved a sigh of relief as he left the scene— but as you came back to your senses you realised you basically just lost your finest lead… 

"thank you, but... he was our best lead," you murmured, looking down at the floor, the weight of your predicament settling heavily upon your shoulders. aventurine cupped your cheeks with a tender yet firm touch, his gloved fingers are cool against your skin. “i know. but sometimes you have to play the hand you're dealt, even if it means taking risks.”

as you met his gaze, a flicker of yearning danced in his eyes. in that moment, the air between you was filled with tension, sending a shiver down your spine.

“and hey, that scum was being way too close to you anyway.” his tone impenitent and laced with a tingle of jealousy. even outside missions, his playful smiles and occasional touches that were meant to be purely friendly began to blur the lines between platonic and romantic; his (over)protectiveness of you stirred a mixture of emotions within. it was in these fleeting moments, when his eyes met yours with a glint of mischief, that you couldn't help but wonder if there was more to your friendship that he let on.

“i shouldn’t have even let him touch you. i guess you’re just too hard to resist huh, should’ve known your beauty extends beyond my sight. that makes my job quite difficult, but don't worry love, i’ll just have to stick by your side from now on.” you can't deny the flutter of your heart whenever aventurine says stuff like that, does he actually mean it? or was he just messing with you again.. well in this case, acting. 

“hah… don’t say things like that, you’re sounding too charming for your own good, it's like you’ve got a crush on me or something.” 

“did i get your hopes up?” (what if i do?)

beneath the surface, beneath the laughter and the teasing, there lingered a sliver of hope, “no, of course not! not at all...” but you couldn't give in to that whisper of possibility, incase you were wrong and single-handedly ruin your friendship with aventurine.

he chuckled, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "oh, is that so? well, i'll have to try harder then. wouldn't want you falling for other guys now, would i?" as aventurine's laughter echoed in the air, a pang of longing tugged at your heartstrings, his words igniting a spark of hope that refused to be extinguished.

with a forced smile, you unwillingly tore yourself away from the moment. "alright, that's enough," your voice betrays a hint of reluctance. "let's head back now, i'll see you tomorrow.” just as you turn your back around, 

“wait,” aventurine held your hand between his, “let me take you home at least?” a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, faced with such a sight you couldn't do anything but accept his offer graciously. 

on the way back, silence fills the air, it was no doubt that the both of you could feel the tension crackling as unspoken feelings were made obvious by the way he still holds your hand tightly, lacing his fingers with yours, even after leaving the bar; where you were free from your roles. you grasp his hand that held yours in response, a silent confession. 

perhaps romantic feelings are not to be uttered when one is not ready, as love has a way of finding its way into the darkest corners of your hearts even when you least expect it. but nonetheless, maybe one day aventurine will open his heart to you, and you’ll find the courage to speak your truth. until then, you’ll find comfort in the warmth of his embrace.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 

masterlist

#hsr x reader #aventurine x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai starrail x reader #star rail x reader #hsr x you #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr fanfic #hsr fluff #honkai star rail x you #aventurine hsr #aventurine #hsr imagines #aventurine x you #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine fanfic

[houserautha]

These Destined Ends

Part 1

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none for this chapter. Masterlist of warnings overarching the series

A/N: Hello! If you’re here then there’s probably something wrong with you too, so let’s be friends. I haven’t been able to write anything lately until I saw the latest Dune movie and then all of my thoughts became dedicated to Feyd-Rautha. I must get these thoughts out. Help. Me.

“Chin up.”

Your mother brushes your hair back, bronze, like hers, and lifts your chin. Her gaze is critical. You stare back, thinking only of the things that she will find fault in you. An endless amount, you muse. The slightest flicker of expression on Lady Jessica’s face informs you that she suspects what you’re thinking. Your teeth grit.

“Must you do that?” You hiss through your painted lips. The servants have dressed you specially for the occasion. A floor-length black dress and, settled on your shoulders, a red cape clasped together with the House of Atreides insignia.

Jessica withdraws her hand. Your mother radiates femininity and power, a feat you’ve yet reached. Even the cool way in which she regards you drips with regality.

“Do what?” She asks, feigning innocence.

“Don’t make me say it.”

Jessica’s blue eyes harden. “You don’t have to, daughter. It’s plain enough.”

Mother and daughter stare at one another.

She tried to teach you the ways of the Bene Gesserits, but you failed to take to it. You were too expressive, too…volatile. You struggled to detect the slightest change in voice, you could never sit still long enough to study, and your facial features always betrayed you. The only aspect you succeeded in was combat — there was no need to mask your feelings, your thoughts, able to just completely lend yourself to the blade.

But it wasn’t enough.

“You’re fortunate the Reverend Mother has chosen to see through with this arrangement,” Jessica all but snarls. “There’s hope for you still, in form of an heir.”

The Kwisatz Haderach.

The only reason your mother still spoke to you, affords you any attention at all. The fact that you’ve been painstakingly bred to produce him: a Bene Gesserit of male origin, capable of accessing the memories of his ancestors and see through time and space itself.

A terrible mantle for an unborn child.

In the black of night, you sometimes lay your hand on your abdomen and utter apologies to the egg nestled in your ovary; burdened with horrible purpose. If only you could avoid its fate. But you were not even in control of your own.

“I want to stay here,” you plea finally, pitifully.

Jessica steps away from you, brushes off her skirt. “You know that you cannot.”

“I can help Father,” you insist. “You know that he worries about gaining the approval of the Fremen. I can —”

“Enough!” The Voice. It snaps your mouth shut and renders you mute. “This is bigger than both of us.” Jessica snatches your upper arm, pulls you close enough to feel the heat of her anger. “Your father wanted a son. A heir. But it was my duty to produce a daughter. I ignored the pleas of your father because I understand what it is to serve. Don’t make me regret my decision.”

You swallow your disgust, though it lingers like a foul taste on your tongue.

This isn’t the first time that your mother has told you this. Nor did you think it would be the last.

Perhaps making a home among your enemies would be better than staying here among family.

“Fine,” you say. You wrench your arm from her grasp then turn away. It’s futile, you know the heighliner will be here soon to whisk you away, but you can’t stand to be in the presence of your mother any longer. Fortunately she lets you go.

You’re not even aware of where your feet are taking you until the familiar sound of the baliset meets your ears. Gurney rests lazily on the ground in the massive corridor, back against the wall and string instrument in his scarred hands. He doesn’t look at you as you approach nor when you collapse down beside him.

Usually Gurney’s situationally appropriate songs bring you a modicum of comfort, but today it seems more ominous than insightful.

“I won’t miss your singing,” you say.

He stops playing. “You jest.”

Playfully, you crack open one eye and peer at his baffled expression. You try not to laugh. “I don’t.” A sigh escapes your mouth then, and you slump further down, uncaring if you rumple your gown. “I will, however, miss the singer.”

“Don’t bother appealing to an old man like me. It won’t get you anywhere.”

“Hm,” is all you say, lost in thought.

Gurney sets the baliset to the side. His hand finds your knee and he squeezes. “You will be fine, Lady Y/N. I’ve taught you well.”

“Not even what you’ve taught me will suffice for what I’m up against.”

“Nonsense.”

Both eyes open now, you stare pleadingly at the swordsmaster. “Just come with me. Please.”

It’s Gurney’s turn to sigh. With a groan he heaves himself to his feet and offers you a hand. “You know that I can’t,” he murmurs.

His loyalty to your father doesn’t extend to you.

He is Leto Atreides, Duke of Arrakis, after all. And you are just his daughter. A pawn. A womb and nothing more.

You reach out to ghost your fingers over the scar on Gurney’s cheek. “Tell me about them.”

The Harkonnens.

“There’s nothing you don’t already know or haven’t learned from the filmbooks,” Gurney says to you in a terribly soft voice. It’s unfitting of the great soldier. “They are a cruel people. Do not trust them.”

You nod, irrationally devastated that your final plea to Gurney did not work. But his words were not anything new.

Nothing you learned about the Harkonnens has been pleasant — from their oppressive rule and misogynistic society down to their industrialized homeworld. Your chest aches.

First you were forced to leave the lush beauty of Caladan for Arrakis. You had even grown admittedly fond of the desert planet, just to yet again be snatched from another home.

“Thank you, Gurney. For everything.”

He dips his chin in acknowledgment, then holds out his arm for you to take.

Gurney has been like a second father to you over the years. While Leto was out securing political alliances and holding meetings, it was Gurney who kept you company. He aided in your combat training and believed in you when no one else did. To lose him would be to lose a great friend, indeed.

By the time you return to the antechamber where you’d been, Leto has arrived. He looks as cunning and handsome as ever, and the smile he flashes you is enough to cut you to the bone.

If what Jessica said was true about your father wanting a son and being sorrowful he did not get one, you would never know. He has only ever made you feel loved.

“My beautiful daughter,” he greets you. He smells wonderful. The same way he did all of those years ago when he would tell you stories of your grandfather and tuck you into bed, his beard tickling your cheek.

You breathe him in for one of the last times. “Hello, father.”

“You look marvelous,” he says. His smile falters slightly. “Are you ready? I wanted to ensure that you’ve said your goodbyes before we leave.”

Bitterly, you think, Before I leave. Everyone else will return to Arrakis and you will be moored on Giedi Prime, married to a bloodthirsty monster and forced to grow round with his child.

The thought makes your knees tremble.

The Harkonnens controlled the fiefdom of Arrakis before your family and were unbelievably outraged that it, and the flow of spice, had been stolen from them. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what your reception on their planet will be like. It’s any luck if you don’t get slaughtered upon arrival.

Especially since the Baron’s nephew, the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha — your betrothed — was known for his brutal nature. You hoped stupidly that the arrangement of marriage and promise of an heir would be enough to keep you alive.

At least for awhile.

Feyd-Rautha killed his own mother. Who knew what the status of wife meant to him?

“I’m ready as I’ll ever be,” you answer Leto. He squeezes your hand.

You hug Gurney goodbye then board onto the heighliner after your parents. It’s difficult to suppress the tears threatening to fall as the ship takes off in a flurry of sand and departs.

Normally you’d be completely enraptured with the endless golden dunes, but today you stay rooted to your seat and refrain from crying.

The flight to Giedi Prime happens much too quickly for your liking. Already your heart is in your throat, hammering out your nerves in a steady rhythm.

