#he looks like my cousin when he was little

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

When They Call You Clingy So You Distance Yourself PT. 3 | Hyungline

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Suicide

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BANGCHAN|

You ran your fingers through your hair as you walked up to your front door.

The past week had already been stressful enough. After arriving at the airport, you realized that somewhere between you getting off the plane and getting to your parents' car your phone had fallen out of your pocket. You had to attend a funeral, your flight home had been pushed back by a day, and you still had a shit ton to do before you moved. Not to mention it ate at you the entire week that you were gone all you could think about was the argument you and Chris had.

Overall you felt absolutely shitty and you just wanted to crash.

You unlocked your door and slipped your shoes off and walked into the kitchen and set your purse down. You had left your luggage in the foyer, and were contemplating how nasty it would be just to leave your things in there until you unpacked at your new place.

You made your way into your room and flicked on your light and gave out a quiet yelp when you noticed someone in your bed.

Your heart slowed slightly when you realized that it was Christopher in your bed, hugging the bear he bought you in Europe when he was on tour.

He was curled in a fetal position, and knowing his nature, you knew he must have been staying in your room the entire week you were gone.

Your heartbeat sped up as you walked over to him, knowing what confrontation awaited.

He whimpered quietly in his sleep. Sadly.

"Christopher." You whispered, shaking his shoulder slightly. He whimpered again and you could swear you heard him say your name.

He must be having a nightmare.

"Baby." You said shaking him awake, harder this time.

Chris startled awake and looked at you. He stared for a moment as if you weren't real.

"Y-Y/N?" He asked quietly.

"Hey-"

His chest collided with yours as he pulled you into an embrace, and you immediately felt his tears wet your shoulder.

"I-I'm s-sorry b-babe. I didn't m-mean any of it- I didn't pl-please d-don't l-leave me. I'll do any-anything. I'll qui-quit wo-working so I won-won't be stressed an-anymore. A-Anything I-I mean it-"

"Love, shhh. I'm not leaving you." You said as you stroked his hair. It felt gross, and he smelled a little stale, and he looked worn out overall. You could tell that he probably hadn't moved much all this week.

"Did you really stay in my bed waiting for me to come back?" You asked quietly. He let out a whine into your shoulder refusing to let you go.

"Chris, I promise I'm not leaving you."

"But the boxes..."

You chuckled and stroked his hair again. "I'm moving, yes. But not away from you. The neighborhood I live in isn't the safest, and I figured you would like it better if I moved closer to the dorms, so you didn't have to travel as far in the opposite direction of your home." Chris still held onto you, and you could feel the downturn of his lips pressed into your shoulder like a soft kiss.

"You didn't answer my calls...I thought you broke up with me..."

You sighed and pushed him away from you slightly and you could see his heart sink a little until you kissed the edge of his lips, his slight stubble exfoliating your own.

"While I will admit, what you said wasn't very kind of you...I know that isn't you." You murmured, caressing his cheek. His brown eyes were wide and sad but filled with hope. "I understand you were stressed, and I understand I can be clingy at times, but that's only because I have so much love and affection for you, I have to get it out in a physical way. Or else I might actually explode." You giggle as you pinch his cheek.

His eyes widen slightly, and he opens his mouth to speak but you press your finger to his lips.

"Let me finish. I didn't answer your calls because I lost my phone at the airport when I went home. My cousin's spouse took her life so I went to go attend the funeral. I wasn't informed until a few days before, so I went to the studio to tell you I was leaving." You let out a breath. "I also wanted to ask you while I was there is you could help me finish packing since I have to be moved out in two days."

Chris looked at you. "I'm sorry for your loss, baby. I'm also so-"

"Shhhhhh." You said placing a quick yet super soft kiss on his lips. "Thank you for your condolences. But don't apologize for snapping at me Chris. I already forgave you the minute you did it."

His bottom lip trembled, and he started to cry, little hiccups coming through as he still apologized, even though you knew he meant it when you said he didn't. He repeatedly apologized.

"You're too good for me." He said once he calmed down, his quiet sniffles and hiccups infrequent.

"And you're too handsome for me." You said as you kissed the tip of his nose.

"You're beautiful though. Way more than me." He said staring holes into you. "When we get married and have kids I want them to look exactly like you."

You laughed and shook your head. "They need your smile though, which I have yet seen you give since I arrived." Your voice held mock sternness as you tried to look serious but ended up letting out a loud chuckle.

He was finally able to give you and actual smile, and his adorable little giggle finally peeked through. You poked your pinkie in his dimple and he giggled again.

You ruffled his hair once and then made a face.

"You need to go shower, love." You said your nose wrinkling.

He pouted and wrapped his hands around you, laying his head on your stomach. "Mmmm, just a couple more minutes. Let me hold you."

You sighed, a smile on your face as you looked down at the boy you knew you would spend the rest of your life with. You scratched his head affectionately.

"Who is the clingy one now?"

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MINHO|

"Y/N!" Minho had been running around for almost an hour. His voice was hoarse and the wind was biting at him through his coat as he ran. Knowing your stubborn ass you had probably only left the hotel in a thin jacket, with one or two layers at most.

He took a second to catch his breath and looked around. "Y/N!"

He was about to start off in a different direction when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

"Did you find her?" Minho asked when he picked up a call from Jisung. All the members of both Stray Kids and TWICE were loking for you.

"Sort of? She asked me to go pick her up from in front of the Louvre - she said she lost track of time but she's too scared to-"

Minho started running again. "Thank you! I'll call you when I have her-" He hung up and felt his legs move faster than he thought was humanly possible.

Please God...Universe...whoever please just please let her be okay.

He arrived and he looked around for you. When he didn't see you he started to panick until he noticed your figure swamped in one oh is hoodies hunched over on a bench dozing off.

"Y/N!"

You perked your head up and saw your boyfriend running towards you, his long coat nearly flying off his shoulders.

He stopped in front of you and you braced yourself for him to start yelling at you after he caught his breath.

But instead of yelling at you his pants turned into desperate weeps.

"Minho-"

He fell down on his knees and you quickly joined him on the gorund.

"You-you scared me I tho-thought..." He couldn't even look at you.

"I'm sorry Minho, I didn't mean to...I..." Your voice was wobbly. You hadn't ever seen Minho cry before in the entire time you had been together. You didn't know how to comfort him, or what to say to get his cries to stop.

It made you want to cry how vulnerable he sounded. How weak and broken.

"Its not safe here. Anywhere. Thats why I was so scared." He whispered looking up at you, his eyes rimmed red. "One of the girls said they couldn't find you and I panicked. I've been running around for almost three hours."

You felt a pang of guilt strike you in your heart.

"I-I'm so-sorry..." You began to tear up as the pain of being mad at Minho seemed to hit you like a ton of bricks. You missed your boyfriend. "I'm sorry for being clingy too. I thought you wanted to be alone so I hung out with the girls...but I felt like maybe they'd think I was clingy too so I thought I would just spend today alone-"

"Y/N stop. First off the girls will never and I mean never find you clingy." He wiped his face and chuckled, a small smile forming on his face. "We were in a meeting last week and they were playing rock paper scissors over who gets to marry you. I told them that you were mine and Tzuyu said 'did you guys hear something?'"

He licked his lips and took a breath. "Secondly you don't need to apologize, Jagiya...all of this...this was my fault. I shouldn't have called you clingy. Because your clinginess...its something I love. Adore even. You know how to respect boundaries when needed as well. But it's obvious I have work to do on that, because I crossed a line I never should have crossed. So I am so, so, sorry Y/N. I'm sorry that I can't manage my frustrations in a way that won't hurt you. And I'm sorry that I'm horrible at communicating. I'm sorry that I say things that never should come out of my mouth."

You look at your boyfriend and the sincerity in the words his is saying. You swallow as he continues.

"I'm sorry that I cause more trouble than it's worth sometimes. That I make things a little more stressful than they need to be as well. I'm sorry that I can't express my love in the way you need either." He takes a shaky breath and he looks at you; your hear thumping in your chest at his apology.

"I love you. I love you. So much, Y/N. But I struggle to express that love and affection properly...which isn't fair to you." He lets go of your hand and you instinctively reach out for the warmth of it again. He lifts up one of his knees from the ground.

"So please be patient with me. Be patient with me so you understand the depth of my love for you. It is going to take a long time...if I had to guess..."

He pulled out a navy blue velvet box from his coat pocket. You watched as he opened it and a dainty but elegant ring was placed in there.

"It will the take the rest of my life to be able to show you." His voice trailed off and he trailed his eyes up to yours as he waited for you to say something...anything.

"I love you Y/N L/N."

You shook your head. Minho felt his heart start to shatter until you giggled and wiped away your tears.

"You idiot, it's Lee. Not L/N. Lee." You held your hand out and Minho slid the ring on your finger, his own trembling.

"I'm sorry I ruined your elaborate proposal."

Minho cocked his head as he helped you up, pulling you as close as humanly possible to his side so he could wrap you up in his coat as well.

"How did you know about that?"

"Jisung told me when I called him earlier..."

Minho chuckled as you guys walked along.

"Thats why we should probably wait to tell him about our engagement." You admired your ring with a bright smile.

Minho shook his head. "I'm gonna tell him when we get back. Because I want the world to know."

You looked at each other and immediately bursted out laughing because you both had the same thought.

"And that will be the quickest way for them to know."

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CHANGBIN|

Changbin had sped past three red lights to get here.

He would not lose you. He couldn't. The past couple of weeks had been grueling for him.

Your presence was something he was missing in his life. And that furthermore showed him how much he needed you.

How desperate he was to keep you.

He pulled into the lot illegally and ran into the small coffee shop. All the memories he had with you flooded his mind, since this was you and his favorite coffee shop. He had just been so busy that you guys never had time to come here anymore. It was more than half an hour away from your house and his dorm. And even further from the studio.

He scanned the small area and almost immediately pinpointed you with another person. A guy.

He was in a nice outfit as well. Very clean and put together. Lean and tall.

He watched as you both got up and hugged each other and watched as you smiled brightly at the guy and laughed at something he said.

"Alright I'll see you Wednes-"

"No! You will not see her Wednesday!" Changbin said as he pulled you from the guys embrace. "Listen, I don't know who you think you are but I'm her boyfriend! And she hasn't properly broken up with me yet so you can't have her! And if even if she did I wouldn't allow it!" He stared the guy down. Or rather up.

Damn he's even taller than he looked.

"Y/N-ie did you not tell-"

"I'm the only one who can call her that! Well...me and the guys but you're not the guys so you can't." Changbin mumbled angrily like a frustrated toddler.

"Changbin! Quit being such a fucking dumbass!" You said smacking him above the head lightly. You turn to guy and apologize profusely. "I'm sorry, Bin is a little...possessive." A nervous laugh escaped you. "Like a Chihuahua...but not the kind quiet sweet ones more like the ones who have a bark bigger than themselves." You said looking at your boyfriend with frustration in the lines of your face.

He looked down as you apologized to the guy once more.

"It's okay Y/N-ie...I think this is a memorable meeting. I'll definetly bring it up in my speech when you guys get married." He laughed. "I'm Justin Kim. Y/N's brother in law." He held his hand out and Changbin looked between the two of you. Justin had a smile on his face while you were looking at Changbin with annoyance.

"Ah! I'm so sorry...uh..."

"I think I'm older than you but I didn't grow up using honorifics so you can just call me Justin."

Changbin bowed and apologized, but held his hand out to shake.

"My wife and I are moving here settling down here soon. She's back home but will be be here next week with the last of our things. She was stationed here for a little bit when she was in the military and loved it and since her only sister found love here and doesn't have much time to come see her since she's dating an idol she thought it would be nice to move here. I agreed since it is beautiful, and this where our family is." He motioned his head towards you.

"Although she might be a little upset that I met you before she did. Especially since she'll be entrusting you too take care of her little sister...although I feel like its more so because she's quite a big fan of you guys. Ever since Y/N-ie said she was dating an idol she's been keeping up with culture and your band, so she can better understand."

Justin smiled and looked over at you. "I'll uh...let you guys talk though. Y/N-ie I'll have your sister call you when I get home. She might be a little flippy floppy though because she went through the stock of pregnancy cravings I bought her." He hugged you one last time and pulled Changbin into a hug as well before walking off.

"Changbin are you really that idiotic?" You looked at your boyfriend and he tried to sputter out a response, but you interrupted him befroe he could form coherent words. "I think you are, I fear." You let out a defeated sigh as you slunk back into your chair. You looked tired.

"Jiwon, can you grab me my usual. And do you remember Binnie's?" Changbin turned to see a barista nod at you and start to prepare your order. He sat down across from you and quickly realized that he was mistaken about a lot of things.

"Binnie I would never break up with you. I may break your head open because sometimes my God I want to slap you upside it so hard, but I would never break your heart." The sigh you let out was deafening. "If you were so jealous about me talking and hanging out with Minho so much why didn't you tell me? You really think flirting with a barista to make me jealous is a good idea, babe? Really?" Jiwon placed two drinks in front of you guys. "Chan told me. I think he spotted it pretty quickly, and noticed how you were turning down her advances when I wasn't around. Also rather rudely too apparently - because Seo Changbin what do mean to tell me when Chris said you made a gagging noise at the poor girl!"

Changbin's eyes widened and his lip popped out in a small pout. "I'm sorry Y/N."

"It's okay Binnie. But there isn't a need to be jealous baby. I'm not leaving you for Minho, he's just an extremely close friend. I'm not leaving you for anyone else period. And I'm sure as hell not going on any dates. I had to dress nicely because we were doing a photoshoot." You gestured to the cafe you guys were currently sitting in. "Justin and I are going to be co-owners.I thought it would nice to have a location closer to where we live so we can go more often, and that one little restaurant closed down so I thought it would be a good oppurtunity." A soft smile painted your face. "And it's partially selfish reasons...I can't help but think of us when I think of this place."

Changbin's heart swelled with affection. So much affection that it hurt him.

"So while I have been upset with you for the past three weeks I'm over it Binnie. I miss you so much." Changbin got up and moved next to you.

"You mean it?"

You chuckled and placed a kiss on his lips. "100%." You said connecting them again, a little bit more passionately, but pulling back when you felt a mass amount of messages come through your phone, and then it immediately started ringing. Changbin pouted as he stared at your lips as they turned into a nervous grin.

"Although...you might have a shit show in store when it comes to my older sister."

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HYUNJIN|

You sat with Hyunjin the couch as you two watched your favorite series together. Today was your year long anniversary. You had been in bright spirits for the occasion as you guys went out and did things together

Hyunjin slowly ran his long fingers through your hair, and he felt you slowly dozing off.

"Baby..." Hyunjin whsipered, "Are you sleepy?"

"Hmm, just a little..."

"Can we talk?" Hyunjin paused the show, not giving you a choice.

You sat up and you felt your heart thump in your chest.

"Yeah we need to."

Hyunjin nodded. "You go first."

"No you"

You both spoke at the same time.

"Marry me-"

"We should break up-"

You looked at Hyunjin dumbfounded and he looked at you with utter digust.

"First off... that is utterly disgusting that you would even consider breaking up with me? What are you some sadist? Deriving pleasure from my pain and humiliation?" He said putting a hand to his chest dramtically.

You looked at him with wide eyes. "W-Well are you some sort of crazy person?! What the hell do you mean marry me?!"

Hyunjin pouted. "Well you can call me crazy all you want I'm being serious." He ran a hand through his brown bangs. "We've been together a year. And I know I want to be with you for the rest of my life. And I know for a fact you do because how the heck could you not want to marry me? I mean we'll quite literally be the most beautiful couple God has ever put on this earth." He said rolling his eyes in a joking manner.

You didn't see amused, rather your lip was shaking slightly and your eyes watering.

Hyunjin bit his cheek and pulled out a little ring from his pocket.

"It's a little cliche, I know. And some will probably say too soon. But I know what I want." He said quietly.

He took a breath and spoke slowly, switching to his native language.

"Cling to me Y/N. For the rest of your life. Ask me how you look. Let my eyes cling to you when I admire you. Let my words cling to you when I say just how beautiful you are. Cling yourself to me every night before we fall asleep, and let me cling to you every morning when we wake up. Let yourself cling onto me when you feel like you aren't enough, and let me cling onto you so I can show the world that you are enough-that you are more than enough; and you will always be more than enough. Let me cling to you in the times where I feel you need reassurance, and I'll let you cling to me the times where you feel like I'm not sufficient enough. We may not be perfect but Y/N no couple is. I don't care what people think about us. We can be perfectly imperfect together. I'll let you cling to me so those hateful words have no room to stick. I'll let you cling to me so everyone around us knows that I am not me without you. That you're the one who completes me. Cling to me so tightly that if God forbid you ever leave you would take everything of me with so no one else so that no one else could ever cling to me. Because I won't let anyone else do that. No matter how much they claim to know what is best for me, they don't. Because if they did they would know that its you. And it will always be you. Thats why I'm so sure of this."

He slid the ring on your finger, as you watched him admire it on your hands. He didn't look up as he murmured quietly.

"Cling to me Y/N...I'm begging you."

You looked at Hyunjin and felt a few tears fall onto your hand as he held it with both of his own.

"You...you knew?"

Hyunjin shook his head. "Not when I said what I said. But Y/N I swear I didn't mean it in a mean way." He looked up at you helplessly. "In retrospect now I realize they meant it in a vicious way but...I genuinely thought that clinginess was a good thing. Isn't that how it's supposed to be when you love someone? Aren't you supposed to want to be with them?"

His brown eyes searched your face. "Because that's how it is for me. How it will always be. I don't want it to be any other way."

You felt your eyes prick up with tears.

"Did you really mean it when you said you want to break up?" He whimpered.

You shook your head aggressively. "No, Hyunjin no- I was just feeling insecure. I see how everyone reacts at us and sometimes I feel like I'll never be accepted as being your girlfriend."

"Fiancée." He corrected. "If they won't accept you as my girlfriend then I'll make them accept you as my fiancée. And if they want to be asses after that than tough luck because if anyone dares to not accept you as my wife than I'll find a way to deal with them." He said in complete seriousness.

You couldn't help but laugh as you moved your hands to cup Hyunjin's cheeks.

"Hyunjin I haven't said yes." You said quietly.

He gives you a determined look. "But you will say yes..."

He waited patiently for you to say yes.

"Jagiya. Three letter. Y-E-S. You just have to move your mouth to say it." He said stubbornly.

You shook your head.

"I'm not going to say yes Hyunjin."

His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to protest but instead you kissed him lightly, resting your forehead against his own.

"You won't say yes?" He whined.

"Nope."

"Why not...do you not want to say yes? Can you give me a straight answer Jagiya? Because I won't accept it until you say no. Until then I'll assume you are just being stubborn."

You smiled as your eyes met. Hyunjin looked at you waiting for you're answer. Which was so much more than a yes.

"I'll cling to you Hyunjin. Always. As long as you promise to do the same."

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@hardladytale @yaorzu-blog @viola-celine @jiminssluttyminx @pearl-monkeys @wave2ivy @keshet2k @dreammix88 @mysticalhumano @hannahlolo @periodpoops @m1rroh @seungmyynie @beebee18 @theodorenottgf @qrstarz @xocandyy @stay-tiny-things @vixensss @bo-fairykim @conwunder @parisanmorovati @lovesunshinefelix @hyunjins-dimples @ka0ila @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @chuuyaobsessed @dollschan @katexstay @lisunny2 @abovenyx @adrisiwiris @dontwannaexist @minsungsthirdwheel @ray0magdalene @maaayytyroshka @ddiidi

(if I missed you I'm so so sorry <3)

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Jenni's Version): Future II

Grace Clinton x Reader

Alexia Putellas x Daughter!Reader

Summary: Your children meet Alexia

"Mama!" Jaume complains," Leave my hair alone!"

Alexia stifles her laugh as Olga continues to rake her fingers through Jaume's hair. It had been a long fight between them about the length for years now.

Jaume liked it a bit longer while Olga preferred it to be clipped a bit shorter so it would stop falling into his eyes when he walked.

"I'm just making it neat."

"It's fine!"

Alexia sighs. "Can we go in now? The others are waiting."

It's a monthly tradition to meet up at Alexia's Mama's house with the rest of the extended family. This argument happened every time they pulled up.

Olga frowns at Jaume as he forces his hair back to how it was before, shaking her head. "Fine."

Alexia lets them all into the house, already knowing the party had migrated to the garden with the barbeque set up and beers already opened.

"Say hello to your Abuela first, Jaume," Alexia calls after him as her son rushes off to grab food," And tell her you love her!"

Jaume gives no indication that he hears her and he doesn't need to be reminded.

"He better be polite to his cousins," Alexia grumbles as Jaume makes a quick pitstop with Eli before hurrying to load up his plate.

"He will be. You know him."

Jaume's sweet really. A big softie but after playing a big match yesterday and sleeping most of the day away, it was stupid to get between him and food.

Alexia shakes her head fondly at her son before surveying the group. Her aunts and uncles and cousins are all there with their own kids. Alba's holding a baby that Alexia doesn't quite recognise.

There's a little boy running around as well that she doesn't recognise either and that's when Alexia spots you.

It's been years but Alexia would recognise you anywhere.

The last time she'd seen you, you were nearly seventeen, doing your last performance with your ballet company in Spain that Alexia had to secretly buy tickets to see.

You'd gone to England then for a year or two and last Alexia heard you were dancing in France.

You fondly look down at the little boy as he crashes into you, sweeping his messy hair out of his eyes before sending him on his way.

Alba passes the baby to you and you hold her so comfortably that she must be yours.

You have children...and Alexia didn't know at all.

"Ale?"