The view from your seat reveals the strange nature of your new home — a black sun. Never again will you see the stretch of blue sky from Caladan or feel the formidable heat of Arrakis. The entire world outside the ship stood in sharp black and white contrast, all color drained from the surroundings and its people.

You spy hoards of Harkonnens gathering beyond the ship, awaiting the arrival of the na-Baron’s wife and their future Baroness.

Your stomach churns. How could you ever lead such ugly, wicked people?

Jessica’s voice engulfs you. “Chin up,” she says again to your dismay. “You mustn’t show any weakness. Not here.”

You raise your chin the slightest amount. Jessica nods stiffly in approval, and it’s in that moment you understand that your mother’s harshness has been preparing you for this. While you hardly feel the urge to forgive her, an odd sense of calm washes over you.

You are an Atreides. And you always will be.

No one can take that from you.

The boarding ramp disengages and you’re the first one to step onto it. A hush of silence befalls the crowds.

You stride forward with as much confidence as you can muster, focusing not on the leering eyes of the Harkonnens but instead on the Baron’s fortress. A large pathway separates you from it, granting you plenty of time to get your fill. It’s as grand as it is excessively boastful; tall, pointed towers cleverly connected, all sharp lines and edges. It leaves the impression of a finely crafted dagger.

A display of power and wealth.

Behind you your parents emerge and the carefully observant crowd launches into disarray — shouts and yells of anger, of hatred, grate your ears. You know that they take it in stride, however, and their strength fortifies your own.

By the time you’ve crossed the distance from the heighliner to the inner walls of the fortress, your eyes are blurried by the strong contrast outside now given away to darkness. It takes a few moments for you to adjust. When you do, you quickly look over your surroundings.

There’s few decorations or art. It’s cold and impersonal and extremely clinical.

Your slippered feet reverberate off the high ceilings.

Bracing yourself, seemingly, has been for no reason. For it’s not the Baron and his nephew that meet you but rather a line of Harkonnen soldiers. Their faces are stoic.

You bristle. “Where is the Baron? And my betrothed? Do they not wish to receive us?”

The soldiers do not answer.

A man appears then from down the hall, a Mentat by the look of him. He’s pale and bald and clad in black like the other Harkonnens.

“My apologies, Lady Y/N,” the Mentat says. “My name is Piter de Vries. I am here to escort you. The Baron and na-Baron will receive you now in the throne room.”

Leto lays a hand on your arm as if to stifle your response. “Please, Piter, lead the way.”

You can’t help but glance curiously at your father. This entire situation was delicate, you knew, but you wonder at his subservience. It’s an insult not to be immediately greeted by their hosts, especially when your guests happen to be the Duke of Arrakis, his concubine, and their daughter. If Leto agrees with this affront, though, he doesn’t show it.

Leto simply strides after Piter with you and your mother in pursuit.

The fortress boasts sleek walls and floors, polished to perfection. Piter guides you to the throne room a short distance away, the sight of it stealing the breath from your lungs. It’s larger than any room you’ve seen before, outfitted on the far side with steps leading up to a grand dais.

And upon the dais, demanding your attention, is Baron Vladimir Harkonnen. The man is as large as the throne room itself but not nearly as impressive, pale and beastly, his enormous weight supported by suspenders. He makes no movement as you enter.

Your gaze moves quickly, eagerly, away from him.

Standing on either side of the dais are his two nephews. Aware that you can’t stand to face your betrothed yet, you fix your attention on his brother. Rabban, you recall his name.

Rabban is bound with hard muscle and swathed in what you can only describe as thinly veiled anger. At his side, his fists clench and unclench restlessly.

Then, without permission, you look to your future husband.

Feyd-Rautha stands as tall as Rabban but roped instead with lean, attractive muscle. His brow sits above dark eyes and a generous mouth. There’s a frightening intensity to the way he stands, encapsulating both nonchalance and a dangerous arrogance. Clearly this man is used to getting his way and will stop at nothing to do so.

And it’s this man that makes no effort to disguise the way he studies you, starting at the top of your head and trickling languidly downward.

A chill dances down your spine.

When he catches this, catches you watching him — he must’ve known that you were — his lips twitch into the faintest of smirks.

Part 2

#dune part two #dune #feyd x you #feyd x reader #feyd rautha #feyd smut

[beescake]

PLEASE PLEASE MEGADUMP THE ARASOL!!! PLEAAASEE MR BEESCAKE I AM ON MY KNEES BEGGING YOU

HFHGHD GLADLY aaa i’ve been adding notes to it here and there for months but just hesitant to post it bcs im 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂

also this is just my own takeaway of the events, it doesn’t necessarily comply to the Ultimate Truth of Canon-Alignment or represent the actual facts of what hussie intended! v sentimental smh but hopefully its still interesting to read

i love when characters inform each other by proximity, it's one of my fave things to see in media :') it feels even more significant when two characters deliberately choose to stick together, so that when one operates, you can tell the other is similarly aligned in associative solidarity.

sollux is a keystone of this trope — whoever he aligns with is a wordless statement, a nod of approval. this stood out to me bcs the main four humans were alr friends by default, but once you reach hivebent you realize the trolls can actively choose who they want to hang out with.

and as we all know, after assessing every troll's biases/loyalties, sollux is the only one who maintains his selective preference for innately Good 👍 people.

aradia is such a beautiful character honestly, she evokes such incredible feelings in me. she might not have been consistently written with care but the best parts of her character are truly stunning. i think it's easy to remember sollux as the self-sacrificing one bc he's so open about it (and his friends frequently react to his Moments) but when you compare him to aradia, it's always struck me

how much more. raw it is

to be so alone as an agent of time, having to orchestrate immeasurably harrowing events nobody understands or gives a fuck about

with your role painted in the story as one who must tend to the needs of the narrative, responsible to match every next note

because when you're given the capabilities, it becomes your duty to carry it out.

it becomes expected of you to keep experimenting and arranging the machinations to work for everyone, dusting off hundreds of necessary failures to keep going

and having to be so unwavering in your drive knowing miserably that there's no one who can help you but yourself.

or alternatively: to make things fun! so other people won't think twice about letting you go off on your own.

sure she's had some very good buds, notably thanks to Team Charge v Team Scourge antics.

and yet, at the end of the day, the one friend that kept choosing her time and time again was the friend with the highest standards.

i can see why people like to define arasol as moirails/matesprits but surprisingly i find the nondescript, unlabeled aspect of their relationship more straightforward to understand.

there's no shortage of people who would accommodate sollux. most of the surviving trolls are his oldest friends bcs he’d chosen them well. his transparency with his feelings had built him strong friendships that won’t falter or break, regardless of how much of a dick he can be. they’ve already seen and accepted him at his worst, and they still like him for who he is.

contrast that with aradia, who'd been so approachable, friendly and reliable in her exchanges it was super fun to talk to her. but the moment she became depressed, all her connections broke down.

her friends became hesitant to interact with her (until she became god tier, “happy” and amicable again) because her gloom and resignation didn’t serve them. she dealt with it alone.

there’s def something of note here abt the disparity between the way male & female characters are written+perceived in homestuck (esp parallel arasol with davejade) but i won’t go into that lmaoo

with this in mind i like to think of sollux as a gift to her, a loyal companion given to complement and commend her resolve. she's capable of doing so much alone but hussie took the time to build her and sollux's relationship as one of a unit; a set.

the ambiguity of their status does complicate things, but i do believe it makes sense with their characters. aradia's relationship with romance is a rocky one, the dubious stringalong equius had with her is a pointed reminder that her feelings of attraction are ultimately controlled by the author writing her.

unlike the other trolls who can openly address and own up to their crushes, aradia had romantic emotions forced upon her (especially when hussie implies 'she kissed equius back on her own volition'). and it seems like her character is so intrinsically neutral abt attraction that even when forced by the almighty powers above, she's unable to retain it wholly.

however, looking back to pre-game when she could actually "choose" her own feelings, she did have a crush on sollux.

their soft spots for each other were so obvious to the point where other people could see it.

taunting aside, when vriska comments on their unit as bf/gf it actually informs the audience that arasol's relationship is romantic in nature despite not aligning with the quadrant system.

even while dead, aradia could still describe her care for sollux, expressing that she would like to see him happy. if they had more time to explore their relationship on alternia, it's possible they could've settled in a quadrant once they grew older.

but going back to the lack of labels, their dynamic was affected once more when aradia became god tier.

to me, her ascension was both the perfect culmination and possible closure of her character. it's the light at the end of her journey toiling through countless of timelines where she had to actively assess and participate. that's why it's cool to see her being silly and having fun giving guidance, passively exploring and watching other people do their parts.

and yet the joy of her freedom makes it hard to explore further introspection. if we take her by her word, she'd already come to terms with the hurt she's been through and forgiven those involved.

i can't help feeling attuned to how impersonal and detached it can be, to devote and meld your identity so completely with your designated position as Maid of Time until you've become hard for your old friends (and even some readers!) to personally connect to.

idk post-canon but i assume there’s some degree of similarity to be bridged here with aradia's god tier and how the hs2 humans' Ultimate forms was described as a consolidation of all their possibilities. since aradia's classpect is inherently of service to Time, going god-tier may have elevated her beyond personhood with the "game construct" possessing her entirely. sollux doesn't realize the extent of it bcs he's still mortal, but a part of him may have subconsciously understood this.

i think there is a core aspect to aradia that was lost to the dehumanizing glory of god tier — a core aspect that may have contained an element of why sollux enjoyed talking to her in the first place.

to him, aradia hadn't just been a nice girl, she was a cool girl. despite not having much in common, he's still willing to chill next to her so she's not alone while she does what needs to get done.

back on alternia, they held a mutual and equal-level regard for each other that could've definitely settled into something permanent. but now, he's placed himself in a position where he can be kept around or left behind at will. the parameters of the relationship are largely in aradia's court, so any label she suggests to identify their relationship with he's likely to accept.

but that's why it's so difficult to label it. because god tier aradia may not necessarily Want quadrants or relationship labels. rather than the initial romantic attachment, their commitment to each other had evolved into one fundamentally of companionship.

no label? ok fine. no matter what, he still thinks she's a good soul worth latching on to. the best, actually. aradia > everyone else.

even if it gets stilted at times. there's an unexpected struggle to connect when sollux's go-to default for talking points is his feelings about things, and aradia may not want to talk about emotions all the time.

not to mention god tier aradia became an observer, especially of chaos. but sollux's avoidance of involvement comes partially from his innate pressure to get involved if something goes wrong. and he can't always tell when something goes wrong, because aradia doesn't mind if things go wrong anymore.