"I'm fine," She tells Olga, sucking in a deep breath and painting on a smile," I'm fine."

But she's not fine and she's even more not fine when an arm pulls you closer by your waist and you back easily into the body of Grace Clinton.

Grace Clinton who plays for Lyon in France and who Alexia knows there is only one reason for why she would be in Spain now.

She's your wife.

You have matching wedding bands and the boy looks up adoringly at her.

You have children with a woman who is at least a decade older than you...

You look happy though, smiling up at her sweetly as she pulls faces at the baby.

"Alexia!" Eli's voice snaps Alexia out of her daze. "You send your son to see me but can't even greet your old mother?"

"You're not that old, Mama," Alexia says, kissing Eli's cheeks," You look good for your age."

"The comfort of good food and family," Eli replies," Come, sit, eat. There is more than enough to go around. Knowing your uncle, I will be sending everyone home with seconds!"

Alexia sits, talks and laughs but her eyes keep travelling back to you and your little family.

You're on the other side of the garden, with your baby and your wife and one of Alexia's cousins fawning over her.

"Bisabuela!" The little boy appears suddenly and Alexia jolts. He looks like you but he's got Clinton's mannerisms even though there's a big train on his shirt.

"Ah, James!" Eli says," What can I do for you?"

"Mami has lost Livy's bag again!" He tells her," Do you know where it is?"

"I will take it," Eli says," I am overdue Olivia cuddles. Sit, eat some food, James."

The boy - James - climbs up onto Eli's now abandoned seat and tucks into some brisket. He devours it in a way that only a growing boy can.

"Are you related to my Mami?" He asks suddenly and his eyes are on Alexia's.

She winces. "Yes. I am."

"You look like her like how Alba does."

"I'm Alba's sister."

James nods. "My sister Livy's named after Alba. Olivia Alba."

Alexia forces a smile on her face. "That's nice."

"I'm named after Bisabuela, kind of. James Eliot but Mami and Mummy call me James Eli."

"That's nice," Alexia says," It's always important to honour family."

Her eyes drift over to Jaume, who looks torn between approaching you or hanging back. He's always had some kind of hero worship for you, his mysterious older sister who lived with Jenni. He's still got that now as he steels himself and slowly heads over.

"How are you related to my Mami then? I know Alba's Mami's Tia so are you her Tia too?"

"I'm Bambi's-"

"That's not my Mami's name," James interrupts," Not really anyway. Sometimes Abuela calls her that but she says it's a nickname."

Alexia's heart stops. She knows that Abuela must be Jenni and she isn't sure what she expected. Of course Abuela is Jenni. Of course Alexia isn't.

James has no idea who she is.

James has no idea who Alexia is...who Alexia was to you.

"What's your Mami's name then?" Alexia asks instead.

"Beautiful. That's what Mummy calls her. Mummy's name is Amor..." He frowns. "Or Idiot because that's what Mami calls her when she's angry."

"When I knew your Mami, everyone called her Bambi."

James nods. "Like the deer. Abuela made me watch that film when she looked after me and Livy last week."

"It's a good film, isn't it?"

"It is!" His plate is empty and he frowns. Alexia's plate is full and he reaches for some of hers.

"James," Grace Clinton says," What have I said about stealing food?"

James puffs out his cheeks. "But she's family! She's Mami's Tia! You said I'm allowed to if it's family!"

"I said no even if it is family!"

Alexia can feel the weight of Grace's gaze on her even as she banters with her son. Alexia can feel herself being sized up as Grace takes Eli's seat and places James on her lap.

James eats off Grace's plate as the two adults stare at each other.

Alexia played against Grace a few times when Grace was just starting her international career. She's older now, wiser and captain of the team that had beaten Barcelona in the Champion's League final two times in a row just a few years ago.

Grace Clinton is your wife.

She is the other mother of your children. Sweet, sweet James and Olivia, who is now being gently passed into an awestruck Jaume's arms.

Alexia settles on giving her an awkward smile.

"James," Grace says, tickling his tummy," Can you go share our plate with Mami? I'm sure she's hungry."

James goes off quickly and now it's just Alexia and Grace.

"I love my wife," Grace says suddenly," And I love my kids. Coming back here with them is a lot for her, you have to understand."

"I do."

"She wants them to know her family outside of just Jenni. She comes from Spain and she doesn't want them to not know that part of themselves."

"I get it."

"Good." Grace nods. There's silence for a moment before Grace quells Alexia's fears in one sentence. "She's happy."

Grace fades into the background then as more of the family appears around the table, conversations washing over her as Alexia catches up with her cousins.

It takes a while before you approach and Alexia holds her breath. You're holding your breath too as you perch on Grace's lap, desperately clutching your baby tighter to you.

It's stupid, you think. You should be over this. It happened so long ago. You're a different person now but seeing Alexia put you on edge, especially so near your children.

You had nearly burst into tears seeing her talking to James, halfway between running towards them and just collapsing. Grace had gone in your place but you were even more unnerved now, having little Livy so close.

Olivia couldn't care less though, making soft little noises as she sat happily in your arms.

You peck at your food, unease rolling in your stomach as you felt Alexia's gaze on your side profile.

Grace adjusts behind you, a soft kiss being pressed against the back of your ear.

"Half," She implores," Please, beautiful. It's hot today. You didn't eat much at breakfast."

You had always had a strange relationship with food. It ebbed and flowed when you were a teenager. It had changed again when you were pregnant, another little human relying you on to keep them healthy.

But, still, sometimes you struggle when you feel off.

You nod though, unable to deny your wife anything.

Grace's arm around your waist is warm and comforting. The smile you know she is sporting is comforting too, even though you can't see it.

You usually went to these alone, once a year, even after you'd given birth to James. Grace's Spanish wasn't the greatest and her accent made her speaking almost unintelligible sometimes but it was nice she was here to support you, to whisk you and the kids away the moment you wanted.

You turn your head, meeting Alexia's eyes.

She smiled awkwardly at you and you smiled even more awkwardly back.

"His shirt," She says, the first words she's spoken to you all afternoon," He likes trains?"

You look down bashfully. "He took more after me than we expected."

Alexia bites her lip, debating back and forth whether or not to continue. "How long are you staying?"

"Two weeks."

"I...I have some trains at home. Jaume is too old for them now. Would James-?"

You nod, a real smile appearing on your face. "He would like that, thank you."

You tilt towards Alexia, showing her Olivia more obviously.

You don't let her touch your baby. You don't want her touching either of your children. But you can stomach this, for now.

"This is Olivia," You say," She's nearly one."

"She's beautiful."

Grace grins behind you. "Just like my wife."

[lovelytsunoda]

just like heaven // yuki tsunoda

summary: love is in the air at y/n’s cousins wedding, and it’s got yuki in a loving mood.

pairing: yuki tsunoda x female reader

warnings: 18+ smutty and romantic content :) sex in a library, semi-public sex, two fuckers who are so madly in love I’ve become jealous of my own writing, the library is full of bibles and religious text so does that mean this might be sacrilege? yuki may or may not have some sort of marriage related kink

the air smelled like roses and freshly cut grass, heavy with a feeling of love, and the hazy smoke coming from the fire pit at the head of the tent. a dance floor had been cleared out in the middle of the uneven grassy surface, a portable wooden floor laid out as a makeshift dance floor. it had clearly once been white, but had stained over the years.

yuki tsunoda sat at the groom's table, watching with a lovestruck gaze as his eyes found his girlfriend, who was dancing with her cousin in the middle of the floor. huey lewis and the news played from the bluetooth speaker in the corner, the bride circulating the room and speaking to relatives.

y/n and her cousin had been close once upon a time. they were only a year apart in age, and had both been babysat by their grandmother while their mothers worked. they fell out of touch a little as they got older, only seeing each other at major holidays, but when will had called y/n to announce that he had gotten engaged, y/n was over teh moon for him.

yuki thought she looked beautiful in the soft glow of the fairy lights, her red dress swirling around her thighs as she danced uninhibited, not worrying about how she appeared to the other wedding guests. her hair shone in the light, her smile radiant.

and yuki wondered if one day, perhaps he and y/n would be sharing a similar stage. except she would be wearing white, and they would have matching silver rings on their fingers.

as the song changed, yuki stepped away from teh table and towards the dancefloor, hoping to steal a moment with his lover as will scanned the tent for his wife.

"congratulations, will. give my best to claire as well, just in case i don't see her again before the evening ends." y/n said, giving her cousin a hug before he sauntered off to find claire.

yuki beamed at her, extending a hand. "may i have this dance, my fair maiden?"

"yes, you may." she smiled, wrapping her arms around yuki and tucking her body into his as they began to sway to the music.

in her heels, she was taller than him, in the same way that jason statham's wife towered over the actor. but yuki didn't mind. if anything, it made him swoon even more.

as they danced, his mind began to wander. what song would they have their first dance to? would it be that inxs song she liked? or would it be one direction, a callback to the girl who dreamed of her wedding but never thought it would come? what would they serve? a pasta bar, or a buffet line?

"whatcha' thinking about?" she hummed, forehead against his.

"us. you. forever." yuki sighed. "i want this to be us someday. all of it. the white dress, the speeches, the expensive food. surrounded by the people we love the most."

her heart softened, and she bit back a cry, feeling tears stinging the back of her eyes. weddings always did have a way of making her emotional.

"oh, yuki." she said softly, leaning in for a kiss. "i love you forever. when the time is right, and we can take the proper time to plan and to book a honeymoon. because you're it for me. all i want for the rest of my life. but i'm not in a rush."

"neither am i.” yuki smiled, kissing her knuckles. “I love you forever.”

the song ended, y/n easing back on her heels and wincing as she realized just how sore her feet were in her pale pink stilettos. she had prepared for this and packed a pair of thick-soled sandals in her tote bag, stowed gently underneath the grooms table.

back at the table, yuki helped her ease he sore feet out of their shoes, slipping a jacket around her shoulders as she slipped into her sandals. she kissed him on the cheek, wrapping the jacket tighter around her body as she rested her head on his shoulder.

it was hard not to feel giddy when surrounded by so much love. two years ago, she would have left the celebration feeling melancholia, tainted by the fear that she might never find her person. today, she hoped that she could hold on to the love she had, the feeling of safety and security that yuki brought her.

“you cold, love?” yuki asked, lips pressed against her forehead. “we can pop back inside the church for a moment to warm up if you want.”

“yeah, I need a minute of quiet, I think.” she agreed, kissing the underside of yukis jaw before reaching for her silver clutch purse.

yuki gently pulled her chair away from the table, taking her hand as she got to her feet. tucking his arm around her waist, he pulled her close as they ducked out of the white canvas party tent. she could feel the dewy grass on her feet, one hand holding her skirt away from the damp. her lovers hand dropped down her back, comfortingly running over her bum, and then her hip as they neared the low brick church building.

yn hadn’t been a church-goer in her youth, only attending for family functions, but she appreciated the generous plot of land that the religious institution rested on. it was a stunning view over the hill, peering into the entire valley below.

they slipped inside the church, y/n sighing contentedly as she gradually warmed to the inside temperature. yuki took her free hand, pulling her in for a kiss. she hummed against his lips, sighing against his body.

“come on, I want to show you something.” she laughed, practically dragging yuki behind her as she took off down the hallway. “I used to hide in here to get out of listening to sermons. especially when my cousins got baptized a few years ago, I got restless listening to the pastor talk so I went for a walk and stumbled upon this place.”

she tried the doorknob, delighted to find it unlocked as she pushed the door inwards. the door opened into a small library. the couple were surrounded by tall bookshelves filled with leather bound volumes of religious texts, the far wall filled with ornate stained glass windows, casting the wooden floor in varying colours as she sun started to fade from the sky.

“there are better books up top. there also used to be a rolling ladder in here but pastor frankie had to take it out after a choirboy fell off it and broke his arm trying to find a copy of miss chatterley's lover.”

"no shit." yuki chuckled, helping her out of the jacket draped over her shoulders. "this is quite the place."

"that it is." she laughed softly in return, reaching for the lapels of her lover's shirt. "come here."

still laughing, she pressed her lips to his, relaxing in his arms and letting herself fall into the kiss. she never had to be anything she wasn't with yuki. she trusted him more than she had ever trusted anybody else. he knew her inside and out, in mind and soul and in body. his lips were grounding against hers, pillowy soft and applying just the right amount of pressure against her own.

it was incredible how responsive she was to yuki's touch. she hadn't come in to the library with the intentions of having sex up against shelves of leather bound books, or sprawled out on the vintage wooden desk, yet as she sighed under his touch, she could feel her nerve endings crackling with life. she moaned into the kiss as his hand trailed up the slit in her dress to clutch at her thigh, and she was a goner. his lips trailed across her neck, his tongue darting out to kitten-lick at her pulse point and she felt her knees go weak.

"babe, in a church?"

yuki pulled away to look at her, his eyes soft and full of adoration. "you always said you wanted to be romanced in a library. i'm sure this isn't what you had in mind, but it's good enough for me. if you want it, of course."

she smiled, leaning in to kiss him. "don't stop now."

and he didn't. yuki backed her against the desk, pulling her legs up and around his waist. her sandals fell to the floor as his fingers fumbled clumsily with the zipper on the back of her dress. giggling softly, she pushed his hands away, pulling the stubborn zip down by herself before she guided his hands back towards her exposed breasts.

her thighs tingled with anticipation, and she could feel the wet spot on her lacy panties growing as yuki massaged her tender breasts, rolling her peaked nipples between his fingers, the pendant of her sliver necklace resting just above them.

"you're so beautiful." he whispered, scared that speaking any louder would ruin this magical moment they had created.

"you're not too bad yourself, handsome." she hummed, caressing his face.

she tilted her head up, kissing him again. harder this time, her tongue scraping against his lips, begging desperately for entrance as she pressed up against him, searching for friction to ease the ache between her thighs. it was awkward, given the seating arrangements in the library, but she managed to grind against his dress pants, one hand dropping from his neck to his cock as his lips parted enough to allow their tongues to touch.

she sighed breathily under his touch, yuki's hand gently caressing her bare thighs as he reached for her lacy white panties. gripping the edges of the table, she leveraged her weight to raise her hips, allowing her lover to peel the fabric away from her body. he slipped the panties into the pocket of his slacks before raising her knees and pressing kisses to her thighs.

"tell me what you want, my love. my tongue, my fingers, my cock. all of it is yours, just say the word." he rasped, running his thumb over her clit.

"that thing you do with your fingers." she hummed, canting her hips forward, trying to capture his slender fingers inside her dripping center. "you know the one."

"the one that makes you laugh, or the one that makes you scream?"

"both."

she gasped as his fingers slipped into her with little resistance, the driver scissoring both fingers, pushing up against her velvet-soft walls. she bit back a curse, tilting her head back and exposing her neck for him to kiss and suck at.

his lips were warm and soft as he peppered her skin with delicate, soft kisses, in contrast to the lightning-sharp way that he moved his fingers inside of her.

"fuck, that feels good." she breathed, digging her nails into his shoulders through the fabric of his dress shirt, breathing heavy as pants turned into moans.

the light from the stained glass window reflected over her skin, bathing her in the warm colors and contrasting shades created by the glass artwork. the sight took yuki's breath away, a part of him wondering if there was a way to capture that image and sear it into his brain forever. she looked positvely angelic, lips slightly parted, back arched in pleasure.

“that’s my girl. that’s my sexy fucking girl. are you going to come on my fingers, sweet girl?”

she gripped his arms, nodding furiously as she whined out a ‘yes’, grinding against his fingers as he pressed the heel of his hand against her clit.

“yuki, oh my god, shit.” she whined, burying her head in his neck.

his lips were soft against her hairline as he talked her through it, mumbling sweet nothings and dotting her sweaty skin with kisses as he finger-fucked her towards the edge.

“atta girl. I’ve got you, just breathe. my best girl. my perfect girl, coming so good for me.”

she sighed as she came, a breathy, whiny sound, fingers tightening around his biceps.

“you’re safe, I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.” yuki whispered, running a hand up and down her back. “you did so good, angel.”

she kissed him slowly, relishing in the feeling of his lips against hers. she smiled into the kiss, her hands exploring the expanse of muscle through his shirt.

her french-manicured nails found the buttons on his dress shirt, slowly popping them open. she kissed the warm skin on his chest as she went down, fingers moving towards the button on his pants.

“does my pretty baby want my dick?” yuki crooned, caressing her cheek as he looked down at her adoringly. “anything you want from me, just say the word.”

“babe, I always want your dick.” she smiled, taking him in her palm, stroking up and down his length. bathed in the light from the window, she thought he looked like a greek god.

she lined him up with her entrance, hiking both legs over his hips and allowing him to push himself inside of her. inch by inch, he slipped in slowly, his forehead resting against hers before he leaned in to kiss her, trading moans into each others mouths as he bottomed out.

he could die here and be happy, wrapped up in the woman he loved, her warm walls cushioning him on all sides. this overwhelming feeling of closeness. he started to move, thrusting slowly and interspersing the movements with swivels and grinds of the hips, rubbing against her soft, plushy walls, drawing every little whine and breath and pant from her lungs.

“oh god, baby, that’s incredible.” she tilted her hips forward, head rolling back as she tried to take him deeper.

one of her hands dropped to the table to support her body weight, the other tangling in yukis hair. she pulled gently, watching with pleasure as his eyes rolled back, a soft growl leaving his throat. in response, he thrusted harder, deeper.

“that’s my sweet girl. looking so fucking pretty with my rock-hard dick buried inside you. all fucking mine to worship. you know what I think about when I get off? our future. domestic things. picking out silverware, buying our forever house. you in a white dress, a big fucking diamond on your finger. you’re it for me.”

he was thrusting quicker now, pulling out almost halfway before slamming back in again, his hands gripping her thighs so tightly she worried there might be bruises. his eyes weee trained on her chest, captivated by the way her breasts bounced from the force.

“yes, yes.” she moaned, back arched as she kissed his neck, leaving a series of small hickeys in her wake. “fuck, I want everything with you, too.”

“yeah, you want me to make you my pretty perfect wife?”

“god, yes.” she was certain she was dripping onto the table, the room filled with laboured breathing and the wet sounds of yukis cock splitting her in half. “fuck, baby, I love you so much.”

the coil in her stomach was wound tighter than a wire, and she could feel that she was on the edge. any second now, she’d snap.

“fill me up.” she whined. “fucking make me yours.”

“want you to come first.” he rasped, dropping his hand to her sensitive clit. “love you so much, sweet girl. just let me make you feel so so good, okay?”

she kissed him again, fingers in his hair, then on his shoulders, searching for purchase as she hid her face in his broad chest. she always got shy when her orgasms approached. yuki found it endearing, and soft.

“I’ve got you pretty girl. come for me. just let go, make a pretty little mess on my dick.”

she came with a loud moan, feeling her legs go slack in her lovers grip as she rested all of her weight on him, her head nestled comfortably between shoulder and neck, his soft fingertips trailing up and down her thighs, his gentle voice reminding her to breathe through it.

“fuck, baby, I love you so much. I love you. I love you.” he repeated it like a chant as he reached his own climax, stuttering his words as he spilled inside her. “god, you’re so good to me.”

after a small moment to catch their breaths, yuki gently pulled out. she whined at the loss of contact, reading her whine for a contented sigh when yuki pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, gentle hands helping her readjust her dress.

“babe, I think I’m dripping on the table.” she admitted, red-faced and shy. “what did you do with my underwear?”

yuki grinned roguishly, dramatically producing the offending pair of panties from his pockets. “kept them nice and safe for you.”

“sure you did.” she laughed easing herself off the table, deliberately not looking at the mess she’d left behind.

while she redressed, yuki searched the pockets of his suit jacket for his red pocket square, u folding it and using the thin, expensive fabric to clean all evidence of their tryst off the hardwood.

“yuki, come on! not the pocket square!” she laughed, using her fingers to comb through her hair. “you’re so gross.”

“what else was I supposed to use?” he laughed, putting the square in his pocket and slipping the jacket over his shoulders. he pulled her in for a soft kiss, hands gently caressing her curves. “come on, let’s get back to the party.”

the pair stepped out of the library, linked arm in arm, content and sated as they turned to walk out of the church, and found themselves bumping headfirst into will and claire. judging by the lipstick stain on wills collar, and the flushed red of claire’s face, the happy couple had just snuck away to do the same.

“we never speak of this again.” will groaned, averting his eyes. “ever!”

[litchifaerie]

Guilty as Sin [Aemond Targaryen}

warnings: fluff, a very little angst, not Daemon's daughter but she has silver hair, f!reader, ooc!aemond (?), "i burn for you" typa confession. niece!reader strikes again. 3.3k words of me trying my best.

After the incident of Driftmark, it was a known fact that the family of the dragon has now broken into two factions, namely: The Hightower Greens and The Targaryen Blacks. Young Prince Lucerys had somehow managed to blind his uncle, Prince Aemond, in an act of what rumours say to be “self defence”. The family damaged beyond repair went on to live separately, no longer finding joy in maintaining the facade of a “happy joint family” to appease their king. Now years later, the question of inheritance of Driftmark is raised. Lord Corlys Velaryon is feared to be nearing his death and thus Vaemond Velaryon has raised a petition for himself to be declared the heir instead of its true heir, Lucerys Velaryon.

When the Blacks made their home in Dragonstone it took them quite a while to settle in with its rough seas and jagged cliffs. In a few months everyone seemed to settle in well. Everyone except for Rhaenyra’s eldest child, her only daughter, you. Back at King’s Landing you loved the court. You loved meeting the ambassadors of kingdoms you had read about in books with Aemond. You loved sneaking around the castle at midnight with Aemond. Your bare feet hurriedly rushing over the cold of the stone floors in search of some leftover lemon cakes in the kitchens. You loved sewing with Helaena and learning the names of her friendly little creatures. You and Aemond were perhaps the only companions she had growing up.

Yes, yes, you missed Aemond even more so. And now six years later, here you are, sitting in the carriage with your mother and step-father awaiting to reach the Red Keep soon. You’re busy gazing out the windows, looking at how much King’s Landing has changed. I wonder if that jeweller still has a shop in the city market. Lost in your thoughts you jump a little when you hear your mother speak. “Do keep an eye on your brothers there. Daemon and I have some matters to attend with the King the moment we reach. I do not want those two to pick a fight with your uncles.” Rhaenyra speaks calmly.

You nod with a polite “Of course mother”. And with a moment of hesitation, you ask “Is it alright if I invite Helaena for an afternoon tea, perhaps even a play date for her twins and little Viserys and Aegon? Please allow it mother! It has been ages since I last saw her! I wish to see my baby cousins and catch up with my dear aunt…” Rhaenyra can never say no to your pleading eyes. She only chuckles “yes my dear you may”.

It wasn’t a long while before the carriage came to a stop. A knight comes to open the door for you. “No one to greet us hmm” murmurs Daemon. His ability to remain stoic sometimes makes him seem invisible even in close proximity. He steps out first, helping you and your mother down next. Jace and Luce come rushing begging to go to the training grounds. “Boys”, you call out, “Mother and Father have some matter to attend to. Now if we may, lets see how the knights here train at King’s Landing.” With that you just turn around and they follow you like ducklings, ever the obedient little brothers.

You make your way to the training yard, looking around and seeing specks of your past. It all seemed like a far away dream now. How happily the boys played fight together, with you dabbling in some swordplay at times. Distant shouts of cheers catch your attention and you look their way. “Seems like there’s a fight going on” Jace remarks. And Luce replies energetically “Lets go see how the knights fare then” and drags you both towards the crowd.

A clash of swords and flurry of movements of men later you are able to catch a glimpse of long silver hair. A Targaryen. Long hair and a fine swordsman? Can’t be Aegon. That leaves the 2 others. And as you get closer you recognise his silhouette. It took you a little time but you can spot him anywhere still. It’s not your eyes that tell you of his identity but your heart. Its him. Yes, it is. Its Aemond.

“Well done my prince. In no time will you be participating in Tourneys.” Says the knight, who if your memory serves right must be Ser Criston Cole. “I don’t give a shit about tourneys” Aemond replies trying to gather himself after that tiring display of amazing swordsmanship. And then he spots you. At first Aemond believed it to be untrue. His mind had played many such games with him through the period of your absence. The Gods were cruel to not only rob him of his eye but also his dearest friend the same night. Maybe he stared at you a moment too long because that was enough for Jace to step in front of you and shield you from his uncle's view. At that Aemond seems to snap back to reality. “Nephews, come to train? Shall we see who has turned into a better swordsman these past 6 years.” He clearly is still looking to pick fights. You put your hand on Jace’s shoulder “Do not engage he just wants to rile you up”.

The crowd whispers amongst itself. Do you see that? The sons of the Queen and Princess do not get along. Are the whispers true then- You think you need to squash these whisperings now by a show of goodwill. You walk towards Aemond in the “dainty” manner a proper Lady should approach a Lord. “Uncle” you come to a halt just a bit away from Aemond, a few inches closer than it is deemed appropriate. “How have you been? I see the years have been kind to you. The tales of your growing talent of sparring has reached Dragonstone. And I am happy to say those words do no justice to your skill. You’re much better than what they lead us to believe.” Flattery. Heaps of it. So what if it’s a little backhanded. I need to patch things up even if it’s a little. “Dear niece” Aemond raises your hand to place a kiss on your knuckles “Ever the beauty. That must mean the tales of Lords and Knights fighting over a chance to court you must be true then?” and all you can do is chuckle. Oh so he will play this game then. “You flatter me too much my prince. I was wondering if you and Princess Helaena would have your afternoon tea with me. I’ve missed you incredibly. And I just can’t wait to meet little Jaehaera and Jaehaerys”

Ser Cole places his hand on the prince’s arm, “Perhaps some other day Princess. Prince Aemond has some mat-”. “Yes I will” Aemond butts in before Cole can finish. “Very well then” you fold your hands together. “I shall take my leave now. The journey here was rather long and tiring”. You look behind you to see the astonished faces of your brothers. You know what thy must be thinking. What the fuck is going on in her head? “Come Jace. Come Luce. Let us go freshen up. Mother is waiting for us” You wait for your brothers to take one of your arms each. And you leave just like that. Maintaining eye contact with Aemond for as long as it was societally acceptable of you to look his way without it spurring rumours.

Are her hips swaying? Is what Aemond notices as he watches you leave. With a smirk on his face his last thought is: You’re home now zaldrītsos.

You walk with your brothers to your room, both of them still silent, a little surprised at your actions that’s all. You’re at your door when you turn around “Brothers if you may. Please go to your respective rooms and tell your servants how you’ll like your rooms arranged. The long jouney has taken a toll on me and I wish to be alone.” They know that tone. They know what you say is less of a suggestion and is most definitely a command. And they know better than to cross you when you’re tired. Being short tempered is something you have learned from Daemon while growing up. He truly was your father in every way imaginable except biologically.

Once in the comforts of your room you let a deep beath out. And there it is on your bed. You hoped it would be. The letter with the blue wax seal on it. A sapphire blue.

“Welcome back dear niece.

 The crown jewel has finally returned to the court.

 See you in the evening.”

                              ~ A. T.

It’s evening now and in another part of the Keep, Aemond seems to overhear a very important conversation on his way to his sister. One about the matter of your betrothal. “Those Hightower cunts” Daemon seethes openly. Mother? Aemond hides behind a pillar in the seemingly deserted corridor while he heard his uncle openly badmouth his “kin” without any care of who might hear. The doors to the chamber were left ajar. “When you suggested y/n be betrothed to Aegon and Jace to Helaena. She refused the very moment it was suggested. Appalled that such a proposal can even be made. And now when we are here to have the king’s blessing to betroth Jace to y/n, the so called Hand has already made a suggestion for a match between that one eyed boy knight and our daughter!” Rhaenyra is just silent. Daemon seethes in his anger. But all Aemond focuses on is that he could have your hand if his mother finds a way. And also, a little angry that Jacaerys Velaryon, rather Strong, might covet what’s his.

Fuelled by what he refuses to call jealousy, the prince makes his way through the Keep. With only one destination in mind, he storms through the corridors paying no mind to the strange looks he receives. And its as if he is 10 again, knocking at the doors of his beloved friend. But now he is a man of 19, and she is more than his friend. She is his destiny and he will have her.

You’re busy taking your heavy necklace off, opting to wear long delicate crystal earring instead which matches the long flowy gown you changed into for the tea when you notice the knocks. Thinking its your ladies-in-waiting you yell out a “Come in.” Setting the necklace on top of the dresser, you’re surprised to find Aemond’s reflection staring at you through the mirror. “My prince” you turn to face him, still sitting at your vanity, “Aren’t you here a little early for the tea?”

“Hmm…” Aemond just hums in reply and sits on the settee nearby, “I’ve come to know of an interesting proposition regarding you my niece”. That was enough to have your attention, “And what that might be Aemond?” you cock an eyebrow at him. “You’re going to be betrothed by the time your stay here ends”. You’re a little stunned but you expected this coming. Your mother has given you the liberty to choose who you might marry but you won’t do so at the expense of her political foothold. Marriage cannot always be for love and you will follow your duty like the honorable Princess of the realm you are if that is what’s required of you. “Yes, I’m aware” you tell him plainly. “I think they have Jacaerys in mind.”

“And you have no issue regarding it” Aemond asks, finding himself to be a little unnerved at your calm demeanour. “No issue whatsoever?” And you can’t help but sigh “It is what is expected of me uncle. Targaryens are known to marry their siblings. Look at yours. I always knew that there might be a possibility of me marrying Jacaerys. I am my mother’s firstborn. Her heir. But I am not a son. She only seeks to squash any problem that might raise for when I ascend the throne by marrying me to her firstborn son.”

“He’s not worthy of you. None of those plain-featured boys. You’re more valyrian than they are with your silver hair.” Aemond speaks out. “If I were you, I would watch my tongue Aemond. Don’t want you to lose your other eye due to your idiocy.” You say casually while combing through your hair.

Aemond was a little sick of your nonchalant attitude. How can you agree to this match? Why do you seem so fine? Why are you willing to go through with this? All he can do is sit in silence, his eye refusing to watch your figure, his ego stopping him from expressing what he wants. But you know what he wants, and you want him to say it out loud.

You get up from the vanity, your silver hair in loose waves, the setting sun casting an ethereal glow around you. You look like the very picture of an angel to Aemond with a halo behind you. And suddenly all he can see is you, all he can breathe is you. You’re close, too close to him, his knees are touching your leg as you stand in front of him. The door to your room is only closed shut and not locked. One can just simply walk in and catch you.

Your fingers ghost over his cheek, trailing up to his eyepatch. “Does it hurt now?” he hears you say. There is no pity on your face, just curiosity. And your touch is so delicate, so soothing. “Not as much. Sometimes when I have worked myself too hard a sharp sensation shoots up but then subsides in a while”. And now its your turn to hum. Bringing your other hand to his other cheek you gently cup his face. And Aemond’s lone eye meets yours.

His eye seems so vacant. But if I look hard enough, I can catch a glimpse of the young boy who chased me through the gardens. “Can I see it. Your eye?” you rub your thumb against his cheek. Affection. Aemond bring his hand up to reach for yours, the one on the side of the maimed eye. “It is ugly. It might frighten a lady.” He hesitates. She will take one look at me in my hideous glory and never look my way again.

“Not to me. Especially when its you.” That sentence holds a lot more meaning and truth than what one might think and you only hope Aemond understands. And Aemond does what you ask of him. He gently removes his eyepatch waiting for you to let out a gasp. He wants to close his eyes for your inevitable disgusted expression but he cannot look away from you. He looks at every muscle you move on your face but he doesn’t see a grimace, instead could it be, is it awe?

A soft smile graces your face, wildly different from what he anticipated it to be. “The sapphire compliments your features nicely. I hope the gem isn’t uncomfortable?” He is dumbstruck for a minute. “No, it doesn’t, I always wanted to thank you in person for this gift.” When his eye healed, Aemond was surprised to find the city’s most famous jeweller with a chest full of his best gems waiting for him in his mother’s parlour. A reparation I suppose, the queen had said, the Velaryon girl wrote this letter saying how “sorry" she was for her brother’s action and expresses her regret for not being able to defend you against her brother. He wanted you to be there with him when he woke the next day, he remembered your crying face when the master said Aemond’s maimed eye can’t be repaired. It’s worth it y/n. I lost an eye but gained the biggest dragon that there is.

You resume rubbing your thumb gently over his scar and that’s what brings him back. “No man, no matter how noble he is, deserves you”. “Then who does my prince? Pray tell”, you say. You know his answer. Just say it Aemond. I beg you. “I have a duty to the crown Aemond”, dropping your hands from his face, you walk away from him. “And I will do it, even if I don’t wish to.”

Aemond was furious “How can you be so blind? Do you not see my pain?”. Your back was turned to him and you closed your eyes in frustration. You turn to look at him, with angry tears in your eyes, “I am tired of waiting for you!” you yell, “These past years have been agonising. It hurt not to be around you. But those letters kept me going. Our secret exchanges were what I kept looking forward to every week.” Aemond’s chest is just heaving. “And just when I thought that there’s a sliver of chance you feel the same-”

“I do.” Aemond interrupts you. He reaches forward to hold you but you back away. “Then why Aemond” there’s a slight tremble in your voice. “Thousands of lords and knights came to have my hand. And I rejected every single of them, hoping that you will present yourself in front of my parents and ask for me. You claim to have affection for me but I don’t see it.” You cut him off before he has a chance to explain.

“I’ll show my love for you” is all the silver haired prince says before tugging you to him harshly and planting his lips on yours. Its wild, full of passion and fury. The kiss seems to ignite something in you. Both your inner dragons coming to life and breathing out fire. He’s burning you with the force of the emotions the kiss conveys.

Although you feel breathless you still craved more of him. Your hand went at the base of his neck, tangling at his roots. You drag him even close if that’s possible. Aemond’s one hand is around your throat, controlling your movement, dominating you completely. His other strongly grips your waist keeping you in place. Your lips move together in perfect synchronisation although there seems to be a bite here and there.

The Targaryens are only gods because of their dragons. Right now, right here, were two young lord and lady lost in each other and were in dire need of air yet unwilling to be apart, fearing what comes next. You’re the first to break the kiss. The evidence of your passion is seen on Aemond’s swollen red wet lips and messy hair and you can only imagine yours to look the same.

Aemond leans his head against yours, your foreheads touching. His eyes are closed in pleasure and a rare smile graces his leeps but all you can do is admire him through your eyelashes. “Make me your wife” you call out softly. “Ask my mother for my hand. I do not wish to marry Jacaerys…he is too much of a brother. It is you I want. I’ll fight for you if needed be” Aemond opens his eyes at that. “Silly girl”, he says, “The Queen has asked the King for our match to be made.” Your brows furrow in confusion, “My mother agrees?” Aemond brings a hand to caress your face, “I think she does. Daemon on the other…” Even you become anxious at that statement. “My uncle is a challenge I welcome” he continues, “Nothing can keep me away from you. I’ve waited years for this, I can’t let go of you now.”

You can’t help but smile. You loved Aemond but marrying him meant going against what your mother had taught you. Knowing the distaste Daemon held for the members of green party, and thinking of your brothers’ action against Aemond made you feel immensely guilty. But you waited all these years, you were the exceptional daughter all this while, ever obedient, ever graceful. Never a hair out of place. Always the perfect princess. And if Aemond is the treason you commit against your family, then you will happily be guilty as sin.

[circesastro]

Circe’s Observation: Moon Sign and Your Mother

Note: I am not professional astrologer so please take these observations with a grain of salt. These are just my own observations, ideas, thoughts and theories. This is just for entertainment purposes. Also, please be respectful of my observations! Any negative and hateful comments will be deleted. Without further ado, enjoy!

**All photos are from Pinterest**

Aries Moon:

✿ On the bright side, Aries Moon have mothers who are very independent and strong

✿ They can be seen as someone who can handle a lot of things without having to seek someone else’s help

✿ They are mothers who are often the head of the house and makes the rules

✿ They are also people who are very driven in the things they do and someone who is always active

✿ The more dominant parent/figure in the family

✿ Mothers who make most of the decisions for the family

✿ Mothers who are protective over her children

✿ Their mothers could have been or are very active/athletic

✿ Yet, on the negative side, they can be seen as mothers who are impatient and domineering.

✿ Someone who seeks control all of the time and someone who is very argumentative

✿ I think Seventeen Joshua might be an Aries Moon instead of a Taurus moon because he stated that his mother was very hardworking and raised him all by herself (this is just my opinion btw)

Taurus Moon:

✿ Very protective mothers

✿ These mothers are viewed as strong-willed, stubborn and patient

✿ Natives tend to have a close relationship with their mothers

✿ Mothers who would constantly check up on their children to ensure their child's safety and also for security

✿ Very responsible mothers

✿ Someone who likes to dress their children up (especially daughters)

✿ Mothers may often feel comfortable sharing their clothes with their daughters as they grow older. (I seen this happening with both my cousin and my friend)

✿ On the other hand, their mothers can also be viewed as someone who is very materialistic and superficial

✿ These mothers may also show their love language through cooking for the native or just something related with food

✿ My cousin is a taurus moon and my aunt would be very picky about what foods my cousin consumes especially as an infant.

✿ But also, my aunt spends a lot of her income into makeup, bags and jewelries, etc.

✿ The natives can inherit the mother's relationship with food for some reason...

Gemini Moon:

✿ Mother might gossip a lot

✿ A little bit scattered but also someone who is very mentally stimulating

✿ Mother may be someone who values intelligence or socialization

✿ Native may see mother as someone who is very chatty/gossipy

✿ Mother may also look very youthful

✿ The type of mother who may be mistaken as their child’s sister

✿ Someone who is very versatile and flexible with their ways

✿ Natives may view their mother as someone adaptable but also someone who is very flakey

✿ Natives may also admire their mother for their intelligence and adaptability

✿ Also, natives with Gemini moons tend to have siblings as well (ex: Rachel McAdam, Heidi Klum, Ateez's Hongjoong and Yunho, Seventeen's Hoshi, Monster X's Minhyuk, Itzy's Yuna, NCT's Doyoung, it goes on and on.)

✿ Also, mercurial moons tend to look like their mothers?

Cancer Moon:

✿ May have mothers who are nurturing and maybe even baby their child a lot

✿ Mothers who are very attached to their kids or their children plays a huge role in the mothers life.

✿ May be a bit too smothering and places too much emphasis on the child

✿ Cancer moon individuals typically have a good relationship with their mother

✿ Cancer moon natives who have good relationships with their mother tend to take on their mother's nurturing energy in their own lives

✿ On the other side, cancer moon individuals may view their mother as overemotional and hard to communicate with

✿ They may also be very manipulative and unstable

✿ Oftentimes, the mother may get very emotional and might cry when the native upsets them

✿ Cancer moon mothers tend to be the 'stereotypical' mothers in a way

✿ They tend to follow the traditional gender roles in their home

✿ Seventeen's Dokyeom have a cancer moon and they always say that he was 'raised in a warm home'

✿ Additionally, Enhypen's Jay is also a cancer moon and he has a really wholesome relationship with his mother too

Leo Moon:

✿ Mother tend to fixate more on themselves than their children

✿ A little self-centered and dramatic

✿ Someone who appears very confident and sure of themselves

✿ On the bad side, someone who may have a narcissistic personality

✿ And the individual moon may view their mothers as someone who is in constant need of attention

✿ May be the one with authority in the family/authority parent

✿ Most Leo Moon friend I have does not have the best relationship with their mothers

✿ One of them, her mother values popularity and is a drama queen...

✿ Two of them, their mothers tend to prioritize their other children over the native

Virgo Moon:

✿ Mothers who pay close attention to their child's lifestyle and health

✿ Mothers who may be very critical

✿ Mothers who are detailed-orientated when it comes to their child like walking a specific way or the child's postures, etc.

✿ Shows their love through acts of service

✿ They tend to be very keen about being clean

✿ First to point out the native's flaws

✿ The native may think that their mother do not care as much for them as they do with their siblings

✿ The character Hong Haein from Queen of Tears have a virgo moon and her relationship with her mother is often strained because she always thought her mother cared more about her younger brother than her (which was true tho...)

✿ Additionally, her mother saw Haein as the child who was more capable of taking care of herself which Virgo Moon mothers tend to do

✿ They put their child in a more responsible position than their other children

✿ The type of mother who their child can rely on like a safety net at the end of the day

✿ The mother may expect the native to be more productive in their day to day life compared to their siblings. More towards the way of "I expect the house to be clean by the time I'm home from work."

Libra Moon:

✿ Prioritizes beauty and focuses on the better things in life

✿ May prioritize their other relationships over their children especially romantic relationships.

✿ Very beauty-orientated

✿ May be just as superficial as Taurus moons too

✿ Gossipers!!!

✿ Libra moon natives are usually (not all) more cared for than their siblings as kids for some reason? May be the golden child when younger.

✿ These individuals can be very close with their mother.

✿ Jackson Wang have a libra moon, need I say more?

Scorpio Moon:

✿ Very private and protective mothers

✿ These individuals tend to learn and take after their mother's emotional strength

✿ A lot of scorpio moons tend to have single mothers but also their mother tend to provide financial security (ex: Jennie from Blackpink, Cai Xukun, etc)

✿ Also another one that tends to have a close mother-child relationship, for the better or the worse...

✿ Scorpio Moons remind me of Ms. Moh and Eungseong in Queen of Tears (He's either a Scorpio Moon or a Capricorn Moon... but I'm leaning towards Scorpio due to his abandonment issues and his mother's way of compensating for her absence was literally through giving him the money she obtained from chairman Hong).

✿ Someone who may be manipulative, calculative and sly

✿ However, they will always back their children up

✿ They type of mother who never sees their child's wrongdoing...

✿ May have a hard time expressing their love and affection towards their children

✿ Even though the relationship between the native and their mothers are most often described as "intense" and "complicated" the mother will protect their children even if the child is at fault.

✿ I think scorpio moon mothers either trust their child 100% or put little trust in her children.

✿ I think scorpio moon mothers prefer to be private but they will show themselves if they think their children is in danger. (ex: Cai Xukun using him as a example again 😭)

Sagittarius Moon:

✿ Social butterflies!

✿ They may have travelled a lot or just someone who enjoys traveling

✿ Mother may be someone who always seek knowledge

✿ Mother may also put a lot of emphasis on higher education

✿ May be impulsive...or just quick tempered

✿ 0 to 100 real quick as they are Jupiter-ruled

✿ I remember when BTS Namjoon said that his mother ruined his computer and mic because she wanted him to focus on his studies

✿ Mother may be the type to take their children traveling to learn about the world

✿ May also be the type to take interest in trivia or just have a lot of random knowledge

Capricorn Moon:

✿ Another one whose mothers tend to be very private

✿ Another one of mothers may have a hard time expressing their love and affection outwardly/towards their children

✿ But may also be very cutthroat and focuses on business more than their family

✿ A lot of Capricorn moons in my life typically do not have a good relationship with their mothers

✿ Natives with Capricorn moons may view their mother as someone who is very stern and unsympathetic

✿ Capricorn moon mothers are the type of mother to use authoritarian parenting style along with Aries moon (just my take, not every Capricorn/Aries moon mothers are like that!)