it's a non-negotiable preference that causes them to take the occasional time apart, a new boundary that wouldn't have existed before the game and aradia's god tier.

but just like how his friends tolerated his moods, sollux accepts aradia as she is. with no quadrants, their connection doesn't break down because there's no implicit romantic expectations to be disappointed by or resentful over.

sometimes when i see hs content that deliberately distances sollux from aradia, i assume this is the dissonance people might have felt. people might find it "easier" to be cynical about them bcs of this strange tension.

but idc lmao. grab that shit by the neck

lack of easy resolutions and cleanly tied ribbons is pretty standard of homestuck and imo it doesn't make arasol's dynamic any less incredible. with the right affection and consideration, there's still so much potential to develop the nuance of their relationship outside of the popular quadrant-based depictions.

hs has a lot of really great character compatibilities but the way aradia and sollux are in their own special orbit is why i can write this much about them in the first place. it's that frail innocence between first loves that makes it so sweet to me, two kids who grew up too fast playing guesswork without being clear where they're going.

ultimately i do think you're meant to feel a little tragedy for just how much they care for each other, even if they can't quite establish it in simple terms.

maybe they keep taking breaks to progress their own paths. maybe they remain as anchor partners while seeing other people. but even if you decide to separate them, they're still (awkwardly) texting each other updates all the while. and when they reunite it feels like coming home.

and well. more than anything, i like to believe that they do want to be exclusive.

they're just afraid. after all, they're still learning how to love, beyond the projections of the foursquare quadrant system they had inadvertently distanced themselves from since young.

they might not have everything figured out, but they'll get there eventually if you just hold them together and write them there.

optional post-canon segment:

one of the limitations of main hs is that (monogamous) relationships are often written as the go-to solution to wrap up character growth; it's an easy "patch" to imagine characters getting their happy ending because they have a partner, and those who don't end up with someone don't get that closure (most notably jade).

hs2 reaffirms this by suggesting that aradia's character cannot progress without letting sollux go, because happily settling in a relationship automatically locks your potential.

that pathetic panel of sollux staring emptily into the sky is still my fave hs2 spoiler ngl i find the impact of their parting so emotionally provoking precisely bcs they were written in original hs to be each other's forever, coming back together again and again

but now, they're subject to the decisions of the post-canon authors who might choose to deviate from that.

it's not new for them to part, but now there's an underlying worry that her dropping him off this time might be the last time. while i think the prospect of shattering their stability to make them grow separately sounds fun on paper, no amount of me desperately hoping for a good execution is gonna guarantee it

idk. i guess prediction-wise im expecting sollux in classic dramatic-hs2 fashion to tell dave to back off aradia LMAO. otherwise it's just gon be sollux and karkat pathetically watching aradia and dave from a distance swimming in their unresolved feelings for narratively-powerful time players smh obvs it sounds corny as hell but who knows its still plausible

srsly tho i hope they take the opportunity to develop arasol's relationship in a fresh direction that doesn't hurt me too badly...... and i hope they force sollux out of his comfort zone. i like watching him struggle :-)

#sorry if this isnt fully accurate heh its just my personal impressions/feelings #despite best efforts to simplify my annotations the wall of text still ended up massive #there's also a comparison i wanted to make abt characters who “broke up” from romantic expectations losing a lot of what they had before #dave(sprite)/jade‚ karkat/terezi‚ dirk/jake etc = which is why i think arasol was rescued by hussie on purpose. arasol endgame truth #ngl there mightve been more moments that shouldve been mentioned but i have no memories of... limited cloud storage #long post #ask #anon #homestuck #arasol #aradia megido #sollux captor #arapostings #2024 #vioart #not disqualifying acespec/qpr reading i think its also possible :] #if anything i dont understand fanon killing off aradia for their sollux ships haiyaaa why is this trope so damn popular #every time i open a slkt fic and aradia is dead i go outside and burn a tree. global warming could not come sooner #slkts who treat aradia like dvkts treat jade…. i punt u football style

[stheresya]

"I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight […]" (Sansa III, AGOT) “Wed?” Sansa was stunned. “You and my aunt?” “The Lord of Harrenhal and the Lady of the Eyrie.” You said it was my mother you loved. But of course Lady Catelyn was dead, so even if she had loved Petyr secretly and given him her maidenhood, it made no matter now. (Sansa VI, ASOS)

I find that these little passages reveal something interesting about sansa's personality. specially when you juxtapose how she's characterized in the text and her worldviews here, and how at first glance they may seem contradictory. but first, let's take two things into account:

the patriarchal society of westeros is very strict on women's sexuality. which means that not only is female virginity held in great value, but also female adultery is very firmly condemned by everyone, unlike men who are allowed to maintain public mistresses and flaunt their bastards everywhere.

sansa is characterized as the conformist, the one who internalizes her society's rules. she's very religious, she's a proper lady in every sense of the word and she often says and does exactly what she's told.

and yet, in these passages we can see that sansa does not care much about societal rules when it comes to intimate feelings. she often hails aemon and naerys' (supposed) forbidden love without a single care that queen naerys was bound by duty to a husband and aemon was meant to be loyal to his king. but most astonishing of all is her nonchalant response to petyr's (false) information that her mother was not a virgin when she married. on one hand it may speak on sansa's views towards women's sexuality, since her current friends (mya and randa) are girls who engage in sex out of wedlock, and she never judges them, just like she doesn't judge her mother for apparently doing the same, and catelyn continues to be the person she admires the most. sansa also doesn't view her parents' relationship any differently because of this, the marriage between ned and cat is still as happy as she remembers, because all that matters to her is that there was love in the home she grew up in. the thing about sansa's character is that she plays by the rules up until a certain point, but on the inside she always prioritizes emotion over societal norms, and that's why she looks more upset at petyr for marrying someone while claiming to love another, because in her mind he's being unfaithful to his heart by marrying out of practicality. we have examples that showcase sansa's prioritizing feelings in AGOT when she, the good daughter, disobeys her father for the first time because she thought she was in love with joffrey, and in ASOS where she never thinks she owes tyrion anything just because he's her husband. so it comes as no surprise that she's so infatuated with the love story of an adulterous and incestuous relationship like aemon and naerys'. one of the main themes in this series is that feelings don't care about honor. and if love is the death of duty then sansa seems more than happy to see duty killed for the sake of love.

of course this doesn't mean she'll stay that way, specially when she's already lost her so much of her innocence and is now tangled in petyr's schemes where she must set her own feelings aside in order to act on his plans. and despite her silent judgement of petyr marrying someone he didn't love, her current betrothal with harry is an entirely practical union on her part since she feels nothing for him and only sees him as a means to an end. there have been many instances since book 1 where she was able to turn off her feelings in order to withstand certain situations. so... what even is sansa's mind? an interesting universe on its own for sure.

I just think sansa's romanticism is one of her most interesting traits (for better and for worse), something that truly contributes to the distinctiveness of her character, and I really hope petyr or anyone else are unable to completely kill that in her.

#sansa stark #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #meta

[cameronspecial]

Let Me Pamper Us, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.6K

Summary: After a day apart, Y/N just wants to spend an evening with her boyfriend.

A/N: This video was used as inspiration.

Masterlist

While away for Spring Break, Kelce and Topper miss their best friend. Rafe would never admit to missing anyone except his angel, yet he still agrees to go on Discord with them and play some Call of Duty. Y/N is okay with exploring Sicily by herself for the day. She returns to the yacht to find Rafe still on call with the boys. She pouts a little. Being by herself for the day is not a problem, but she wants to spend the evening with her boyfriend. Instead of asking him to hang out with her like a normal person, she takes out one of the mud masks he bought her. She ducks between his arms and uses the plastic brush to paint the mud on his face. At the cool feel of the mask, he jerks away. “What is that, Angel?” he questions, going to touch his face. She grabs his wrist, “Don’t, it’s a mud mask. I think a spa night would be fun.” He hmms at her words, informing his friends that he has to go. He exits the game and wraps his arms around her waist. “If you wanted a spa night, then you should’ve just told me. Let me pamper us, Angel.”

His headphones are thrown onto the desk and he takes her hand into his. He leads her to the living room’s couch, turning on the TV for her. He puts on Bones for her before heading to the master bedroom’s bathroom. Curiosity fills her and she just wants to see what he is doing. Half an hour later, he comes back into the room with a robe on and one for her in his hand. He asks her to strip, helping her put the fluffy coat on. 

Their feet pad against the tiled floor and she finds the bathroom lit by candles. He tells her to wash her face in the sink and then places her on the counter. His hand rips open the face mask sheet. He sticks his tongue out as he smooths the cool sheet against her skin. “There. All done,” he whispers, kissing her neck. She smiles, “Thank you, Rafe.” He squeezes her hand and keeps holding it while he finishes putting on his mud mask. His eyes spot the towel headband he bought for this spa night. “Oops, I forgot to put this on,” he apologizes and slides it on her head. She giggles at the fact that he knows so much about her spa day routine, “It’s okay. You are doing amazing.” He grins at her reassurance and leads her to the tub. He shrugs off his robe, helping her do the same. As he gets into the tub, the water splashes a little over the edge of the ceramic. He holds his hand up to help her get in and she slots herself between his legs. Her back rests against his chest. He drapes his arms over her shoulder, giving her a kiss on the cheek. They soak in the water and each other’s company for a few minutes. Eventually, his fingers weave through her hair. The pads of his fingers dig into her scalp, eliciting a moan out of her. 

She snuggles back against his hold and kisses the inside of his wrist when he goes to massage the front of her skull. “I’m sorry I stopped you from playing your game with the boys,” she worries out loud, the guilt is getting to her. He lets out a soft chuckle, “It’s okay, Angel. My eyes were getting a little tired anyway. I played the whole time you were gone.” She gives a small nod. “Did you at least eat lunch?” she worries. 

“Yeah, I eat the leftovers from last night. I missed you though. Do you know what you want to eat for dinner?”

“Yeah! I found this great little place. It looks so intimate and the food smelt delicious. We can go after our spa night.”

“Sounds great, Angel.” 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @queen-shadow22 @victory-in-the-llama @starkowswife @drewsmusee

#let me angel #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fanfiction #obx fanfiction #obx fic #rafe obx #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe fic #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe #rafe fanfiction #rafe fluff #outer banks rafe #outer banks imagine #outerbanks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks x reader #obx

[undertheorangetree]

The Last of the Dragons

Chapter Two- The Deal

Summary- After the disastrous bedding, the new couple tries to improve their situation.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Incest. Lots of arguing. Angst. Homegirl’s having a difficult week. Mirrors. Masturbation. Fingering. Coming in pants. Idk how else to tag that one I’m sorry. Aemond’s just helping.