✿ On the bright side, like most earth moons, Capricorn moon mothers may be perceived as someone responsible and mature

✿ They are someone who is practical and ambitious

✿ Usually, the native with Capricorn moon will take on this trait too

Aquarius Moon:

✿ Mother either acts like a friend to the native or they are very detached from the native...

✿ Mother may be very open-minded

✿ Song Jia have an Aquarius moon and she stated once that her only friend is her mother

✿ Celebrities/idols who have Aquarius moons, their mothers tend to be loved by the community

✿ May appear in social media more than other moon signs

✿ Mothers who may be very involved with their communities

✿ Billie Eilish and her mother have both taken part in promoting a healthier environment and sustainability for the world

✿ If cancer moons are like the "traditional" mothers, then Aquarius moons would be like the opposite

✿ These mothers values eccentricity, intelligence and community.

✿ For some reason, Aquarius moon mothers gives me the PTO mom vibes 😅

Pisces Moon:

✿ Mothers may be very spiritual or religious

✿ Great manifestors lol

✿ It always remind me of that one story of Seventeen Mingyu’s story of his mother where she went to pray for someone to take him away because he was such a difficult child, and guess what? A week later, he was taken to Pledis as a trainee 😁

✿ Pisces Moon mothers may also be very artistic or creative

✿ Mother may be very deceptive

✿ They say one thing and do the other

✿ Mothers may either be very emotional or too distant

✿ Because of Jupiter + Neptune influence, they can be very ambitious and dream big

✿ A negative manifestation of those with pisces moons may be that their mother may struggle with some sort of addiction. (gambling, drinking, smoking, drugs etc.)

✿ Mother may oftentimes isolate?

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Hiiii 💕💕💕

For the wip game (the highlighted ones)

-❤️🪐

Hello!! For you since you’ve been interested in it for awhile and i promised you a scene ages ago and only just now finished it: big heart, I wanna let it bleed, aka buck joins the team younger fic! Here’s a complete drabble about them running into Phillip on a call…

They’re not in an enclosed space but, somehow, the kid’s laughter is still echoing around them. Bobby tries to bite down on his smile as he calls a vaguely warning “Buck,” though he’s not too worried about professionalism seeing as the surfer — who’s trunks are truly mystifyingly tangled on his board — is cracking up even harder. He’s sort of… hung up there, board stuck nose down in the sand, man dangling up on the back end of it. They seem too far up the beach for a wave to have done this, but what does Bobby know, he’s from a landlocked state.

“Sorry, Cap,” Buck wheezes. “Do we, uh… need the ladder?”

Bobby takes a measured inhale as he hears some kind of frantically smothered squeak sound coming from — is that Chimney? One of the paramedics, anyway — and shakes his head. “I think we can just lower the board down, if you’ll give me a hand. That sound alright to you, sir?”

The surfer gets through a few more wheezing chuckles before he can say “Yeah dude, lower away.”

They manage it pretty smoothly, with him and Buck on either side and Hen and Chim ready to catch the weight of the surfer. Hen starts off the next small round of laughter as she tries to de-tangle the swim trunks to move their vic, but everybody manages to calm down as they get to the actual medical examination.

As Hen and Chimney poke and prod, Buck chatters. “I learned to surf a few years ago, over in the Carolinas.”

“No shit?” The surfer grins. “Like Charleston? I gotta cousin over there.”

“Yeah, Folly Beach sometimes, but mostly went up to the Banks.”

“Sick.” The surfer gestures to where Hen’s wrapping some gauze around his bloodied elbow. “What’s your worst wipeout?”

Buck laughs again, a little delighted sound, always happy to be included. “Oh man- My first time out on the water, like the second wave I ever caught, just tossed me right off completely.” He tugs up his shirt before Bobby dawn shake his head not to, and twists around to show a jagged old scar on his lower back. “Landed on some rocks, needed fourteen stitches.”

The surfer whistles as Hen shakes her head. “I don’t think you’ll need any stitches for this one, but there’s enough debris in there I’m gonna recommend we take you to the hospital so they can get it all out.”

“Sure thing,” the guy says, looking more relaxed than Buck taking a nap on the couch after second helpings of mac and cheese. “Thanks man.”

“No problem,” Bobby says, definitely no trace of a chuckle in his voice no matter the delighted glances his team sends him.

The surfer tries to twist towards Buck once they get him on the gurney, winces, and then just turns his head. “You ever surf out here?”

“Have a few times, but I don't have a board or anything.”

“Man, you should come out and join us! We got a group most weekday mornings, I'm sure somebody could get you set up.”

Buck looks happy as a dog with a bone, glancing at Bobby with a mile wide grin. It's a familiar kind of look, though it takes until they're almost at the ambulance — Buck chatting away all the while — for him to place it, and it nearly makes him stumble when he does. Robert would give him that look when he made a new friend on the playground and got invited to hang out. Please, Dad, can I go? He's sure Buck didn't mean anything by it. Bobby doesn't have that authority in his life, nicknames and Springsteen concerts nothing that adds up to a tangible connection. And the kid- well, he's not a kid. 25 years old, can arrange his own playdates perfectly well. Still, Bobby feels a little off kilter as they load the ambulance.

“Rad, man, see you around.” The surfer is grinning at Buck, two happy little suns shining at each other. “Ask for Stevey,” he says, loosely pointing at himself. Steven Barney, he'd given as his name to dispatch.

Buck smiles, waves goodbye. “I'm-”

“Evan?”

Buck turns like a man in a haunted house, startled at an impossible sound with all the color draining out of him. The apparition takes the appearance of a white man a little older than Bobby, wearing neat, pale clothes and a sort of constipated, caught expression. They see that look on calls sometimes, with men who are going through an emergency with women who are not their wives and who are still trying to pretend they've done nothing at all untoward.

“D-” Buck blinks, a few times, hard. “Dad?”

Bobby can't help joining in Hen and Chin's shared oh shit look. There's not an overly familiar resemblance between the two — perhaps a shared stake in forehead real estate — but the man doesn't refute it. “I'll let you get back to work,” he says, glancing towards the sea, the ambulance, eyes landing briefly on Bobby before jumping away again, startled.

“Wait, wh-” Buck steps forward, hand wandering out in front of him before dropping back to his side. “What are you doing in LA? Did you have- a-a work trip?”

Buck's father clears his throat. “It's Brian’s birthday.”

“Oh,” Buck says, blinking again, rapidly this time, a fish thrown in new water. “He- he lives in California now?”

“No, no,” the man says dismissively, like he doesn't know why anyone on earth would choose to live in California. “He’s retiring early, wanted to make a weekend of it.”

“So-” Buck scrambles, visibly, and it makes Bobby aware of the small audience of first responders (and surfer), so he closes the ambulance door despite Hen and Chim’s wide eyes and shaking heads, and thumps the back so they pull away. Buck doesn’t seem to notice either way. “You’re- you’re here for a few days? We should- we could go get lunch? I-I have to work until tomorrow morning but-”

“It’s a busy weekend,” the man grumbles, doing a motion with his hands almost like he's patting himself down to make sure he has his wallet, the movements of someone making sure they're good to leave. “I won't have the time.”

Buck stands there, looking more wounded than any of the times he's been banged up on calls. “I- haven't seen you in- in like four years-”

“And who's fault is that?” His father laughs dismissively. “If you want to run off and throw your life away you can't complain about it later.”

“I-I didn't, I like what I- I have a job, I- I found…” Buck frowns, and Bobby worries for a moment he's going to cry out here in front of his father and colleagues and the beach goers of Santa Monica. He holds it together, though. “I like it here, and I like my job, and I'd like to tell you about it-”

“I won't have the time, Evan.” He doesn't even consider for a moment backing out of his obvious lie. “You can call next week if you want. Your mother will be glad to know you're in one piece.”

“Okay,” Buck says, shoulders sinking down and turning in. He goes from a 6’3” wall of muscle to a lost child right before Bobby’s eyes, hell of a magic trick. “Sorry,” Buck says, as Bobby does some math, works backwards a little. Fourteen stitches, definitely more recent than four years ago. He thinks about the laws of physics, or at least traffic, he’d break if he knew Robert was bleeding in an ocean somewhere in the world. “Sorry,” Buck says again — why, why should he be apologizing — and nods a few times. “I’ll- I’ll make sure to call.”

His father nods back. “We still work, so-”

“Yeah, after five, I know.”

“And your mother has book club on Tuesdays.”

“Okay.” Smaller, and smaller. Bobby remembers reading Alice in Wonderland to Brook, wonders how big Buck’s pool of tears is to shrink him so much. “I’ll just-” Buck clenches his fists, just for a moment, and then hides them in his pockets. “I’ll just try. If you’re busy you don’t have to pick up.”

Oh, God, give an inch and they’ll take a mile. Buck’s father looks visibly relieved at the offer of plausible deniability. “Alright.” He doesn’t move to hug his son, doesn’t even reach out for a handshake, staying a careful several feet away. “I’m sure you need to get back to your job,” he says, raising eyebrows in Bobby’s direction. It makes him bristle, he doesn’t want to be a forced coconspirator in judging Buck for something he hasn’t even done wrong. Buck wilts even further beside him. His father gives one final nod. “Goodbye, Evan.”

He’s already walking away by the time Buck says “Bye, Dad.”

And then they’re all just standing there. Hen and Chimney went off to the hospital, sure, but there’s still a handful of firefighters lingering around, either trying to make a lot of eye contact or no eye contact at all. Buck stares firmly at the ground. Bobby clears his throat.

“Alright, let's pack it up.” If they were operating under any other circumstance Bobby might compliment his crew for how quickly and quietly they get loaded into the trucks.

The ride back to the station is quiet, too, usual engine chit chat locked in everyone’s throats. Bobby’s pretty sure he sees Nichols subtly and somewhat frantically typing on his phone. Mostly, though, he watches Buck in the rearview. The kid is staring resolutely out the window, but Bobby would bet he’s not seeing a thing. His leg bounces on the seat, and Rodriguez doesn't even do the polite cut-it-out cough. Bobby wonders how many of Buck's stories he's overheard, if he's also now watching them tilt, shift, rearrange in his head. Dumb little boy stuff, skateboard-bike-motorcycle stunts, climbing up trees to fall out of them, all told with class clown energy, wasn't I stupid but wasn't it fun, wasn't it funny? Bobby got up to some shit when he was a kid, trailing after Charlie and taking any ill-advised dare the older kids tossed out to him, but he got hurt and he went home, his mom kissed his scrapes, even his dad would ruffle his hair and grab the first aid kit on his good days. Bobby looks at Buck looking out at nothing and tries to count the broken bones scattered between the big grins and his audience’s corresponding groans, tries to imagine Buck — all his silliness, all his sunshine — going home hurt to parents whose care comes with office hours.

When they pull into the station everyone flees the engine like there’d been a chemical spill, leaving Buck standing alone silhouetted against shiny scarlet paint. Bobby hesitates, one foot still up on the truck bed. He doesn’t want to overstep, but- he can’t stop thinking about how far away Buck’s father stood. The kid deserves someone to come closer. He only wished there was someone better than himself around to do it.

“Hey, kid-”

“I never knew what I did wrong.” Buck is frowning into middle distance, shoulders still tucked in around him. “I- I know I was stupid in- in high school, and college, but-” he looks right at Bobby, eyes wide, and he looks- oh, kid, come home. You’re hurting, come home, you’ll be taken care of, I got a first aid kid at least and I’ll learn to do better than that. “It was always like this- I-” Buck shrugs and here, finally, come the tears. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” Bobby says, and it's only two steps over to him, and he’s never even casually side hugged this kid before but Buck sinks right into his arms.

“You can’t know that-”

“I can.” Buck’s so tall. Bobby’s not sure the last time he hugged somebody taller than him. He wonders how tall his dad was, looming so large in memory but an unknown in actual imperial measurement. He wonders how tall Robert would’ve gotten. “You were a kid. You were their kid. There’s nothing you could have done that was so bad they shouldn’t have loved you anyway.”

Buck shudders against him, and his shoulder is getting wet, and the ambulance will be back soon and there’s firefighters milling about and, always, work to do.

But they can take a little time here. Bobby’ll bend it around, if he has to. The laws of traffic, the laws of physics. It startles him, scares him a little, but- he’d break them for Buck, too.

[mega-aulover]

OK so crazy theory about sunrise on the reaping. Everyone keeps on saying that it’s going to be about Plutarch. Plutarch is an amazing choice. But my gut tells me no.

We already were introduced to someone in two books. I’m not talking about soon to be President. I’m talking about Tigris Snow.

Remember her in Mockingjay.

The fan theory that Tigris became disenfranchised with her cousin because of Finnick and his sad trajectory as a Victor, is viable, and it came from the Ballad of Song Birds and Snake.

Yet.

What if Tigris’s break with the Capitol happened earlier? What if Tigris didn’t like the trajectory of the hunger games and what she was seeing behind the scenes. She is a Snow after all. She is an active member in creation of the Hunger Games.

I question if the book is about her and her rise as a rebel.

I just feel like, we’re not done with Tigris-yet.

After the end of the Ballad of Songbirds and snakes, I knew there was another book coming. I said it a few times. I felt it because Ballad didn't feel finished to me. There were still more things to discuss, that went beyond to what happened to Lucy Grey. How do the songs that Lucy write end up in the sole possession of one Katniss Everdeen? Also what happens do District 12 when Snow comes to power? How does the rebellion form in the districts? How does District 13 become a part of said rebellion? How does Snow's beloved cousin become a rebel?

There’s so many plot venues that Suzanne can use, but the announcement about what’s real and not real that has my brain spinning. The little grey cells were activated.

Yes, Plutarch, is someone who plays with propaganda as a game maker. However, who better plays with what is real and not-real more than a stylist? A good stylus can take a frumpy person and make them look like a million bucks. Is that not a form of real or not-real?

Rita Hayward, said ‘they go to bed with Gilda, but they wake up with me’. The Hollywood machine created the Rita Hayworth. It helped create her most famous part of Gilda. The real Rita Hayworth, was Latina, who had to have plastic surgery to enhance her features. Men wanted to go to bed with the persona Gilda that was created by her Hollywood stylist, but they didn’t want the real her.

A Stylist literally plays with what is not-real. Tigris is highly skilled in this arena. She takes an old shirt and creates something new and un-real for Coryo so that he looks presentable.

Okay so what do we know about Suzanne‘s announcement?

We know that the book takes place at the beginning of the 50th hunger games - the 50th Quarter Quell.

We know Haymitch is the winner.

We know Haymitch was also from Snow‘s favorite district, district 12.

We know Haymitch won his games because he used the force field in the arena as a weapon.

We know that his family was killed because of how he was won his games…but what if there’s more to that story.

What if Finnick was not the first tribute to be sold but what if it was Haymitch? What if Snow tried to sell Haymitch and as a result of him saying no, and all of his loved ones and friends paid the price.

What if it’s Tigris b/c Snow trusts was elected to be the District 12 stylist? After all, we know snow does not trust anyone from district 12. What if Tigris sees what her cousin does to Haymitch something that she experienced herself, allows her to rebel against all of the propaganda that Snow is turning out.

And as a result, Tigris becomes an integral part of the rebellion. We know Tigris is so deep in the rebellion and her cover is so good, her own, cabbage loathing, cousin doesn’t know. Cressida trusts her implicitly with hiding Katniss, Peeta, Gale, and the rest of the surviving members of the Star Squad.

I can see Tigris becoming the spark that rallied the troops created a rebellion in the Capitol. She has easy access to the information that district 13 is not indeed dead but very much alive, because after all her dear cousin is the leader of the Capitol.

She could very well be a key player in the demise of her own cousin. She better than anyone understands the rhetoric and propaganda for the hunger games for this lifestyle.

Tigris was involved in the original Propaganda to remove Lucy Gray from the records of the Hunger Games. She knows about LUCY!!

Tigris was present in the 10th hunger game. And she is present in Mockingjay. Fore me there's no coincidence she was there in the beginning and the end.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

hey 💗

could I please request a smut fic where charles blackwood develops a (borderline obsessive) crush on his cousins housemaid and he ends up fucking her in the shower or bath?

[ik it’s out there but I just rewatched we have always lived in the castle and just seeing seb in a fancy bathtub did things to me…ik it’s weird but still…🫶]

Cute Little Maid » Charles Blackwood

Pairings: Charles Blackwood x Maid!Reader

Summary: Charles has a crush on his cousin’s maid.

Warnings: Smut (18+), language, dirty talk, kissing, hickeys, fingering, unprotected sex, shower sex, praise kink, pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵 the bathtub scene did things to me too🤭

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes.

GIFS ARE NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found these on Pinterest.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

“Constance, I- oh, I’m sorry.” You apologized walking in the living and seen the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life. “I didn’t know you were having company today.” You say.

“It’s ok.” Constance smiles. “Y/N, this is my cousin Charles. Charles, this our maid Y/N.” She introduces you two.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Blackwood.” You smiled, shaking his hand.

“You too.” Charles smiles. “Call me Charles.” He says, shamelessly checking you out.

That was a few weeks ago. Now, Charles can’t seem to keep himself away from you. He’s developed a huge crush on you. Every time you need to go to the store, he gives you a ride. He follows you around the house and watches you clean without you noticing. He would try to get as close as he possibly could to you. He also can’t help but imagine what he wants to do to you sexually.

Charles is whistling to himself as he was walking down the hallway to his bedroom. His whistling stops when he heard a noise in his room and seen the door open. He opened the door to see you putting his neatly folded clothes in his dresser. He walked further in the room and stood a couple feet behind you, waiting for you to turn around. You jumped when you turned around, not expecting Charles to be standing behind you.

“Oh Mr. Blackwood…” You put your hand on your chest where your heart is. “You scared me.” You giggled. “Did you need something?” You asked.

“Yes, you.” Charles thinks to himself.

“I would like some extra towels please.” He says politely.

“I’ll get them right now.” You say.

You walked past him to get him extra towels while Charles went in the bathroom to take a shower. He turned the shower on and stripped himself of his clothes. You walked in the bathroom at the same time he was taking his boxers off. You gasped and closed your eyes, making Charles turn around and smirk.

“I am so sorry.” You apologized for walking in on him naked. “Here’s your extra towels.” You say, holding the towels out for him.

Charles took the towels from your hands and put them on the sink counter. You heard him close the bathroom door. Your heart started pounding when you felt his presence. Your eyes fluttered open. You tried so hard not to look down at his dick. Charles walked closer to you. You walked backwards till your back hit the door. Your breathing quickened when his face was inches away from yours. One of his hands disappeared under your dress, finding its way to your wet panties. A desperate whimper fell from your lips when his fingers rubbed your pussy through your panties. He pulled your panties down your legs and dropped them on the floor. His fingers rubbed from your clit to your entrance. He slid two fingers in your pussy, moving them at a decent pace.

“Mr. Blackwood…” You moaned softly. “This is-” The words died on your tongue before you could finish your sentence.

“This is what, sweetheart?” Charles asks, smirking.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the only thing that came out was a moan. There was nothing in your mind, except the thought of your boss’s cousin fucking you with his fingers.

Your head fell back against the door, enjoying the feeling of his fingers in your pussy. Your nails dug into the wood of the door when his fingers went impossibly deeper. Charles leaned in closer to you, kissing just below your ear, making you moan.

“I wonder what your pussy will feel like wrapped around my cock.” Charles whispers in your ear.

A whimper fell from your lips at the thought of him fucking you. His thumb found its way to your clit, applying pressure to it and rubbing it in circles. His fingers curled inside of you, hitting your sweet spot.

“Right there!” You moaned.

Charles smirks to himself, happy that he found your sweet spot. His fingers continued to hit your sweet spot every time he curled his fingers against it. This man knew what he was doing, because he was about to make you cum sooner than you expected. You pussy clenched around his fingers. Charles knew you were about to cum. He thrusted his fingers faster, wanting your orgasm to build up faster. Your mouth fell open, a moan of his name fell from your lips as you came hard on his fingers. His thumb gave your clit a particularly rough rub before he took his fingers out of your pussy.

You looked at him, trying to catch your breath. Charles’s eyes were filled with lust. He pulled your dress over your head and dropped it on the floor. His hand disappeared behind your back and expertly unclasped your bra, letting it fall from your chest. He grabbed your arm and pulled you inside of the shower with him. He pinned you against the shower wall, kissing you hungrily. You moaned against his lips.

“I’ve wanted this since the day we met.” Charles admits breathlessly against your lips.

“Oh yea?” You say.

Charles turns your body around, pushing the front of your body against the shower wall. He kisses along your shoulders, up to your neck. His teeth bit down hard enough to mark you up. You gasped when you felt his hard cock against your ass cheek. His precum smeared against your skin.

“You feel what you do to me, darling?” His voice is husky. “You make my cock so hard.” He says in almost a whisper, grinding his cock against your ass for some relief.

He wrapped his hand around his cock, pumping it a couple times before rubbing it against your pussy, his tip bumping your clit, making you moan.

“Tell me you want me to fuck you and I will.” He says huskily.

“I- oh!” You paused when his tip circled your entrance. “I want you to fuck me, Charles.” You tell him. “Make me feel so good.” You say.

“I’ll make you feel so fucking good, princess.” He says.

A gasp left your lips when Charles thrusted his whole cock in your pussy. You didn’t realize he was this big. The stretch of his cock entering your pussy hurt a little, but it also felt good. You braced yourself by putting your hands flat on the shower wall as he started thrusting. His thrusts were hard and fast, but also loving. Charles’s hands were on your hips, bringing you back with his thrusts. He looked down, watching his cock thrust in and out of your pussy, covered in your slick.

“Fuck…” Charles moans at the sight.

Your moans were like music to his ears. He wrapped one of his arms around your waist and pulled you against him, your back against the front of his body. Your head fell back against his shoulder, letting the pleasure take over your body.

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” He admits.

“Mmm yea?” You hummed, your eyes fluttering shut.

“I’ve been watching you for a while.” He tells you. “You walking around the house in cute little dress. The way you bend over the kitchen table when you’re wiping it down after breakfast.” He lists off. “You make the littlest things innocent and dirty.” He breathes huskily against your skin.

You didn’t even care that he just admitted that he’s basically stalking you. Frankly, you couldn’t care less that he’s been watching you. To be honest, you like the attention he’s been giving you lately. It’s the most attention you’ve gotten in a while.

“I bet you’re enjoying this as much as me, aren’t you, honey?” He whispers huskily in your ear. “My cock deep in your pussy.” He says, kissing just below your ear.

You opened your mouth to say something, but a moan came out instead. Your mind was invaded by the dirtiest thoughts of what Charles could do to you. Pleasure taken over your body.

Charles’s free hand snaked up the front of your body, wrapping his hand around your throat, but not choking you. You let out a moan, loving the feeling of his hand on your throat. It turned you on even more. His other hand found its way to your clit, applying pressure and began rubbing it. Your pussy clenched around his cock, feeling his fingers on your clit.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned more in a whimper. “Charles…” You say breathlessly.

“Yes, sweetheart? Tell me what you want.” Charles says in almost a whisper.

“I-” You weren’t sure what you were even begging for, but all you know is that you wanted more. “More!” You finally said.

“You want more, darling?” His voice is a little raspy. “I’ll give you more.” He says.

His fingers applied more pressure to your clit as he rubbed it faster. Your clit was beginning to feel sensitive, but you didn’t really care at the moment. You just wanted to enjoy the feeling of his fingers rubbing your clit. He also sped up his thrusts. You could feel every vein of his cock rubbing along your walls.

Your legs started to shake a little due to the amount of pleasure you were receiving. You pressed your hands firmer against the shower wall to keep yourself from falling. Charles’s hand left your throat to wrap around your waist as soon as your knees buckled. His cock found your sweet spot with ease, hitting it repeatedly. That caused your orgasm to build up.

“Charles, I- mmm fuck! I’m going to cum!” You tell him. “Please let me cum!” You begged.

“Cum for me, sweetheart.” He says huskily.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your toes curled against the shower floor as you came on his cock. Charles fucked you through your orgasm and gave your clit one last rub before focusing on his own orgasm.

“Good girl.” Charles praises breathlessly. “Such a good girl for me.” He praises again.

He almost lost rhythm with his thrusts, but quickly regained it. A curse word left his lips as he came inside of you. His thrusts came to a slow stop. His cock stayed inside of you as the two of you caught your breath. His arm remained around your waist to hold you up. You leaned your forehead against the shower wall, enjoying the cool feeling of it against your heated skin.

“Looks like I got myself a cute little maid all to myself now.” Charles says, breaking the silence as he kissed along the skin of your shoulder.

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

-Bucky’s Doll

[brostateexam]

My vision of Season 04 Bridgerton is simple: it will have Benedict meeting a beautiful lady at his family's masquerade ball. They will dance to a string quartet cover of idk Say So by Doja Cat. She will disappear seemingly without a trace. He will try to find her, Prince Charming style and find nothing about her, only a soft spoken male cousin who has pretty eyes and soft hands. They will end up kissing while a string quartet cover of Notorious by Duran Duran plays and Benedict will feel vaguely bad about it; he's trying to not be a bisexual rake any more but he can't help himself. Eventually it will come out that it is the same person, and that both of Benedict's crushes are united in one fey little man who sometimes wears very fancy dresses. String quartet cover of Aerosmith's Dude Looks Like A Lady plays when Benedict proposes. Eloise is also there and filling out the B plot as she's done every season but I have no idea what it will be about.

[dangermousie]

Ep 27 was all plot and no ship. In fact none of my favorite characters except Jiang Li herself appeared in it - it was devoid of the Duke, his sidekicks, Shen Yurong, Princess Wanning, any of the Yes and except for a few seconds’ appearance devoid of Jiang Jingrui.

Still it definitely moved the plot forward - namely the plot of the serpents’ nest that is the Jiangs. Because the grievances were not suffered by our protag but the original Jiang Li and any connections of love or blood were also not hers but the original Li’s, she’s able to be clear headed and not really emotionally involved except insofar as she feels bad for injustice and she’s gonna need that because stepmom has lost the few restraints she had and the rest of the family is useless.

I found this ep humanized both Ruoyao and stepmom for me. I found it so tragic that Ruoyao has finally stopped stepping out of her mother’s monstrous, smothering shadow (her mother’s love always looked controlling and conditional but this ep shows just how downright abusive it was and how Ruoyao had so little chance) only to have her agency taken away from her by mommy on the most basic level. A woman who would poison her own child to get rid of a stepdaughter should not be called a mother in any sense.

I hope Ruoyao gets some sort of a happy ending and a way to find out who she actually is but I doubt that since the drama very clearly implied in this ep she is not a Jiang but is a child of adultery between stepmom and diviner. Papa Jiang is not much of a father even to his blood (he just goes with whatever the woman he is currently sleeping with likes) but the moment he discovers she’s not his, that nunnery is gonna be best case scenario for Ruoyao. Not every family can be the Fans from JoL or the Xiaos from Nirvana in Fire 2.

Stepmom? What a horror show but the drama humanized her (while showing she shouldn’t be allowed to run around at all.) All the woman wanted at the start was to run off with that painter and live in obscure bliss (Ruoyao’s desire to run with worthless ex-fiance is quite reminiscent of that - like mother like daughter - tho at least Mom’s boo genuinely loved her.) But daddy prevented it and was going to marry her off to some sort of mental defective with a family that wanted that dude to have a child (and in that society that marriage is pretty much life of horror) unless she found herself another match and was all “why don’t you off Papa Jiang’s wife, she’s sick anyway” - and not excusing stepmom being a murderer but it’s like Shen Yurong - when all your choices are bad choices you are way more likely to do bad things to survive. In some other alternate universe, she married that painter who never became a diviner and is living a placidly virtuous existence.

Honestly, the moment she killed a friend to escape a hellish marriage it was the end for her - she sent Jiang Li away because of the whole “I murdered your mom can’t have you find out or just look at you” (and daddy blames her for soft heartedness in not killing her!!!) and the other kid was an accident - it’s basically she started out as a villain out of perceived necessity but then she had to continue and got worse and worse. The journey of 1000 miles begins with a single step, indeed.

I found it poignant she ultimately wasn’t able to maim monster daddy as requested by diviner. Not so poignant that she’s apparently repeating the way she was parented in the way she’s parenting her daughter despite knowing firsthand what that’s like. (But I wonder how much her obsession with getting Ruoyao the best marriage, the nicest reputation (no showing in public at age x), the best womanly skills (zither) is driven by her forever remembered terror of being a woman with no power and no options and no good marriage prospects.)

Even that scarred cousin who married the abuser got a little bit of interest from me - the way she tells his paralyzed body that even tho he beat her so badly she will take excellent care of him and the sheer terror in his eyes was great. Go girl!!!!

Still, hope next ep brings back the Duke and Co. (Jiang Li sent away the guard the Duke had on a mission for her and girl - bad life choice - guard had a big point in that he was there for her protection. And now diviner is coming and there is no guard. I guess she’s so bad at listening to instructions, the Duke will have to move in with her himself to make sure she does what he wants. What a hardship 😂)

[ficsilike-reblogged]

As High As Honour

Summary: You never expected to leave Lys. You never expected to learn your mother had a family in Westeros. You definitely weren’t expecting dragons, politics, and heartache. You weren’t expecting Aemond Targaryen. Pairing(s): Eventual Soft Dark!Aemond Targaryen/F!Reader & Ser Harwin Strong/F!Reader (No Y/N) Warnings For This Chapter: Canon typical violence, death of loved ones, childbirth, death of a child (not detailed), canon typical misogyny Word Count: 8.1k A/N: No Civil War AU!! I know I said no more ASOIAF/HOtD…but this wouldn’t leave me alone. This is going to be a slow, slow, slow burn. Aemond isn’t in this chapter and Harwin only shows up for a few sentences but please come along on this adventure with me. It will set up the dynamics for the rest of the story. Reader has no physical attributes aside from silver hair and purple/mauve eyes. She is technically Aemond’s second cousin so…(Targcest?). Anyway. I’m having fun with this story, and I hope you do, too.

Book One: The Shrike

You scarcely remembered your last day in Lys. If you wracked your memories, you could recall washes of green, the smell of salt water and spicy perfumes, and the tinkling of your mother’s laugh as your father threw you into the air with a smile on his face.

But you also remembered your mother bundling you up into her arms, ripping you from sleep, and fleeing to one of the many docks around the city. Your father was nowhere to be seen. You would never see him again.

She taught you about the Seven Pointed Star and the Faith of the Seven on the weeks’ long journey, trying to brace you for the differences that awaited you when you docked in King’s Landing. The only houses you remembered, from her careful drawings on sheets of discarded papyrus in the belly of the ship, were the three headed dragon and the falcon.

“Those are the only two you need anyway,” your mother said with a low, soft laugh.

You just liked that you made her laugh. You hadn’t heard her laugh for almost the entirety of the voyage. But that was quickly wiped away when you moved through the foul-smelling city and into the red fortress that stretched into the sky.

The strange, sharp throne had you frowning as someone in a golden suit of armor announced your mother’s name into the cavernous room. He barely managed to get your name out before a woman who looked so eerily like your mother was sprinting toward you. “Maegelle!” She shouted.

Your mother stretched out her arms and caught the other woman with a strange mix of a cry and a laugh. “Oh, Aemma. It has been far too long.”

The woman—Aemma—pulled back and grasped at your mother’s face with shaking hands. “You haven’t changed at all.” But then her periwinkle eyes moved to you. “Oh!” Tears started to slip down her cheeks.

Your mother reached for you and you readily set your small fingers against her palm. “My little shrike, this is your aunt, Queen Aemma Targaryen.”

You truly did not understand what you and your mother had run from in Lys and the family dynamic you had been thrust into in King’s Landing. But you tried, piecing it together where you could.

Your mother was the twin of Aemma Arryn-Targaryen. The rebellious twin to Aemma’s dutiful and pious counterpart, which was ironic considering your mother was named after your great-aunt Maegelle Targaryen who had become a septa. Your mother had absconded to Lys while their father, Lord Rodrik Arryn, had been distracted by Aemma’s betrothal to Prince Viserys. The Lord of the Eyrie eventually accepted his youngest daughter’s foreign marriage—apparently your birth had softened him to it all.

You were six years younger than your cousin, Princess Rhaenyra, and followed her around the Red Keep endlessly. While you were your mother’s ’little shrike,’ you were Rhaenyra’s ‘little shadow.’ And where Rhaenyra was, Lady Alicent was sure to be.

Your lessons were spent at their sides and you often could be found in one of their chambers, asleep on a small mountain of pillows and blankets at their bedside. They encouraged you to participate in court, visit the city with them, and took you with them whenever they needed adventure away from the shadows of the Red Keep. Alicent took pains to teach you the prayers of the Seven and Rhaenyra, more than once, was half-heartedly scolded by her father for allowing you onto Syrax’s saddle with her as she flew around the city’s limits.

“She is Rhaenyra’s cousin in blood, but her sister by choice,” Aunt Aemma murmured to your mother one day as you broke your fast. You doubted she cared if you heard her, she and your mother were often together, too.

“And little Lady Alicent has gained a sister, too, it seems!” Your mother laughed.

But still, you were not entirely accepted at court. Some of the courtiers called you and your mother the Lysene Dragons. Then came the whispers. You knew your mother was different. Special. You knew it before your lives were upended in Lys. It was something Maegelle wore like armor with her head held high. Her ability to know things, to see things others could not, gave her a power you knew she was trying to pass onto you when you were alone together in her chambers in the quiet of the night. And then there was the fact that you looked more like your father than your mother—still clearly of Valyrian descent (the blood of Old Valyria was thick in Lys) with your silver hair and mauve eyes (a shade you shared with your mother), but just different enough. You were strange in their eyes, too. A little too ready to climb a tree or take your supper plate and eat by yourself in some dark room or to turn around in your horse’s saddle “just to see what it was like.” You preferred silence to idle chatter and had become a terror with a mace in the training grounds as your mother cheered from her perch. Rhaenyra doted on you and delighted in the way you still needed to learn how to hold your tongue with other highborn ladies–calling Lady Reyne a “kitten who assumes she’s a lion” to her face had the princess in stitches for a week. Giggling at inappropriate things had become something else associated with you as your time at court continued (an example of this would be when the King’s Counter was found guilty of stealing from the crown and blubbered for his life in the quiet of the Great Hall—your mother had to drag you out of the hall when your laughter could not cease). Your Lysene background made you an outsider at court, despite being able to prove your Targaryen heritage and the wealth your mother had smuggled out of Lys, but you didn’t particularly care to change anyone’s preconceived beliefs about you.

You delighted in the attentions of your mother, Aemma, Alicent, and Rhaenyra.

The men of court were another matter entirely.

King Viserys and his Hand, Otto Hightower, only served to make you uncomfortable or angry. Or both. You did not particularly care for how Viserys had apparently made Aemma suffer through torturous pregnancies over and over again in his want of a son. Your mother had held Aemma’s hand through her latest miscarriage and explained to you what had happened. Then Lord Otto had sneered at you and your mother when you first arrived but had changed his outward opinion when servants brought trunk after trunk after trunk, filled with gold and jewels, from your ship. He would whisper to the King whenever your mother spoke at dinner, suggesting something or other about the state of the kingdom, and you knew he was undermining her opinions. Prince Daemon was the only one who you marginally liked but he had a horrendous habit of touching your hair even after you and your mother slapped his hands away.

You tried, and you know your mother did as well, to make the Red Keep home. But by the time your first year in its shadows ended, your life was upended again. A blue and white carriage slowed to a stop in front of the fortress as you watched from your chambers a few floors above. You heard whispers whispers whispers of something you didn’t grasp. Something about your mother. Something about you. Something about that other house—House Arryn. But the pieces didn’t fit; you could not solve the puzzle yet.

Then you were alone. Your mother was frequently away behind closed doors and you were shooed away from listening against them whenever you tried.

But soon, both Alicent and Rhaenyra grasped your hands and led you forward as you were called into the Great Hall and you were presented to a frail old man. You curtseyed as Alicent taught you but could not stop the confused frown from pulling at the edges of your mouth as you glanced at your Aunt Aemma and your mother as they stood beside him. What was happening?

His weathered, age-marked hand reached out and the backs of his shaking fingers brushed against your cheek. It could have repulsed you or confused you further. Instead, traitorous tears welled in your eyes.

Your father used to do the same before tucking you into bed at night. Before you left Lys. Before he died. Before you learned your uncle seized control of his late brother’s trade agreements and drove you and your mother from the island. Before.

“My shrike, this is your grandsire, Lord Rodrick Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie.”

You learned that the children Lord Rodrik Arryn had with his first wife all perished, either from sickness, the sea, or the clashes with the Mountain Clans of the Vale. The number of possible heirs dwindled until…there was only you and your mother. As the only known child and grandchild of Rodrik Arryn and Princess Daella Targaryen, Rodrik’s second wife, not in line for the Iron Throne, you were named heir to the Vale of Arryn. You, at the behest of your mother, agreed to be known as an Arryn, instead of your father’s name, to keep the Arryn name alive and settle some of the fears the Valemen had brought before Viserys and Rodrik. Those had been the meetings your mother had weathered behind closed doors, fighting for your place in the line of succession. Instead of the red and black of House Targaryen you had almost become accustomed to wearing, you adopted shades of silver, blue, and white lace. Your obsidian necklaces were locked away and you wore sapphires, pearls, and opals in their place.

And then, with your little heart breaking, you were loaded into that white and blue carriage alongside Lord Arryn and your mother while Aemma, Rhaenyra, and Alicent wiped at their tear stained cheeks from the Keep’s steps.

Your life was out of your control; that was a strange realization for a child to make.

But your grandsire—Rodrik insisted you call him that with a kind smile you could not refuse—was good to you and told you stories of the Vale and the storied history of House Arryn as the road took you further and further from King’s Landing. Your mother also tried to assuage your fears and told you that your chosen sisters and aunt were not leaving your life permanently. “You shall see them again, my shrike. I swear it to you. Your wings have not been clipped.”

When you and your mother were presented to the assembled noble houses of the Vale in the Eyrie’s Crescent Chamber, you could feel their judging eyes moving all over you both. Even after Rodrik gave his personal approval of you and your mother, welcoming his “last daughter, back from her own adventures,” and reading the royal decree King Viserys had drafted, stating you and your mother were the trueborn Arryns you claimed to be, the stares persisted. But their judgment soon turned to awe when your mother presented your grandsire with a Valyrian steel sword, a falchion with ripples of sky blue shining across the blade and a large sapphire embedded in the intricate crossguard. Your mother had taken it from your home in Lys before fleeing to Westeros. It had been your father’s prized possession and Maegelle knew that it would strike at her good-brother’s pride to find it missing. And you surmised that this gift would gain her (and you) the approval of at least some of the lords waiting to discredit your claims to the weirwood throne of the Eyrie. (Several more trunks of gold and jewels adding to the Eyrie’s treasury probably helped, too.)

“A gift for my father,” she announced to the crowd with a knowing smile. “He has long served the Vale faithfully, and has been its greatest defender. He deserves a weapon as unyielding, strong, and just as he is.”

Rodrick took the sword and stood, holding the weapon up for just a moment before setting it aside and hugging your mother with all his strength. The crowd cheered and your mother was quick to tug you into the familial embrace as well. As they broke apart, Rodrick—your grandsire—smiled down at you, his dark eyes clouded with age but kind.

It was only then, as the assembled lords and ladies raised a toast to “Lady Maegelle” and called you “the little Lady Arryn,” did you truly take a breath.

Perhaps this could be home.

The Vale had its charms. The Eyrie had a harsh beauty and your mother was full of smiles as she showed you the fortress’ hidden passages and once helped you retrace the steps she had taken when she had absconded to Lys. While you could still see the sorrow in her eyes whenever she spoke of your father, you could tell that being here, in her childhood home, was some form of comfort for her. And she still took time to teach you all she had learned during her ‘adventures.’ How to cut to prevent death. How to see what the future held with just a drop of blood. How to mix potions to heal, to hurt, to subdue. You knew that most would not understand her. She called herself a healer. She was your hero.

“I’ll not have you defenseless in this world, my shrike.” She said it every night after your private lessons. But after your third year since settling into the chill of the Eyrie, you started to hear a touch of sadness in her voice.

“What ails you, mama?”

Her smile would be sad, too, but she would, without fail, lean down to press a kiss to your forehead as you rested atop your featherbed. “The future is ever shifting. I simply must keep trying.”

However, her smiles grew dimmer when the raven arrived, announcing the tourney King Viserys was hosting to celebrate Aunt Aemma’s pregnancy. “He believes she will give him a son.”

A feeling you were learning to embrace rolled your stomach. “She will,” the words tumbled out of your mouth. You knew them to be true but something else lingered, leaving an unpleasant taste on the back of your tongue, but you could not voice why. You were still learning.

Your mother nodded and set the missive aside before drawing you into her arms. A sigh rattled through her and you felt it shake your hair. “She will.”

Your grandsire could no longer make the journey to King’s Landing but smiled at you and made sure your cloak was tied tightly around your shoulders with a familiar, kind smile. He brushed his fingers against your cheek. “Sweet and safe travels to you, little bird.”

He and your mother spoke in soft tones, too, ending in a tight but gentle hug and your mother pressing a kiss to his cheek. And after the trek down to the carriages, you and the Valemen traveling party departed to the south. The feeling that had rolled your stomach weeks ago only grew stronger as the distance between you and the capital grew smaller. Something was going to happen. Something was in motion. But you did not know what.

Your feeling of ill-ease only subsided marginally when Rhaenyra and Alicent wrapped you in their arms as soon as you stepped out of the carriage. “How you’ve grown!” Alicent said with a smile. “I cannot believe it!”

“The Vale has made a lady of you!” Rhaenyra teased, pulling at the fine lace of your sleeve. “Not a speck of dust on your gown.”

Your mother snorted beside you before stealing a hug from Alicent and Rhaenyra, too. “Give it time; she will find the largest bit of mud and sully it soon enough.”

Your Aunt Aemma was glowing when you saw her in her solar but the feeling came back with a vengeance as she winced, lowering herself onto her settee.

Something was wrong.

Something was wrong.

Something was wrong.

You had to be all but shoved out of your chambers by your mother in the coming days, introducing you to Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys Velaryon and their beautiful children, and then telling you to enjoy your time with Alicent and Rhaenyra at the tourney. And you tried your best, you did, and cheered beside them, even if they were cheering for Daemon as he rose through the ranks. Rhaenyra also seemed interested in the common born Dornishman. Cole, you think his name was.

Your eye was drawn to a different figure. Tall, broad, with curling brown hair peeking beneath his helm.

“And who has you looking like a doe?” Rhaenyra mused beside you.

“No one.”

“Has someone caught her attention?” Alicent asked from Rhaenyra’s side.

“No!” You groused, wanting your seat to open up and swallow you whole. This was not attention you liked. Now, you were not new to thinking a person attractive. There was a knight at the Eyrie who often had heat inching its way up your throat whenever he looked at you. But acting on it or your attentions being noticed were beyond your experience. Your companions might have plied you with stories of love and courtship, and your mother used to tell you the long, beautiful story of how your father earned her love and devotion, but this was frightening to you.