Author’s Note- I promised sexier so I delivered besties. But also it’s still sad oop.

series masterlist

She manages to remain hidden in her chambers for three days following the consummation. Though she doesn't go as far as barring the door, she may as well have, only allowing two maid servants into the room and no one else save her grandsire. She allows him in the morning after the wedding, knowing that he is too persistent to keep out. The pleasantries only last so long, with him informing her of Baela and Rhaena's plan to return to court in time for her coronation before he begins inquiring as to whether or not the consummation was successful. She keeps the details as vague as possible before managing to kick him out with complaints of sickness. It keeps him away, him and everyone else who could possibly want to see her. And she is glad for it. Though it is not fair, she blames Corlys for her humiliation and refuses to speak with him further until this shame dissipates, unsure as to how she will ever be able to look at anyone within that damned council without thinking of how they had all put her in this situation. How they had watched them, her, while she and Aemond had done their duty.

It is foolish, she knows, to remain upset. A thousand women have endured such a fate before her and she does not doubt a thousand have yet to bear it, but she is the queen now. Should she wish to sulk in her shame, there is no one in the realm who can pull her from her rooms now.

Or, at least, not many.

He gives her time, keeping his distance for nearly four nights, but she knew he would come to her eventually. Duty is the pillar Aemond has built his life upon and he would not allow it to go unattended for long. Though she had thought he would come to her during the day, that he would find the time in his rigorous schedule to knock on her door and berate her for her lack of attention, for attempting to skate her duty. It was so expected that she had prepared herself for it, steeling herself whenever she heard footsteps sound too close to the door.

She hadn’t expected him to come in through the passageways during the hour of ghosts, appearing in the mirror behind her as suddenly as a wraith.

She is forced to stifle a shriek when she catches sight of him, turning quickly to face him. It feels almost like having your back on a predator, the discomfort only growing when she catches the look on his face. Jaw set, lips pursed, looking around the room in disdain. It takes more effort than it should, to attempt to appear unaffected, but there is only one thought coursing through her mind now. That he is here to claim his rights, to do his husbandly duty. He had given her respite, likely longer than he had any reason to, and now he is here to begin what must be started.

The very thought makes her stomach sink, the consummation replaying in her head like a terrible dream, but she forces herself to steel her spine and appear unbothered, reprimanding him through the mirror.

"By the gods, Aemond, there is a door for a reason, you know. You cannot just sneak into my rooms like a thief in the night."

His mouth twitches at that, his irritation evident. "You are not answering your door. Nor are you leaving your chambers. I had almost begun to believe that you are ill."

"I am ill."

He simply hums, making his way toward her. She stiffens, whole body going rigid, but he does not touch her. Instead, his hand goes to the line of ornate bottles that sit below her vanity, each one lined meticulously. He picks up one of the bottles, uncorking it before holding it under his nose. It's a perfume, one that she had been gifted before the war by one of the lords vying for her affection. She had always liked it- a pretty thing that smelt of peaches and honey- and had used it sparingly, but his face remains unchanged as he pushes the cork back in and sets it back in the line.

"My mother has yet to leave me alone," he announces into the silence. She goes still again, not needing him to continue, but he pays her no heed. With his eye still locked on her, he continues. "She is determined to ensure that I understand the importance of conceiving an heir. Corlys as well, though I imagine he has come to visit you despite your illness."

It is her turn to clench her jaw, biting her tongue as she leans forward to fetch her hairbrush. "He has."

"Then you know why I've come?"

Read the rest here :)

Taglist- @ammo23 @bellstwd @kckt88 @aemondsbabygirl @shygardengalaxy @duds31 @at-a-rax-ia @ladymarg0t @queenofshinigamis @drakar-i @cl-0-vr @castellomargot @moonlightfoxx @ladybug0095 @marihoneywk @the-common-cowgirl @darylandbethfanforever9 @bunny24sstuff @helaenaluvr @eternally-passionate @herfantasyworldd @toodlesxcuddles @ashovertheriver @lokiofasgard12 @hypocritic-trash-baby

bolded couldn’t be tagged :(

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #Aemond targaryen x you #Aemond x you #Aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond x fem!reader #Aemond targaryen smut #Aemond smut #aemond targaryen #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #hotd smut #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfiction

[save-the-villainous-cat]

ok hear me out,,,,,,, the hero is on a mission but they dont find the villain anywhere UNTIL they find them half-asleep with fever but their still willing to fight but heros like NU UH so they just care for them-

“The walls have ears,” the hero said. They dragged out the words, trying their best to gain the villain’s attention. However, the villain only let out a noise close to a whimper. “You have to be more careful around people who might not be your friends.”

“You’re so charming,” the villain croaked. They pushed themselves up but the hero was quicker.

“I know.” With their flat hand on the villain’s chest, they pressed them back down into the mattress while simultaneously sitting down.

The hero felt the villain’s bare chest glowing under their touch, hot and sweaty. Definitely a fever. In all of this, the hardest part had been getting into the hotel room.

After the hero had tried to get into the villain’s room countless of times, the villain had let them in, completely unaware of who the hero was.

Apparently, they had woken up from a nap. Groggy and confused, they had stared at the hero and only recognised them later.

Which was bad, really bad. The villain was able to identify them no matter how creative the hero’s disguises were.

The hero hadn’t planned on playing nurse for their nemesis this weekend and they weren’t in the mood to neglect their duties. But it was the villain.

“Quite a lot of people want you dead. Did you really think it was smart to plan an assassination with other villains? And you planned on murdering another villain with them?”

“Eh.” The villain turned around in bed, pulling the blanket up to their nose.

“You’re aware how messy these villain relationships are, aren’t you? Each of them can betray you at any given moment, each of them would give out your information for five bucks, did you really—”

“Okay, fine. Let’s just fight,” the villain sighed. They shuffled.

“I’m not done.” The hero pushed the villain into the bed again, clearly frustrated. “Now you’re sick, hiding in a hotel room instead of home. You’re weak and an easy target. What were you thinking? Starting a war with no one in your corner?”

“You’ve come to lecture me, is that it?” the villain asked. Their face was red, their body heating up. “Because I really don’t have the energy right now.”

“I was supposed to clear out one of those nasty hideouts. I found a bunch of messages and posts on a strange server mentioning you. About you getting beaten up and hunted. I went out to find you immediately,” the hero admitted. They scratched their neck. “Found you with some detective work and the tracker that I put on you a while ago.”

“You’re tracking me?” the villain asked. They didn’t seem surprised.

“You’re tracking me too,” the hero reminded them.

“Aww. You found it and didn’t remove it?”

“Neither did you.”

“Softie,” the villain whispered. Their smile, although sleepy, seemed to be of genuine nature. “Always a softie around me.”

“Keep those little fantasies to yourself, will you?” the hero asked. They liked not to think of this aspect of their relationship. It was distracting.

“Hm.” The villain closed their eyes again. “You went through all of this trouble to make sure I’m alright?”

“I…hey, I am warning you, alright? You have to be more careful with information and the people you share it with.” The hero pushed up the blanket even further. “Do you have any medication?”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m dying.”

“My god, you have a cold.” The hero stood up and went into the bathroom. Once they had found a towel, they let it soak in cold water and returned to the “dying” villain. “You’re so dramatic.”

They put the towel on the villain’s forehead. The villain winced, sensitive to the cold touch.

“But they haven't found you yet, have they?” the hero asked, softer this time. They didn’t know why but they didn’t feel as anxious as before. The villain shook their head

“I really messed up, didn’t I?” they asked eventually.

“You haven’t made the smartest decision.”

“Fuck, I’m so stupid,” they mumbled. “I really thought I could help you a little.”

“I don’t need help,” the hero answered. Although, they were quite surprised this was about them.

“You’re working yourself to death.”

“Not your problem,” the hero said. They shifted the towel a little. “Don’t do anything like this again, got it?”

“No promises.”

The hero didn’t know if they were worried or flattered.

#writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request

[fan-goddess]

aemond + sex pollen + getting caught + public sex 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

aemond is betrothed to reader (who he only v recently met after she comes to KL), they had no intentions to bed each other before the wedding bc honor ofc it’s aemond lol but the pollen gets them and they dont even get to make it out of the gardens before they started getting freaky 😭

Authors Note: oooh great idea nonnie i like how you think! The setting is similar to the small garden with the gods wood tree, but it’s A LOT more secluded than that. Plus changed Aemonds morals a little but it’s still the same man we know and love ❤️

Warnings: P in v sex, public, getting caught, praise kink, breeding kink, praise, degrading, mentions of aegon being bad, alicent shows up surprise! (I know I’ve missed a lot let me know what though so I can add them!)

Taglist: @sofiyathecunt, @marvelgirl123, @sylasthegrim, @arcielee, @mochi-rose, @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @blue-serendipity, @omgbrcat, @lovelykhaleesiii

Ever since you were a young girl, your duty had all you’d ever been taught.

It was what your whole childhood had been preparing you for. Your septa’s had taught you what you must do to make t your husband happy and content with you, whilst your mother had insisted on taking on the role of teaching you the acts of the marital bed.

It was graphic, how she told you that you must simply lay there and allow the man to enter you, allowing him to do whatever it took to for him to impregnate you.

It was those teachings alone that haunted you for days when you were informed of your newest betrothal to the young Targaryen prince.

You had heard the gossip of the eldest prince Aegon. How maids that were assigned to his quarters left mere months later with not only a coin purse, but a swollen stomach hidden under their dress too.

It’s probably was why you found yourself as shocked as you were when you met the prince Aemond, and fell in love with him as deeply as you did.

When you kissed him one late night in the depths of the library, it felt like everything was right. Aemonds hands felt perfect as they held your waist and chin respectively as he could. Yet no matter how disrespectfully you wish for him to hold you, your duty once again held a tight grip on both of your senses.

You knew that the morning after your wedding night, the bed would be checked to see if you had bled. And if you haven’t, you would bring a great shame and dishonour on your house, no doubt passing onto your own family you and Aemond would create.

So no matter how deliciously sinful it is to feel Aemonds lips on yours, that addictive forbidden feeling of his hands beginning to roam your body in between the tall bookshelves flowing through your veins, you know your duty as of now holds you hostage.

“Aemond, we-we cannot do this here…” You murmur between kisses and heavy breaths, trying your best to keep your composure as you lean away, only for Aemond to immediately follow your head with his own eager lips.

“Please my love... just five more minutes alone with you... then I will be satisfied. I swear it!”

“You swore you’d be satisfied nearly an hour ago my dragon! You’re never satisfied whatever it is you do! Whether it is your books, your training, and now even me it seems!” You grin, biting your swollen bottom lip in a teasing motion that only makes out betrothed more undone as he groans slightly in frustration.

“I am a prince of the realm! I could easily demand there be no checking of your blood!” It is almost amusing how desperate Aemond looks in that moment. His eye blown wide as he looks at you. His lips nearly swollen like your own. Even his cheeks now a deep shade of red.

“Aemond my love, it is because you are a prince of the realm that they check my Maidenhead!” You laugh lightly, stepping away from Aemonds heaving form that leans on the space you stepped from.

“I-I’m sorry darling. The moment got away from me… I will see you in the morn. Do you wish to break fast together? I could tell the chefs to prepare your favourite?”

“Aemond my love, we have broken fast together for nearly two weeks now! You must spend more time with your family before your mother believes I’m taking you away from them!” You laugh, intending for a small joke, only Aemond looks serious as he responds.

“I don’t care. You’re my family too. Married yet or not.” It leaves a heavy blush on your cheeks as you move to kiss his scar with devotion.

It takes the two of you a while, but eventually you find your own ways back to your respective chambers, where the both of you much to your respective guards reliefs, stay till the next morning.

Aemond to his chagrin meets with his family, while you dine with your own.

Your mother can’t help herself but talk eagerly on the debates of your wedding. What colour gown you shall wear and what food will no doubt be at the feast. But instead all you can think of, is meeting your betrothed later that day in the gardens, just as he suggested before the two of you parted.

Eventually you escape your mothers questions, and when you make your way to the gardens, you can’t help but admire the bright flowers as you walked past.

You turn your head, and when you spot Aemond standing there smiling by the godswood tree as he watched you, you can’t help but smile seeing the small bouquet ���of flowers in his hands.

“Here you go my love. They’re flowers newly shipped from Lys, that have not even had the grace to sit in Westeros soil yet. I thought you deserved the first bouquet of them before anyone else…”

“Well thank you darling…” You smile, grinning slightly at Aemonds out of character bashfulness before leaning forward slightly and sniffing the bright flowers.

Only, you can’t help but gasp slightly when you’re suddenly hit with a strange smell. One akin to dark chocolate and a slight tinge of salt. It was odd, given what it was you were smelling, but what’s even stranger is that you find yourself already addicted to it within mere seconds. Already eager to bury your head into the arrangement and practically live there in order to smell that delightful thing as much as you could.

The only reason you find yourself not, is because Aemond quickly takes the bouquet out of your hands to sniff it himself.

Only when you see his eye widen and look at you, you can practically see it turn from a light lilac to a dark shade of purple, and you realise it’s not just you whose affected by the strange aroma.

“My love… I wish I could be sorry for what I am about to do, but I’m not.” Is all he says, before dropping the arrangement somewhere and shoving you against the tree, his lips eagerly connecting with yours in a passionate embrace.

Yet even with the vow of keeping your honour and your maidenhead screaming at you in your head, the feeling of Aemonds hands roaming your entire body is doing something to you that you cannot help but embrace wholeheartedly.

Your own hands eagerly take grasp of Aemonds hair and tugs, allowing a deep groan of his to practically resonate throughout your whole body.

“Aemond…” You murmur, “I want this. So much… but are you sure?”

He growls as he speaks, as if taken over by some other being, and you can’t deny how it makes your smallclothes feel strangely sticky and wet against your skin, and how much you like it.

“Of course I am ñuha jorrāelagon… but I must say that with what is coursing through my veins, I will not be gentle with you, like how I know you would enjoy. I will be rough, and animalistic. Do you think you can handle that?”

“Yes Aemond… I think I am able to handle all that… and more-“

You don’t even get to finish, as Aemond takes ahold of your face and kisses you harsher than he ever has done before. His teeth clash against yours, and you almost swear you can feel a tinge of blood on your tongue as he forces his and your own to move in some strange type of dance.

It’s so intense that feeling, that you don’t even realise entirely when Aemond rips the front of your dress open, allowing your front body to be revealed to him whilst you shiver slightly at the cold. Though you begin to quickly warm up when Aemond hot mouth leaves wet kisses all gone the length of your chest, trailing all the way to your breast that heave under the harshness of your sudden breaths.

“Good girl… what a good fucking girl I have for me to marry, and fuck my seed into…”

You whimper, and it all seems to turn into a sort of heavenly haze.

The taste of his lips on yours are like pure heaven, and his touch feels almost sinful as his fingers tweak and kneed at your breasts with hunger.

It’s only worse when he practically rips your soaked through smallclothes from your body, and stops a moment to smell them. The sight alone shocking you whilst you hang your mouth open in surprised arousal, a small breathless sound you don’t even realise you’re making being all you can say in that moment in response.

When he stuffs them in his pocket though and quickly undoes his leather trousers, allowing them to fall to the floor, the desperation in your entire body making you feel as if on fire when you catch sight of his cock, which smacks against his belly with a slight wet sound.

“Do you wish for it wife? Do you wish for me to fuck you senseless and fill you with my seed, until all you can feel is me? Until you’re stomach is swollen with our babe? Our heir?”

You’re breathless, but you don’t know what else to be. All you can focus on, is him, and nothing else.

When you nod your head enthusiastically though to his question, his brows furrow in some type of anger, and quick apologises and pleas spill from your mouth.

“I’m sorry husband, yes yes yes please fill me with your seed! I want all of kingslanding to know who is my lord husband, and who has claimed me as theirs! I want your cum dripping down my thighs and to remain inside of me until a child is born from us! Please husband allow me to carry your heir!”

Your pleas certainly seem to affective, as Aemond releases a roguish growl of approval and quickly moves to position his weeping almost pretty looking cock at your entrance, before looking at your face carefully whilst he inserts himself slowly.

You can feel your face scrunch in a painful way whilst you make a wounded sound, but Aemonds soothing touch and words make you preen so much you almost find yourself forgetting about it all.

“Doing so good for me ñuha ābrazȳrys… my sweet wife’s going to be dripping of me…”

You let out a broken moan, and yet in Aemonds eye it is too loud, as he swallows it with his own mouth. His tongue prying you lips open and practically dancing with yours.

He ruts into you like a madman, the thrusts having no true rhythm as he allows himself only to have his mind sink into the feeling of pleasure only you can give him. The feeling that consumes him better than anything in the world.

It’s deadly, and hot, and sinful, which is why it is such an addictive thing to be feeling at that moment as he groans into your mouth. The frantic rutting of his hips becoming somehow more manic as you feel his cock throb deep inside your heat.

However, such an addictive thing is dangerous, as when Aemonds grip on your upper thighs tighten to become near bruising whilst his cock spasms slightly as he groans in completion, your own face hidden in the sweaty curve of his neck as you feel your own walls tightening around him. However, the sudden realisation of a voice being heard, leaves your eyes suddenly widening in horror.

It’s a shrill feminine voice that speaks. “What in the seven is going on here!”

You can feel Aemonds spent still hot in your womb, aswell as your own juices dripping down your naked legs, which is why it is so horrifying to turn your head to see who the voice belongs to, and make eyes with the queen. Who stands before you and Aemond with a stern and scared face, her eyes seemingly unable to continue to stare at the scene before her as they look to the sky.

You and Aemond quickly move to correct yourselves, even though that feeling of desire in yours and his’ bodies almost seem to force you to want to continue. Though the shame quite forcibly overwhelms it.

It’s overwhelming in fact, when you attempt to make yourself modest and realise Aemonds eager attempts to caress you made it so the front of your dress is ruined. It’s even worse when you quickly realise you have no smallclothes to stop the trail of Aemonds spent flowing down your thighs.

An almost amused expression taking over him when he sees your dilemma, and an even stranger reaction seems to take over him when his mother turns her back for a second and he flashes you a glimpse of your smallclothes from his trousers pocket.

“I have excused Aegons debauchery for many years, and for it to go unpunished-“ The queen starts as she can now finally look at the two of you, her hands fiddling with themselves whilst she does so in what can be described as a nervous manner. “Which is why I cannot allow this sort of thing to go unpunished now with you Aemond. I would have never of suspected this of you my son, and this is the reason I feel so shameful of you. I expect this of Aegon, not you.”

You turn to your betrothed, and the man flashing you a view of your smallclothes with a smile on his face is gone. What instead stands beside you is a grim faced gentleman, who is an image of solemness and dishonour. It is obvious how much the queens words have affected him, no matter how much you know he’ll deny it later.

“I shall make it so that the two of yours betrothal to be hastened. As quick as moon tea is to be made and drunk, we cannot allow gossip to be weaves into our already, dare I even say it, hellish society. Is next month too quick? I only say as as much as the two of you would like to deny, it only takes one time to conceive a babe. That much your brother has proven to me…”

The queens words shake you, and yet when you meet Aemonds own anxious gaze, the two of you cannot help but nod heads in agreement.

“Splendid! I do believe this soured castle is in need of a happy day or two…” The queen smiles, almost looking lost in thought for a moment at the idea, before walking away without a glance behind her. Allowing the two of you to stand in the seriousness of the moment.

Aemond turns to you with sorrow, and you almost find yourself gasping in shock when he begins to get on his knees and grasps his hands on yours. “My love… I am so sorry! I have dishonoured you greatly with what was supposed to be a gift, which I why I completely understand if you wish to-“

“Aemond my dragon, you must not be sorry! We both had been struck with whatever was in those dreaded flowers! Yet it does not matter now! I love you, my dragon, and this will not change that…” You kneel with him in the dirt, and it’s like his whole personality changes, as he pulls you into a deep hug and buries his face in your neck.

Your hands move to cup his head where it lays, and you almost swear you can feel the fabric of your dress dampen with possible tears. But you say nothing to spare him the embarrassment. Instead, you allow him to stay there.