Undeterred, Rhaenyra turned and tried to follow your line of sight and you knew she found her mark when her smirk widened. “Ah, I believe I know who has captured our little shadow’s heart.”

“Who? Point him out to me!” Alicent leaned closer to Rhaenyra and you pondered getting up and leaving as Rhaenyra did actually point out the burly man who just removed his helm and your poor heart shot up into your throat as you got a clear look at his handsome face. “Oh, that’s Ser Harwin Strong.” Alicent looked around Rhaenyra to smile at you. “A fine choice.” “Enough,” you said, pouting.

The pair eventually relented and watched the rest of the tourney. You noticed Alicent had not ceased her habit of picking at the edges of her nail bed but the moment Rhaenyra placed her hand over hers, she stopped. The simple moment had you smiling. Their bond was special. Sometimes you felt like you were intruding on them, interrupting something you should not be privy to, gentle and warm. But it was not your place to question it. You simply wanted them to be happy.

“Ah! My nieces!”

You scowled at the sound of Daemon’s voice as he approached your box and the fact that he called you a niece—you were not his niece. His presence was still irksome and annoying. Listening to him was a chore so you found a spot across the tourney grounds—and no it was not Ser Harwin—to focus on so you could not listen to him wax poetic about his own prowess. It was only when both Rhaenyra and Alicent stood and you watched Alicent grant him his favor did you start to pay attention again. You could not stop the roll of your eyes—he was not subtle in his distaste for Otto and you knew that his mostly-harmless flirting with Alicent was a ploy. You also found his strange obsession with Rhaenyra uncomfortable. You hoped her attentions toward him would wane eventually.

“He’s going to lose,” you said as they retook their seats.

Rhaenyra nudged you with her elbow. “You are incorrigible. What has Uncle Daemon done to gain your ire?”

“He exists. But to be true, he is the least vexing of the men here.”

“I am sure you would not find Ser Harwin vexing.”

“Alicent!”

The pair giggled at your embarrassment but it soon ended when, indeed, Prince Daemon lost to Cole. But the smile you let press at your mouth withered as that creeping feeling once again started to bite at the back of your mind.

It would not be until you three arrived back at the Red Keep did you understand why that feeling had come so swiftly.

Your mother sat on her knees in the hall outside Aemma’s chambers. Her hands had been beaten raw, like she’d been beating at the door for hours. “She’s gone,” she whispered. “She’s gone.”

You learned that the Kingsguard had kept your mother from being at Aemma’s side during the birth, no matter how hard she fought. You would never forget how your mother raged at Viserys when you saw him next. In perfect High Valyrian, she cursed him as tears rolled down her cheeks. “You killed her! You did this! You kept me from her and her blood is on your hands—on your soul! You will feel it on you with every breath you take until you breathe your last! I could have saved her and you cut her open like a brute! Did you think I could not hear her calling for me? Did you think I did not hear her begging for you to not cut her? I will never forgive you!”

The funeral for both Aemma and little Baelon was a blurred memory for you. You remembered the warmth of the dragon’s flame as Syrax’s fire lit the pyre. You remembered how Rhaenyra shuddered with sobs in your hold. You remembered how your mother offered her a place at the Eyrie if she ever would want it. And you remembered the cold, calculating look in Otto’s eyes.

The moment the carriage door closed behind you, you wanted to open it again and run to Rhaenyra’s side, to comfort her, to hold her. But the most you could do was hope she would take your mother up on her offer of visiting the Eyrie. Every night on the way back to the Vale, you dreamt of your Aunt Aemma. She was always quiet and she would always press her hand to your face with a sad smile. When you woke, you would you feel the warmth of her touch against your skin. And every morning, your mother would hold your face the exact same way. It almost felt like Aemma was comforting you both.

And by the time you reached the Vale, you understood why.

Your grandsire was dead. He had taken his final breaths the night before you arrived. Your tears from the loss of your aunt turned to rage at the loss of your grandsire. Then the tears came again while the anger waited in the shadows of your heart. The only outlet you had was your mace and you took your rage out on the dark, spindly trees of the Eyrie’s garden, leaving them broken and shattered. Large chunks were missing from the bigger trunks, a testament to your wrath and ruin. But even as your energy waned, you sobbed in the shadows. Most left you alone, only your mother braved your presence while in the garden. She sat in silence upon a stone bench, listening to your destruction as she tilted her head up to feel the sunlight on her skin. It was like she was breathing through your wrath with you. She often cried at night, when she probably thought you could not hear her—or perhaps that was when she could no longer bear to hold her tears back. Either way, you often crept into her chambers and snuggled against her side beneath her warm blankets as you held each other until sleep took you both.

The grip your mother had on you as your grandsire was interred in the Arryn crypts was only mirrored by your grip on her. Tight and unwavering. You had each other. That would have to be enough.

Your mother became the Lady of the Eyrie and you were at her side when the assorted lords and ladies of the Vale swore their allegiance and she took her place atop the weirwood throne, Thorn drawn over her lap. Things had changed. Your rage simmered but never truly dissipated. Your tears still stung but slowly ebbed. Your mother settled into her duties and something settled behind your bones as you watched her hold court—she made sure you were at her side whenever possible, learning everything you could and listening to your admittedly unlearned ideas and slowly turning them toward something more suitable or palatable.

Your mother and her court were once again called to King’s Landing to swear fealty to Rhaenyra when she was named heir to the Iron Throne, and you found a bit of respite in your continued companionship with Alicent and the new Crown Princess. Watching Alicent ready Rhaenyra for her investiture had something stirring in your chest, the gentle touches, the unspoken looks between them. You did not know the words for it, but you knew they found comfort within each other. But soon you were called back to the Vale, your time cut short by your and your mother’s duties.

The moons came and went and your ravens to and from King’s Landing persisted, too. It was a balm to you to have Rhaenyra and Alicent’s friendship in your pocket, but even through their writings, you knew something had become…undone between them. Terrible understanding dawned on you when the raven from the capital arrived, inviting you and your mother to the wedding of Alicent and Viserys.

“This is an outrage!” Yorbert Royce exclaimed, his anger pooling in red splotches across his nose. “Queen Aemma has not yet been in her grave a year!”

Your mother raised a hand from her perch on her weirwood throne to quiet his outburst before tossing the missive away. It flittered down lazily before being scooped up by one of her handmaidens and quickly set alight. “It warms my heart to know that you feel the loss of my sister Aemma as I do, Lord Royce.” She kept her voice even but you could feel the hurt in each syllable. “I, too, view this as a grave strike against House Arryn and the Vale itself. While I will not begrudge any houses that wish to attend the festivities, my daughter and I will not be in attendance.”

And that was that. You would not speak out against your mother. In truth, you did not understand why Alicent, of all people, had been taken to wife by the king.

Your mother came into your chambers that night and explained it to you as your handmaidens readied you for bed. They had come with you from Lys, and you knew you and your mother could speak freely (in the Lysene dialect of Valyrian) in their presence.

“Did she not have care for Rhaenyra’s feelings?” You asked as lavender oil was rubbed into your skin. “Or of ours?”

Your mother hummed and leaned forward in her chair, steepling her fingers in her lap. “Do not blame Alicent, my little shrike. I have no doubt she had little choice in this matter. You know her father, that snake Otto, has high aspirations for himself and his bloodline. I would not be surprised if this was all his doing. Lady Alicent has always been nothing more than a pawn in his game. It is a cruel thing, a fate many girls are relegated to because they were not born boys.” She reached out and traced a finger down your nose. “I would, in my heart of hearts, not believe that Alicent wanted this. But I am sure Rhaenyra feels differently.” When you were finally ready for bed, she lifted the blankets of your featherbed around your shoulders, trying to press into your mind the politics of marriages between the highborn families of Westeros. She finished with, “We mustn’t judge them, either of them. It is better to be allied with them both.” She spoke a little longer of how both Alicent and Rhaenyra were in fragile positions of power but were more than likely more isolated than they ever had been before. She wished you good night, suggesting you write to both of them at first light, and strode toward the door.

“Will I be made to marry someone for advantage?” You asked, half dreading the answer.

Your mother paused, the light behind her making her look like a goddess cloaked in shadow. “We are the ladies of the Vale, my shrike. Our place in this kingdom is powerful but precarious. And I…” Her words trailed off. “Your future is clouded from me.” That simple, strange sentence struck at your marrow. How could she not know? Your mother knew everything, did she not? “But I promise you, I will do all I can to protect you and your heart. I’ll not have you moved about the board without your consent.”

The years slipped by. You kept your correspondence with both Rhaenyra and Alicent, still finding friendship with both of them, despite seeing their own relationship grow more and more strained from leagues away, piecing together its crumbling from anecdotes they slipped into their missives. You wished you could mend it, have them come back together. There was love there. You knew it now. And there could be again.

Your time was filled with learning at your mother’s side. While she had history within the Vale and had shadowed your grandfather when he still ruled, she had also played the great game while in Lys. She knew how to play the part of conciliator and of peacemaker while also not allowing certain concessions of her own power or boundaries. She did send men to aid in Lord Corlys’ war against the triarchy, but only those who volunteered; most came from the islands of the Three Sisters, eager and willing for a naval battle. This allowed her to retain a mostly neutral stance with the Crown while also encouraging close ties with House Velaryon (and Daemon, but that was beside the point).

Your mother’s personal sigil, of a falcon with dragon wings was probably her one acknowledgement of your nicknames: the Dragons of the Vale. At least they were not referring to your Lysene heritage as an insult anymore. You learnt much and more. How to be hard but forgiving. Soft yet unforgetting. “Never forget a slight, my shrike, but forgive those who genuinely ask for it.” But she also knew when to strike when she knew her perceived enemy felt safe and at a point she knew it would hurt the most. On the second anniversary of your aunt’s death, your mother told Viserys that she had set aside Daemon’s marriage to Lady Rhea Royce. My sister would not have her childhood home and allies left wanting with unfulfilled marriages. I’m sure she would help you understand if she were still with us. The raven with the crown’s approval arrived less than a fortnight later. You hoped you would one day be as respected as she was—but would happily wait years for that to come to pass.

Lady Rhea was more than pleased with the arrangement and you knew her and her bannermen were thankful to not have Daemon darken their doorstep again. You attended the wedding between Lady Rhea and a handsome second son from House Redfort as your mother’s envoy as she was preoccupied with dealing with the Mountain Clans attack on the High Road. You did not mind acting as the envoy for House Arryn. It was your duty, after all. But it could be lonely, at times. It was not uncommon for you to hear whispers about your mother’s reputation and ‘what she kept in her shadows’ and the wagers about if you were as so inclined as she. But you smiled prettily, danced with most everyone who asked, and mediated disputes when you thought it appropriate, trying to remember how your mother would speak to her bannermen. These would be your people to lead one day. Your secrets were your own, as were your mother’s.

And you were getting stronger by the day.

“Do you think it is true that they bathe in blood to retain their beauty?” Someone asked, the question only slightly muted to your ears over the wedding festivities. You did not deign it of high enough import to turn and see who was speaking—you’d heard all this before. “Do not be ridiculous!” Another hissed their reply.

“No, tis an honest question. They are more dragon than falcon anyway–at least the little one is.”

There was an answering grumble. “I have seen the little one go to the sept every morning to pray.” Of course someone spotted you going into the sept to pray; you made sure to go when the more pious amongst your group would also be in attendance. It was an easy ploy your mother suggested. “It would be best if you left your tall tales to the fool, no? Our ladies have been kind and fair to those who deserve it. They have been fine successors to Old Lord Rodrick.”

There was a pause before, “House Upcliff is eager for an audience with them.”

“Everyone is eager for an audience!”

Ridiculous.

It was also not surprising that several houses used opportunities like this to present their sons as possible matches to you. It felt more than a little underhanded when it happened without your mother around, but your handmaidens and sworn shield, Ser Oswin Melcolm, did help to make you feel secure enough to politely refuse to make a decision on your own. You would not overstep your mother’s authority.

It was a reprieve when you finally stepped back into the cold shadows of the Eyrie a moon later, home at last. You needed a scalding bath and a hug from your mother. It felt like you could breathe again when you smelt her spiced perfume and she giggled with you as the moon rose high in the sky, both of you recounting your assorted adventures.

The next morn, a raven was waiting for you, stamped with the seal of House Targaryen, just as your mother had one waiting for her, stamped with the seal of House Velaryon–it was probably from Princess Rhaenys, they had kept a correspondence since the tourney. You read yours as you broke your fast.

“Who has written to you, my shrike?” Your mother asked, plucking a plum from the assortment of fruit in front of you.

“Rhaenyra is going on a tour to find a husband, by order of the king,” you said, handing the missive to her with a sigh.

Your mother’s mauve eyes quickly skimmed the princess’ words and she hummed as she handed it back to you. “You should accompany her.”

You choked on the next bite of porridge. “I-what?”

She patted your back with a knowing smile. “Your cousin feels alone, and despite your best efforts at hiding it, I know you miss her. She needs you just as you need her. Perhaps you can help her through this new trial.”

So far, the entire tour had been a farce. A near-permanent scowl was slapped across Rhaenyra’s face since you and your miniscule traveling party met her and her entourage on the King’s Road on the way to the Reach. By the time you had finished (and failed) through the Riverlands, you finally found the courage to speak to Rhaenyra about what your mother had said.

It did not go well and you spent the morning trying to get her to speak to you at all with little success. But you needed to help her see Alicent’s impossible choice and the whole of the situation in how it related to her; both the lucky and the unfortunate. So, you tried again.

The carriage rocked and you slid on the seat with a huff. “I am only trying to say that you are in a unique situation, Rhaenyra. So few women have the opportunity you have been given. To pick your husband—to make your own decision—it is a victory for you. Your father could have chosen the old Lord Fossoway or, Seven forbid, Dalton Greyjoy and marched you into the sept kicking and screaming and said it was for the good of the Realm.”

“Am I still supposed to be happy about this?” She bit out, crossing her arms over her chest and turning away from you. “No one is demanding you marry.”

“But they will. My mother and I know our grasp on the Vale is tenuous. If there was a way for us to solidify it, I would have to accept. I do not have a dragon. I cannot hold my position by myself. I am not a Targaryen-”

“You are!”

“-so I am resigned to whatever Valeman has the best suit.” You sighed and eyed your cousin carefully. “In this world, in this kingdom, women have so few freedoms. My mother gained the ire of King Jaehaerys by marrying for love. I am to be her only child, the maesters confirmed it and that is a solace to me because I know the love and loss of my father cracked at something deep inside her that cannot be healed. If she were able to bear more children, she would undoubtedly be forced to marry and have more children and that would harm her in a way that I…” the words trailed off for a moment and you tried to collect yourself. “I do not wish to think of it. But now you have the freedom of choice, of finding your own love, with your king and father’s blessing. Do not squander it, Rhaenyra. Do you think Alicent truly wanted to marry your father?”

Rhaenyra’s head snapped to the side quickly, eyes narrowed and angry. “She is the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms! I should have seen her ploy-”

You tried to resist the roll of your eyes as you should have seen this argument waiting. “Her ploy? Or her father’s? You know Alicent. Despite the anger you feel now, you know in your heart of hearts that your friend would not betray you like this without some outside machinations forcing her hand. Was it not you both who would read me tales of dashing knights and maidens? Stories about love?”

“We were children.”

“She was barely a woman grown when she married your father. Is that who you would have given her? A man with power, true. But a man old enough to be her father? Who does only wish for more heirs?”

The princess was quiet for a moment before turning to stare out the window again. “That matters little now,” she grumbled. “She has her crown and my father has a son.”

The conversation fizzled out after that and you knew not to press it again today. You were thankful she seemed content to speak with you about anything else and she was happy to hear about your adventures in the Vale.

It was not until you were ripped from sleep later that night did you realize that Rhaenyra was not finished with the conversation as you had thought.

“What if you did have a dragon?” Rhaenyra asked, standing in the doorway of your room at the inn. Ser Oswin caught your eye over her shoulder and winced, apologetic.

Your face scrunched in confusion, still half-asleep. “What?”

“What if you did have a dragon? Would you still think you had to marry someone your Valemen picked for you?” Rhaenyra strode over to your bed and held both of your hands between hers as you sat up atop the featherbed. “I…I don’t want that for you. I want you happy, not trapped. If you feel a dragon will give you that freedom, I will give it to you.”

You searched her face, eyes still blurry with your interrupted sleep. Determination, bordering on desperation, was pinching at the corners of her beautiful face. You had not seen her like this before and it was more than enough to wake you up completely. You sat straighter and moved your hands just enough to lace your fingers with hers, holding her hands as she used to do when you were a child. This felt different. Not like when she comforted you as you longed for Lys and your father years ago. This was something fracturing beneath the surface. Or starting to roar with life. You needed to tread carefully. “Your offer is more than generous, Rhaenyra, and I’ll never be able to thank you for extending it to me. But, I am not a Targaryen.”

The Crown Princess shook her head. “You are. You are the Blood of the Old Valyria and you could forge your own path; be the dragon of the Vale! Do not let the whims of men dictate the rest of your life.”

Her grip tightened until it was near painful but you did not pull away, could not. Her violet eyes said more, pleading and searching. It took you only a moment to realize that she was speaking about herself as much as she was to you. She needed freedom and comfort and power and security. A dichotomy atop dichotomy. This was a turning point for her. For you. Something settled around your shoulders then as you looked into her eyes again. “This will brand me as overly ambitious and you as-”

“I am the heir to the Iron Throne. I shall do as I please. I am to make allies, am I not? You are of my mother’s kin, my blood.” She tilted her chin up, just so, and she was every inch a Valyrian Princess in that moment. You almost giggled. Her mind was made up.

And so was yours. “Then allies you should make. Find eggs for your half-siblings. They are your kin as well.” Rhaenyra nearly pulled away from you but you held her firmly in your grasp. “They will be used against you if you do not welcome them; you and I both know this. The House of the Dragon must remain as one. Be smart, Rhaenyra. Give them reasons to love you. They are children.”

“They-”

“Did not ask to be born. But you have the power now. Be open handed with it. Otto will surely try to have Aegon be named heir but Alicent, despite what you think of her, has advocated for you. Not her son. You.”

“How do you know this?”

“She has told me herself and Ser Harrold has confirmed it,” you said, mentioning the knight of the Kingsguard whom Rhaenyra trusted. You had spoken with him just that morning. “He has heard them speaking of it frequently.”

Her hands shook in yours. The purple of her eyes was clouded with something—almost like relief, almost like heartache. “Oh.”

When she took her seat upon the throne of Storm's End, you held your breath as the first suitor came forward, half expecting Rhaenyra to be as disinterested as she had been before. But something changed when Willem Blackwood stepped forward. Of course, one could make the argument that the princess’ mind changed when Willem drew his sword after being insulted by the Bracken suitor.

“He’s bold,” Rhaenyra said, looking over her shoulder as Ser Criston pulled her away from the clash.

While he was decidedly the smaller of the two, Willem bested the Bracken, leaving him bloody and clutching his nearly severed arm within a few moments. That boldness led to Rhaenyra walking with him through the fortress’ godswood on an unusually sunny day as you and Ser Criston chaperoned them from a few paces back. Rhaenyra was happy. And Willem was smitten.

“What do you think love feels like?” Rhaenyra asked as she slithered under the blankets of your bed that night.

You hummed, fiddling with the end of her braid. “Mother said that her love with Father was quiet. Calm.” She had told you countless times about her long courtship with him, scandalous as it might have been seen by Westerosi highborn or not. She was always happy when she spoke of him. Her smile might have been tinged with bittersweetness, but the love remained. “He felt like a long night’s rest, is what she used to tell me.”

Rhaenyra was quiet for a moment. “I used to think that love had to be loud or fiery.” She paused again. If you were as willfully ignorant as Viserys, you would have no inkling that she was thinking of Daemon at that moment, but her face shuttered and she inched closer to you. “I want to be happy.”

Turning to fully face her, you linked your fingers with hers beneath the blankets. The thrumming you felt beneath your skin had your next breath stalling in your throat. You had not yet learned how to discern people’s future’s clearly, as your mother had. But you still knew that Rhaenyra was at a crossroads. “You deserve to be happy,” you whispered the words to her, hoping she knew what you meant.

This was an incredibly stupid idea. It was probably some of the most fun you had ever had. But that did not mean it was not stupid.

Rhaenyra’s grip on your hand was tight as she led you down into the caverns around the Dragonmont. How you’d convinced Ser Criston and Ser Oswin to accompany you to Dragonstone you’d never know but the princess was convincing despite the continuing conflict with the Crabfeeder in the Stepstones just a few leagues away. Her tentative betrothed, Lord Willem, had been sent back to Raventree Hall to ready for his and his family’s travels to the capital to meet with Viserys. “If you do not feel compelled by any of the eggs here, we shall try again at the pit when we return to the capital.” She said it so breezily that you had to laugh. Claiming a dragon like this felt like treason. It probably was treason but you were not going to tell Rhaenyra no. At least not outwardly.

And what if you did claim a dragon? Could you really be seen as strong enough to evade an unwanted betrothal? Would you become strong enough to truly solidify your and your mother’s place as the Ladies of the Eyrie? A warm rush filled your chest and continued to grow with each step you took. You could not refuse her. Or yourself. But you knew this was an impossibility. You could not have a dragon. You were a falcon, an Arryn.

And, anyway, with each small clutch you looked over, warm and glittering, you did not feel a pull as Rhaenyra said you should. However, you helped Rhaenyra pick four eggs out for her siblings.