Your dragon, your Aemond, will always be safe in your arms.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen/reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond x reader #prince aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #my works #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #my kinktober #house of the dragon smut #hotd fic #alicent hightower

[dawndelion-winery]

Tripping Into Love

Clumsy confessions and the silly things they do for you

Ft. Capitano, Dainsleif, Diluc, Kaeya, Pantalone

Capitano:

He knows better than to charge in without a plan

At least he thinks he does, which is why he's begrudgingly forking over a hefty portion of his personal funds to Pantalone in exchange for information about you

He didn't stop to think how odd it might be for him to know things about you when you've never told him

Honestly, the only reason you probably haven't told him to piss off for being a creep is because you like to think you know him well enough to know he wouldn't have any unsavoury intentions

That and his reputation as the esteemed captain

He does panic when you question where he got the information from though

He doesn't know Pantalone have you a heads up simply to have the joy of watching Capitano squirm

"Did...didn't you?" Capitano stammered. "Perhaps I heard it from someone else, I could've sworn I'd heard somewhere that these were your favourite flowers."

You were cackling internally, of course, knowing his informant. Not that you'd tell him that; he could stew in his panic for a while longer until he finally mustered the courage to ask you out explicitly.

Dainsleif:

You were only joking when you said he should act more knightly

Sure he'd said there was no point since the fall of his nation meant all titles and status were irrelevant

But that's pretty hard to believe when he's practically bending over backwards for you

It was hard not to notice his efforts, honestly, with how curt and cavalier you knew he could be

Yet there he was, offering you his knee as a footstool for your comfort

"Dain, this isn't what I meant when I said I'd love to see you get on one knee."

You looked at the bough keeper quizzically. In return, he only gave you his usual, impassive expression as he insisted. "You're tired, it is a knight's due duty to ensure his companion's comfort."

You'd protest if it hadn't been for the faintest of blushes dusting his uncovered cheek, his gaze averting subtly in a momentary flicker. So you sat on his thigh, resting your head on his shoulder with a soft thanks as you shut your eyes, leaving the ex-captain swallowing hard as he stilled his aching heart.

Diluc:

Mondstadt's most eligible bachelor? Or most rizzless?

Sure, he's got the money to send you gifts and little tokens of his affection as he courts you

And yes, it's sweet to receive bouquets and desserts that remind him of you

What's less than ideal is the love letters he sends

You find yourself compared to the most questionable of descriptors that you're not sure if he likes you

I mean, did he seriously compare you to his deceased pet tortoise?

Years of living like a social recluse has scuffed all sense of tact he might have had

"Master Diluc-"

"Just Diluc is fine, love."

You blinked slowly, noting the way a faint blush crept up his cheeks, thinking he was slick with sneaking in a little pet name for you (he wasn't). It was hard to tell him relating you to the soil in the winery wasn't the most romantic declaration of his affection when he seemed so proud of himself. Admittedly, you were somewhat proud of him for coming out of his shell to court you too. But this!! This wasn't it.

"I don't need you to try to be poetic, Diluc, a simple 'I think you're lovely' is enough."

"Oh."

Kaeya:

Remember those poetry lessons he got from Venti? (Well not really but still)

Venti was peerless when it came to his songs, so naturally, you were quite enchanted with his performances

And of course, why wouldn't Kaeya think serenading you would be a good way to win your heart?

Unlike Diluc, he's much more delicate with his words, weaving them to flatter you best

Yet it's not quite what piqued your interest in him

Sure, it's poetically romantic and all, but it didn't really feel like him

It was moreso his banter with his estranged brother that you found endearing

"Care for a refreshing beverage on this fine day? My treat, of course, the Angel's Share has a new series of fruit mocktails that are just perfect for the weather, and I'd love to try then with you."

You hadn't expected master Diluc himself to stop the both of you at the entrance - well, he stopped Kaeya, at least. "Isn't it a little early for you to be drinking? As I recall, it's office hours for the Knights of Favonius right now."

"I have the day off, am I not allowed to drink in the company of my lovely companion?" Kaeya quips, gesturing to you.

"So you're being a bad influence?"

"We're not here for alcohol."

Diluc looked at Kaeya doubtfully, glancing in your direction as though to gauge if Kaeya was bluffing.

Oh woe is you who has to see Diluc burning holes into the back of Kaeya's head as he moniters his brother on a date.

Pantalone:

Money can buy anything.

Except your affection, it would seem

Sure, you enjoy the gifts, and it's nice to be spoilt

But he wants you to look at him the way he looks at you

Worse still is how he's conflicted about making use of his intelligence network to dig up information about you

"it'd ruin the process of getting to know (you)" he says

Which leaves him squeezing time into his schedule to spend with you against his better judgement

He's totally not slaving through his work to make time for you

He's nothing if not opportunistic though

Will most definitely take advantage of any concern you show

"Eyebags? No, no, I doubt I have those, but if you insist, why not come a little closer to check?"

All you'd said was he looked a little tired and haggard, and suddenly he has you in his chambers, sitting on his satin sheets as he lays his head in your lap. After all, if you were so concerned about whether he was resting, surely you wouldn't oppose helping to make sure he got a good sleep, yes?

Taglist: @myluvkeiji @aqui-soba @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @chaosinanutshell @heizours @haliyamori @callmemeelah @sadlonelybagel @plinkuro @thevictoriousmoon @mastering-procrastinating @cxlrose @astrequa @eowinthetraveler @ajaxstar @boundedbyfate @the-lost-anime-dad @moonbyunniee @greyrain23 @heavenlyfloof

Commissioned by @monstersealclubber

#astronetwrk #genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #capitano #Dainsleif #diluc #kaeya #pantalone #capitano x reader #dainsleif x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #pantalone x reader #genshin capitano #genshin dainsleif #genshin diluc #genshin kaeya #genshin pantalone #diluc ragnvindr #diluc ragnvindr x reader #kaeya alberich #kaeya alberich x reader #winery specials

[sebscore]

the other drivers finding a hickey on gen z driver! reader and trying to find out who gave it to her it would be so funny😭😭

WHAT HAPPENS IN MONACO, STAYS IN MONACO

pairing: f1 grid x driver!reader

warnings: hickey. innuendos. rushed writing (lol, I wrote this in the middle of the night so cut me some slack pls).

author's note: thanks for the request! I know this has been in my drafts for a long time so I'm very sorry that it took me a while!! hope you still see this <3 also thank you to @12-seconds-to-live for the title inspo!

masterlist

• • • • • • •

The Monaco Grand Prix was always one of the highlights of the season- the prestige and luxury it brought forward was matched by no other race.

It was also the home of many F1 drivers, including herself. So it wasn't too out of the ordinary for a bunch of them to get together and celebrate in one of the many clubs the city had to offer.

''Y/N, we're going out later tonight, wanna join?'' Pierre asked her, all of their media duties done for the day. Lando, Charles, Max, George and Alex amusingly looked at her, already knowing she would never pass the opportunity to party.

She scrunched her nose, feeling the teasing coming from a mile away. ''I, uh, actually have other plans.''

''What do you mean you have other plans?'' The frowns on the guys' faces didn't do their obvious confusion justice. ''You're seriously saying no to a party with us?'' George was flabbergasted, he had known her for years and in all that time she had never refused.

''I am saying no this time.'' Y/N chuckled, their faces too funny not to laugh at.

''Even the girls are coming,'' Lando said, referring to their girlfriends, ''you can say no to us, but you surely can't say no to them.'' He tried convincing her, knowing about her soft spot for their girls.

Y/N loudly sighed, glancing away for a moment. ''I already told Lily I wasn't coming so that won't be a problem.''

''She didn't tell me that.'' Alex argued, almost offended by his girlfriend not informing him.

The young woman glimpsed at him, a smirk on her face. ''Well, there are many things she doesn't tell you that she tells me, Albono.'' She ended her sentence with a wink to the Williams driver.

Her comment had temporarily taken the focus off of her dismissal to party as the drivers laughed and poked some fun at Alex, but Charles wouldn't let her get away with it just yet. ''But what are those other plans you have, Y/N?''

''I just have better things to do, guys.'' She said, making an advance to leave the paddock and go home for the day.

''Like what?'' Max asked, puzzled by her vague answer.

''I don't know, my friend didn't say his name.'' She grinned from ear-to-ear, quickly waving them goodbye before they could stop her and tease her for going on a blind date with someone.

Y/N could hear the commotion they made as she walked away, secretly smiling to herself. ''I can't believe she's dumping us for some guy.'' She swore it was Lando who said it.

Walking into the driver's briefing the next day hadn't been like the usual days. Normally, she walked in, greeted everyone and sat down on a random chair. However this time, it went a little different.

Y/N walked into the room and greeted everyone, nothing out of the ordinary. But instead of a symphony of excited and dismissed greetings back, she was met with smirks and chuckles from her fellow drivers.

''What is it?'' She asked them, not sitting down before she had an answer.

Yet, they continued acting like teenagers and giggled amongst themselves, not giving her an explanation for their weird behaviour.

Daniel was the first one to have mercy on her and spoke up. ''You had fun last night?'' The raised eyebrow didn't go unnoticed, the Australian referring to her blind date from the night before that the other must have informed the entire grid about before she arrived.

''It was alright.'' She merely said, finally sitting down on the chair next to Lewis who didn't seem to be very invested as he typed something on his phone.

''Just alright? Cause it seems like you were busy.'' Lando continued the teasing, weirdly putting his hand on the side of his neck.

Y/N frowned at his action. ''I have no idea what you're talking about and stop acting like an idiot.'' She awkwardly chuckled, unnerved by everything.

''You're the only clueless idiot in the room right now, I'm afraid.'' George commented, smiling a bit too bright in her opinion.

''I'm totally confused.'' She let out, not hiding her confusion any longer.

Lewis scratched his voice, not taking his eyes off his phone. ''We can see the hickey on your neck.'' He revealed to her, matter-of-factly.

Y/N's eyes widened, immediately hiding her neck into her sweater while she could feel her head heating up due to embarrassment. ''I just walked past all the reporters- oh my god!'' She exclaimed, angry at herself for giving them any kind of news they could gossip about.

''I'm so happy it's not me this time.'' Lando laughed, victoriously throwing his hands in the air.

''You're the victim of the week, kiddo.'' Valtteri ruffled her hair, sitting on the chair behind her and his former teammate. She weakly smiled at him, mortified at what her team's press officer was going to say about this.

A figure taking the space on the other side of her brought the woman out of her thoughts, glancing beside her, she found Mick's comforting smile. ''Don't listen to them,'' he whispered, ''so, tell me about it! Is he a nice guy?'' Mick couldn't help but be curious, they have been good friends for years.

Y/N snorted, quickly covering her mouth. ''I don't know, there wasn't much talking, to be honest.''

''Okay, gross.''

taglist :: @i0veless @missskid @missthem @rosesintj @evans-dejong @thehistoryone @dreamycloudsworld @alonsogirlie @muushmeg @topguncultleader @the-great-adventures-of-me @love13tter @xcharlottemikaelsonx @kiwisa @starkwlkr @nora_moon @princesselle2111 @valluvsu @thatsadsmallchild @babyyoda89 @milkbreadforlife @fxllfaiiry @hc-dutch @its-ash-not-grey @princessbetsy123 @mehrmonga @nyenye @screechingtrashkid @ahnneyong @holybatflapexpert @itsnotgray @beautycinders @scuderialavender @rowansshit @uhhevie @revengze @nylaslife @majx00 @multi-universe21 @jaydensluv @isasalom @gentlemonsterjennie1 @appledashhh @breathinfive @lighttsoutlewis

@champomiel @ooooohmicky @koufaxx @flannelforthetoads @mysticfalls01 @ghostcorazon @mango-bear @totally-random-person @youkissedareaderinthedark @phoenix-luv @hamilton-mount @calcaneous @aurora-maria @idkiwantchocolatee @anonymous-platypus1

#f1 fic #f1 fics #f1 x reader #formula 1 fic #f1 x oc #female f1 driver #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #formula one fics #formula 1 fanfic

[myocsfanfictions]

THE WRATH OF FIRE

House of the Dragon Fanfiction

MASTERLIST

Princess Ysilla Targaryen is the only daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen and Lady Rhea Royce. The affection that she felt for her mother was strong, while her father had never been there, acting as if Ysilla was not even his. But she was. The dragon egg that had been put in her cradle hatched. An outcast of a dragon was born. A dragon with no legs. An outcast of a dragon for and an outcast of a dragon rider. Ysilla’s hair was dark but streaked with white. She was a Targaryen, and her wrath was not different from the one that burned inside the members of the House of the Dragon.

《 Previous - Next 》

CHAPTER 5

Ysilla missed her mother. She missed her every day since she had died.

The little princess had cried for days. She would run to her chamber, closing the door, not wanting to see anyone.

It didn't matter how many tears left her eyes. Ysilla would find no comfort. She wanted her mother. She wanted to break her fast with her, talk about her duty, and go riding together.

We had to go hawking, she thought, crying. Her head had been pounding for days. She could not understand how her mother, an expert rider, would fall from her horse.

Ysilla was now the heir to Runestone. But she was too young, so her uncle Gerold was holding everything together. He had the castle organize the late Lady Rhea's funeral.

"The Lady Jeyne is the next in line until Princess Ysilla is old enough," Ysilla heard her uncle Gerold Royce saying one morning in the tower of the Maester of Runestone as she was supposed to go to study with him. Ysilla had been early because she felt like not eating.

"We have to alert the King about the accident first, my lord," Ysilla stood quietly behind the door.

"You know, well, it was not an accident," her uncle's words made her frown, pushing herself closer against the wooden door to try not to let anything that they were saying go unheard.

"It is a dangerous accusation, the one you're making, my lord."

What accusation? Ysilla was so confused.

"Rhea would have never fallen from her horse. It was him, I'm sure of it," her uncle said, his voice full of rage. She felt that rage as if it was meant for her, but it wasn't.

What were they saying? That someone had killed her mother? Who were they talking about?

Ysilla felt her lip quiver, feeling the tears in her eyes. How could someone have wanted to kill her lady mother?

"Have the informers come back yet?" Her uncle asked again. The Maester took a heavy breath.

"Some, my lord." the old man spoke, "There had been no sign of Caraxes so far."

Ysilla gasped, covering her mouth. Her hand was trembling against her face. They were accusing her father.

"It was him," her uncle said, slamming his fist to the table. The sound made her shiver, "There's no mistake in that."

"My lord..."

"Princess Rhaenyra was in search of a husband. It is such a coincidence that Daemon is now widowed."

Rhaenyra? What was with Rhaenyra? Did her father want Rhaenyra?

He loves his ambition. Her mother's voice was so loud in her head. Louder than it had ever been.

But that had to be a mistake. Her father would have never killed her mother. He was a warrior, a prince. In the songs, princes always save the lady. They would have never hurt them. And her father was a Targaryen, the noblest of the Houses of Westeros. He could not be that vile.

Such a vile act, Otto Hightower had said.

Ysilla felt her breath become heavier. The walls around her seemed to become narrower. She felt like she was in a trap—in a nightmare. It must have been a nightmare. In a few moments, she would have woken up, and on the morrow, she would have spoken about this bad dream with her mother.

But why wasn't she waking up? It had been seven days, and she was still trapped inside that nightmare.

So it isn't... Ysilla knew that it wasn't, but at that moment, she never wished it was.

"I can't stay here..." she muttered before turning to run toward the only place she felt safe: to her dragon.

Her feet moved quick, and her cheeks were wet with tears. It was not possible that her mother had been killed. It was not possible that it had been her father. It was not possible he had done it to wed Rhaenyra.

"My lady," the Maester from King's Landing bowed his head as she arrived to where they kept her dragon. But Ysilla ignored him; she ran to her dragon, dropping to her knees. Her arms circled his slander, long neck.

He had been growing, and now he had become too heavy for her to pick him up. And she was glad. She felt so protected when she felt the warmth of his scales, and she wept when she felt his head lying on her shoulder.

"Iksan sīr mundagon," she wailed. Her dragon made a quiet sound. (I'm so sad) "Vestrasis sīr naenie ra. Se nyke ȳdra daor gīmigon skoros naejot pāsagon." (They say so many things. And I don't know what to believe.)

Her dragon moved his dark wings, growling. The movement made her move back a little, and in that position, their eyes met. They had both purple eyes, and he was staring. Sounds kept coming out of his mouth.

This is strange, she thought. He was a quiet, gentle dragon, yet he was acting restless and angry, like he had that day, the day her mother had died.

"You know something..." Ysilla muttered. Their eyes never leaving each other. She could feel it. It was like she could understand him.

"Dārilaros..." Ysilla had almost forgotten about him. The Maester was there. As he had been there that day. And he had been acting rather queer. (Princess)

"Iksin konīr iā zaldrīzes bona tubis?" She spoke to him, but she kept looking at her dragon, who suddenly stopped his movements. (Was there a dragon that day?)

"Skoros, dārilaros?" The Maester asked, his voice trembling. (What, princess?)

That question made her angry. Could he not remember the dark day in which Runestone lost its Lady?

Ysilla turned as her dragon roared. The man's face got pale.

"Dragons sense other dragons. You've told me so." Ysilla's tone was flat, but her dragon roared again: "So I'm asking you again: iksin konīr iā zaldrīzes bona tubis?" (Was there a dragon that day?)

But it was when the Maester lowered his gaze that Ysilla knew. And her dragon roared louder.

Ysilla wanted to cry, yet rage was all she could feel. She desperately wanted to believe that it was not true. But her mother had told her that her father loathed her.

To such a point? She asked herself, sadly knowing the answer.

He had taken her away from Runestone and Ysilla. Her mother was the only family she had ever had.

"I've chosen my dragon's name," she said, standing up. The Maester looked back at her. "His name shall be Dārysyr."

The man widened his eyes, "Wrath of fire."

Dārysyr breathed out fire, his flames of a dark red with shades of purple.

There was no way that they could proof of her father's deeds, but they all knew.

The following weeks had been strange. Ysilla's feelings were much different from before. She had never felt like that. But at the same time, everything seemed more clear now, as if she had finally woken from a dream much longer than the one she believed had trapped her.

"I do not wish to sing," she has said one morning to her septa.

"This is your duty, Ysilla. Your mother-"

"My mother is dead!" She exclaimed, standing up, "I wish to do more than singing."

The woman's expression was sad, but she spoke anyway: "What would you wish to do, princess?"

Ysilla observed the woman for a moment before answering, "I want to learn."

"Learn what?"

"Everything," she said in a hiss.

She wanted to learn and understand politics. She wanted to learn what her father had done and why? She wanted to learn about ambition. And she wanted to learn how to see through people.

She wanted to learn.

That very day, a raven arrived when Ysilla was training with Dārysyr. She observed him with pride as she noticed how he was learning how to move more swiftly. His wings were becoming much stronger, and his body was learning how to slide with ease on the ground. He was becoming more gracious yet powerful.

"Ysilla," her uncle's voice came from behind her as she observed her dragon, who was ready to feed on a goat.

"Darysyr," she said, raising her dragon's head higher. "Dracarys." His throat glowed a bright red before his flames hit the goat.

"Ysilla." Her uncle called again.

"I've heard you the first time, Uncle," she said before turning to look at the man. His eyes lingered on Darysyr feeding, but after a moment, they went back to his niece.

"A letter from the King," Ysilla nodded, wanting to know more. Princess Rhaenyra is about to wed."

Ysilla's eyes narrowed as her dragon growled from behind her.

"Who?" She asked, surprising her uncle.

"Leanor Velaryon, niece," She felt like breathing a little. So, Rhaenyra was not to be wed to her father. Then if they didn't, maybe her father wasn't the reason behind her mother's death.

But Darysyr had sensed another dragon. The Maester said so. What Targaryen could have gone to Runestone the same day her mother died.

It was useless to deny it. Ysilla knew she had to stop trying.

The Princess Rhaenyra was in search of a husband, her uncle had said. If her father had killed her mother to wed Rhaenyra, then Rhaenyra was about to become Leanor Velaryon's wife. If all that was true, then her mother had lost her life for nothing.

"So?" Ysilla asked, trying to control her eyes to fill themselves with tears.

"We are to attend the wedding." The girl observed her uncle for a moment in silence. She did not wish to go, and she did not want to face all those gazes alone.

Be proud, Ysilla. Her mother would have said. Lady Rhea had always wished for her to be resilient. To not be afraid. She was now the heir to Runestone; she could not be afraid even if she was.

"Will he be there?" She asked, clenching her hands so as not to show that they were trembling.

Her uncle's face got darker. Ysilla did not need to hear any words. She knew the answer.

"So be it, then."

The journey to King's Landing had been different from the last one she had made. It had been only seven months before, and yet everything was different. Her gown was black, and her hair was loose as she stood on the deck of the ship. The only thing that could make her smile was the sight of Dārysyr flying around the ship.