“You only have two right now.”

She shrugged and held up a blue egg, flecked with bronze, toward one of the torches bolted to the mountain’s cavernous wall. She turned it one way and then another before handing it to the keeper who had accompanied you down with a pleased nod. “I have come to realize that my father believes he must be as fruitful as Jaehaerys. My mother paid the price for it.”

The casual way she said it felt almost like a slap. But you could not stop the smile from pushing at your mouth anyway. The topic of her father had been carefully avoided by you and your mother, knowing Rhaenyra loved him, but her realizing his faults on her own was an entirely different matter. But still, you said nothing, and held up a yellow and crimson colored egg which she scowled at. You held onto it anyway.

Three more eggs later, you were still without one of your own and that was almost a relief. There was an attempt on your part to go and indulge Rhaenyra’s attempt at helping you. That was all you could do. Your small party turned to leave the cavern and you made it all but three steps before the Keeper thrust out his arm, keeping you and Rhaenyra behind him.

“Princess, my lady, do not move.”

Of course, both you and Rhaenyra did anyway and your heart leapt into your throat the moment you set your gaze on what had frightened the Keeper so. The dragon was massive and the color of a starless sky, aside from the mottled grey of the deep scars stretching across his snout and down its wiry neck. Two large horns curled back from above his brow and a mess of smaller spikes and spines littered their way down his back. Eyes the color of emeralds set above a roaring fire were anchored firmly on your group.

“The Cannibal,” Rhaenyra whispered, awestruck or terrified.

You could not truly hear her anyway. Your blood had turned molten in your veins as your heart thudded a heavy beat against your ribs.

This was your dragon.

A/N: Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

[foundmywei]

Buddie Fanfic Recs 3

Here are my favorite buddie fics, I will be updating this as I read~

Check Part 1 and Part 2 for more

10k words or under

still by brewrosemilk

(9,368 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

For the first time, Buck longs for a bullet wound to treat. Dirt to dig at. A door to break through. Something. There’s nothing. “Your guess was correct, Diaz,” the bomb technician tells them, as he gestures to the orange circle. “You’re standing on a large sensor plate, wired to a detonator. It’s incredibly important that you don’t move. Don’t shift. When you put your weight down, it was like cocking a gun - you take your weight off, this thing is powerful enough to take the entire house with it." Inspired by Castle, S05E22: Still

If You Said I Do I Would Too by giselleslash

(5,894 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

Eddie starts telling people Buck’s his husband to get out of annoying flirting situations on calls. Buck starts to like it a little too much.

platonic co-parents don’t kiss like we do by thelikesofus

(7,113 words | Mature | Chapters: 1/1)

Chimney wants it on public record that if he ever goes to therapy the bill is to be sent to Buck and Eddie, and that should he ever end up in an early grave for reasons related to his co-workers and their absolutely unhinged inability to act like normal people they will also be paying for all of the flowers at the funeral—and Chimney wants a lot of flowers. OR 5 times other people see Buck and Eddie kiss + 1 time they really mean it.

baby, say you'll always keep me by hattalove

(8,251 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

“Yeah,” Eddie says, and the darkness behind his eyelids takes on a white edge. “Be good. Nice to be married,” he yanks on Buck’s t-shirt, “best friend.” Finally, Buck takes a breath that sounds off somehow, but he laughs too, and that sounds normal, Eddie thinks. A normal laugh. “Sure, Eds,” he says, and there’s his hand in Eddie’s hair again, a puff of breath on the crown of Eddie’s head like Buck leaned in to press a kiss there and then stopped, but why would he stop—“I’ll marry you if you remind me tomorrow.” or the one in which joking about being married to your best friend is all fun and games, right up until you realize that you're not laughing.

11k-40k words

I can see it in your eyes (do you mean it?) by smilingbuckley

(29,353 words | Explicit | Chapters: 6/6)

Eddie hears that his cousin is getting engaged. Not wanting to get set up by multiple family members on awkward dates so he can bring someone to the wedding, he and Buck plan to fake date. They put a lot of thought into it, getting comfortable with PDA, going on fake dates, even practicing kissing once... and then it's finally time to travel to El Paso. But faking it is hard when he's not really faking it at all. -- He fully blames his rom-com brain, having just watched The Proposal – the fake dating classic, if you ask him or Chimney. “What if I’m your fake date?” Eddie’s head snaps sideways so fast, Buck worries about whiplash. “What?” Buck shrugs, trying to play it cool, but really, his heart is beating loudly in his chest. “I mean, people sometimes already think we’re a couple. We’re very comfortable around each other, so sharing a bed or holding hands wouldn’t be too bad. That way your family could back off. And, I don’t know, maybe a few weeks after, you say we decided to just be friends and leave it at that. Or you don’t and they’ll back off full-time with the dates.” Eddie stares at him, “You’d do that for me?” “Sure,” Buck answers, like it’s no big deal.

you could call me babe for christmas ('tis the damn season) by prettyboybuckley

(30,268 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 2/2)

"You could come with me," Buck blurts out, his own eyes going wide as he processes what he just said. Eddie looks at him with his mouth hanging open, eyebrows slowly creasing into a frown and Buck's mind grapples for an explanation, even if the reason he said it is quite simple: he always feels safer with Eddie by his side. "My parents want me to come to El Paso," Eddie says, and he looks like the words taste bitter in his mouth. "I'd love to get out of that, but I can't just leave Christopher with Abuela or Pepa while I run to Pennsylvania. Never mind that my parents would never accept it without a good reason." "Christopher can come, of course." OR: Buck and Eddie pretend to be dating as Buck takes the Diaz boys along to Hershey. Once there, things get a little out of hand, and Buck comes to a realization...

Ready-made Family by Dark_Rosaleen

(15,884 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 6/6)

“Sure, I love the zoo.” Chris is saying with that perfectly adorable giggle that makes Eddie want to melt whenever he hears it—which is far too infrequently these days. “My dad takes me there all the time.” Eddie’s head snaps up at that, quick and sharp. His fingers go numb and he scrambles uselessly with the tongs as they fall with a loud clatter against the grill. Because Eddie can count the times he’s been to the zoo on one hand. It’s Buck who’s been taking Christopher there nearly once a week for years.

change the prophecy by Daisies_and_Briars

(30,150 words | Mature | Chapters: 12/12)

Buck has never felt secure in any of his relationships; he’s been searching for someone to see him the way he feels he’s meant to be seen, but after things start going downhill with Tommy, he thinks that person might just not exist. Eddie cannot figure out what’s wrong with him when it becomes clear things with Marisol aren’t going to work out. But what if they’re both forgetting something?

made your mark on me (a golden tattoo) by thatbuddie (talktothesky)

(15,010 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)

“I want another tattoo.” Eddie shatters the silence delicately, careful not to disturb the peace that cocoons them. Pressing his hand further on Eddie’s shoulder, because he knows Eddie like no one has ever known him before, like no one will ever know him again, Buck asks, “Here?” Eddie nods, tightening his fingers around Buck’s forearm. “It’s kind of…” Eddie pauses to find the perfect words, until he realizes he doesn’t need them. “It’s kind of for you. And for me. For us. You could… I’d like you to get it too.” The corners of Buck’s lips curl in a soft smile as his fingers curl around Eddie’s shoulder. “I’d like to get it too.” (or, Buck and Eddie keep getting matching tattoos, and then discover that maybe everyone is right when they think it means something more.)

40k+ words

we found love right where we were by Polish_Amber

(70,004 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 7/7)

May realised a very long time ago that Buck was basically her stepbrother. So, when the lightning strike finally provided the impetus for Bobby to admit that he also brought a kid into their family, she had every intention of seizing the opportunity to properly integrate Buck into the Grant-Nash family. And, look, if in the process she also gains a brother-in-law… clearly the universe was just waiting for the opportunity to make that happen. - Or, the one where May ensures Buck is enfolded properly into the Grant-Nash clan, which means Bobby (and by extension the firefam, because gossip) suddenly gets significantly more insight into the inner workings of the Buckley-Diaz family, and all roads lead to Buddie…

Anywhere I Want, Just Not Home by Daisies_and_Briars

(54,856 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Series - 3 parts)

Part 1: When a work conflict prevents Athena from accompanying Bobby to Minnesota for the ten year anniversary of his family dying, Buck and May offer to go instead. Over the course of the trip, they all learn more about each other, and Bobby faces his grief. Part 2: When unexpected circumstances require Buck to travel back to Hershey for the first time in over a decade, Eddie and Chris are right by his side. Part 3: The dynamics between everyone change when Buck and Eddie have another child and Bobby moves on from the 118. Affectionately referred to as the "Grandpa Bobby fic"

Evan Buckley & The Coma-Verse of Madness by Daisies_and_Briars

(57,964 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 15/15)

After being struck by lightning on a call, Buck experiences a plethora of alternate realities showing him different directions his life could have taken. Fighting hard to get home, Buck learns what, or who, is important to him in every lifetime. Inspired by a mix of Marvel multiverses and The Midnight Library by Matt Haig.

and here, too, am i by Daisies_and_Briars

(41,117 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 4/4)

Six months into their marriage, Eddie is still struggling to decide whether or not he wants more kids, when he knows Buck does. The universe may not scream, but it certainly talks.

Leading with the Left by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

(84,763 words | Explicit | Chapters: 18/18)

When Buck said he was a "bartender" in "South America" what he actually meant was "stripper" in "Mexico." And when Eddie said, "What's your problem?" what he actually meant was, "Is this about the time you gave me a lap dance?" In other words, there's a few things the 118 doesn't know about Buck. Or Eddie. Or Buck and Eddie's relationship.

that magic feeling by woodchoc_magnum

(42,694 words | Explicit | Chapters: 2/2)

An alternate ending to season 7, in which Eddie doesn't completely blow his life up, and he and Buck realise they're in love.

[where-theres-smoak-2]

Bridgerton Season 3 Part 2 Thoughts

So I have now watched and then rewatched part 2 of Bridgerton season 3, again like part 1, I really enjoyed these episodes and I can now says that I enjoyed the season overall. I will say that I think the second half felt a little more rushed, and there were some writing choices I wasn't a huge fan of, but as a whole it was a solid season. So here are my thoughts on part 2, as I said before my part one thoughts I have not read the books so I went into this blind and my reaction is based entirely on the show alone, also spoilers obviously.

I loved the scene were colin and penelope announced their engagement to the bridgertons. Penelope looked so nervous as they were going in, and it was clear she was worried about their reaction, so it was so sweet and moving when you see how overjoyed they are and how welcoming they are of penelope. Well everyone but Eloise but then she knows about Penelope being whistledown and so is understandably worried about colin's heart getting broken.

I also did find it kind of amusing that the featheringtons, and benedict found out throw lady whistledown and that Anthony and Kate found out right before they were about to announce that they were expecting and then realised they couldn't. On the subject...

KANTHONY BABY LETS GO! Seriously though I was so happy to find out they have a little one on the way.

Another moment I loved was when Colin called out Lady Featherington. I did think that Lady Featherington was being more than a bit hypocritical in the moment before when she accused Penelope of entrapping Colin, as if in season 1 she wasn't actively helping marina entrap Colin or any other gentleman they could and as if she herself didn't orchestrate a scenario with prudence to entrap cousin jack into marriage in season 2. So yeah I am glad Colin called her out on it and on how she has overlooked penelope all this time. But I also think Lady Feathrington's reaction to it was interesting because for the second time this season we actually see her showing guilt and actually having a conscience and reflecting on her words and actions which I just found really interesting to watch, I loved her arc this season.

The polin mirror/couch scene was 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥! No notes, perfect, loved the comunication they had throughout, making sure the other was ok with everything that was happening.

The scene between Kanthony where he is laying on her belly was just too precious. And of course seeing Newton is always a win.

Speaking of precious, John Stirling and Francesca talking about marriage whilst out walking and how after he asks if she wants to be married and she says yes but she hopes her husband doesn't hide her piano stool and he has that slip up and says he wouldn't dream of it, clearly showing he is already imagining himself as her husband. Not only that but I love that John loves Francesca for her she is, he wouldn't care if she did wake him up early hours of the morning playing her piano, he wouldn't begrudge her, because her love for piano and music is part of the reason why he loves her.

Another thing I did like was how Lady Featherington did defend Penelope to her sisters and said Featherintons support one another, but it was very telling how Prudence and Phillipa react to this, it just shows how much these women have pitted and competed against each other. I did love the whole plotline of them all coming back together again though, like Lady Featherington helping Penelope with her wedding and prudence actually saying nice things to penelope and how penelope gives money for her sister's to have the ball they want.

I could understand what Cressida's whole plan of revealing herself as lady whistledown was, and what she was hoping for, an escape from her parents and the marriage they were trying to set up for her, but this plan backfired really fast for her. The whole thing did make me feel really sorry for Cressida, obviously I was not ok with her blackmailing Penelope but I could fully understand that she was desperate and looking for a way out. She also didn't have anybody in her corner, she was completely alone really.

This might be a very unpopular opinion, and I do want to preface t by saying I do still love eloise, but that being said, there were times this season when I don't think she was a very good friend and where she rubbed me the wrong way. Namely when after she sought penelope's help with the whole cressida pretending to be Lady Whistledown thing and the result was Colin finding out and then Eloise was kind of like, not my problem about it after but also how she abandoned Cressida after she faked being Whistledown, like Eloise one, knew that Cressida wasn't really Whistledown but also two, knew what Cressida was going through with her parents trying to force her to marry, so I would have thought Eloise would have had more sympathy for her. Obviously I know this comes from how she was faced with scandal last season and wants to aviod it again and how she is still angry with penelope but I still wasn't a huge fan of her behaviour in these instances.

Speaking of Colin finding out that Penelope is Whistledown, that was a tough one to watch, I felt so bad for both of them, they were both so heartbroken. Colin's 'I will never forgive you' was harsh but I can understand why he was so angry. But I didn't like how later when she asks if he's going to call off the wedding he says he won't because they were intimate and that accuses her of entrapping him, like sir, you were the one who initiated it. Penelope was a willing participant for sure but he was the one who took her to the mirror and began to undress her etc. Again understand he was angry but still.

But their little dance in the church earlier in the episode was absolutely adorable.

Another scene that I thought was kind of sad though, was the conversation between Penelope and her mother about how Ladies don't have dreams they have husbands. It goes to show how their society puts so little worth in the Ladies of the ton, outside of marriage. They put all this pressure on them to marry and have children and yet it seems so many of them wish for more than that.

You know what though, the Polin wedding was beautiful. I was a little sad running up to it because they were both so upset and I was worried it was going to be a kind of angsty, sad affair. But the look on Colin's face when he saw Penelope in her wedding dress, you could see how in love with her he was, he was just in awe. I also loved that moment when Penelope hesitates coming down the aisle, she's looking around anxiously at all the people staring at her and you can see she's becoming overwhelmed, but then she locks eyes with Colin and he gives her that little smile and a nod and you can see her get her confidence back and she smiles back and continues down the aisle. I really appreciated that moment and how throughout the wedding they showed that these two people do genuinely love each other no matter what issues they are currently dealing with.

Also penelope looked absolutely stunning in her wedding dress and I love that she was walked down the aisle by her mother, Portia looked so proud of her too, I also thought it was nice to see both Eloise and Prudence get emotional when watching Polin get married, there's this moment after Polin are announced husband and wife, where you can see prudence clapping and looking overjoyed and Eloise is crying. It was interesting to see these two in particularly being moved by the ceremony because they've both had some tension with Penelope this season, eloise because of her anger and prudence because of her jealousy. But here they look genuinely happy for her and I just loved that.

Portia finding out about Penelope being lady whistledown was interesting because as angry as she was I do think she was genuinely scared for penelope and how cressida was blackmailing her and whether that would lead to colin asking for annulment. The scene where they tell Colin and Eloise about the blackmail was this strange mix of frustrating and humour, except I don't think it was supposed to have that humorous element. But it was frustrating how both Colin and Portia were talking over Penelope and making all the decisions for her, again I do think this comes from their worry but it was still frustrating to see them not listening to Penelope. But also I can't deny it was kind of funny when Penelope revealed that she has made over 10,000 pounds through whisltedown, especially when you think back to the struggles Portia went through with them almost ending up penniless, to be fair to Penelope its not like she knew how close to penniless they were. I also found it kind of funny how colin was all I will fix this and in the end he just made it worse.

Benedict is bisexual and experiences his first throuple. Honestly this wasn't surprising to me at all. I kind of suspected he was from the moment he met that painter and went to that house party in season 1. So good for him. Although I will say that his threesome was cut and edited kind of oddly, I feel like instead of splitting it up they should have just kept it as one complete scene, because they way they cut it between different scenes kept throwing me off, everyone else's lives are falling apart and then there was Benedict having the time of his life. I think the constant shifts in tone from people having very serious conversation to Benedict having some fun, sexy times was a bit jarring, but hey maybe that was just me. `

I loved seeing Penelope and Eloise coming back together during their conversation while they were waiting for Colin, it just felt so good to see them laughing together again.

It was interesting learning more about Danbury's past and about her relationship with her brother and why she was so angry with him, that scene where they have it out, so to speak, and resolve their differences was another great moment. There were alot of moments like this in the season where people who had been at odds with each other and had broken relationships, found their way back to each other. I would say the theme of this season was very much about healing and reuniting with your loved ones.

Portia and Penelope had some great conversations this season but my favourite has to be the one right after Penelope walks in on Portia's conversation with the Solicitor and learns about Portia stealing the tons money. I think it was a very open and vulnerable conversation for them both and some very good points were made. I also love how we can see how impressed and proud Portia is of Penelope for building something that was entirely her own.

I loved Penelope's speech that she makes when she is revealed as Lady Whistledown. Not going to lie I did get a little emotional and teary eyed over it, just a 10/10 speech. I am also glad that they didn't have Penelope give up Whistledown, though I should think it'll be harder for her to get gossip now, if I were a member of the ton and I caught a glimpse of penelope nearby at a ball I would immediately stop talking about anything scandalous, but then I guess people won't care about spreading other people's gossip.

Ok so now we're at a part that I didn't like. I could be reading into this all wrong but it seemed like when Francesca met John's cousin Mikaela there was some kind of romantic energy there. Here's why I am not a fan of this. Throughout the whole season I have loved the relationship between John and Francesca and the reason why I thought it was a beautiful love story was because it was so different, it had this quietness about it, I suppose the word is, it wasn't your usual sparks fly at first sight type situation. Throughout the season we've had Violet talking about how she thinks Francesca needs someone more outgoing, someone who is kind of the opposite to her and who can pull her out of her shell, and how people in love should have this profound, passionate moment when they meet and fall in love. To me it seemed like through Francesca and her opposition of all that they were telling as that this didn't necessarily have to be true, that the loud, passionate, spark filled love is the only one way to love and sometimes you can have a more simplistic love, as Violet said their is a beauty in the slow approach. This was something I wholeheartedly agreed with and I loved that for once a tv show was exploring this option for a change. I feel like tv shows and films have tricked women all around the world into believing that if you don't have that first initial spark then that's not the person for you, when in reality love and attraction can grow over time as you get to know a person. I can not tell you the amount of times I have seen a friend pass on a perfectly nice guy with the statement of 'he's nice, there's nothing wrong with him, but there just wasn't a spark.' I blame the media industry, I really do. But anyway coming back from the tangent, they built this beautiful, simple love story where two introverted people met, understood each other and fell in love, then in the last ten minutes of the season torpedoed it, in like a couple of minutes flat. Because then Francesca meets extroverted, confident Mikaela, you know Francesca's opposite who can pull her out of her shell that she's perfectly happy being in, and sparks instantly fly and Francesca is fumbling over her words and blushing. I just feel like this one moment negates everything that came before and everything they said about the slow approach being something that can also be beautiful. It cheapens John and Francesca's relationship so much and then there was that weird look Francesca had when they kissed at their wedding, so now it looks like they are trying to say their marriage was some big mistake. I don't know maybe its because I am an introvert myself who got tired of being told I should come out of my shell more often but I just didn't like this plot point. But I guess I'll have to reserve my full judgement until I see the rest of their story in following seasons, but as it stands at the moment I was not impressed with this writing choice.

I loved the ending with them showing that Colin was now a published writer, Penelope was still successful with Whistledown and that all three sisters had babies. As I predicted Prudence and Phillipa had girls and Penelope and Colin had a little boy who will be the future Lord Featherington, but I just liked that scene with all the featherington women together and they're all happy for each other and admiring their little ones.

So that's all my thoughts on part 2, I really loved this season and Polin's relationship, I wish we had seen a bit more of Kanthony, I do find it said that it seems like once their story is told the couples from previous season's are sort of phased out, like we didn't see daphne at all this season and with them sending Anthony and Kate to India I suspect they won't be in next season, I hope they are but I am doubtful. I guess it so they can make room for the new storylines but still I miss those characters. Anyway I am going to stop rambling now.