Ysilla had been there the first time her dragon had taken flight. It had been scary because he had let himself fall from the balcony of the chamber where he was held. Ysilla had thought he was leaving her, too, but he didn't.

"He does not have legs to push himself off the ground. But during a fall, it is easier for him to fly."

Dārysyr was reckless. But he was always by her side. Ysilla knew that.

"I miss your laughter, sweet niece." She heard her uncle say from next to her.

"I do not have the strength, uncle," his hand rested on her shoulder. His expression was also pained.

"I do not want to force you. The loss you've suffered is great." Ysilla's eyes remained on her dragon, and she found strength in that sight.

They arrived the morning of the wedding. This time, Ser Westerling was on the deck escorting them to the Red Keep. His expression was grave as he greeted Ysilla. She had hoped to get used to that feeling, but she didn't. Seeing how people looked at her constantly reminded her of what had happened—how it happened.

As she arrived, the castle was busy. The future Queen was about to be wed; it was an important day. As the King had been busy, in fact, as she entered the chambers that had been assigned her, the servant girl apologized on behalf of her uncle.

"He said he can't wait to see you at the feast, princess," Ysilla nodded her head, thanking the girl before asking to be left alone.

The walk she had made in the hallows of the Red Keep had been stressful. Not just because of the stares but because Ysilla was the one looking around. Hoping and fearing to catch Targaryens' silver hair of a man whose face had been nothing but a dream until it became a nightmare.

As the sun started his journey to disappear behind the horizon, the servant girls entered her chambers to help Ysilla dress. She decided to wear her mother's favorite dress on her. A pale blue silk gown with runes embroidered in silver. On her head, a silver hairband. Ysilla touched her streaked hair as she looked at herself in the mirror.

"You are so pretty, princess," Ysilla only forced a smile.

The goat daughter, she remembered. Nobody had ever called her beautiful.

She arrived in the hall. It had been richly adorned, and there were many tables for all the noble families of the realm who could attend.

"Princess Ysilla Targaryen, heir to Runestone," her name was yelled as she entered the hall, as was her costume. All the noble Houses had to be announced.

Ysilla walked through the hall, ignoring the gazes upon her. But her eyes were on the table in front of her, where the King and his heir were set. She noticed that the Queen was not there, and the same was true for her father. No other silver hair was set at that table.

She almost felt disappointed.

"My King," she said, bowing in front of her uncle.

"Welcome, dear niece." Ysilla's lips moved up in an unsure smile before she turned to Rhaenyra.

"I am so sorry for your loss, Ysilla," She said with sad eyes, and Ysilla felt guilty. Guilty because she had felt anger towards her cousin. Because deep down she had blamed her as well. But only now did she realize that Rhaenyra had no part in what had happened. It was not fair to blame her for something she had no power over.

"Lady Rhea will be missed by all of us," the King added.

"Thank you for your kind words," Ysilla answered politely, then she looked at Rhaenyra, "Congratulations, my princess, for this happy day and more to come," the septa had taught her what was proper to say.

"Thank you, dear cousin," Rhaenyra answered. I've heard that your dragon is flying now."

The King smiled, "What a lovely news."

Ysilla nodded her head, thinking about her dragon, which had been sent to the Dragonpit until they had to depart.

"He has a name now," Ysilla said. The two of them looked at her curiously, "Dārysyr." The King's smile dropped, but Ysilla bowed one more time before heading towards the table to sit next to her uncle Gerold.

One by one, all the Houses congratulated Rhaenyra, wishing her and her betrothed for better days to come. But her betrothed was not there yet. He arrived sometime after with his whole family.

"House Velaryon," was announced, and all of them stood up to greet the future Prince Consort. Ysilla had never met the Valeryon, but she knew that her aunt, Princess Rhaenys, was the wife of Lord Corlys Velaryion, and from their union, Laena and Laenor were born. She knew that her cousin Laenor was even a dragonrider. If she recalled correctly, his dragon was called Seasmoke.

The Velaryon walked proudly. Heads high up. They were already the richest House of the Seven Kingdoms, and now their position had been elevated.

Ysilla had never stopped studying, never once. Her Maester had been proud of her.

But it was when the Velaryon had finally sat on the main table that Ysilla's breath stuck in her throat. As everyone was sitting, he appeared at the entrance. He wore a black vest with red sleeves and walked confidently. His hair was short and shining silver, and he had a smirk on his face.

Ysilla had never seen him before, but she knew. That was her father, Daemon Targaryen.

He was exactly like she had imagined him—tall and handsome with the demeanor and grace of a warrior. Just some weeks before, she would have swelled with pride at seeing what her father looked like. But now she felt very different emotions. And she wasn't the only one. The King was looking at his brother strangely, with a hidden anger. But anyhow, he gestured for a servant to bring another chair to add to their table so that Daemon could sit.

As everyone sat down, Ysilla didn't. She was standing, her purple eyes never leaving her father. The King had noticed her standing, and soon after, even Ysilla's father looked in her direction. The child flushed with uneasiness as that man looked in her direction. His eyes were on her hair first, and that was enough to give away who she was. Yet he was not surprised; his eyes didn't widen. He only laughed.

Her father had just seen her, and he was laughing. Her cheeks flushed. She felt ashamed and mocked. Her eyes stung, but she would not have cried. He had never seen her. He would not remember a crying little girl.

It took her uncle Gerold to make her sit. But until that moment, she had held her father's gaze. Trembling, but she did.

"Be welcome," the King started to talk after a moment of awkward silence.

"Are you alright?" her uncle whispered, and Ysilla nodded her head. But her eyes kept glancing at her father.

She had imagined it to be much different, their first encounter. She thought he would have walked to her and kneeled in front of her.

"You've grown up so much," he should have said, kissing her hair gently as he promised to stay with her.

But he did none of that. He just laughed.

"Tonight it's only the beginning," the King kept saying, "We honor the crown's oldest and fiercest ally, House Velaryon." Ysilla kept observing her father, "Reaching back to the days of Old Valyria and the Age of Dragons." And she saw it. Her father was looking at Rhaenyra. He was ignoring his own daughter, but he was looking at his niece. And for a moment, for only a moment, her father and Rhaenyra shared a look. But Ysilla had seen it.

She felt like trembling, but not because of fear or shame. Anger found its way into Ysilla's heart once again.

"With House Targaryen and..." the King's words stopped abruptly as he observed the entrance, forcing everyone to do the same.

Ysilla found herself doing the same.

The whole Hall fell silent as the Queen made her way towards the table. Everyone's eyes were wide, even her uncle Gerold's.

Ysilla did not understand; what she saw was that the queen was beautiful. Confidently wearing a shining green gown.

"The King will not be happy," a tall man said to a skew one not far from where Ysilla was. "Right in the midst of his speech."

The skew man spoke next, "The beacon on the Hightower, do you know what color it glows when Oldtown calls the banners to war?"

"Green." the other answered back, and that made Ysilla turn.

War? War against who?

For a small moment, she found herself hoping that that person was Daemon Targaryen.

That anger only kept growing during the feast. Her belly was so torn that she had no wish to eat. Her eyes were on her Father, but he had no slight interest in her. He followed Rhaenyra's frame wherever she went. As she ate, as she danced...

"He is vile," she said as she observed him. Her uncle Gerold looked down at her. She could feel his eyes, but it was only when he took her hand that she finally looked away from her father.

"What is going on?" she asked as he brought her closer to the main table. Ysilla didn't know how to feel. A part of her wanted to face her father proudly like her mother had taught her. But the other part wanted to forget that she had ever seen him. She liked the father in her dreams better. She wanted to remember him like that. But she knew too much now, and so even her dreams had faded away.

"In the Vale, men are made to answer for their crimes. Even Targaryens." Her uncle's determination was admirable, but his words were dangerous. Too dangerous without prooves.

"Who are you?" It was the first time Ysilla had heard her father talk, and his tone was sly and mocking in some way. And that made her step forward.

"He is Ser Gerold Royce of Runestone," her father's eyes moved to her. With cold eyes and the same tone, he said, "And?"

Ysilla felt her heart beat fast, and her eyes filled with tears.

I will not cry. I will not cry, she repeated to herself. Feeling the Queen and the King's gaze on her.

"And I am Ysilla Targaryen," she said, trying to sound strong, "Daughter to the late Lady Rhea."

"Ah, yes," her father answered as if he had just remembered a distant memory—a not-so-important memory. "Terrible thing."

Lier, she thought observing the man.

"Such a tragic accident," he kept lying. She knew he was lying.

"You know better than anyone; it was no accident," her uncle Gerold said, putting a protective hand on Ysilla's shoulder.

"Are you confessing something, Ser Gerold?" How could he lie like that? Wasn't he feeling anything after what he had done? If not for himself, for her. His action had left his daughter motherless. He really cared so little to have killed Lady Rhea.

"I'm making an accusation," Ysilla looked up at her uncle, wishing for him to stop. She could not bear the thought of someone else in her family being killed.

"You know, in King's Landing, men are made to answer for their slanders. Even old bronze cunts like you."

"Ȳdra daor ȳdragon naejot zirȳla hae bona!" She exclaimed. Her father laughed again as his eyes met hers; his gaze lingered on her hair for a moment. (Do not speak to him like that)

"Truth is, I'm glad you've come," her father said again, looking up at Sergeant Gerold. I wished to speak about my inheritance."

Ysilla frowned, looking at the King and the Queen. They were listening to everything.

"What inheritance?" her uncle Gerold already knew the answer, though. As did Ysilla.

"I am the heir to Runestone," she exclaimed.

"Lady Rhea and I have only one daughter, and she is too young to rule. Has her husband. As we wait for her to become old enough, everything that Lady Rhea had now passes to me."

"You cannot do that!" Ysilla said, stepping forward.

"Ao vēdros runestone. Ao hated ñuha muña. Ao vēdros nyke. Ao daor emagon runestone. Issa daor aōhon!" She would have never let her father put his hands on a place he hated. He had killed her mother and her Lady, and it was Ysilla's duty to protect her mother's memory and possessions even from her own father. (You hate Runestone. You hated my mother. You hated me. You cannot have Runestone. It's not yours!)

Her father leaned over. It was as if he was trying to show her that he was stronger and scarier. And he was. She was terrified by him, but she would not have let it show. "Se qilōni gaomagon ao pendagon iksā?" He asked with a hint of irritation in his voice. (And who do you think you are?)

"Iksan Ysilla Targārien se iksan daor iā hubre" (I am Ysilla Targaryen and I am not a goat)

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