[chion3spid3r]

dating prowler miles

pairings : e42!miles x fem!reader

warning : possessiveness, suggestive, suggestive talks, competitiveness, emotional talks

summary : what’s like to be the girlfriend of Miles

wc : 2.2k

a/n : if I did e1610!miles, I need to do e42!miles obviously.

bf!miles who would who will intimidate any man who approaches you with just a glance—a skill honed from years of being street-smart and cautious. One evening, your boyfriend Miles is hanging out with you when a guy you knew said hi. Without hesitation, he shoot the guy a quick, icy stare. Miles, always protective, make the guy run far from the two of you,

"Miles, damn he's my cousin!" Miles looks sheepish for a moment, then can't help but chuckle nervously at the misunderstanding. "My bad, babe. You know I gotta keep you safe though," he says, half-jokingly, knowing your ability to handle yourself but still wanting to look out for you.

bf!miles who would whisper to you spanish sweet nothings. Though Miles projects a tough guy image on the streets, he has an incredibly gentle side that only you get to see. Every night as you lay cuddled up in his arms, he murmurs tender Spanish endearments and flirty phrases in your ear. His voice is deep and soothing, the cadences and lilts of the Spanish words wrapping around you like a warm blanket. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the rumbling timbre of his voice lull you into a state of complete security and peace.

bf!miles who would bring you to arcade dates. Miles can be incredibly competitive, especially when it comes to video games. He loves taking you to the local arcade for dates and showing off his gaming prowess. He gets an adorable swell of pride on his face when he's dominating the high scores on his favorite games. One evening, however, you ended up beating not just his high score but his skills overall on the arcade's most popular game. Miles' jaw dropped and he tried to play it cool, insisting he'd never really practiced that game before. But you could see the look of shocked impressed behind his eyes,

bf!miles who would give you late night visits. After his nightly patrols, Miles often finds himself tapping at your bedroom window in the early hours of the morning. He'll slip inside, wearing prowler suit and looking exhausted. For Miles, these quiet, intimate moments are a sanctuary where he can be vulnerable and find comfort and solace after a difficult patrol.

"Sorry for waking you up, ma" he'll murmur contritely, running a hand through his messy braids. But you don't mind at all - in fact, you live for these late night visits. You guide him over to the bed and gently massage the tension from his shoulders and back as he recounts the events of his night.

bf!miles who would let you doing his hair braiding ritual. Miles takes great pride in his thick, braided hair and sees it as part of his identity. However, he only allows you and his mama to touch and style it - a sign of his deep trust.

Some evenings you'll sit on the bed behind him, carefully parting and braiding his hair, though your braiding skills admittedly still need some work. Miles will playfully wince and tease "Damn ma, you tryna rip my whole head off?" when you tug a little too hard on a section. But he remains patient, gently guiding your hands and giving you tips, until eventually the braid is neatly completed.

bf!miles who would never leave you with only a peck, for him, you directly make out. When Miles is feeling that fire for you, he doesn't hold back. His kisses start off soft and sweet but quickly deepen into something passionate and hungry.His intensity and desire for you is palpable and intoxicating.

When you look especially hot to him, he won't let you out. If you try to pull away, breathless, he growls "Stay right there, ma. Can't let you get away when you look that hot." He pulls you flush against his body, roaming hands leaving a trail of heat over your skin.

bf!miles who would discover secret places and bring you to them after he foud hem. In his nightly prowls around the city as the Prowler, Miles has discovered countless hidden gems - tucked away rooftops, winding alleyways, secret urban gardens and more. Whenever you've had a particularly stressful day, he'll surprise you by taking you on an impromptu exploration of these secret spots. Seeing the wonder and forgotten beauty of these places through Miles' perspective reminds you that even in the darkest of times, there's always light and enchantment to be found if you know where to look.

bf!miles who would buy you matching jordans. Both of you love to stunt, especially when it comes to your fresh kicks. One day Miles surprises you with a pair of brand new limited edition Jordans - except there's two pairs, one for each of you. He loves any opportunity to show the world that you're his girl. Rocking those matching kicks together is like a subtle claim staking your status as a couple.

bf!miles who wouldalways be a flirtatious teaser. Miles, before you two became a couple, loved to tease and get a riled reaction out of you. Whether it's mocking your Spanish accent (despite the fact that he has one too) or sneaking up behind you to grip your hips and press himself against you, he's constantly pushing your buttons in that flirtatious way of his. Part admiration, part purely carnal desire, Miles never lets too much time pass without reminding you just how much he wants you.

"You know how Latinas turn me on, ma. And you ain't no exception," he'll murmur in your ear, his voice dropping into that deep, rumbly register that makes you shiver.

bf!miles who would let you makeup him despite his boredom. Miles projects a tough, macho image, so you're surprised when he begrudgingly agrees to let you experiment with makeup on him one day.

As you start applying foundation, he's already fidgeting and groaning. "Ma, you really gotta do that shit?" he protests, flinching when you get too close to his eyes with the brushes.

You laugh at his reaction. "Hold still, tough guy. Don't be such a baby about it."

Miles grumbles under his breath but remains on the bedr, letting out exaggerated sighs and complaints like "This makeup shit is for real uncomfortable" and "How do y'all deal with this every day?"

When you finally get to the false lashes, Miles outright balks. "Oh hell no, there's no way you're putting those spidery things anywhere near my eyes!"

You pout at him until he reluctantly gives in with an eye roll. "Aiight, aiight, just get it over with quick."

As you meticulously apply the faux lashes, Miles stays uncharacteristically still and tense, grousing things like "This better not leave me with no lashes after" and "Not a damn word about this to the guys, a'ight?"

Once it's all done, he examines his made-up look in the mirror, trying to play it cool even as you catch him giving a subtle smile.

Ⓡ chion3spid3r all rights reserved. please to not plagiarize, repost, or translate !

[littlemisspascal]

Share My Moon

Part of The Fox, The Mage, and The Cupboard

Pairing: Din x Female Reader // also referenced Pero Tovar x Female Reader

Word Count: 3200+

Summary: If you’d known then of the upcoming hell, you would’ve savored the brief taste of heaven significantly more.

Warnings: Magic AU with mages and familiars, Reader has a backstory but no name or description except having hair, Reader's mother makes an appearance, worldbuilding, Ginger Ale being the supportive friend I wish I had, language, angst, grief, mentions of death, passage of time is kind of wibbly wobbly here

Author Note: I've missed this little universe and felt like pouring out some angsty feels. Expands a bit more upon events referenced in Young Love. Hope someone out there likes it 💜💜💜

Pics in moodboard found on Canva + Pinterest. The Omera + Din pic is merely used for aesthetic purposes and does not depict Reader's physical appearance.

Share My Moon - Candle Cocoon

The times that we exist together. Words not needed. Words not said. Memory past. Baking frenzy, harvest night. Pause, look up, the window is bright. Share my Moon. Feel It’s light. Always know that wherever you go. You just need to know that we share the same moon.

~~~

For as many people called Eldergrove home, there were twice as many who no longer did. They moved on and never looked back. The village and its inhabitants nothing more than tiny specks in the rearview mirrors of their lives. You wondered sometimes, if despite the miles of separation, they ever could feel it when their name was spoken by reminiscing villagers. A pinch of nostalgia in the center of their chest for a chapter of their lives they’d closed. 

Maybe that was what led a handful of souls back to their old stomping grounds, even after some swore they’d never step foot on Eldergrove soil again.

The Miller brothers upped and left after the deaths of their parents. Ben was barely fifteen at the time, too stubborn and too emotionally damaged to be abandoned by his older sibling. Years later they returned out of the blue, bringing with them Santiago and Frankie, and moved back into the Miller household alongside their cousin like they’d never left. You were reminded of a pack of feral dogs, dangerously codependent and easy to spook, distrustful of the friendly hands offering to help them. 

Pero Tovar and William Garin stuck around long enough to graduate school before they packed their things and disappeared. Nobody in the village could figure out for sure where they went or what they did the eight years they were gone. But once William’s ability to kill any prey with a bow and arrow in one shot and Pero’s complete lack of reaction to bloodshed were noticed, the rumor mill blazed with conspiracy theories each more outrageous than the last.

And it hurt to think about how each of these boys who left came back different. They came back as men. Damaged, bloodstained, and exhausted men chewed up and spit out by the big bad world.

It hurt even worse to think about Din this way. Din with his unwavering faith. Din with his impenetrable armor. Beaten and scorned. Unvalued. He deserved a softer life than the one fate had handed him. Nothing could ever convince you otherwise.

On paper, Din had no reason to return. He’d never called Eldergrove home. He’d never called anywhere home. Mandalorians weren’t meant to form attachments outside of their family bonds. Weren’t built for the apple pie and white picket fence domestic lifestyle. 

Still, like the ocean drawn to the shoreline, he came back to you over and over.

You thought that was a constant you could depend upon in your ever-changing life.

And maybe it would have remained one, if not for your brazen act of selfishness. If you hadn't been drowning in grief over the deaths of your loved ones and overwhelmed by Din’s kindness, his fidelity, his everything and stopped yourself from lifting his helmet high enough to slam a kiss against his lips.

If you’d known then of the upcoming hell, you would’ve savored the brief taste of heaven significantly more.

If, if, if…They seemed to multiply like rabbits, invading every corner of your brain.

You’d known it was a mistake in the fragile seconds before he pushed you back, so it wasn’t surprising to find him gone by the time you’d summoned up the nerve to walk out of Ivers Forest. His constant absence the several following months without a single word of contact was another puncture driven through your tormented heart. The kind that kept you up at night, white hot and unbearably tender, but deserved all the same for fucking everything up.

It had made sense back then, in its own twisted way, that the anguish would stick with you forever, infiltrating every last atom you possessed. But life had the annoying tendency of moving on and on and on, uncaring of who it pissed off in doing so, and even the most gruesome of wounds stopped bleeding eventually, leaving behind a couple of jagged scars as reminders of lessons learned. 

And boy did you learn yours the hard way.

You and Din? The shortest of love stories summed up in four words.

Wrong place. Wrong time.

~~

You were a mere shadow of your former self in the aftermath of the funerals and Din’s departure. Shattered without a plan of how to glue yourself back together again. People noticed, of course they did, looking at you with pity in their eyes and offering paper-thin smiles. Turned you into a bit of a recluse to avoid facing them, feeling too much like an object or statue to gawk at rather than a real human being. Though there were some days you didn’t even feel like one of those either.

Your relationship with The Cupboard was a love/hate one, switching back and forth depending on the week or day or hour. It was funny in a pathetic, tragic sort of way how a building you’d known since birth became almost unrecognizable once it stopped being your grandmother’s shop and now belonged to you. You spent days refamiliarizing yourself with every tool and ingredient, the contents of each drawer, the ‘hidden’ nook beneath one of the floorboards you once stuffed shiny pebbles and bird feathers in like your own personal treasure trove. Nothing in there now except a couple of dust bunnies.

Inheriting the shop also meant inheriting your grandmother’s loyal mass of clientele. They sent in their orders by mail from afar, knocked on the shop door if you had the light on, or asked through your mother when you made yourself purposefully scarce. No one commented on the unpredictable hours. Grief could be used to excuse all types of strange behavior.

Wearing the same clothes for several days in a row? Grief.

Locking yourself away in a tiny room with nothing but molds and candlewax for hours on end? Grief was the explanation.

In your defense, you did spend time outside of the shop and your bedroom. Quite a bit, actually. Not your fault there weren’t any witnesses in Ivers Forest to see you collecting herbs or tending to the graves there. Sometimes you’d personally deliver orders to customers who lived beyond Eldergrove’s boundaries rather than send them by post–Rosedale, Bogcaster, once even Sassashire Falls for a woman with a particularly nasty reaction to a bee sting.

A good night’s sleep was hard to come by, no matter the candles which burned on your bedside table. You’d dream of what you’d lost. Who you had lost. And if you weren’t dreaming, you were having a staring contest with the moon outside the window, full and white, a guardian against the worst of the hungry shadows. Stared until your eyes burned and the questions beating against your skull fell mute. The clock numbers ticked by from midnight ‘till dawn. Life went on and on and on.

Mornings were easier. You’d make tea while Ginger cobbled together a little breakfast meal from whatever could be found in the fridge. She knew better than to comment on your tired eyes or frumpy appearance, instead just nudged her elbow against yours in a silent I’m here if you need me. 

You stuffed your mouth with food and stacked the dishes and silverware in the sink to deal with later. Wished Ginger luck on finishing her newest invention designs.

Then back to The Cupboard you went. Same old, same old. 

~~

Your mother worried about you–well, that was always a fact. But she worried even more so that year, had a concerned crease between her eyebrows every time you stopped by, hugged you an extra bit tighter as if she could somehow absorb the negative emotions and take them on herself. 

“You know, darling,” she told you one evening, a couple glasses of wine too many loosening her tongue, “that boy could never hate you.”

Your mother was your closest confidant–boy troubles, irritating customers, crippling insecurities, she knew just what to say to make every problem shrink down into manageable ones. Easy to fix.

But not this. 

“Mom–”

“It was obvious from the minute you brought him home you were tied to each other. He may not be your familiar, but your grandmother and I both knew you would always be in each other’s lives.”

“Not anymore.” You shook your head, a wet sob stuck in your throat. “He’s not coming back. Not again.”

“I know it feels like an ending, darling. Like all hope is lost,” she said, hands squeezing your shoulders. Her eyes were bright and expressive, impossible to look away from. “But sometimes things fall apart because there’s no other way for them to go. And it’s natural to feel hurt and confused and angry. Those challenging moments are meant to teach us new things though, open our stubborn eyes and change us into us. Din will come back when the timing’s right. When you’ve both grown up a bit, walked your own separate paths for a few seasons. Trust me.”

So that’s what you did. 

You grew up, settled into your own skin. You made a name for yourself as a skilled mage and chandler. You started smiling a bit more. 

Missing Din became easier–felt less like the throbbing absence of a limb, more like the yearning ache of homesickness. Curious, since you were the one who had a roof over your head and a mailing address. 

There were still some nights you’d find yourself watching the moon, its waning and waxing. And it became a comfort, imagining Din somewhere out there in the wilds on his own path, sharing the same view.

Take your time, you would think in the lulling seconds before drifting off. I'm not going anywhere.

~~

If not for the stone markers, the graves in Ivers Forest wouldn’t look much like burial sites. The dislodged piles of dirt had been reclaimed by the earth, smoothed out and replenished with green tufts of grass dotted with dandelions doing what they did best. Thriving where least wanted. 

Sunlight trickled in through the overarching tree branches, shimmering beams igniting the dust and pollen floating in the air. The only movement in an otherwise frozen patch of wilderness. Not even the birds or crickets sung their songs there. Used to make you feel nauseous–the silence so still your heartbeat hurt to hear. 

You craved quietness these days. Wished you could preserve it in the wax of your candles somehow, then burn its essence and inhale its effects until your racing thoughts permanently settled down. But every kind of magic had its limitations.  Capturing the hush of a soul’s final resting place, raising the dead back to the realm of the living…it was all too much for you.

The lit candle cupped between your hands flickered, reacting to the negative dip of your mood. An infusion of lavender, bergamot, and a hint of lemon meant to invoke calmness–one of your grandmother’s favorite recipes. Except it didn’t smell like hers, missing the unique, spicy aftereffect of her own magic that you would never in your lifetime be able to mimic. It was a plain and simple fact: you could run her store, you could copy her recipes, but you couldn’t ever actually be her. 

Didn’t stop you from trying to fill your grandmother’s shoes though, to be everything she was remembered and loved for.

A talented mage, a successful businesswoman, a respected member of the community. Accomplishments which matched those of a happy life. Accomplishments you’d earned for yourself, checked off each box through hard work and stubborn persistence. 

You should have been happy. 

But the feeling remained elusive to you. Hovered just beyond your reach, enshrouded in a mist of uncertainty, not so different from a certain bounty hunter you were dearly fond of. 

It was foolish, thinking of him at the same spot everything shattered to pieces. You rubbed at your nose, grimacing against the phantom sensation of blood leaking from your nostrils. If only you’d mourned the loss of your grandmother and Aunt Bunny the way most people did, instead of nearly getting yourself killed trying to bend the rules of the universe to your whim, maybe then things would have been different. Happier.

Your candle’s flame flickered again, angrier this time, nearly snuffing out. 

“Sorry, sorry. Brighter days are on the horizon, I believe you,” you muttered to yourself, staring down at your grandmother’s marker with a rueful half-smile. Some days it felt cathartic to speak out loud, other times a little ridiculous. Regardless, nobody ever replied back. 

“It’s always darkest before the dawn,” a familiar voice agreed from behind. 

Until then, apparently.

Ginger was a great roommate. She was tidy, thoughtful, far more brilliant than everyone else in the village combined. She also knew how to find you when you didn’t want to be found and when it was time to bring you home again. Even when you weren’t ready to admit so.

You greeted her with an arm nudge as she stepped up beside you, shoulder pressing back against yours. She adjusted her glasses, then neatly held her hands in front of her. The stance of someone who intended to stick around for a while.

“Caught up in the past again, hmm?”

“Guilty,” you answered with a sigh. “Can’t seem to shake the habit.”

“You ever think about, maybe, finding someone to anchor you in the present?” she asked, like the question had an easy answer. 

“Someone like who?”

“A boyfriend.”

You hummed a dismissive note. “No. Not even once. Why the hell would I want that?”

“It’s called dating, hon. Lots of single fish out there in the sea, including some of Merlin’s friends.” Ginger tilted her head to meet your gaze, an encouraging look in her dark eyes. “Could be good for you. Why not give it a shot?”

Why not? Because you were still grappling with the consequences of the last (and first) time you kissed someone. Why not? Because dating meant opening yourself up to someone, allowing them to see you. Every crack, every shadow, every shortcoming. Why not? Because someone already had seen you like that…and you’d lost him.

You bit into your lower lip, stared down at the pooling melted wax filling the jar as if the words you lacked were stuck there, waiting to be pulled free. But nothing could be found.

“Change can be scary,” Ginger said after a moment. There was a note of sympathy in her voice, and you didn’t want to hear it. Not there, where out of the corner of your eye you swore you glimpsed the glint of beskar, where the dividing line between past and present had never been blurrier. “But…you’re not happy with the way things are right now, are you?” The expression on Ginger’s face told you she knew the truth. She just wanted to hear you say it.

It wasn’t an easy thing to do. Something about actually giving voice to the problem that had been weighing down on you so long felt akin to tearing your heart out of your chest. Exposed for one of your closest friends in the whole world to gawk at.

“No,” you answered, shoulders curving with defeat. A sour taste in your mouth, you choked out, “I’m not happy.”

“The first step’s admitting it.” Your roommate slung her arm around your back, squeezing your upper arm. Then: “The next step’s taking a leap of faith and doing something about it.”

~~

Later, you convinced a stubborn Pero Tovar to make you a cottage out of The Cupboard. (That’s a whole other story on its own). 

Later, Pero kissed you beneath a sky full of shooting stars. It was unexpectedly sweet. Romantic. (Another story for another time.)

Later, you broke Pero’s heart because (beware of spoilers) for all the potential reasons you might’ve been happy together, there was one glaring detail you couldn’t overlook no matter how hard you tried. 

He wasn’t Din.

And life went on and on and on.

~~

On one shelf in The Cupboard, towards the back where you kept your wax molds, there was a row of candles—different colors, different infusions, each created with a different person in mind. There was a pink one for your mother, a grey one for your stepfather, light blue for Ginger and green for Benny and yellow for Frankie. Din’s was gold, Will’s a dark shade of purple and Santiago’s a vibrant orange. Pero had a black one, though with the unpleasant awkwardness still lingering after the breakup his had become the least burned in your collection—well, actually that was not entirely true. There was one you’d never lit at all. An earthy brown shade and still as pristine as the day you made it for a familiar you’d yet to meet.

None of these people asked for a candle. They didn’t pay for them or choose their colors or infusions. You made the candles in your own free time of your own volition. Because there was something about the process of melting wax and adding scents, about infusing strength and peace and creativity and protection that gave you a sense of purpose, of being a positive force.  

You burned them sporadically, sometimes for hours while you finalized orders, sometimes for under ten minutes as you drank a cup of tea. You burned them when your magic sensed something was needed, a void only it could help fill. You burned them because nothing hurt you worse than when the ones you loved most were suffering, the hopeful vibrance in their eyes dimming and waning. 

There were some tragedies which could not be avoided. Some hardships that must be endured and overcome by one’s own strength. Life was never a smooth path for anybody. For every sunny day there were also moonless nights.

But light would always come again.

Afterall, even the biggest of shadows were powerless against the smallest of candle flames. 

~~

Monday: breakfast at your mother’s house, yummy biscuits and troubled lines along your stepfather’s brow, news of a sick relative, a grey candle burned to bring him peace of mind.

Tuesday: lunch with Frankie, tired smudges beneath downcast eyes, discussions of nightmares, the dancing flame of a yellow candle promised sweeter dreams.

Wednesday: stacks of orders, piles of laundry, Ginger lent a helping hand, a blue candle lit over dinner in gratitude.

Thursday: Santiago and his restless spirit, the notes of an acoustic guitar played by scarred hands, new song lyrics in black ink, an orange candle ignited to summon enlightenment of life’s priorities.

Friday: woke up before the sunrise, magic tugged at your chest, a gold candle grabbed and lit before you even registered its meaning, heartbeat dangerously frantic.

It’s happening, you thought with a laugh verging on hysterical. It’s really happening.

Din was coming back.

~~

Night had descended upon Eldergrove by the time Din approached The Cupboard. It was reassuring to learn his preference for the cloak of darkness concealing his presence hadn’t changed. Helped appease something ruffled deep inside you, eased the tension in your spine. 

He knocked on the door–and that hadn’t changed either, the achingly familiar thud of leather-gloved knuckles against the wood. Even without the gold candle still burning away on your kitchen table, you would have known it was him by the mere sound alone.  

Electricity seemed to thrum along your nerves, pulse spasming and fingers trembling as you gripped the doorknob. Your mom had told you Din would return when the timing was right, and you’d believed her. Except absolutely nothing felt right about then and there. It was an impossible clash of too soon and too long without any middle ground to stand on.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door and stepped outside. A leap of faith. 

And for the first time in over a year, you and Din shared the same moon.

[monkee-mobile]

“That is an adult man”

Yes, but also

a baby!! little!! ⬆️